Part 3 (2/2)

'Why are they lovely?' I asked.

Rhiannah just shrugged and smiled again. 'They look like they're used for great things. You can tell a lot about a person from their hands.'

I examined my hands more closely. They had wide, square palms, and the fingernails looked tough as if they could claw through anything. Rhiannah's were a bit like that, too: long and slightly pointed and dark. I looked at Charlotte's fingernails. They were pearly pink and they sparkled in the sun.

I liked mine better.

'That's a very charming bangle,' I said, looking at the metal circle around her wrist. I said it partly because I felt as though I should compliment her back after she had been so nice to me, and partly because I really did like it.

The bangle was made from flat, s.h.i.+ny copper. It looked like she polished it every day. Carved into its surface were intricate patterns that looked somehow like ... animal tracks?

A word tried to push its way into the group of words inside my mind.

It started with a 'P'.

Poor ... Purr ...

Purinin ...

I could not draw my eyes away from the bangle. It seemed, strangely, as though as I was looking at it, the patterns began to move the footprints began to leap and dance. Almost as though my brain were not in control of my limbs, I reached out. I wanted to touch it. I just wanted to find out what it would feel feel like. It was as if I was under some strange sort of spell. like. It was as if I was under some strange sort of spell.

Rihannah jerked her hand away, breaking the enchantment. 'Don't touch that ... please,' she said. I looked up at her eyes. They seemed fearful. I wondered why. All I had wanted was to touch the bangle. I looked back down at it again now. The footprints were standing still. The magic was over.

'Tessa?'

'Yes?' I said, looking up at Charlotte.

'Time to move on,' she said. 'See you later, Rhiannah.'

'Yeah, I gotta go too. My brother's waiting for me,' said Rhiannah. Her voice was back to normal now. 'Great to meet you, Tessa!'

I watched Rhiannah walk towards the school gates. As they opened, I saw a boy standing on the other side. His hair was dark, like Rhiannah's. Even from here I could see that he was exceedingly handsome. As the gates shut, I was almost certain I saw his eyes flick my way, and his brow furrow. I felt my heart begin to beat very quickly, and I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my cheeks burn.

'He's a bit of a looker, isn't he?' Charlotte whispered in my ear. 'I don't blame you for checking him out.'

'I was doing nothing of the sort!' I protested.

'Oh, come on. Perrin is famous,' said Charlotte. 'One of the best-looking boys in Hobart. Pity his sister is such a nutcase. I hope she didn't scare you. I only introduced you so you didn't get freaked out by her later.'

I shook Perrin's face from my head. I wanted to tell Charlotte that I didn't think Rhiannah seemed weird at all. She seemed much nicer than all the ones who didn't smile with their eyes.

But before I could say anything, the loud noise that had scared me so much that morning quaked through the air yet again. It scared me less each time. I flinched, but I did not cower.

Charlotte clapped her hands. 'Cla.s.s time!' she said. 'I do hope you have enjoyed meeting my friends, Tessa. They are definitely the most correct correct people for you to be a.s.sociating with at Cascade Falls. I hope you will understand now that Erin and Laurel, and Rhiannah and her crowd are, well, people for you to be a.s.sociating with at Cascade Falls. I hope you will understand now that Erin and Laurel, and Rhiannah and her crowd are, well, not not. You'll thank me later for teaching you this, trust me. Now, according to your schedule, you have maths, with me. Come on. We mustn't be late.'

I trailed along behind Charlotte as she marched up the long, polished wood floorboards of the corridor towards our cla.s.sroom, watching as the sun through the windows glinted off her spun-gold hair. I couldn't help thinking that the halo of light did look very much like a crown.

'Princess Charlotte,' Erin had called her. Erin had called her.

I wondered then whether the Tessa who came out of the bush, with her matted hair and bruises and the long streaking scars across her back, would have seemed like the kind of girl Princess Charlotte would want in her court.

I wondered if the Tessa from now now would be, if Charlotte could see who she really was. would be, if Charlotte could see who she really was.

After all, I still had the scars.

As I lay in my new bed on the first night in my new school, the scars came alive.

It was late around midnight, but my body felt as though it was midday. My mind was alert and my eyes didn't want to close. There was too much to think about.

What a big, strange day it had been!

The rest of my cla.s.ses had been agreeable. Some were even informative and interesting. I had kept quiet and attentive and I believed I had made a good impression on my teachers. I even answered a question or two! School, it seemed, was not so odd and difficult after all. At lunch time, Charlotte and her friends had some sort of rehearsal, so I sat by myself in the sun and watched my schoolmates congregate and cl.u.s.ter and move about like a flock of grey pigeons. I enjoyed watching them, knowing I was one of them too. I liked feeling as though I was part of something. Like I belonged.

The evening had gone quite well also. I sat with Charlotte and her friends at dinner and even made some conversation. I complimented the food (and kept my mouth closed when the others ranted about how 'greasy' and fattening it was). I remarked that it was a pretty night outside (and stared at my plate as the others complained about the cold). Though they disagreed with my opinions, the other girls didn't seem angry at me. In fact, Claudia even squeezed my hand at one point and said, 'You're doing well, Tessa.'

That made me feel happy. Accepted. Accepted.

When the conversation turned to fas.h.i.+ons and 'celebrities', the voices of the girls muted somewhat. I did not understand why 'leggings as trousers cool or not?' was an interesting topic, and I was also ignorant as to why the other girls seemed interested in talking about the romances and scandals of people they didn't even know. I checked that I would not be missed from the conversation and, once I had concluded that they were too enthralled in a discussion on the physique of a renowned male musician (they called him a 'pop star'), I retreated inside my head.

And in there was Cat. I wondered if she had sat at this same table, having similar conversations. I wondered how many of the girls here knew her. I wondered if I should ask them, or if they might be sensitive about her disappearance. I imagined her, cold and alone, in the wilderness.

I never never imagined her dead, though I knew it was logically possible. Perhaps it was only hope for you, Connolly. Perhaps I just imagined her dead, though I knew it was logically possible. Perhaps it was only hope for you, Connolly. Perhaps I just wanted wanted Cat to be alive but ... I don't know how to describe it. It was almost intuition. I sensed that she was out there. Odd and mad and Cat to be alive but ... I don't know how to describe it. It was almost intuition. I sensed that she was out there. Odd and mad and witching witching as it may seem, I somehow as it may seem, I somehow knew. knew. And I also knew it was up to me to find her. It was like the dreams I had been having since I awoke the ones that seemed so real and yet so implausible; it was as though my subconscious knew things my consciousness did not. I could not explain it, but I could not argue with it either. The feeling was so strong. Cat And I also knew it was up to me to find her. It was like the dreams I had been having since I awoke the ones that seemed so real and yet so implausible; it was as though my subconscious knew things my consciousness did not. I could not explain it, but I could not argue with it either. The feeling was so strong. Cat was alive was alive.

'Tessa?' A sharp voice punctured my contemplation. My eyes snapped towards Inga, whose own eyes were boring into me. 'I asked you a question,' she said.

'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I think I am quite tired. What was your question?'

Inga rolled her eyes. 'I just wanted to know if you have a boyfriend?'

'A boyfriend?' I asked. The term was unfamiliar to me. Was Inga asking if I had any male companions? Was she implying I had been improper?

'Yes, you know,' she said slowly, as though I was dimwitted. 'A boyfriend?'

'You don't have to answer that, Tessa,' said Claudia, gently. She turned to Inga. 'That's private,' she said.

'Aww, but I thought we were friends,' Inga said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. I really did not like Inga. 'All right,' she said. 'I'll share first. I have a boyfriend. His name is Jakob. He's completely hot and he kisses like a demon.'

Ah, so Inga was not simply talking about male companions. She was talking about ... gentlemen callers. About suitors.

'I ... I don't really know if I have a boyfriend,' I replied, truthfully. I had not remembered a boyfriend. I could not remember any any boys. But, like my boys. But, like my feeling feeling about Cat, I had a sense that perhaps there had been someone. Dancing around my brain was a hint of a musky smell; the feeling of lips brus.h.i.+ng against mine. Maybe this about Cat, I had a sense that perhaps there had been someone. Dancing around my brain was a hint of a musky smell; the feeling of lips brus.h.i.+ng against mine. Maybe this was was just a dream, though. After all, I had seen myself in the mirror after I was rescued. What boy would have wanted me? just a dream, though. After all, I had seen myself in the mirror after I was rescued. What boy would have wanted me?

'Right,' said Inga, her eyes narrowing. 'Weird.'

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