Lightning Girl Read online

  For my very own little superhero Azura,

  the brightest spark of all and the light

  of my life!

  Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Acknowledgements

  About the Authors

  Back Ad

  Copyright

  1

  No one ever warned me that when you get angry, bright sparks might explode from your fingertips.

  But that’s exactly what happened. One minute I was watching some school bullies round on my little sister in the playground, and the next minute my hands went all hot and tingly and suddenly these beams of light came flying out from my palms, like a lightning storm.

  I think I scared myself more than anyone else. No one actually saw where the sparks came from, just a flash of blinding light behind them, and then when they turned around, there I was staring wide-eyed at my hands and madly wiggling my fingers.

  One of the girls snorted as she watched me bring my hand right up to my face, so it was almost touching the end of my nose, and examine my little finger closely.

  “Isn’t that your older sister, Clara?” she sneered. “What on earth is she doing?”

  “She’s as odd as you are!” sniggered another one, as they all looked me up and down. I gulped.

  Getting them to pick on me instead of Clara wasn’t technically my original plan. I figured I would just tell them to leave her alone, rather than distract them by becoming a human firework. Still, they weren’t interested in Clara any more and it seemed that they weren’t all that curious about a random and inexplicable burst of light in the middle of the playground either.

  So that was something.

  “What do you want, Aurora?” a tall boy said to me, raising his eyebrows.

  “U-um… ” I stammered, my hands still held up in front of my face. “I was just, uh, looking at my … scar.”

  I held out my left hand, so they could see the swirled scar across my palm.

  “I was born with it. Weird, isn’t it? Scars appear when the skin tissue heals over a wound to protect and strengthen it. Interesting. Right?”

  This was not my proudest moment.

  Clara looked at me as though I had lost my mind. I tried to think of something else to say, something a bit more impressive than healing-skin-tissue facts, but I was still a bit in shock from shooting light beams out of my hands. It had never happened before. The ringleaders glanced at each other in confusion. The tall one opened his mouth to speak but luckily the bell rang sharply, signalling break-time was over.

  “Saved by the bell! Come on, Clara. See you lot later – fun talking to you!” I laughed nervously, as Clara darted round them to stand next to me. I threw my arm round her and hurriedly dragged her towards the school building before they could say anything else.

  Kizzy found it hilarious. I decided not to tell her about the whole sparks-coming-out-of-my-hands thing because I didn’t want her thinking her best friend was weird, but I needn’t have worried. She knew I was weird.

  “Healing skin tissue?” she giggled, getting her favourite pen out from her pencil case and opening her notebook as we waited for Mrs Damsel to start our health class.

  “It was the first thing I could think of,” I sighed, looking accusingly at my palm as though it was my scar’s fault that I’d said something so silly. “They’ll never let me live it down. I think one of them is in gymnastics club with Suzie Bravo, so I bet they’ll tell her all about it.”

  Kizzy and I glanced across to where Suzie was sitting with Georgie Taylor. Georgie was showing Suzie her cool new backpack, which was black and covered in all these small neon flowers. I just knew it was the latest must-have accessory. Georgie was the trendiest person in our year, maybe even in the entire school, thanks to her mum who was in charge of publicity for loads of big brands, designers and celebrities. Georgie was always getting freebies and she was very creative with her style. I could hear her telling Suzie that she’d stitched on the flowers herself.

  I once tried to sew a swimming badge on to my school blazer and somehow managed to sew the jumper I was wearing at the time to the blazer sleeve. I ripped the jumper and the blazer when I tried to detach myself.

  Fashion is not my strong point.

  “Well, who cares what Suzie Bravo thinks?” Kizzy said sternly, as she swept her light brown hair back into a smooth ponytail. “Clara is lucky to have a sister like you to stand up for her. It was very brave of you to face those bullies. I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

  I smiled. This was, of course, a lie. Kizzy is the nicest person in the world and I would know because we’ve been best friends for ever. She lives on the same road as me and we’ve been “joined at the hip” (as my dad says) since our first day at school. We’re both quite shy so it makes sense to just quietly stick together, while people like Suzie Bravo enjoy being the centre of attention.

  But just because she’s shy and petite – one of the shortest girls in our year, in fact – it doesn’t mean Kizzy isn’t brave enough to stand up to bullies. At the beginning of term, I accidentally kicked a football at Mr Mercury, our grumpy new science teacher, and it bounced right off his big bald head. As he turned around slowly with this fierce expression on his face to see who the culprit was, Kizzy stepped forwards to apologize. I tried to protest but she told me very sternly to be quiet. And because she’s the nicest person in the world, Mr Mercury just told her to be more careful in the future and that was that. He even laughed. That’s the power Kizzy has over people. She can make the grumpiest science teacher on the planet laugh.

  Later, she told me she took the blame because I’d already had a bad start with Mr Mercury. The week of the football incident, I had been shaking my pen to get it to work and accidentally flicked blue ink all over his crisp white shirt. She didn’t want me to get into even more trouble.

  If that’s not bravery, I don’t know what is.

  As Mrs Damsel told us all to quieten down for the beginning of class, I tried to forget about my lame scar conversation and instead focus on the weirdness that had come shooting from my hands in the playground, and whether that was normal or not. I couldn’t recall anyone else in our year spark lightning at their classmates, but maybe it was just part of growing up and I was ahead of everyone else. Mum did say recently that I was looking taller, so maybe it was growing pains or something?

  Mrs Damsel announced that in today’s lesson we would be learning about nutrition, and began to write on the whiteboard. Fred Pepe let out a very loud burp, making the class erupt into giggles. I saw Suzie and Georgie roll their eyes dramatically. Fred was always causing trouble.

  “Well, Fred,” Mrs Damsel chuckled, turning back to the class, “that may have been an unusual introduction, but actually it’s rather on-topic.” She pointed to the whiteboard on which she’d written FOOD in large capital letters. “Does anyone know why Fred burped?”

  “Because he’s gross,” Suzie said, flicking her long, blonde hair behind her shoulders. Fred stuck his tongue out at her.

  “Because he had extra gas,” someone squealed from the back of class, which made everyone explode into uncontrollable laughter.

  As Mrs Damsel attempted to get the class back on track, I got out my phone and, under my desk, sneakily
tried to search online for anything about electricity coming out of your fingertips and energy rays shooting out of your hands, but nothing came up except for articles about various comic superheroes who can create light or summon lightning and stuff, which wasn’t very helpful.

  Fred was now blowing raspberries whenever Mrs Damsel began talking, and just as she began to threaten him with detention if he didn’t stop, I shot my hand up in the air.

  “Yes, Aurora?” Mrs Damsel sighed.

  “It’s nothing to do with food, but I was wondering if you could tell us about growing pains?”

  “Growing pains?”

  “Yes.” I took a deep breath. “Is there anything weird that we should be aware of? Anything … strange that happens?”

  I could see Kizzy watching me curiously and I tried to look as innocent as possible, as though the question had just popped randomly into my brain. Mrs Damsel seemed surprised at the change of topic, but didn’t seem too unhappy to move away from the subject of gas. Fred was now distracted by a spider on the windowsill anyway, and Mrs Damsel smiled with relief as the classroom quietened down again.

  “What an interesting question, Aurora, albeit a little off-topic. Yes, now that you’re soon turning twelve, some of you may be experiencing growing pains and that can mean your muscles get sore, usually in the legs and around joints.”

  “That’s it?” I asked. “Just … pains? Nothing else?”

  “Hello?” Suzie piped up impatiently. “Why do you think they’re called growing pains? Now, can we get back to food? I actually have a relevant and interesting question, unlike some people.” She shot me a pointed look and my face grew hot with embarrassment. “Mrs Damsel, what is the best nutrition advice you can give to champion gymnasts?”

  When the lesson finished and we made our way to our next class, Kizzy remarked that I was being very quiet.

  “No, I’m not,” I replied, even though I hadn’t said a word since my growing pains question.

  Mrs Damsel’s control over the class hadn’t lasted very long thanks to Fred, who had sneaked up behind Suzie when Mrs Damsel’s back was turned and held the spider he’d caught from the windowsill right in front of Suzie’s face. She had screamed and jumped up, knocking over her stool, before Fred had begun chasing her around the room with the spider cupped in his hands.

  “The poor spider,” Kizzy remarked. “I’m glad Mrs Damsel made Fred take it outside to the grass. Suzie’s screams must have frightened the poor thing. She almost made my eardrums burst.”

  I nodded in agreement and Kizzy gave me a look.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked for what must have been the hundredth time.

  “Absolutely. I’m great,” I lied.

  “You’re lying,” Kizzy said with a knowing smile.

  “I am not lying.”

  “Yes, you are. When you lie, your voice goes very high pitched. Like a dog whistle.”

  “It does not!” I squeaked. Kizzy raised her eyebrows victoriously.

  I coughed, clearing my throat. “It does not,” I repeated in more of a growl.

  “OK, well, if you want to talk, you know you can tell me anything,” she said.

  I nodded but there was no way I could tell her about what happened in the playground. Not until I knew the answer myself.

  Because if suddenly shooting light beams from your hands when you see your little sister getting bullied wasn’t growing pains, then what was it?

  And why in the world had it happened to me?

  2

  As soon as Dad’s car pulled into the school driveway to pick us up after school, I could see that he had not had a good day.

  His face was all scrunched up behind the wheel and as the car came jolting to a stop in front of us, I could see the weird twitch in his jaw that he gets whenever Mum does something that bugs him. Like when she turns up the central heating full blast but then leaves every window in the house wide open all day. Or that time she insisted on letting her amateur magician friend, Sally, perform at my birthday party against Dad’s advice, and then all Sally’s white doves got loose and pooped everywhere around the house and we couldn’t catch any of them, so Dad had to call up a wildlife removal professional to come herd them up.

  When one of the doves pooped right in the middle of Dad’s head as he frantically ran around trying to catch them, Mum said, “Oh look, Henry, that’s good luck!” in this very cheery tone.

  That’s when I first noticed his signature angry-jaw twitch.

  “Where’s Alexis?” I asked, climbing into the back seat of the car after Clara, purposefully leaving the front seat for my older brother. I knew better than to try and get in there before him.

  “He’s already at home,” Dad grumbled, staring straight ahead and turning on the ignition.

  Clara and I exchanged a confused glance. Alexis was a few years older than me but went to the same school as us, so it made no sense that he would already be at home. We always get collected together.

  Unless…

  “What did he do this time?” Clara asked gleefully.

  “Don’t ask.” Dad sighed. “So, how were your days?”

  I considered telling him about the bullies picking on Clara and the weird sparks-flying-out-from-my-fingers thing, but then thought it might be wise to wait until he was in a better mood. Clara stayed quiet too, so she clearly agreed. I had asked her if she was OK while we’d been waiting for Dad to arrive and made her promise to tell me if those bullies ever had a go at her again.

  “I don’t think they will any more,” she had said with a hint of a smile. “They think you’re way weirder than me now.”

  As soon as we got home, I dropped my bag in the hall and ran upstairs to try to get to Alexis before Dad could stop me. I burst through his bedroom door, slightly out of breath, and found him lying on his bed reading a comic book with his new state-of-the-art headphones on.

  “What did you do?” I asked eagerly from the doorway, as Clara ran in behind me.

  “Never heard of knocking?” Alexis asked drily, taking off his headphones.

  “Come on, tell us what happened.”

  Alexis couldn’t help but smirk. He was always pushing teachers’ buttons, and if he had been sent home early from school that meant he’d done something extra creative. Once he programmed the school sound system to blast out hip-hop all day long through the speakers in every classroom and corridor. It took Mrs Prime the headmistress two days to find someone who could fix it. In the meantime, Alexis gained legendary status throughout the school.

  “I hacked into the school database,” he said breezily, flicking to the next page of his comic.

  “And?”

  “I changed all the grades on my report to straight As.”

  “You what?” I gasped.

  It didn’t surprise me that Alexis could break through any password walls the school had set up to protect their database. He was the best at technology in the school and Mrs Prime was always whining to Dad about Alexis’s “wasted potential” due to his inclination to use his computer whizz-kid skills to break the rules and cause chaos, rather than use his savvy talent for “the greater good”, as she put it.

  But as far as Alexis was concerned, causing chaos at school was for the greater good.

  “Got away with it for a couple of weeks at least. Sadly, that new Mr Mercury is a bit more with it than I thought. Turns out he was reviewing a few things and spotted the error. He’d originally given me a D so he flagged it up to the rest of the staff. I underestimated him. I probably could have made the change in grades a bit subtler, but whatever.” Alexis sighed. “I’m grounded for two weeks.”

  “Cool.” Clara nodded in awe.

  “Aurora!” Dad’s voice came floating up the stairs. “You need to let Kimmy out; she’s bursting for the toilet.”

  Alexis slid his headphones back on and returned his attention to his comic book, while Clara happily skipped along the corridor to her room and I made my way down
stairs, swinging myself around the end of the banister and into the kitchen, where I was almost knocked to the floor by my very enthusiastic German Shepherd.

  “Hey, Kimmy!” I laughed, kneeling to greet her properly and gasping for air in between her slobbery licks. “Did you miss me today?”

  “She rolled in my dahlias,” Dad informed me, pulling out a stack of plates from the cupboard and setting them down on the side. “They were flowering beautifully.”

  “Kimmy,” I said to her in my firmest voice as she sat down obediently in front of me, her tongue lolling out, “is that true? Did you roll in Dad’s dahlias?”

  She tilted her head.

  “I see. It was an accident?”

  She tilted her head the other way.

  “You’ll try your best never to do it again?”

  She plonked her right paw on my leg.

  “And you’re very sorry?”

  She leaned forwards and gave me a big lick. I looked up at Dad as a smile broke across his face and he reached down to pat Kimmy’s head. She nuzzled his leg in response.

  Dad is always trying to be strict with Kimmy but, in the end, he’s as much a sucker for her big shiny brown eyes and goofy expression as I am.

  “You’re a right pair,” he chuckled, shaking his head and pulling on the oven gloves. “All right, Kimmy, I forgive you.”

  “Where’s Mum?” I asked, straightening up and brushing the dog hairs off my uniform while Kimmy ran off to get her ball.

  “She’s stuck at work,” Dad said in a strained voice. “She’ll be back soon. Hopefully in time for dinner. Go on, take Kimmy into the garden. And keep her away from my plants!”

  While Kimmy happily peed on what was left of Dad’s dahlias, I stood in the middle of the garden thinking about Mum. Recently my parents had been quite snappy with each other and things had felt a bit tense between them. Mum usually had this way of making Dad laugh until he cried, but that hadn’t happened for ages.