My Brilliant Plan to Fix Everything (eBook) by Ben Davis

Author:Ben Davis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic
Published: 2023-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

I quickly end my call with Dad and put my phone away as I see Willow bounding down the hill with her hands clasped behind her back.

“Heyyy!” she says.

Her cheerfulness is like a rainbow after a storm for me, after having spent the morning in the depot with Lloyd and Miriam, who barely spoke to each other the entire time. I think they had a row about something before I arrived.

“Brought you a present,” she says, bringing her hands to the front and holding out an open palm. Lying on it is a flat rock, on which she’s painted a postbox with my name above it in big orange letters. It looks amazing, like it was professionally printed, and I blush so hard there’s probably no blood left in the rest of my body.

“Wow,” I say. “Thanks, Willow.”

She shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m into arts and crafts, so it didn’t take long.”

“Well, it’s really nice,” I say, carefully picking it up and examining it closer, marvelling at the tiny, delicate brushstrokes, hoping that studying it will disguise how badly I continue to blush.

“Also, it’s to say sorry,” she says. “I was kind of a jerk yesterday.”

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened. It was all so weird. Why is she so desperate to find this friend? And why does she think her friend lives in this super secure place in the middle of nowhere?

“Oh,” I say. “Well, thanks. I wish you’d let me help you, though.”

“Let’s just forget about it, eh?” she says, sharply. “Start a new week fresh?”

I nod. “OK, sounds good.” It’s obvious she doesn’t want my help. Which stings, if I’m honest.

Willow sniffs. “All right, enough of this gooey nonsense. Let’s get to work, shall we?”

*

“ALEX, DINNER!”

My eyes shoot open. Mum is standing over my bed, hands on hips. I’m so shocked I think my soul has left my body. I sit up and smack my dry mouth.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly seven,” says Mum. “You’ve been asleep since I came home from work. Are you feeling all right?”

She leans over and holds her hand to my forehead.

“I’m fine,” I grumble, shaking her off. “Just tired, that’s all.”

“Well, tired or not, I want you straight downstai—” She stops mid-word and stares at my side. I follow her gaze and realize too late that it’s the rock Willow painted for me.

“What’s that?” asks Mum, half-frowning and half-smiling.

My heart thuds and my head buzzes. I’m wide awake now. “Oh, that’s, that’s … I did that.”

Mum laughs so suddenly and violently, it sounds more like a fart. “Pull the other one, son, I’ve seen your art book from school and you can’t paint like that.”

I scoop up the rock, throw open my sock drawer and drop it in there. “Well, I’ve been practising.”

Mum rolls her eyes. “I bet you have. Well, if you’re not going to tell me why some mystery person is painting your name on stones with postboxes for some reason, then I suppose I’ll just have to draw my own conclusions.

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