Page 26 of A Flash of Neon
My stomach clenches but he gives me a look that stops me from asking any more in front of the others. He turns to Tilly with a smile. “Ready to go!”
By the time we get to the shop, it’s almost ten, so there’s no time for me to go home and find out what Neon left back at our house. I plan to sneak out during my break but we’re surprisingly busy this morning – a few of our regulars come in to get a new Ian Rankin novel that came out a few days ago, and I spend ages helping eight-year-old twin girls pick middle-grade books with their birthday vouchers.
Usually I’d be happy that business is good, but today it makes me jittery and nervous. My mind keeps coming up with ideas as to what I might find when I get home, and each one is scarier than the last. If the thing in our bathroom looks anything like the pink bunny Neon and I saw the other day, I can handle it. But what if it’s something dangerous, like a dragon or a yeti? Or, even more terrifyingly – what if Mum and Mutti discover it before I do?
By the time my parents arrive at the shop, I feel sick with anxiety. They both look tired, as they always do after travelling, but they break into big smiles when they see us. They give us all tight hugs and hand out the presents they brought home for me, Joel and Gio: fancy cupcakes, books and tote bags. They both have their suitcases with them, so clearly they haven’t been home yet.
“How was London?” Joel asks, sitting back down behind the counter. “Are you the toast of the literary scene?”
Mutti laughs. “Not quite but it was nice. The launch was a lot of fun. Reviews have been good, mostly.”
We have all of Mutti’s books in the shop, of course, and I’m always proud to show them to people. But if I’m being honest, they’re not really my cup of tea. They’re hefty literary novels where nothing much happens. They’ve won a few awards, though, and other people seem to like them a lot.
“How has everything been here?” she asks.
“Not too bad. Quiet during the week, but we had a bit of a rush hour this morning.” Joel nods to me. “Laurie worked her magic in the kids’ section.”
“AndI recommended to Mrs Lancaster those Loch Ness Monster colouring books that won’t shift,” I tell Mum. “She bought two for her grandchildren. So only about ninety-eight to go!”
Mum is behind the till, staring at something on the computer. Her mouth is a tight, straight line. Mutti looks at her with an odd expression, then busies herself straightening the hardbacks on the new fiction table. Suddenly the room is filled with a strange tension. I’ve known for a while that something is going on between my parents, and obviously a week in London together hasn’t sorted it out. For a moment, I’m about to ask, but then I chicken out – I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
Joel breaks the awkward moment by clapping his hands together. “Hey, did Laurie tell you she sang at Friday Showcase?”
“What?” Mutti whirls round with a hardback in each hand. “You did? Laurie! That’s amazing!”
My cheeks go bright red. Joel was so busy with his uni work last night that he forgot to ask about our performance, and I was too embarrassed to bring it up myself. “I didn’t, actually. I was going to sing with my friend, but I got too nervous.”
“Oh. Well, that’s OK. You can try again another time,” Mum says gently. “Which friend were you performing with?”
“This boy called Neon.” Talking about him to my parents feels strange, but this is a small town. They’re sure to bump into him eventually. “He’s visiting from America. He’s a really good singer, so we thought we’d try it out.”
“Yeah, we’ve seen alotof Neon this week.” Joel smirks at me. I glare back at him and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry about the nerves, though. You guys sounded great when you were practising.”
Mum tells us to head home early – she and Mutti have some business to discuss with Gio, apparently – so Joel grabs our jackets from the back room and we head out to the car. I think about asking him if he knows what the strange atmosphere between Mum and Mutti is about, but I’m too preoccupied with whatever is currently in our bathroom. As soon as Joel pulls up on our street, I open the door and sprint towards the house.
“What’s the rush?” Joel shouts after me.
“I need to pee!”
Carrie is standing at her front window but I’m in too much of a hurry to act casual this time. I quickly unlock the door, kick off my shoes and hurry upstairs to the bathroom. When I pull open the door, a scream rolls up through my body and I have to clamp both hands over my mouth to stop it from escaping. Standing in the bath, surrounded by bottles of shampoo and condition, is ahorse. A small white horse with a silvery mane…
Wait.
It’s not a horse. It’s something else. And if Neon’s arrival was a surprise, this is ten times more so.
Because it’s a unicorn.
There is aunicornin the bathroom.
The unicorn gazes calmly at me from the bathtub. A faint haze shimmers all round its white body, almost as if it’s glowing. Its horn is the colour of mother-of-pearl, its hide is like creamy velvet bathed in moonlight, and its huge amethyst eyes sparkle in the light streaming in from the window.
It is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.
It’s also impossible to believe I’m really seeing it. I squeeze my eyes shut, sure the mirage will have evaporated when I open them again, but the unicorn is still there. The bottles of shampoo that usually line the edge of the bath have been knocked to the ground and one has leaked a large pink puddle on the floor. I grab a towel from the radiator, kneel down and wipe it up. I need to do something normal. I need to feel the fabric against my fingers and remind myself that I’m still in the real world because this … this iswaytoo much.
“Neon,” I whisper. “What have you got us into?”
When I look up, still holding the damp towel, the unicorn is staring at me with those serene, shimmering eyes. On closer inspection, it’s smaller than a horse, more the size of a Shetland pony, but somehow it seems to take up more space than either.
