Missing Persons by Ellie Marney

Author:Ellie Marney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-04-06T00:00:00+00:00

‘Sorry about yesterday,’ Mycroft says, on the tram to school the next day. ‘Didn’t mean to put you off. I was about to invite you to come over and watch YouTube videos with me, but you ran away . . .’

‘Yeah, sorry, I was a bit tired from school.’ I look at the world outside the tram. Is there a word that’s the opposite of agoraphobic? Like, if you can have a fear of wide-open spaces and huge skies, what’s the name for the fear of busy streets and encroaching buildings? What’s the fear of cities?

‘I have something better, anyway,’ Mycroft says, grinning. ‘I’ve made some sodium acetate, and you should definitely come over and see that. Magic.’

The air here feels canned. I suppose it has something to do with the level of pollution. It’s like you’re breathing in something that’s been recycled a thousand times over, even outside, even when you’re — ‘What?’

‘This afternoon,’ he says conspiratorially. ‘It’s one of my favourite experiments, ’cause the results are so reliably spectacular. You mix it up and pour it out onto a solid surface at room temperature —’

‘This is a science experiment.’ I wriggle up in my seat. ‘You’re talking about a science experiment.’

‘Yes. So the saturated liquid —’

‘You do science experiments in your room?’

‘Regularly. But on this very special occasion, to cheer you up.’ Mycroft gazes out the window. ‘And me. Most days need a bit of cheering up, I reckon. Sodium acetate is highly cheering, because —’

‘Where did you get the British accent?’ I ask suddenly.

‘From the British People factory,’ he shoots back.

I squint at him. ‘You’re a very peculiar person.’

‘And you’re a mystery.’ Mycroft’s eyes aren’t chasing the scenery anymore. They’re bathing me in blue. ‘I quite like mysteries.’

I have to turn my head away. ‘I’m still getting used to being here. In Melbourne, I mean.’

‘Mycroft, did you do the English homework?’ Mai asks, disentangling from her headphones.

‘Yes.’ He twists in the seat to face her. ‘And I’ll look over your maths questions if you’ll correct my spelling.’

Mai pulls a notebook out of her backpack. ‘His spelling is atrocious.’

‘I’d argue that point, but I can’t spell “atrocious”,’ Mycroft says. ‘You’ll get used to it. Melbourne, I mean.’

I realise he’s looking at me again. ‘Everyone keeps saying that.’

‘Everyone is right. I only arrived seven years ago, and look at me now — thriving!’

He throws out his arms in a parody of a city-wide embrace.

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