Chapter 8

"Kat? Are you OK? You look a bit pale, and you havent eaten any of your dinner, its spagetti bolegnese, your favourite." Mum drilled, as I slouched over the table, Mitchell eating delicately opposite me.
"I'm fine Mum. I just had a large snack before I went to sleep." I replied sullenly, desperate to get off the hook.
"Katherine, you know you're not supposed to eat snacks before your tea. I hope you didn't have any chocolate...." Mum droaned.
"Mum! All had was an apple, some raisins and an oatcake!" I almost shouted.
"HELLO DARLINGS!!!!!"
"Steve!" Mitchell shouted happily and ran out of the dininig room.
Mum trotted after him, her eyes all soppy.
I sensed my moment.
I tipped half of my spag bol in Mitchells plate, and the other half under my fork, before scrapering outside.
"Cynthanie!" I whispered, tip-toeing around the lawn, peering for butterflys.
"Good evening Katherine. Are you sensible now?"
"Aagh!" I screamed.
I glanced at my shoulder, and there was Cynthanie, perched on my should combing her long mane of hair with her delicate, pale fingers.
"Hi." I managed to stammer.
"My friends are scared of you. But I'm not. Do you want to meet them?" Cynthanie asked, syrup hanging in golden toffee loops off her words.
"Umm...."
"They're really kind. And I'm sure we'll all get along?" Her voice was melodic, and enchanting, it felt dusky, and heavy, and syrupy and sweet.
"Well....maybe not...." I began slowly.
"Pardon?" She said sharply, her voice still having the syrupy sweetness, but a hint of metallic anger.
I felt sleepy and cosy at the sound of her voice.
"Of course." I said without meaning to, my mouth just chorused the words Cythanie wanted to hear.
"Fabulous!" She said cheerfully, all sense of slight annoyance gone.