bluebottle zigzagged in the bright space where she had stood.
"Oh, no! Kate!" Peter called out. "No!"
Peter's heart started to beat frantically, and that sixth sense that tells you if you're in someone's presence told Peter, even before he looked around him to check, that the room was empty. Kate had gone. The thought of being stranded in 1763 all alone was terrifying. She might have her faults, but he and Kate were in this together and she couldn't just abandon him like this, could she? Peter flung himself onto his stomach, feeling wretched beyond words, and punched his pillow, again and again, shouting "No!" with each thump.
* * *
"Temper, temper," said Kate from his bedroom door.
Peter froze in midpunch and looked over at her, openmouthed.
"How did you do that?"
"I walked," she replied and burst into a fit of giggles.
"Stop laughing and tell me what happened," said Peter in exasperation.
But Kate could not stop laughing and collapsed on the bed, holding her stomach, tears running down her cheeks.
"Your face," she gasped. "Those girls' faces!" She buried her head in the sheets, but her body still vibrated with laughter.
"What girls? Oh, Kate, do get a grip!"
Kate slowly sat up and tried very hard not to laugh. "I walked the length of the room...," she started, but it was no good, she was having an attack of the giggles and the crosser Peter looked, the more she laughed.
Why does she have to be so annoying? Peter thought, already forgetting how pleased to see her he had felt. Finally she stopped.
"Do you know you're sleeping in a Year Eleven common room? It was full of bossy prefects in overalls holding scrubbing brushes. Someone had scrawled really rude comments about the teachers all over the walls, and they were having to clean it off. Miss Gunn, the deputy headmistress, was there--she's really strict--sitting reading a newspaper. Every so often she'd look over her glasses and say, "Come on, girls, a bit more elbow grease. This is my holiday too, you know." The sports captain was there, right next to me. She winded me with a net ball the other week just because I was daydreaming. When she looked round, I stuck my tongue out at her. It was so cool. She screamed and screamed. She looked like she'd seen a ghost; they all did."
"Well they had, sort of," said Peter.
"But I'm not dead," Kate replied cheerfully.
"How are they supposed to know? We must be presumed dead by now. And look at what you're wearing--a perfect ghost costume."
Kate's face dropped. "They'll tell Mum and Dad and they'll think that I'm dead. Oh, no, what have I done?"
"We'll just have to get back and show them we're alive, won't we?" said Peter, getting in quickly in case Kate got emotional. "You know," he continued, "it was difficult to see properly because of the light, but I think you just about disappeared this time. Did you look solid in the classroom?"
"I'm not sure--I couldn't see myself. But I could see stuff through my arm. I guess I must have looked kind of filmy, not fully formed somehow. But they all looked so terrified, I must have looked like a ghost. The funny thing was, all the time I was there, I was still aware of you in this room. It was like having one foot in the past and one foot in the future."
"Why did you come back?" asked Peter. "Could you have stayed there if you had wanted to?"
"It felt like it was taking all my strength to stay there as long as I did. I don't know how to describe it.... It's as if I have a giant elastic band tied round my waist, which is attached to a hook here. I can go quite a way straining against the band--and I suspect that I could go farther and stay longer--but sooner or later I am going to ping right back."
Peter kicked the bottom of the bed absentmindedly.
"Don't do that. You'll scratch it," said Kate.
Peter gave her a look and kept on kicking. "I wonder if you've always been able to blur, I mean even though you didn't know you could. Or perhaps whatever happened to us has changed
"Oh, no! Kate!" Peter called out. "No!"
Peter's heart started to beat frantically, and that sixth sense that tells you if you're in someone's presence told Peter, even before he looked around him to check, that the room was empty. Kate had gone. The thought of being stranded in 1763 all alone was terrifying. She might have her faults, but he and Kate were in this together and she couldn't just abandon him like this, could she? Peter flung himself onto his stomach, feeling wretched beyond words, and punched his pillow, again and again, shouting "No!" with each thump.
* * *
"Temper, temper," said Kate from his bedroom door.
Peter froze in midpunch and looked over at her, openmouthed.
"How did you do that?"
"I walked," she replied and burst into a fit of giggles.
"Stop laughing and tell me what happened," said Peter in exasperation.
But Kate could not stop laughing and collapsed on the bed, holding her stomach, tears running down her cheeks.
"Your face," she gasped. "Those girls' faces!" She buried her head in the sheets, but her body still vibrated with laughter.
"What girls? Oh, Kate, do get a grip!"
Kate slowly sat up and tried very hard not to laugh. "I walked the length of the room...," she started, but it was no good, she was having an attack of the giggles and the crosser Peter looked, the more she laughed.
Why does she have to be so annoying? Peter thought, already forgetting how pleased to see her he had felt. Finally she stopped.
"Do you know you're sleeping in a Year Eleven common room? It was full of bossy prefects in overalls holding scrubbing brushes. Someone had scrawled really rude comments about the teachers all over the walls, and they were having to clean it off. Miss Gunn, the deputy headmistress, was there--she's really strict--sitting reading a newspaper. Every so often she'd look over her glasses and say, "Come on, girls, a bit more elbow grease. This is my holiday too, you know." The sports captain was there, right next to me. She winded me with a net ball the other week just because I was daydreaming. When she looked round, I stuck my tongue out at her. It was so cool. She screamed and screamed. She looked like she'd seen a ghost; they all did."
"Well they had, sort of," said Peter.
"But I'm not dead," Kate replied cheerfully.
"How are they supposed to know? We must be presumed dead by now. And look at what you're wearing--a perfect ghost costume."
Kate's face dropped. "They'll tell Mum and Dad and they'll think that I'm dead. Oh, no, what have I done?"
"We'll just have to get back and show them we're alive, won't we?" said Peter, getting in quickly in case Kate got emotional. "You know," he continued, "it was difficult to see properly because of the light, but I think you just about disappeared this time. Did you look solid in the classroom?"
"I'm not sure--I couldn't see myself. But I could see stuff through my arm. I guess I must have looked kind of filmy, not fully formed somehow. But they all looked so terrified, I must have looked like a ghost. The funny thing was, all the time I was there, I was still aware of you in this room. It was like having one foot in the past and one foot in the future."
"Why did you come back?" asked Peter. "Could you have stayed there if you had wanted to?"
"It felt like it was taking all my strength to stay there as long as I did. I don't know how to describe it.... It's as if I have a giant elastic band tied round my waist, which is attached to a hook here. I can go quite a way straining against the band--and I suspect that I could go farther and stay longer--but sooner or later I am going to ping right back."
Peter kicked the bottom of the bed absentmindedly.
"Don't do that. You'll scratch it," said Kate.
Peter gave her a look and kept on kicking. "I wonder if you've always been able to blur, I mean even though you didn't know you could. Or perhaps whatever happened to us has changed
Similar Books
