My Brother's Shadow Read Online Free PDF Page A

back.”
    Now I’d started, I couldn’t stop. Rage had risen in my chest. I stepped towards her and felt my new friend step up beside me, a low growl stirring the air.
    â€œCall us that again,” I hissed.
    Poppy looked at me, looked at the boy, back at me. “Ah, forget you,” she said, turning her back, long blond hair whipping.
    I couldn’t quite believe what had happened. But it got even more amazing.
    From behind me came a soft voice, an ex-friend, Luzie.
    â€œDon’t worry, Kaia. Poppy can be a right horrible you-know-what.”
    I couldn’t speak. Had someone just talked to me without making me feel like a squashed ant?
    OK, you won’t believe this either: it gets even more incredible.
    At lunch, Luzie sat next to me. It almost made me cry.
    This is a true story.
    I remember the last time Luzie sat next to me. I almost cried that time too. It was three months and seven days after the funeral.
    â€œI don’t know what to say anymore, Kaia,” she said.
    I did not answer her. I had no words.
    I heard her sniff and her voice crack as she spoke again. “If you want to talk to me, you can talk to me. But …”
    I didn’t look at her. I heard her sniff again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hand wipe across her face.
    â€œBut … my mum says you might want to be alone for a while.”
    Still I was silent. I didn’t nod. My eyes stared straight forwards.
    Luzie stood and walked away, sniffing. Then I looked up as my last friend left.

IMPERFECTIONS
    I don’t want to talk about the funeral, but it happened.
    Family were there. Granny and Grandpop flew all the way over; Mum’s sister and my cousins came down from Coventry.
    Moses’s friends came too, all caps and black jackets.
    They called me Tiny and I didn’t answer. They hugged Mum, who stood like a tree trunk.
    They weren’t my brother. They weren’t Mum’s son.
    The funeral happened on a Tuesday. I remember this because all through the service, as the vicarprayed and Mum cried and tried to say things about her son, I kept thinking that I was missing swimming at school. I should have been remembering my brother, but in my head I was doing widths.
    I missed a few weeks of school, almost a month. I sat and cried with Mum, who said it was just me and her now. I sat and cried with a social worker lady, who promised she’d try to come back and visit but never did. I sat and cried with Granny, who said she was always there for me and then flew hundreds of miles away.
    When I’d cried all my tears and buried the pain somewhere between my heart and my stomach, Mum sent me back to school.
    At first everyone tried to be nice. My friends hugged me and held on to me, like my sadness was something they could suck out of me. I shrugged them off.
    They whispered sorrys and asked if I wasOK—stupid question. They spoke of happy things. I closed my ears and kept my own thoughts locked away.
    Eventually they stared at me like I was a curiosity, a puzzle that couldn’t be solved.
    I wasn’t much to look at, and in the end they even gave up on staring. All except Luzie. She sat by me long after I was just a freak to everyone else. Her sad glances and her hopeful smiles did not cease.
    I lost Moses. Luzie lost me.
    It didn’t all change on the school trip. It couldn’t all change. Not just like that. It wasn’t like Luzie talked to me all break time even. It wasn’t like before. But it was something, something out of the ordinary.
    Normally I’m surrounded by empty seats.
    Later in the day, the boy and I stole away. I love that phrase. We didn’t actually steal anything really, except some time.
    So we stole away, away from the rest of the class, from Mr. Wills, from Harry, who was talking to Shadid and a group of boys about Egyptian hieroglyphics and ancient graffiti. We found ourselves in a room full of patterns: patterns on vases,