Carol Hughes - Dirty Magic

Contents

For John, Faith, and Shane.
Without you I would have no stories to tell.

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CHAPTER
1

Hannah

J oe pulled the thin blanket over his shoulders, but the damp from the ground seeped into his bones. He was tired of sleeping outside in the rain. Hed be happy when hed found his sister and could leave this horrid place and go home.

He stared up at the gray sky and watched the rain fall toward him. Would it never stop? He felt as though he had been searching forever. He should have kept count of the days from the beginning. He ought to have made a record of some kind, but hed had nothing to write on, and even if he had, the rain would have soaked it through. The rain destroyed everything here. Buildings, bridges, the city wall. The rain was even wearing away his hope, the hope that he would ever find his sister.

He pressed his head back against the cold rock. Hannah! he thought. Thats where this had all started. Ever since Hannah had been born, everything had always been about her.

Hannah was Joes little sister. His only sister. There were six years and two months between them. Shed often been sick when she was a baby, and even now his parents still fussed over her and spoiled her rotten.

Hannah drove Joe round the bend. She would nag him to play with her, to let her borrow his toys, his comics, his pen, and then when he let her, she would leave whatever it was out in the garden or lose it completely. But if Joe kicked up a fuss, he was always the one who got into trouble, because, as his parents always reminded him, Hannah was only four and he was ten, and ten was plenty old enough to know better.

Earlier that year Joe had gotten a loft bed for his birthday, and it had been super cool until Hannah started begging for one, too. And guess what? His parents got her one exactly like his. Just like that. It wasnt fair.

Then one day, right at the beginning of the summer holidays, everything changed forever.

The day was so hot you could make a dent in the sidewalks with the heel of your shoe. The heat had given Joe a headache. By suppertime the pain was so bad it felt as though someone was driving red-hot needles into the back of his eyes.

His mom had sent him to sit quietly on the sofa and had told Hannah not to bother him. Hannah disappeared for a while and was suspiciously quiet. When Joe saw what shed been up to, he lost it. Shed taken one of his magazines, one of his special Monster Machine magazines, the ones that he collected, the ones that cost two weeks allowance each, the ones he kept in a neat pile on the highest, most-unreachable-by-annoying-little-sisters shelf in his room. And she had scribbled all over the cover with a red wax crayon.

What have you done? Joe cried. Hannah clutched the magazine to her chest and tried to make a run for it, but Joe snatched it away from her. His head pounded.

No! he yelled when he saw how much damage shed done to the cover. It was his favorite issue. The one with the photograph of an AMAX 647 giant bucket-wheel excavator on the cover. Red crayon now obliterated the X and the numbers on the huge machines gantry.

Why do I have to put up with this? he shouted.

Its ruined! Why are you so stupid?

Hannah leaned against him and, licking her fingers, tried to wipe off the crayon.

See, Joe, itll come off. Look, its smudging. Hannah was smearing the crayon about, making it worse.

No! Get off! cried Joe, pushing her away. He was shaking with anger, and the pain in his head was unbearable. You ruin everything! he shouted as loud as he could.

Hannahs face crumpled, then she started to wail. Joe didnt care.

I wish I was an only child! he yelled. Just me! No you! No Hannah! Do you get it? I wish youd go away and never come back! I wish you were dead!

Suddenly his father was pulling him up the stairs so fast that the hall passed by in a blur. Joe was in his bedroom almost before he knew what was happening.

You never ever talk to your sister that way! said his father in a dangerously quiet voice. Joe opened his mouth to give his side of the story, but his father cut him off. I dont care what shes done, he said. This is only a stupid magazine. People matter more than things. Shes your sister and you only have oneremember that. He flung the magazine on the floor and shut the door with a bang.

Joe grabbed the magazine and climbed up onto his bed. He buried his face in the pillow and screamed as hard as he could. He sat up and would have tried to smooth out the cover of the ruined magazine, but sitting up made his headache worse. He fell back against the pillow.

Joe stared up at the models hed arranged on the highest shelf above the bed. Each one had taken him hours to build and glue and paint. There were models of machines, of tanks, of cranes, and of cars, and hed put them up there so Hannahs thieving little hands couldnt reach them. Hed even laid traps so hed know if shed been messing with them. The traps were simple. Hed strategically placed soldiers among the models; if any of them had been moved, hed know. He stared up at the soldiers. They didnt really go with the models. They were old-fashioned ones that hed picked up at a church sale. His dad had said that their uniforms and helmets made them look as though they were from the First World War.

Joe felt cold even though the evening sun was streaming through his bedroom window. He pulled the comforter over him, but it didnt help. He lay very still and closed his eyes, and even though it was hours before his bedtime, he fell asleep.

Joe dreamed he was running first down a dark, rain-soaked alley that twisted this way and that and then across a dark, windswept plain. He didnt know where he was running or why, only that he couldnt stop. His heart was racing, its thump, thump, thump resounding loudly in his ears.

Then he tripped and fell against marshy ground. He was cold. A harsh wind blew the rain at a bitter angle. Low clouds rushed across the sky toward monstrous black mountains. In the distance a line of trucks was crossing the barren landscape.

Joe could hear someone crying, whimpering. It sounded like Hannah.

Hannah? he cried. Hannah! But the wind snatched the words out of his mouth and the clouds closed in around him. His own voice echoed to him through the mist. Go away and never come back, it whined. I wish you were DEAD!

No! shouted Joe. I didnt mean that! He woke with a start.

It was dark, almost pitch black, and at first Joe didnt know where he was. He reached out and felt the rail around his bed. It was all right. Hed just been dreaming. He was safe in his own bed. Joe kicked off the comforter and sat up. His headache had gone, but he was still cold. The air in his room felt icy, as though the summer that had barely begun was already over.