Violet Ink Read Online Free PDF Page B

song and I see Granny and Mum looking at each other in amazement, Mum holding on to Granny’s hand and squeezing it tightly.
    Alex stretches her legs out and rests them on Finn, and occasionally feeds him popcorn when he looks at her in a hungry way. She sings along to some of the songs with Grandpa and we all tease Mum for crying when Tony dies, even
though I definitely see Alex wiping her eyes when she thinks nobody’s looking.
    And sitting on our sofa, with my whole family together, I think I can totally define the colour of happiness.

Izzy
    What makes some people
    more special
    than others?
    Don’t even try to tell me that this isn’t true.
    I don’t mind.
    It’s just a fact.
    Maybe it’s something that you can
    get better at.
    Like if I practise my violin every day I will
    almost definitely
    improve.
    So perhaps I can work on
    being
    more
    special.
    But when I look in the mirror I just see
    me.
    Not astonishing, not hideous –
    just me.
    Nothing I can do about that.
    I don’t
know
what I can do to
    change – I don’t know what I
need
to do to
    change.
    I think I’m all right,
    I’m just
    not
    that
    special.
    I watch the way Finn looks at Alex,
    like she is precious
    and he can’t
    lose her.
    The way he grasps her hand in his
    like she’s his
    favourite
    and he doesn’t want to
    share her.
    The way he protects her like she’s a
    delicate flower
    and he doesn’t want to
    crush her.
    The way she lets him.
    And I know
    that nobody is bothered about
    sharing
    losing
    crushing
    me.
    I need to learn her secret –
    sparkle, shimmer, flicker, glow.
    I need to make myself
    more
    special.

Got the Blues
    ‘If something interesting doesn’t happen around here soon then I’m going to have to make it happen.’ Alex flops down on to her bed and sighs. She’s in a totally stinking mood today. I haven’t got a clue what’s wrong with her unless she’s got the January blues, so I ignore her moaning and examine my face in her dressing-table mirror. No, it’s no good pretending – I am truly terrible at putting on lipstick.
    I’m spending this afternoon busy with the task of trying to make myself look older than twelve. It’s surprisingly tricky. My eyes are quite big and very brown so they don’t look too bad, but it’s my hair that always lets me down. It’s frizzy. There’s no other word for it. Frizzy and not-quite-brown. Mum tells me that it’s my unique selling point and makes me stand out, but she’s just being
kind. I have spent my whole life envying Alex her curly, glossy, almost-black hair, but she doesn’t ever seem to realize how lucky she is. Mum’s got the same hair as Alex so I’m the odd one out. Apparently, I get my hair from my dad. The one thing he’s ever given me. Anyway, I’ve decided that I can maybe distract people from my hair with clever use of make-up. Alex said I could use her stuff and I thought we’d have fun, but so far all she’s done is stare out of the window and whinge about being bored.
    I turn to her, pretty sure that one look at my face will make her laugh and snap her out of her miserable mood.
    ‘Ta-dah!’ I grin at her, a crazy big smile that makes my bright red lips look even more clown-like.
    ‘You look a complete state, Izzy,’ Alex says in a flat voice and rolls over on to her stomach. ‘And
you
can stop grimacing at me too, you freaky thing.’ She grabs something off her pillow and, stretching her arm back over her head, throws it into the corner of her room. I look to see what’s offended her so much.
    ‘Alex! You can’t treat Mr Cuddles like that.’
    ‘Give me one good reason why not,’ she says, rolling on to her back and staring up at the ceiling.
    I’m in shock. Some things are sacred and should not be messed with – Alex has gone too far this time.
    ‘Because he’s Mr Cuddles. The same Mr Cuddles that Grandpa gave you the day you were born. The same Mr Cuddles that you’ve snuggled up to EVERY NIGHT since … well, forever. Even