‘She’s kind of like a pet … person,’ she’d told Rachel.
Rachel smirked. ‘I wouldn’t let her hear you say that.’
‘Like a cobra-kitten hybrid,’ Allie continued, undaunted. ‘Cute and vicious at the same time.’
‘Or a python-puppy,’ Rachel offered. ‘But if you tell her I said that I’ll call you liar to your face.’
‘I wouldn’t dare.’ Allie shivered. ‘She’d hurt me.’
By the time Jerry Cole assigned them to practise surveillance techniques on an unseasonably warm afternoon in October, Allie had begun to believe she’d never win Zoe over. As the two struck out after their surveillance subject, Allie kept saying in dramatic tones, ‘It’s Night School by day … day … day’, adding an echo effect to the last word as Zoe glowered at her threateningly.
Their assignment was to follow a Night School student named Philip for three hours without being discovered. They had to track his every movement and record them on a form.
When they got their assignment, they both thought it sounded kind of cool.
It was unbelievably boring.
First Philip spent an hour in the library studying alone. Then he went into the boys’ toilets. For ages.
They were in the hallway arguing about whether or not to go in and check on him when he emerged so suddenly he almost ran into them. Luckily, he seemed distracted and hurried outside without noticing them. Upon following, they watched as he joined a group of friends playing football.
While he played, Zoe and Allie hid in the woods, spying on him through the trees.
‘He’s intercepting the ball!’ Zoe announced, watching Philip through a shield of bracken. ‘Oh no. He’s missed again.’ Turning to face Allie, she sat with her back to the game. ‘He’s rubbish.’
Holding a thick leaf of grass between her thumbs, Allie blew on it until it made a squawky trumpet sound. When she tired of the noise, she let the grass float from her hand.
‘God, this is dull. Why couldn’t he do something interesting? Like get in a fight or … anything that isn’t this?’
Eventually, they decided to play games to pass the time. First I Spy then, when that grew dull, Cloud Animals.
‘I see a minotaur,’ Zoe said, as they lay on their backs staring up at the sunlit blue sky.
‘No you don’t.’ Allie, who saw nothing but shapeless blobs, leaned over to squint at the cloud Zoe pointed at. ‘That’s nothing.’
‘It’s a minotaur!’ Zoe insisted. ‘Look. Two horns there, and a freakishly muscled torso there. And a kind of tail thing. It’s a minotaur.’
‘Minotaur,’ Allie mumbled to herself. ‘Well, I see a duck.’
‘Really?’ Zoe looked where Allie pointed. ‘I don’t think that looks like a duck. Looks more like a rabbit.’
‘Fine,’ Allie sighed. ‘Then it’s a rabbit-duck. A dabbit. Or a ruck.’
A bird fluttered from the trees to the ground nearby, cocking its head at them before changing its mind and flapping away. Allie barely noticed it out of the corner of her eye as she looked for a more interesting cloud to challenge Zoe’s minotaur.
‘Oh no,’ Zoe whispered to herself. ‘Just one.’
Allie was still staring at the clouds. ‘Yes. Just one dabbit, Zoe.’
But Zoe wasn’t talking about dabbits any more. She leapt to her feet and stared up at the trees, panic-stricken. Allie squinted to see her against the bright sky.
‘One for sorrow; there can’t be just one. There must be two. One for sorrow, Allie.’ Zoe’s voice was urgent as she turned back to look at her. ‘Help me find another!’
‘Find another what?’ Startled, Allie scrambled to follow her but the younger girl had already run into the woods. When she found her a few seconds later, Zoe stood in a clearing, her eyes roaming from tree to tree. ‘Find another what, Zoe?’
The younger girl pointed up, to where the fat, glossy magpie balanced on the branch above her head, its tuxedo colouring strangely out of place. It darted a look down at them before something else caught its eye.
‘There can’t be just one,’ Zoe was muttering to herself. ‘There can’t be just one.’
Still confused about where all this had come from, Allie scanned the surrounding woods for a bird – any bird. ‘There.’ She pointed across the treetops to a tall horse chestnut tree far away where one could just be seen on the highest branches, swaying in the light breeze. From here there was no way to tell what kind of bird it was but she hoped it would look like a magpie to Zoe. ‘Isn’t that a magpie?’
Doubtful, Zoe stood on her toes, peering into the distance. Then she gave a squeal of happiness and clapped her hands.
‘Yes! Two for joy!’
Startled, the first magpie flew away.
Without another word, Zoe ran back to where they’d been playing Cloud Animals earlier and lay down again, looking up at the sky as if nothing had happened.
After a second, Allie sat beside her, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead. ‘So,’ she said carefully, ‘magpies?’
Frowning, Zoe scanned the clouds. ‘There can’t be just one, Allie. Ever.’
‘Because of the poem?’
Zoe nodded.
Allie remembered it vaguely. Her mother had sometimes recited it if a single magpie crossed their path. One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy …