Silence Is Goldfish by Annabel Pitcher

Author:Annabel Pitcher
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Juvenile Fiction / Family / Parents, Juvenile Fiction / Social Issues / Emotions & Feelings, Juvenile Fiction / Social Issues / Friendship
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2016-05-16T16:00:00+00:00

25

“It was brilliant! Brilliant! Operation Brilliant!” Mr. Goldfish says when I’ve floated out of the classroom and through the rest of the day on feet that barely touch the ground.

“I told you it was a good idea.”

“And I should’ve listened!”

It’s already getting dark. I waited half an hour to make sure Connor and Adam’s bus had left before venturing out of school. I’m not in a rush. Jack’s going to the dentist after work and Mum’s staying late for Meet the Teacher Night at her school so I’m free for one more hour. It shines before me, a whole circle of time, the size and shape of a full moon, all silvery and spectacular. “We got it. We actually got it. The address!”

Mr. Goldfish’s light seems to brighten as I point him at a street name.

“Beech Road. We’re getting close.” I refer to my phone, open on a picture of Mr. Richardson’s driver’s license—a photo card with two lines of tiny black words that, let’s be clear, I will never tire of reading. Tapping the screen with my thumb, I zoom in on his address then flick to my map. “We want Reeves Road. I think it’s just up here. Near Gran’s house, actually.”

My stomach lurches because this makes total sense. Gran’s lived in this part of Manchester pretty much her whole life and maybe Mr. Richardson has too. He might have known Mum when they were younger, back when she had dyed red hair like Miss Gilbert’s. Perhaps they even dated and that’s why he offered to donate his sperm when she was having trouble getting pregnant.

“It’s possible,” I say defensively, expecting Mr. Goldfish to contradict me, but he salutes.

“Whatever you say, boss!”

He darts ahead, weaving between streetlights the same color as his skin. I follow, hurrying past a row of red semidetached houses, flushed with pleasure, like definitely they have been waiting for me to walk down this street is the exact feeling I get from their neat lawns, trimmed in preparation for my visit. A few Christmas trees are twinkling in living room windows. The world feels magical.

Mr. Goldfish spins around a lamppost then returns to me with a neat backstroke. “What’s the plan when we get there?”

“Peep through the window.”

He smacks his fin against my palm. “Genius. Pure genius!”

“As soon as I see Mr. Richardson, it will be obvious whether or not I belong in there with him. And then there’s Henry. If there are similarities between us, that will be proof, won’t it? That we share genes? That Mr. Richardson is my dad?”

“Absolutely. Concrete proof. Bravo, Tess. It’s an excellent plan.”

Nothing can go wrong, that’s how it feels in my body so powerful and strong as I stride down the road. I am Tess the Almighty, Tess the Conqueror, Tess of Getting Things Done and Making Things Happen and Taking Risks That Absolutely Pay Off.

The first left passes in a blur, and the second, and then the third appears, this opening to a street that is about to become extremely significant in my life, I just know it.

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