Page 75 of Twisted Ties

“I think we’re here,” Winnie says as we both stare out of the window.

The sun is hovering well above the horizon now, making the light all hazy and golden. The road ahead lies emptyand beyond I can make out the first few run-down buildings of my home town.

“Does this look right?” Winnie asks.

“Yeah, this is it,” I say, sliding down low in my seat.

“What are you doing?” Winnie asks.

“Hiding,” I say.

Winnie frowns. “Why?”

“There’s a price on my head, and I don’t trust the people in this town not to shop me in.”

“A price on your head? My God, Rhi, what did you do?”

I peek up at my friend. I’ve been hiding too much from her. It’s about time I came clean. On most things anyway. I just hope she’s still willing to be my friend when she learns the truth.

I explain everything to her as we weave through the town, just as desolate, just as crappy, as it always was, and drive out to the forest, plunging into its green depths and on towards my home.

“Wow,” Winnie says, as we bounce down the old track, the clearing so close I can almost smell it. “That is a … lot.” She’s quiet for a moment taking it all in. “How come you never told me all this before?”

“Just admitting I was unregistered nearly gave you a stroke, Winnie.”

She grimaces. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I’m the one who’s been less than liberal with the truth.”

“I understand why you weren’t.”

“You do?” I say, amazed my best friend can be so understanding all the time. I wish I could be more like her.

“Yeah. There haven’t been many people you could trust in your life, Rhi.” She slows the car down as the tracknarrows and I point out the thinning in the trees. “I’m kind of touched that you trust me enough.”

“You’re my best friend, Winnie.” I chuckle. “Well, actually you’re my only friend–” Pip snorts loudly. “My onlyhumanfriend.”

“You’re my best friend too, Rhi.”

“How about Saskia?” I say with a little jealousy.

“You know, she hasn’t messaged me once since she left school. I guess we weren’t as close as I thought.”

“Here,” I say, as we pass through the gap in the trees and out into the sunlit meadow, my old house crouching in one corner.

The beam above the door is still broken, several of the windows smashed, and the chicken-run trampled to pieces. But to my surprise – and yeah to my relief – the place is still standing.

“It looks cute,” Winnie says, pulling up outside, “and homely.”

“It was,” I say, opening the door and letting Pip scuttle out to do his business.

I don’t follow him. Instead, I feel through the air for any magicals, but the only presence I can feel is Winnie’s. Then cautiously, I step out of the car, my muscles and bones sore from the long drive. I roll my shoulders and my neck, not walking up to the front door, but circling around the house instead, observing the damage done to the old place.

There are no signs of any chickens. Only a few brown feathers are floating around the yard. The back door has been kicked in and my bike is a burned-out husk at the back of the place.

Winnie follows me, tutting and sighing as she surveys the damage too.

“I’m sorry, Rhi.”