How Kirsty Jenkins Stole the Elephant by Elen Caldecott Page B

sorry.’ Dawn put her headphones in her ears and closed her eyes. As far as she was concerned, the conversation was over.
    Kirsty felt her own temper rising. Dawn was so annoying! There was no one in the world who could be so stubborn. She was impossible. Kirsty got down off the bunk bed. Perhaps Ben would be easier.
    â€˜There’s no way I’m going to say sorry to her. She hit me!’
    â€˜But you did call her names.’
    â€˜She deserved it.’
    â€˜But, Ben, if you don’t speak to her this will ruin everything. Is that what you want?’
    Ben didn’t speak. He looked at the ground.
    Kirsty felt the cold feeling again. He did want to ruin it! It was what he wanted! She was sure of it. He was going to let her down. He was going to let Grandad down. She felt tears burn her eyes. ‘I can’t believe you’re backing out. You’ve helped me so much. You can’t stop now.’
    Ben still said nothing.
    Kirsty stared hard into his face. He looked sad and uncomfortable, but certain. ‘It’s funny,’ she said. ‘I always thought of Dawn as my half-sister. But you were always my brother – it was that simple. Now, I guess you are only my half-brother.’
    Ben looked shocked, but Kirsty didn’t stay to wait for an answer. She ran out of his room, up the stairs and into the bathroom. With the door locked behind her, she sat on the floor, her forehead against the cold enamel of the bath. She had never felt so alone.

Monday3

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    Chapter 29
    Kirsty couldn’t sleep. She lay in the dark, listening to the house creak and groan. Strange, disturbing noises kept her awake: doors squeaked open, floorboards moaned, an eerie tapping came from somewhere nearby, like skeleton fingers picking the locks. Kirsty pulled the duvet up right over her face. It was hot and hard to breathe, but it felt safer. She shivered despite the heat and wished that the daytime would come.
    When the alarm clock rang, she felt crotchety. Perhaps this was how Dawn felt every morning. Kirsty didn’t want to speak to anyone, especially not Dawn or Ben. Not after they’d ruined everything with their stupid row. She went downstairs. Mum was up already. She could hear Ben moving in the front room. The stairs creaked. Dawn was following her down.
    â€˜Morning, girls,’ Mum said. Neither of them answered. ‘Oh, it’s one of those mornings, is it? Well, I’ve got a message for you. Ben wants you to go into the front garden.’
    Kirsty frowned. ‘Why?’
    â€˜I don’t know. But he told me to tell you it’s important. You’ve both got your slippers on – go and look.’
    Kirsty opened the front door. The cold morning air blew away all the last traces of sleep. She looked around the garden and gasped. Behind her, she heard Dawn laugh.
    Next to the red car, the broken down grey car had had an overnight transformation. The front doors were open and draped in grey pillowcases, like ears flapping in the breeze; two circles of paper for eyes were stuck on to the windscreen; below the eyes a long, draft-excluder trunk curled gracefully down the bonnet. Ben had turned the car into an elephant! Dawn was laughing properly now. Kirsty was soon giggling too. The elephant-car looked so funny. She looked towards the front room window. Ben stood there, grinning nervously. He held up a piece of card with ‘Sorry’ scribbled on it.
    â€˜That’s the best apology ever,’ Dawn said.
    â€˜Yes. Come on, let’s get breakfast. We’ve got loads to do today if the plan’s back on!’

    In between washing, getting dressed and eating breakfast, they managed to snatch a few minutes to talk while Mum sorted out packed lunches.
    â€˜The transport is sorted,’ Kirsty said firmly.
    â€˜I can disable the alarm,’ Dawn said.
    They both looked at Ben. He still seemed quiet, even after his apology. Kirsty remembered what she had