The Tail of Emily Windsnap - Liz Kessler [12]
And then the light went off. I waited. It didn’t come back on.
I tried to imagine what it was like inside. Just Mr. Beeston, all by himself, rattling around in a big empty lighthouse. Footsteps echoing with emptiness whenever he climbed up and down the stone spiral stairs. Sitting alone, looking out at the sea. Watching the light. What kind of a life was that? What kind of a person could live that life? And why hadn’t the light come back on?
Dark questions followed me home.
By the time I reached the pier, it was nearly morning. Shivering, I pulled myself up the rope ladder.
I snuck back onto the boat and hung my jacket near the stove. It would be dry by morning. Mom likes the place to be like a sauna at night.
As I crept into bed, I thanked the lucky stars on my ceiling that I’d gotten home with my secret still safe. For now.
“Don’t forget your things.” Mom reached through the side door, holding an object that filled me with dread.
“Oh, yeah.” I took my swimming bag from her.
“And get a move on. You don’t want to be late, do you?”
“No, of course not.” I looked down at the rippled sand between the wooden slats of the dock. “Mom?” I said quietly.
“What, sweetheart?”
“Do I have to go to school?”
“Have to go? Of course you have to go. What crazy idea do you have in your head now?”
“I don’t feel well.” I clutched my stomach and tried to look like I was in pain.
Mom pulled herself up through the door and crouched on the jetty in front of me. She cupped my chin in her hand and lifted my face to look at hers. I hate it when she does that. The only way I can avoid her eyes is by closing my own, and then I feel like an idiot.
“What is all this about?” she asked. “Is it your new school? Don’t you like it?”
“School’s fine,” I said quickly. “Mostly.”
“What is it, then? Is it swimming?”
I tried to move my head away but she held on tight. “No,” I lied, looking as far to the side as I could, my head still trapped in her hand.
“I thought we had that all fixed,” she said. “Are you worried in case it hasn’t worked?”
Why hadn’t I thought of that? I couldn’t believe how stupid I was! I should have realized that if I let her think I was cured, I’d have to go swimming again!
“I’ve got a stomachache,” I said weakly.
Mom let go of my chin. “Come on, sweet pea, there’s nothing wrong with you, and you know it. Now, scoot.” She patted my leg and stood up. “You’ll be fine,” she added, more gently.
“Hmm,” I replied, and sloped up the ramp and along the pier to wait by the promenade for the jitney that drops me off near school.
I slunk into homeroom just as Mrs. Partington was closing the attendance book. She looked at her watch and said, “I’ll turn a blind eye, just this once.”
She always says that. Everyone laughs when she does because she actually does have a blind eye. It’s bright blue, just like her other one, but it doesn’t move. It just stares at you, even when she’s looking away. It’s a bit freaky. You don’t know where to look when she’s talking to you, so we all try not to get in trouble. She always has the best-behaved class in the school.
I didn’t laugh with the others this time, though. I just said, “Sorry,” and went to sit down, pushing my hateful swimming bag under the table.
The entire morning was a disaster. I couldn’t concentrate at all. In addition to being my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Partington was also my pre-algebra teacher. We were doing some simple equations, and I kept getting x wrong. I was really mad, because I’m good at math, and usually I can solve the bonus questions easily. Mrs. Partington kept giving me sideways looks out of her good eye.
When the bell rang for break, I actually did start to feel sick. Next was swimming. Everyone ran out of the room, but I took ages putting my pens and book away in my backpack.
Mrs. Partington was wiping the board. “Come on, Emily,” she said without turning around. “It might be nice to do something on time today.”
“Yes, Mrs. Partington,” I said, and crawled out of the