I half laughed. ‘And how’s that going to happen?’
‘Wicca, Anna. I’m going to make it happen. I started work on it yesterday, while you were out for your lunch with Absent Dad. I got a really good feeling about it. So good I half expected he’d be here with his suitcases when I called round.’
I held out my hands. ‘Well, he’s not. Although…’
Zoe sat up. ‘Although what?’ Her eyes gleamed.
I sat down beside her on the bed. ‘He did have a right old row with his girlfriend.’
Zoe snapped her fingers in triumph. ‘That sounds like a good start to me. I just have to keep working on it.’
Downstairs, the doorbell pinged and Mum answered it. She called up the stairs. ‘Anna, Kerry’s here.’ And we heard Kerry’s heavy footsteps making their way towards us. We looked at each other and sighed.
‘Isn’t that vanishing spell more urgent?’ I said.
Kerry had brought leaflets about her church concert and she wanted us to come along. ‘I’m singing,’ she said. ‘And there’ll be a party afterwards. I’m really excited about it.’
‘Singing, as in, just you, on your own?’ I asked.
‘No!’ Kerry gave a little snort. ‘I’ve got a hopeless voice. I’m just in the choir and I’m right at the back because the minister says I sing flat. And I’m not cute like the little kids.’
Zoe made a shocked face. ‘He sounds very supportive, I don’t think. I’d be tempted to tell him where to stick his sheet music.’
Kerry gave another giggle. ‘I don’t mind, really. Though I was really embarrassed when he shouted at me for being out of tune. It was in front of everyone. Some of the others were singing off-key at me all the way home.’
I thought: Kerry really is a kind of a magnet for bullies. Even at her church. How does she do it? Compared to most people, we really were quite nice to her. Most of the time.
Zoe narrowed her eyes. ‘Want me to get him for you?’
Kerry went wide-eyed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Mr Mean Music-Man,’ said Zoe. She waggled her long fingers. ‘I’m a practicing witch now, you know. Want me to make something happen to him?’
Kerry shook her head. ‘No, stop it. Don’t even joke about things like that.’
‘Go on. Just a little accident where he sits on his baton or something?’
I sniggered, but Kerry folded her arms. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that. And you’re not really – you know – doing anything stupid? My minister says anything to do with the occult is really, really dangerous.’
Zoe waggled her eyebrows up and down at me. ‘It could be, for him. It’s priests like that who make me want to sell my soul to the devil. Satan’s got to be a better bet, right?’
I remembered that, a while ago, Kerry refused to see the vampire films everyone else was into because her church told her not to. We’d all had a bit of a laugh about it, but Kerry took it all very seriously.
‘I said, stop it. I mean it,’ Kerry said.
Zoe shrugged. ‘Just looking out for you. Some people are so ungrateful.’
‘Anyway, will you come to the concert? I can give two tickets away.’ Kerry paused. ‘I haven’t anyone else to invite.’
I groaned inside. Kerry had a great way of pushing my ‘guilty’ buttons.
‘A Nazi choirmaster and you singing flat,’ said Zoe. ‘It sounds like an unmissable event.’
Kerry didn’t seem to absorb sarcasm. It just seemed to bounce back at the giver, without her saying or doing anything. ‘Brilliant,’ she said. ‘What shall we do now? This music’s really depressing. Can we put something else on?’
‘Got any hymns?’ Zoe sneered. Then she suddenly remembered she hadn’t finished her homework. ‘Better go,’ she said. ‘That’s me busy for the rest of the day, I reckon. I’ve got a pile of it.’ She gave me a little glare. ‘What about you, Anna? Got homework?’
I pretended to sigh and gave my forehead a little slap. ‘Yeah, I forgot, I have, actually. I’d better get on with it. My mum goes mad if I do it last thing on a Sunday night.’
Kerry got up. ‘I always do it as soon as I get home on a Friday,’ she said. ‘That’s what you two should do.’ Behind her back, Zoe was silently mimicking her.
I saw both of them to the door and after about ten minutes I got a text from Zoe. All clear?
I texted back. Zoe rang the doorbell again and I let her in, giggling and glancing round to make sure Kerry was nowhere to be seen.
We put the music back on, louder this time.
‘What is it about Kerry, though?’ I asked Zoe. ‘Have you noticed? Even her priest picks on her.’
‘It’s like she wears a sign above her head saying “kick me” and everyone else can see it,’ said Zoe.
‘If she would just kick someone back one time, it mightn’t be so bad for her,’ I said.
‘She’s like a big, dripping, wet puppy,’ said Zoe. ‘The trouble is, Anna, people could start picking on us too, because we’re always with her. She’s ruining our street cred. I’m not going to that church-y thing for a million quid.’
‘We told her we’d go,’ I said. ‘We can’t let her down. It’d be really mean.’
‘I didn’t make promises,’ said Zoe. ‘That was you. I didn’t sign anything.’
I gave a mock-pout.
Zoe gritted her teeth. ‘I’m wearing a wig and dark glasses and a coat with the collar turned up, then,’ she said. ‘Anyway, who’s to say I’ll be able to set foot in a church? After all my dark practices? The priest might take one look at me and hold up his big cross and I might get burned.’
‘That’s just Dracula, you mad thing,’ I said. Zoe could be difficult, but then she would take the mickey out of herself and it would all feel OK.
Over breakfast, Mum showed me a picture in her newspaper of a girl band I used to like, before Zoe got me into the better
