Magenta McPhee by Catherine Bateson

company.’
    â€˜Meow.’
    I stopped writing. I wasn’t sure about adding all Eclipse’s meows. To me, when I said them aloud, they all sounded different, but would a reader be able to grasp that? I doubted it. If I read woofs in a book, for example, they’d all just sound like woofs. I’d have to send Eclipse away or give him the power of speech. I didn’t want to dothat. A bit of telepathy, maybe, but no speech. I hated books with talking animals. It was just cheating. Fortunately it was bedtime, so I could stop. As I cleaned my teeth I wondered how adult writers managed, who had no bedtime or even homework to do. Did they just work on and on until they were so tired they had to stop? Or did they invent things that had to be done when they couldn’t write any more?
    I decided that when I was a grown-up writer, I’d have a whole list of things I had to do. That way I could stop writing whenever I felt like it. I’d copy the list Mum kept on her mobile phone: Pay Bills, Do Laundry, Cook Ahead, Meeting Preparation! But I’d add some good things too: Go to Beach, See Movie, Play Flying Hamsters!
    Dad said he’d pick me up at school on Wednesday and that way we’d arrive at the Chocolate Bean café about the same time as Cal and Spooky, who I had to remember to call Lianna.
    â€˜But then I’ll still be in school uniform.’
    â€˜So?’
    â€˜Dad, it’s sooo daggy. No one gets seen anywhere in uniform if they can help it.’
    I’d had my outfit planned. I was going to wear my black jeans and the purple velvet top Dad had got for me at the op shop. It was a little bit goth, but not so goth it looked as though I needed to be completely paleand wearing too much black eye make-up, particularly if I wore it with my patterned sneakers. It would be an outfit entirely suited to someone who was writing her first fantasy novel and who might be excused for worrying about her dad so much she put his profile up on an Internet dating site without his permission. Also, there was Cal. He might just turn out to be ... well, not like Richard, of course, but to have potential.
    â€˜You’re not being seen anywhere,’ Dad said, ‘we’re just all having coffee at the Chocolate Bean.’
    â€˜I just thought I’d wear something good. Can’t we whiz home first? Just so I can change quickly? I’d only be a minute.’
    â€˜Magenta, I’m not going to be late, okay? Being on time is a matter of courtesy. I think the least we owe Lianna and her son is a little courtesy. Don’t forget why we’re meeting them.’
    â€˜Okay,’ I sighed heavily. I cheered myself up by wearing my favourite lip gloss – Pinkly Bare – and putting the tiniest bit of mascara on my eyelashes. Actually it wasn’t my mascara but a tube I’d borrowed from Mum so it was a bit sticky and I ended up with drops of it stuck to the end of my lashes so I had to scrub most of it off with a flannel.
    â€˜You look tired,’ Polly said the minute she saw me. ‘Were you up late planning what to say on the Big Day?’
    â€˜No,’ I said.
    â€˜You’ve got dark circles under your eyes,’ she said. ‘Maybe you’ve just inherited them from your dad. I’m going to go grey early, according to Jane. But you can always use dye to fix that. You’d better put some concealer on before you meet Spooky’s son.’
    â€˜I haven’t got any concealer,’ I said. ‘It can’t be that bad, Dad didn’t say anything.’
    When we went into the girls’ toilet, though, I could see what Polly meant. The underneath of my eyes – the left in particular – was kind of dark. I dabbed Polly’s cover-up stick at the shadows.
    â€˜I didn’t know you used this stuff,’ I said, examining it.
    â€˜I don’t,’ Polly said darkly, ‘it’s Jane’s. She makes me carry