Page 25

“Gosh, I’m unfit.” Carrie pants and wipes her forehead as we trudge up the steep path to the barn. “And to think I once ran a whole ultramarathon dressed as a hot dog.”

Tilly promises her it’s not much further.

After school, she, Neon and I went straight to Carrie’s and told her we had something important to show her.

A lot of adults would insist on more information before driving us all the way up here, but Carrie seemed quite excited by the idea of a surprise.

The sun is setting now, the sky turning a deep, dusky purple streaked with orange, and I can still see a glint of curiosity in her eyes as we reach the barn.

“Try not to scream,” Tilly whispers, sliding the door open. “We don’t want to scare her.”

All I see is some flattened straw on the barn floor.

My heart skips a beat, thinking that perhaps the Blanks have caught Aurora already – but then something shuffles in the corner and a shiny, glowing horn appears behind another pile of hay.

Tilly goes towards the unicorn, talking softly and soothingly, and after a moment Aurora makes a dainty leap over the hay and lands in front of us.

“Carrie,” I say, smiling, “this is Aurora.”

For the first time since I’ve known her, Carrie is speechless.

She stands frozen, her mouth a deep purple circle, as the unicorn trots round the barn.

Aurora nuzzles her face against Tilly’s first, then goes to Neon and presses her muzzle into his hand in greeting.

She lets me stroke her mane to say hello, then turns her glittering amethyst gaze to Carrie.

When Aurora bends her head towards her in a slight bow, Carrie’s eyes brim with tears.

“I knew it,” she whispers. “I knew it.”

There are so many emotions in those few words: excitement and wonder, but some pain and vindication too.

Suddenly I realise how unusual it is for Carrie to be the way she is.

Most adults would feel silly having lots of unicorn ornaments on display in their house, and most would have long lost the imagination they need to actually believe in them.

She must have come across loads of people who made fun of her for it, but she’s stayed her eccentric self. I like that.

Aurora trots over to her sleeping spot and settles down in the hay, her tail swishing happily behind her. Tilly takes out a large bunch of carrots from her schoolbag and picks one to feed her. I take Carrie’s arm and lead her over to join them.

“Where did you – how did you – when?” Carrie splutters, still shaking her head in astonishment. “Laurie, what is going on?”

Neon and I tell her the whole story. While we talk, Tilly gives Carrie a carrot to feed Aurora.

Aurora eats it in small, neat bites and then tilts her head towards Carrie for her to stroke her mane.

Carrie runs her fingers through the silky strands, and the tears in her eyes finally fall.

I don’t know if she’s going to be able to help us, but either way I’m glad we could give her this moment.

“Do you believe us?” I ask.

“Of course I believe you. This one is proof enough.” Carrie laughs lightly and presses her hand gently against Aurora’s face.

“And you know, now you mention it, I have been feeling a bit funny lately. I did a full-moon flash-fiction workshop online yesterday and couldn’t come up with a single idea. That’s not like me.”

Neon lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want the Blanks to stick around and eat up everyone’s imagination, but I don’t want them to erase me or send me away, either.”

“Well, first we need to get you two out of this barn,” Carrie says, looking at the bare wooden walls. “If these Blank characters turn up here, you’ll have no one around to help you.”

She presses her lips tight together, thinking. I sit back in the hay and pick up a carrot to feed to Aurora. For the first time since Neon arrived, a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. It feels good to finally let an adult take charge.

Suddenly Carrie claps her hands so loudly it makes us all jump, Aurora included.

“I’ve got it. Come with me.”

After a few more carrots, we lead Aurora from the barn.

Tilly runs home so her parents don’t start to worry, and also to keep them distracted while Neon and I take the unicorn down the path to Carrie’s car.

We climb into the back of the bright yellow Beetle with Aurora splayed across our laps like an oversized cat.

Carrie does a U-turn on the narrow country road and drives in the opposite direction from our town.

Neon asks where she’s taking us, but all she says is that we’re going to a friend’s house.

After ten minutes, Carrie turns off the main road and down a narrow country lane.

Beautiful old oak trees line the path, their branches stretching together to create a tunnel leading to a large metal gate.

She stops the car and presses a number into a panel on the old stone wall.

The gates slide open, and after a moment the biggest house I’ve ever seen comes into sight: three storeys of cream walls, countless windows and at least four turrets, all lit by the soft glow of old-fashioned lamp posts.

“Whoa!” Neon presses his face against the car window. “Who lives here?”

“This is my friend Tamara’s place,” Carrie says casually. “The one who asked me to look after their bonsai collection.”

I’ve always taken Carrie’s stories with a pinch of salt – sometimes an entire spoonful of salt – but it seems the one about the film director friend shooting a movie in Thailand was true.

She parks the car, gets out and punches a number into a second keypad by the towering front door.

Neon and I help Aurora out and then follow Carrie into an enormous hallway with a domed ceiling.

The wooden floor is so shiny that Neon and I instinctively pull off our shoes so we don’t trail dirt through the house.

“What do you think?” Carrie asks, grinning. “Bit comfier than a barn, eh?”

Neon gapes at a row of glittering awards lined up on a table by the door. “We can really stay here? Your friend won’t mind?”

“Not at all. They always say they’re happy for me to use the place.” Carrie pauses. “We should probably keep Aurora away from the bonsai, though. I don’t know if she’d eat them, but best not to find out.”

She takes Aurora to the back garden to sleep in the dog kennel, which turns out to be a cabin-style building that could easily fit me and Neon, let alone one small unicorn.

While Carrie gets her settled in, Neon and I go upstairs to pick a guest bedroom for him to use.

Each one has a different theme, almost like a hotel.

One is nautical, all stripes and anchors and navy blue.

Another looks like a jungle, filled with so many plants you can barely see the bed, and one is painted like space, with beautiful glass planets hanging from the ceiling.

The last one has been inspired by the eighties.

The walls are bright pink and the carpet is turquoise, and the bedsheets are covered in colourful geometric shapes and squiggly lines.

There’s a vintage record player in one corner, fancy electric guitars on a special stand by the window, and signed album covers by artists like Prince and Kate Bush hanging on every wall.

When I switch on the lights, a neon sign spelling out Good vibes only flickers on above the bed.

It’s colourful and musical and perfectly Neon.

“This is it.” He beams and throws his bag on to the bed. “This place was made for me.”

I sit down at the foot of the bed. Neon stretches out beside me, his hands clasped behind his head, and closes his eyes.

He lets out a long sigh of relief, sending all the stress of the past couple of days into the air.

The light from the sign washes across his face, painting his eyelids and cheekbones in bright pink.

“Oh, man. It’s going to feel so good to sleep in an actual bed. Not that I didn’t appreciate the sofa bed or the sleeping bag,” he adds, grinning.

I don’t answer. He looks so peaceful in the pink light, so pretty.

If Caitlin was here, she’d tell me to kiss him now.

She’d practically force me to kiss him. My hand edges across the duvet until my fingertips are millimetres from Neon’s.

I could hold his hand. I could take this one tiny step forward – but then his eyes open, and the opportunity is gone.

“Should we see if this director’s got any fancy food in the cupboards?” He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m starving.”

“Um, sure.” My cheeks are hot with embarrassment, but Neon doesn’t seem to notice. “Me too.”

Downstairs, we find Carrie putting on her coat.

She says she’ll drive me home and pop into her house for some food, clothes and other things she needs, but will come back right away to make Neon dinner and spend the night here.

Neon tells her he’ll be fine on his own, but she shakes her head firmly.

“You’re a kid. I don’t want you here alone if those Blank things track you down.” She picks up her car keys from the worktop. “Plus, that way I can drive you to school in the morning and bring you back in the afternoon.”

Neon throws his arms round her and mumbles thank you into her shoulder.

Carrie looks taken aback for a moment, but then she smiles and squeezes him tight.

I made Neon more independent than I was, gave him more freedom than my mums would ever let me have.

But he’s real now, and, like Carrie says, he’s still a kid. He needs someone to look after him too.