The Secret Stealer by Jess Webster

Author:Jess Webster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, secrets, ghosts, young adult, Australian fiction, magical realism
Publisher: IP (Interactive Publications Pty Ltd)

Lesson Twelve: One should NEVER be mean to orphans…

or the Ghost of Westcott will get you.

Esther Mason-Smith awoke to a sensation of extreme discomfort.

She frowned and glowered, but could not think why she frowned or glowered.

“Did you sleep well?”

Esther started and grabbed at her sheets. “Oh, James,” she sighed, seeing the pyjama-clad boy floating, upside down, in the corner of her roof. “It’s you. You scared me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. Why do you look so angry, miss?”

“Angry?” Esther scrunched up her nose in confusion. “I don’t know.”

“I would’ve thought you’d be happy.” James was staring at the floor below him, seeming to fight off a grin.

“And why is that?”

“Oh, no reason in particular,” James replied unconvincingly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, getting out of bed.

“Well, it’s just that people are a little weaker when they’re asleep, like Mr Mancini said,” the boy replied vaguely.

“James Winchester! You haven’t been prying into my subconscious, I hope?”

“What’s a sub-consh-us?”

“My mind, my thoughts, James.” Esther gave him her best teacher-ish look and added, “Point being, they are mine.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t really need to pry,” James excused himself – though he still managed to look a little guilty. Suddenly he brightened. “Oh, I get it! It’s because you’re always grumpy after talking to Mr Gables.”

“James, I didn’t even see Byron yesterday.”

“Yes, but last night he was in your dreams,” James said.

“Ugh!” Esther exclaimed, grimacing. “No wonder I feel so violated. He probably made me kiss him again. Thank God I can never remember my dreams.”

James giggled.

“Now James,” Esther said, her tone stern, “I’d appreciate some privacy in future – please don’t try to delve into my thoughts. I am your Protector, and that position deserves a little respect.”

“Yes, Miss Mason-Smith,” James replied, solemnly nodding his head.

“Now I need you to skedaddle for at least half an hour. I need to get ready.”

“Alright, but I’ll be back at eight. Then I want to tell you my plan,” James whispered excitedly.

Esther smiled. “Alright then, eight a.m. Now off you go.”

James went to the tower and watched the clouds form, then disseminate across the horizon in great white puffs. These clouds seemed so friendly, James thought to himself. But then again, everything seemed friendly today – the happy sun, enthroned upon the pale morning sky; the mingled chorus of bird songs which reached him from all directions; and even that ridiculous Westcott flag, which still bore the smudged ‘Down with James Winchester IV’ because the spare flag was in the wash. He would wait for eight bells to sound… then it would be time to put his plan into action. James felt, for the first time in his life, as light as air. And, in a way, he was.

“As an apology for the delay of your holiday,” Byron Gables said politely, “I hope you’ll accept a complimentary limousine.”

“I should think so,” was all Walter Winchester would say to that.

“Your bags are being transferred to the limo as we speak,” Gables said.

“The flight was a little bumpy,” Yvette said, darkly.

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