Kiss by Jacqueline Wilson

  still playing persuasively, and all the r a t s tumble down down down in a squealing squeaking flurry and are all burned to a crisp. So the general stench in Glassworld is given an even more rancid reek of roasted r a t flesh, so the problem is even more dire, soooooo . ..'

  Carl looked at me. 'Come on, come on. I've been talking for ages. It's your t u r n now, Sylvie.'

  I sighed, trying to think. I didn't really want to carry on. I felt hypnotized like the poor rats. Carl hadn't been so inventive, so fired up, so totally involved in Glassworld for ages. I'd longed for him to play it properly, t h e way we did when we were little kids, but now I wasn't quite so sure. I was usually the one with the best ideas, the one who invented new characters and planned every aspect of the plot. I felt usurped, wrong-footed, left out. I couldn't get into the story. I was stuck in t h e hut, holding the paperweight in my hand, while Carl was inside Glassworld with his King and this new irritating Piper who seemed to have taken over, charming everyone with his ludicrous get-up and crude music. I wanted him out of Glassworld.

  'Queen Sylviana h a d not been idle when she was r a t h e r unkindly closeted in her bedroom, erroneously deemed mad. She sensed right from the beginning t h a t t h e Piper was a dangerous enchanter. He not only bewitched r a t s , he bewitched children, women, men – even kings.

  He was actually in league with the enemy spy who blew up the Glassworld sewers. It was all 84

  part of his dastardly plot to charm his way into the royal circle and eventually u s u r p the King himself.'

  'Rubbish!' said Carl. 'You're spoiling it.'

  'Look, it's my go now – you h a d ages and ages.

  I'm not spoiling it. I'll make it t u r n out right, you'll see. So, Queen Sylviana tossed a n d turned on her silk swansdown pillow, trying to think w h a t to do for the best. Her own magical powers were in decline, as she always sank into a terrible depression when she felt she was out of favour with the King. She thought h a r d of all the women in the world strong enough to play the Piper at his own game. She looked into her Glass world mirror, and every facet of the glass shone rainbow spectrums in her face. She closed h e r eyes, dazzled, and when she tried opening t h e m again she did not see h e r own reflection, she saw a plump and comely raven-h a i r e d e n c h a n t r e s s , Princess M i r a n d a r e t t e , playing with h e r potions in her Ice Palace in the Snowland Steppes. Queen Sylviana shivered, knowing Mirandarette's powers. She was the most ruthless of all the enchanters, showing no mercy, because she had a sliver of ice in her heart. She was h e r only chance.

  'Queen Sylviana s u m m o n e d up all h e r magical s t r e n g t h and sent a psychic message t h r o u g h t h e ether. Princess M i r a n d a r e t t e smiled. She donned her white fur robes, called for her reindeer sleigh, and set off across the night sky, travelling faster t h a n the speed of 85

  light to Glassworld. As her sleigh hovered over the beleaguered city t h e reindeer threw back t h e i r heavy antlered heads at the stench and trod thin air, not wanting to land in such a polluted place. Princess Mirandarette waved h e r moonstone sceptre thrice above h e r head a n d snow started falling, such thick, rapid snow t h a t Glassworld all b u t disappeared, j u s t the very pinnacles and spires sticking out of the all-enveloping snow blanket. She circled above, her sceptre flashing through the air, lowering the t e m p e r a t u r e so suddenly t h a t Mirandarette t u r n e d a ghostly shade of blue beneath her furs.

  Then her arm shot out and she summoned the s u n itself, a n d t h e snow melted almost instantly, taking with it all the stench and mire, miraculously cleaning Glassworld u n t i l it sparkled in the glorious sunshine. Princess Mirandarette sparkled too, a radiance glowing around her like an all-encompassing heavenly halo. King Carlo stepped out of his palace, w o n d e r i n g who h a d performed t h i s t r u l y miraculous feat, and saw h e r standing there, a n d he was dazzled by her b e a u t y — '

  'No he wasn't,' said Carl.

  'Yes, yes, he fell passionately in love at first sight, though he claimed indifference to her. He did not even t h a n k h e r very graciously—'

  'Utter bilge! Shut up, Sylvie!'

  'Not not not bilge, it's beautiful storytelling.

  Now listen, I have a cunning plan, it's all part of t h e plot—'

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  'I'm not listening,' Carl said childishly, putting his h a n d s over his ears.

  'Listen to me!' I grabbed his h a n d s and pulled them away. I wanted to spin out the story but now I could see I h a d to blurt it out. 'King Carlo fancies Princess Mirandarette because she's enchanted him, it's not his fault, but then she sees this Piper person and he plays his silly old fluty t u n e and suddenly she's the one who's helplessly e n c h a n t e d . She follows h i m as blindly as all those awful r a t s and he charms her away to wherever he came from. So they're both gone for ever and King Carlo and Queen Sylviana b r e a t h e t h e cool cleansed air of Glassworld and gaze into each other's eyes, all e n c h a n t m e n t s over, a n d t h e y r e n e w t h e i r wedding vows and live happily ever after,' I gabbled, still holding onto Carl's hands.

  Then I stopped. Carl stopped. We looked at each other. We were gazing into each other's eyes. It was the perfect moment. I waited. I waited a n d waited. Carl didn't move towards me and kiss my lips. He looked past me, over my shoulder, at the Glass Boy poised on t h e shelf.

  Lucy was still sulking on Monday b u t M i r a n d a was surprisingly friendly. She came r u s h i n g up to me at lunch time, giving me a hug, as if we'd been best friends for ever.

  'Hey, Sylvie,' she said. 'Let's slope off somewhere by ourselves. You haven't h a d lunch yet, have you? Shall we slip out t h e back way a n d go and get chips?'

  We were strictly forbidden to leave t h e school premises at lunch time. I was usually a timid little goody-goody – b u t I nodded yes. I tried to act as if it was no big deal b u t my h e a r t s t a r t e d thumping as we walked round t h e back of t h e canteen, ducked behind a delivery v a n a n d t h e n r a n out through t h e t r a d e entrance. We carried on r u n n i n g to t h e end of t h e road a n d t h e n slowed to a stop, laughing.

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  T h e r e ! I knew it would be easy-peasy,' said Miranda. 'Come on, let's find the chip shop.'

  'So you've never done this before?'

  'Never.' She smiled. 'You're obviously a bad influence, Sylvie. You're leading me astray.'

  'Yeah, like I'm the really bad n a u g h t y girl,' I said.

  'You are, you are. Look at you on Friday night, snogging my boyfriend.'

  'What?'

  'Andy kept going on about you after you left.

  He really fancies you.'

  'Rubbish! And Andy isn't your boyfriend. You were snogging my boyfriend.' I swallowed.

  'Miranda, was it a proper snog?'

  Miranda peered at me. 'Hey, you didn't really mind, did you? It was j u s t a silly game. I didn't mean to upset anyone. I get crazy sometimes, I always p u s h things too far. I could have kicked myself when Carl walked out like t h a t . It was j u s t m e a n t to be a laugh.'

  'Oh well,' I said lamely.

  'Carl isn't still m a d at me, is he?'

  I shrugged.

  'You're so lucky having a boyfriend like Carl.

  He's so interesting. Most boys are so incredibly basic. They j u s t w a n t to fool around all the time. Andy a n d Raj are OK, I suppose, b u t t h e y get on my nerves. Would you believe they started up a farting competition after you left?

  I was glad you guys weren't there to witness it.

  It was so irritating. Alice a n d I left t h e m to it.

  89

  We w e n t up to my bedroom and played music.

  Alice danced around for a bit. She watches pop videos compulsively a n d she's perfected all t h e s e little routines. It's kind of pathetic.

  Although Alice is one of my totally-for-always best friends I often find h e r irritating too. Is t h a t awful?'

  'Well. I suppose I find my best friend irrit
ating too sometimes,' I mumbled. I felt incredibly disloyal to Lucy but it was true.

  'I frequently irritate myself' said Miranda.

  'Do I irritate you, Sylvie?'

  'Not at all,' I said politely.

  'I bet I irritate Carl,' said Miranda.

  I hesitated.

  'Yeah, right,' she said, sighing. 'I know, I know, I'm too full-on for most guys, especially someone as complex as Carl. I wish I h a d the knack of j u s t being. I've always got to prance around and show off

  'But it works, Miranda, you know it does.'

  Miranda pulled a face. 'It only works with the people I'm not really bothered about.'

  'It worked w i t h me!' I said. 'So you're obviously not bothered with me, right?'

  'Wrong wrong wrong,' said Miranda. 'You've always intrigued me. You h a n g out with silly old Lucylocks and yet you don't twitter and giggle like she does. You wander round at lunch time looking dead mysterious and you j u m p if someone talks to you, as if you're deep in thought, in another world entirely—'

  90

  'Glassworld,' I said, and then I put my h a n d over my mouth.

  'Whichworld?'

  'No. Nothing.'

  'Come on. What? Did you say Glassworld? Is this the story you and Carl made up together?'

  'You're too sharp, Miranda. Stop it!'

  'Is it like Glasstown? You know, the stories the Brontes made up together when they were children?'

  'The Brontes? Like, Charlotte and Emily? The ones who wrote great fat Victorian novels?'

  'Yes, that's them. They weren't great fat girls, they were spindly little sisters, three of t h e m and a brother who was a bit of a waste of space.

  Haven't you read Jane Eyre? Ha, that's who you remind me of, funny fierce dreamy little J a n e .

  You m u s t r e a d it, Sylvie, a n d Wuthering Heights, it's got the most amazing beginning –

  and end, though it gets a bit muddly in the middle.'

  'Aren't they r a t h e r long and difficult? They're classics.'

  'Yeah, but they're fantastic dramatic love stories too. You'll love them. And then you'll get into reading about the Bronte family and how they lived in this bleak parsonage on t h e Yorkshire moors and they wrote these little books in minute handwriting when they were children about two imaginary worlds, Angria and Glasstown. I always thought how cool it would be to have a family like t h a t so you could 91

  all make up stuff together. I used to play all kinds of pretend games when I was young and I made the other kids play them too, but it was definitely under sufferance. They all thought I was totally weird. But now I've found you guys we'll all be in the Weird Club together. So, tell me all about Glassworld.'

  'I can't. I really truly can't, Miranda, it's just been our secret thing for years and years. Carl would kill me if I breathed a word about it.'

  I felt so worried she'd take offence b u t she j u s t shrugged and laughed.

  'OK, OK, but you can't stop me making up my world too. The Brontes h a d Glasstown and Angria, remember. Yeah, I'll have Sangria, that's like a Spanish drink – we d r a n k heaps of it in Madrid last year.'

  'You drank it?'

  'Well. A glass. My p a r e n t s h a d great jugs of it.

  Yes, Sangria will have red-wine fountains and everyone will be very relaxed and there'll be lots of dancing and it will be really really hot, s u m m e r all the time, and it'll be like an island so everyone can go swimming whenever they fancy and the sea will be really w a r m and there'll be dolphins – yeah, everyone will swim with the dolphins and I shall speak dolphinese like this!' She started squeaking and clicking, flapping her h a n d s like flippers. 'See, I'm good at making it up, aren't I? You're going to get bored holed up in Glassworld so you can come and visit, right?'

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  'OK, I'd love to,' I said. 'So long as I have my own pet dolphin.'

  'Absolutely. And your own pet p i r a n h a fish who will give you such a loving little nibble if you try to stroke it. I'll personally decorate your hair with pearls and coral beads and tie it with silky green seaweed. I'll give you a sea-green velvet dress to wear in the evenings buttoned with real pearls and you'll drink sangria out of green goblets—'

  'Made in Glassworld,' I said. 'My gift to you.'

  'You're a very polite girl so after you've stayed with me several weeks and I've thoroughly spoiled you you'll have to invite me to your . . .

  glass home?'

  'Palace, if you please.' I hesitated. 'Actually, you've already visited Glassworld. I've written about it in the Chronicles.'

  Miranda stopped in the middle of the pave-ment. 'Really? As me or as one of your made-up Glassworld people?'

  'Sort of both.'

  'What kind of an answer is that?'

  'Look, it's secret, Miranda.'

  'You can't j u s t appropriate me and p u t me in your book and then refuse to tell me how you've portrayed me. Why won't you tell me? Have you made me a horrible character? Have you t u r n e d me into Miranda the Mad Hag, with a warty nose and black bristles on my chin? You have, haven't you? I'm psychic, I can tell.'

  'Your psychic powers are rubbish because 93

  you're not a bit m a d or haggy, you're Princess Mirandarette, an enchantress.'

  'Ah! So who do I enchant? Can I enchant Carl?'

  'Absolutely not. He's t h e King a n d he's married to me,' I said.

  'That's not fair! You can't bag him in real life and in Glassworld.'

  'Yes I can!'

  'Am I a brilliant enchantress?'

  'The best.'

  'Well then, I shall summon up all my powers and enchant old King Carl pronto to Sangria.

  I'll slip sleeping powder in his sangria and lie him down on my big velvet sofa and then I'll cuddle up beside him, and when he wakens in the morning the first person he'll see is me, and there we go, he'll be mine.'

  'No, he won't,' I said, elbowing her.

  'Ouch! You've got such bony little elbows. T h a t hurtl It's OK, the charm only works when he's in Sangria. You can have him all to yourself in Glassworld. He'll j u s t have an occasional holiday with me – now how fair is that? Hey, if I'm such a beautiful enchantress, how come I can't magic up a bog-standard chip shop, for heaven's sake. You'd t h i n k there'd be one in this m a n k y parade of shops.'

  'I thought you'd been to this chip shop before?'

  'No, no, I've always been a good girl and stayed at school. It's j u s t your bad influence.

  You're leading me astray!'

  94

  I nudged her again and she nudged me back.

  We staggered up the street, poking each other and giggling as a bus went past.

  'Hey, look, it's going into town. Let's hop on it,'

  said Miranda.

  'But we've got to be back by two!'

  'We will. We'll j u s t nip into McDonald's, OK?

  Come on.'

  She caught hold of my h a n d and pulled me. I struggled for a few seconds, but then I let h e r tug me to the bus stop and h a u l me onto the bus.

  'There!' Miranda said, laughing a n d p a n t i n g as we flopped onto t h e front seat.

  'I can't believe we're doing this,' I said. 'We'll be in so much trouble if someone sees us a n d reports us to the school.'

  'Yeah, like, we're being totally wicked, nipping into town for a spot of lunch like t h o u s a n d s of other people,' said Miranda. 'That's w h a t I h a t e about schools. They act like it's a total criminal offence and moral outrage if you're not w e a r i n g your school tie, for God's sake. It's all so trivial and stupid. And we've got years a n d years to go.

  I can't wait till I can j u s t say stuff it.'

  'What do you w a n t to do w h e n you leave?

  University?'

  Miranda shrugged. 'I'd sooner a r t school.'

  'Carl w a n t s to go to a r t school too b u t he's so 96

  brainy his p a r e n t s w a n t him to try for Oxford or Cambridge.'

  'And is he
going along with their plans?'

  'I don't know,' I sighed. 'I don't know w h a t Carl really thinks any more. It's so h a r d now he's at K i n g s m e r e G r a m m a r . He's sort of clammed up.'

  'I thought you two h a d this totally magical relationship – t r u e minds, imaginary worlds, big literary partnership, the whole caboodle.'

  'Yes. Sort of. But when we were little we were so close we were like CarlandSylvie, one person.

  Even our families called us t h a t . Now he's Carl and I'm Sylvie a n d I'm scared we're kind of losing it. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I know you w a n t Carl for yourself

  'Maybe I want him because he's yours and not mine,' said Miranda. 'And if it's any consolation he doesn't seem remotely interested in me. Hey, maybe we're wasting our time sighing over him, Sylvie. I bet he's not agonizing over us right this minute.'

  We got off t h e bus at t h e town centre.

  Miranda pulled me towards the big shopping centre.

  'They've got a McDonald's downstairs. Or we could go to the food court. Do you fancy Thai food? Or a proper pizza, not like school muck?'

  I fingered the five coins in my purse. 'I've only got enough for chips,' I said apologetically.

  'Hey, it's my treat, naturally.'

  'No. Why should you pay for me?'

  97

  'Because I'm t h e spoiled little rich girl. I always pay. It's why people put up with me,' said Miranda.

  I looked at her. 'I never know when you're joking and when you're not.'

  'Neither do I.'

  Well, I put up with you because I like you –

  and I want to pay for my own meal, OK?'

  'OK! McDonald's then.'

  It was crowded with m u m s and toddlers and clusters of teenagers. There were several boys in distinctive purple blazers.

  'Look! Aren't they Kingsmere boys? Do you t h i n k Carl ever comes here?'

  'He's never said. I wouldn't think so.'

  'But he could. Suggest it, Sylvie! Then we could all meet up for lunch. It would be so cool.