Story basket: Children’s books in progress
There she is again in the top room, just under the roof, where nobody should be. Nobody. Mum says those attics across the street are full of boxes and rat droppings, and that’s all. The shops and offices don’t use them any more.
But there she is for the second time, a pale girl, staring across at me. I lift my hand and wave slowly, in case she scares away. Holding my breath, heart thumping fast, I let myself say the word ghost in my head, even though I can see she’s wearing a hoodie.
She waves back.
YOU MAY GET THERE BY CANDLELIGHT
Ever wondered what would happen if you really did get up, leave your classroom and carry on walking out into the world? That’s what I did on Tuesday morning, straight after first lesson. I didn’t do it because I wanted to. I did it because I had no choice.
It started with the girl on the recreation field, two months ago now. She picked up a bottle of water and tipped it over her head, drenching herself—hair, clothes, the lot. I didn’t think she’d see me from the other side of the field, but I ducked behind the recreation hut again just in case. It’s falling down and covered in slimy green stuff and I’d only nipped behind it for a pee, but I crouched and watched.