Shift by Em Bailey Page A

to reach dangerous levels before Mum even stopped the car, and the moment I stepped out onto the footpath I knew this was a huge mistake. No matter how rad my costume was. But by then Mum had already pulled away, leaving me and Ami on the footpath. Music – scheiss music – blared from the town hall. Two girls arrived, dressed as
mermaids, their skirts so narrow around their ankles they could hardly walk. They clutched each other to keep from falling. Each one was wearing a little icicle tiara that went nicely with their
cold little smiles. They stopped on the steps, listening to the music.
    ‘Oh my god,’ screamed one mermaid.
    ‘I love this song!’ screamed the other, nearly tripping on her tail.
    ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ I announced, pivoting on my heel. ‘I’m going home.’ There was a bus stop nearby – I could be home in twenty minutes.
    Ami threw herself in front of me. ‘No! You promised me you’d stay for a bit. Just remind yourself that we’re here to have fun. Or will that break some Princess of the
Alternative rule?’
    ‘No,’ I said, laughing. ‘We’re allowed to have fun. We just don’t like bad music.’
    ‘Well, put on your headphones and listen to your own music,’ said Ami, clearly exasperated. ‘I bet you brought some. Let’s go inside.’
    ‘Everyone is staring,’ I muttered as we walked up the steps and through the ornate wood and glass doors.
    ‘That would be because of the gaping, bloodied hole in your dress,’ Ami pointed out.
    Oh yeah. I’d forgotten about that. I straightened up. The only thing worse than turning up in a bizarro costume is looking like you regret it.
    Inside the hall, set to one side, was a table for refreshments. None of it looked very refreshing – just a bowl of flat orange punch and a few platters of crisps. Clearly Miranda and Katie
hadn’t wasted much of the budget on food.
    Nearby, Cameron and his friends were standing together, all of them wearing tux jackets with ties shaped like tropical fish. Either they’d planned it or they’d all had the same dumb
idea. Cameron looked edgy. He kept fiddling with the fish, his eyes continually flitting towards the door like he was waiting for someone to appear. Not Katie, obviously, because she was standing
right near him, silent and grey as a shadow.
    ‘It’s a worry, isn’t it?’ As usual Ami said exactly what I was thinking. ‘She looks like she’s being drained of life.’
    I nodded, my eyes still on Cameron. I was pretty sure I knew who he was looking for, and when his face suddenly began to sparkle I followed his gaze. Miranda had arrived. And it wasn’t
just Cameron who turned to look. We all did. Almost like we had no say in it.
    ‘Hi, Miranda,’ said Cameron, stepping forward and holding out his hand. Like he was a prince. ‘You look …’ He stopped. Because silence described how Miranda looked,
better than any word could. In any language.
    I found myself remembering how Miss Falippi had told us about the Sirens. How they sang songs that were irresistible to the sailors, who would wreck their ships and die because they were so
desperate to get closer to the music. Although Miranda wasn’t actually singing anything, I could sort of feel the pull myself – like an undertow.
    Miss Falippi. I realised I hadn’t thought about her for ages. I’d heard a rumour the cops were going after her for drug possession, but I didn’t hear what happened. She’d
resigned without ever coming back.
    Somehow Lachlan walked up without me seeing him until he was right there, totally unavoidable. Ami – my supposed friend – not only failed to warn me, but had now completely
disappeared.
    ‘Hey.’ Lachlan was smiling – and not in a ‘so you came anyway’ way or a ‘what the hell are you wearing?’ way. He just looked pleased. Pleased to see me
there.
    I’d thought about what to do, of course, if this situation arose. Make an excuse and get away from him as quickly as possible.