Bad Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page B

and photos? Or was she horrified?’
    â€˜She was excited,’ Imogen admitted. ‘I think people always teased her when she said she knew things were going to happen. So I think she was pleased I took after her a little bit.’
    â€˜Does she encourage it?’
    â€˜Encourage it?’
    I tried to explain. ‘When my mum realized I was good at swimming, she signed me up at swim club right away. But when she found out I could crack my fingers, she couldn’t stop me fast enough. “Don’t do that!” she kept saying. “It’s a horrible habit!”’
    Imogen considered. ‘But this isn’t like either of those things. It just happens, or it doesn’t.’
    â€˜Is that what your mum thinks?’
    â€˜I suppose so.’
    â€˜So she doesn’t go round shoving books at you, just out of curiosity, to see what happens?’
    â€˜Of course she doesn’t.’
    â€˜But she hasn’t done anything to put a stop to it, either?’
    Imogen stared. ‘Like what ?’
    I couldn’t think of anything, anyhow. Somehow, when it came down to it, it hardly seemed polite to mention going to doctors, or hypnotists, or psychiatrists, or anything like that. And anyhow, maybe Imogen and her mother were right, and being able to see into books and photos was one of those things, like blue eyes or freckles, that you couldn’t do anything about if you wanted.
    So I just kept on with the questions, ticking the answers off in my head, ready for later.
    â€˜Well, does it worry her that it’s so hard for you to concentrate on your schoolwork?’
    â€˜I try not to say too much about that,’ Imogen admitted.
    â€˜But she must know you’re having problems. What about when you had to change schools because people thought you were—’ I would have said ‘creepy’, but it seemed nicer to finish up ‘– a little strange ?’
    â€˜She was surprised it all got so difficult so quickly.’
    â€˜Did it?’

    â€˜Oh, yes. Before last year, it only ever happened those two times – with Aunty Dora’s photo, and that book about the pony. I still had plenty of friends. And my work wasn’t bad, either.’
    That made sense. After all, she’d written out that story from Tyke Sam pretty fast, covering three whole pages in less than half an hour. And Mr Hooper could read it.
    â€˜So this whole business just got worse suddenly?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Imogen said. ‘And maybe one day it’ll go away again just as quickly.’
    â€˜Would you like that?’
    She didn’t answer. She just stared ahead.
    â€˜How about your mum?’ I asked. ‘Would she like it?’
    â€˜Why are you asking all these questions?’ Imogen burst out.
    I shut up, fast, in case she guessed. But anyway, we were already turning the corner into her road. Imogen led me past three or four plain, boring old houses, then up the path beside another, just the same.
    â€˜Mum’s probably round the back,’ she said, pushing open the side gate. I followed her through, and stopped in my tracks, astonished. The back of the house was amazing. I just stared .
    How to describe it? It looked as if fairies and goblins had decorated the whole place for a joke. The bricks were yellow, the door red, the window frames green and their shutters blue. All over the lawn were tiny pretend windmills, and gnomes fishing in ponds, and plaster tortoises and rabbits. There was even a wizard sitting cross-legged on a stone mushroom, waving his wand. If you were five, you would have thought you’d fallen through a hole in the real world, and ended up in a Toytown picture book.

    â€˜That is incredible!’
    Behind me, there was an excited voice. ‘Do you really like it? Really? ’
    I spun round.
    â€˜Melly,’ said Imogen. ‘This is my mum.’
    She didn’t look like anybody’s mum to me. She was