Page 12 of A Flash of Neon
“Me? I don’t think I’m secretive.” I push my hair behind my ears and shake my head. “Except for this whole story with you, but that’s different.”
Only that’s not entirely true. There are plenty of things that I haven’t told Caitlin and Hannah about myself, even after being friends with them for two years. Sometimes it’s because I worry they’d make fun of me, like the fact I love the über-cheesy German pop music that Mutti plays in the car, but sometimes I don’t think they’d be interested, like in the novels I’ve tried to write. I used to tell my parents almost everything, but lately I’ve been keeping lots of things from them too. They don’t know quite how mean my friends can be. They don’t know how sad I’ve felt a lot of the past two years.
Even in my made-up conversations with Neon, I wasn’t totally open about my life. I didn’t tell him anything about Tilly, for one thing. When I was talking to him, I could pretend that I was someone different, someone funny and bright and popular. Not the girl whose best friend dumped her as soon as they started secondary school. Not the girl whose new friends barely seem to like her some days.
“You didn’t even tell me you could sing,” Neon says.
My cheeks instantly heat up. “How do you know I like singing?”
“I heard you belting out Taylor Swift in the shower this morning. You’re really good!”
Part of me wants to die of embarrassment, but another part is happy to get the compliment. Caitlin and Hannah have no idea that I can sing. Hardly anyone has ever heard me before. Mum and Mutti always say I’m good, but they’re biased.
“Maybe you’re right,” I tell Neon, my eyes fixed on the shiny dark surface of the loch. “Maybe I’m more secretive than I realised.”
Neon takes another bite of bun, then lightly slaps my knee.
“That must be my purpose!” he shouts through a mouthful of half-chewed pastry. “I’m a fictional character, right? So, if I’ve turned up in your life like this, it’s obviously for a reason. Maybe I’m supposed to bring you out of your shell. Make you see that it’s OK to be you, just the way you are, or something heart-warming like that.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works now you’re in the real world,” I say, laughing. “But sure, you can try. Maybe I’ll be a totally different person by Saturday.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to be totally different. More like … Laurie Plus. Laurie the Deluxe Edition! Featuring brand-new confidence and extra sparkle.”
I roll my eyes and bump my shoulder against his, but a smile tugs at my lips. Laurie the Deluxe Edition doesn’t sound bad at all.
I’d thought I’d leave Neon at home when I went to school the next day, but Joel vetoes that plan before I’ve even finished breakfast.
“No way. I’m working in the shop all day, and then I’ve got to get back to my essays. I don’t have time to babysit.”
“Neon’s fourteen!” I protest through a mouthful of toast. “He doesn’t need babysitting.”
“It’s OK. Honestly I’d much rather go to school.”
Neon shovels another spoonful of Crunchy Nut into his mouth. For someone who’s not technically real, he eats alot. Last night he got through three servings of the veggie lasagne that Mutti left in the freezer, and then scarfed down two chocolate bars as dessert.
“I’ve been home-schooled my whole life. I’d love to see what a high school is like.”
“But…” I trail off, kicking myself for deciding to make him home-schooled back when I created him. The thought of bringing Neon to school makes me feel slightly sick. It’s like revealing a part of my own soul, letting this person that I made up walk around with the kids in my class.
“OK.” I sigh. “We need to find you something to wear.”
Fortunately Joel inherited Mum’s inability to ever throw anything away, so he rescues his old school jumper and trousers from the back of his cupboard and lends them to Neon.
Neon goes to the bathroom to change and comes out with a big grin on his face. “What do you think? Will I fit in?”
I nod, though I already know that he won’t. There’s something magnetic about Neon, something that attracts attention. This is a small town and there aren’t that many pupils at our school, so anyone new tends to stick out. Some people in my year follow Neon’s profiles, so they’ll know who he is – Caitlin and Hannah must have told them about him. I wonder who else in our class thinks I’m a compulsive liar. Despite the anxiety, the prospect of being able to prove them wrong makes me smile.
There’s a spring in Neon’s step as we make our way up our street and towards school. He half walks, half dances down the road, bouncing on his heels and singing to himself, apart from a few seconds when he stops to examine a ladybird.
“I’m excited!” he says for the eighth or ninth time since we left the house. “I’ve always wanted to experience a normal school. I talked to my mom about going when I was ten or eleven, but she thinks the state system doesn’t leave enough room for creativity, you know? Well, of course you know. You made it up.”
He laughs. I wonder if this is weird for him, meeting the person who decided everything about his persona. After I created his online profiles, I tried to keep Neon’s story straightforward so it seemed more believable. Sometimes, though, it was hard not to give in to the pull of drama and excitement – his dad is a pilot who walked out on his family when Neon was two, and his mum taught Neon herself while they travelled around Asia and South America before settling back in New York City a few years ago.
My life has always been so normal. I’ve only ever lived in this town, and the only times I’ve been abroad were a couple of visits to see my uncle and cousins in Hamburg. It was fun to make up a story about someone who’d seen so much of the world.
“You won’t tell anyone where you’ve come from, will you?” I ask. “Especially not Caitlin or Hannah.”
“Of course I won’t. It’s not a good idea to let too many humans know about the Realm.” He swings his arms. “Otherwise people could force themselves to believe in all sorts of creatures and bring them here.”
