Ariana Chambers - The Secret

I feel sick as I remember everything Aunt Clara told us about the Blood and Silver Witches, and how in each generation they compete to complete their pente – or circle of five witches – first, so they won’t lose their powers. At the moment, in our generation, the Bloods already have three witches and us Silvers only have two. Whoever gets five witches first wins and the other witches lose their powers.

‘Yeah, well, if they try anything we’ll have to show them they’re wrong.’ I sit up straighter in my seat. In the months since Aunt Clara revealed that she was a Silver Witch too, she’s helped Holly and I hone our gifts. Teaching Holly how to harness her ability to control energy (and stop blowing up electrical appliances!) and showing me how to use my empath abilities by visualising a door in my mind to help me block other people’s feelings from flooding in.

At the front of the coach, Mr Matthews gets to his feet. As usual, his wiry white hair is springing from his head in every direction and his crumpled suit hangs loosely from his thin frame. He fiddles with the microphone in his hand and a screech of feedback rings around the coach, causing everyone to flinch. ‘Whoops-a-daisy,’ he sing-songs into the microphone and his voice bellows out through the speakers in the ceiling. I’m not exactly sure why the school decided to send Mr Matthews on this trip. Somehow I can’t see him hiking up a storm in the woods. Thankfully our super-sporty PE teacher, Miss Black, is with us too. Maybe Mr Matthews came because he fancied doing some marking in a more tranquil setting . . .

‘Exciting news, ladies and gents,’ Mr Matthews says, his mouth a little further from the microphone this time. ‘We will shortly be arriving in Mad Bess Woods – let the adventures begin! Oh dear . . .’ The coach rounds a sharp bend and Mr Matthews swings straight into the lap of Miss Black. ‘I do beg your pardon,’ he says, the microphone still on.

I look at Holly and shake my head. ‘Something tells me this is going to be the longest three days in history.’

‘Yep. Even longer than the weekend I spent with my parents in Berlin when I had nothing but German books to read.’

‘I didn’t know you could read German.’

Holly sighs. ‘I can’t.’

The coach starts making its way up a bumpy track into the woods. The sky was already overcast but now, surrounded by towering trees, it’s practically as dark as night. The trunks are gnarled and twisted – the kind that look at if they have faces carved into the bark. Tortured, howling faces. Apparently Mad Bess Woods is one of the oldest forests in the country. It got its name from Lady Elizabeth Thomas who lived in a nearby stately home hundreds of years ago. When her son died at the age of seven she went mad with grief and spent months roaming the woods crying. At least, that’s what it said on Wikipedia.

As the coach carries on up the track everyone starts fumbling in the overhead shelf for their coats and bags. Everyone apart from Eve, who’s now looking down into her lap, whispering something under her breath. I quickly visualise the door in my mind opening and feel overcome with a sense of gratitude. Eve isn’t feeling scared any more – she’s feeling relieved. But why?

Finally, the coach pulls into a large clearing. There’s a faded sign to our right that says WELCOME TO MAD BESS CAMPSITE . Or at least that’s what it should say, but most of the B in Bess is missing so it looks as if it says MADnESS CAMPSITE .

Holly looks at me and raises her eyebrows. ‘I hope that isn’t an omen!’

Mr Matthews gets back to his feet. ‘OK, everyone, let’s disembark with a little decorum. Will the people in the seats at the front leave first, please?’

But Izzy, Vivien and Stephen are already halfway down the aisle. As she reaches our seat Izzy stops and looks down at me. Her pale blonde curls fall in perfect ringlets around her face. Izzy looks really beautiful when you first glance at her but it doesn’t take long to see the hardness inside of her poking its way out through her jutting cheekbones and pointed chin.

‘Better be careful, freaks,’ she whispers. ‘Camping can be really dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing or what to look out for.’

Hatred starts twisting in the pit of my stomach like a swarming mass of snakes. Crap! Her feelings are breaking through my barrier. I picture the door in my mind but it’s wedged open.

Izzy sniggers. ‘This is going to be so much fun.’

I hear Vivien laughing behind her and the hatred starts snaking its way up into my throat, choking me from the inside. I look away from them, out of the window, and see a huge tree. It reminds me of my favourite old oak tree back in Fairhollow. I picture sitting beneath it, soaking up its strength and the hatred inside me starts to fade. I slam the door shut in my mind and get to my feet. I can’t let the Blood Witches win.

‘You don’t scare me,’ I hiss after Izzy. But she’s already stepping off the coach.

Once we’ve all got off and the coach has chugged back down the path, we gather around the teachers.

Mr Matthews takes a pen from behind his ear. ‘OK, so first of all we need to . . .’ He frowns and looks at his clipboard. ‘We need to . . .’

‘We need to put up our tents,’ Miss Black cuts in, folding her huge arms in front of her chest. Rumour has it she’s a black belt in karate and a boxing champ. I’m not sure if it’s true but I definitely wouldn’t want to get in a fight with her. ‘I want you to put them up in a circle around the edge of the clearing and the first ones to finish win a prize.’

Excitement ripples around the group.

‘I bet it’s something really outdoorsy and boring,’ Holly whispers. ‘Like a compass.’

‘Good, good,’ Mr Matthews says, still rifling through the papers on his clipboard. ‘OK, on your marks, get –’

Miss Black blows hard on the whistle that’s permanently hanging around her neck, causing Mr Matthews to drop his pen in shock.

I look down at the tent at my feet. It belonged to Aunt Clara and my mum when they were kids. When Aunt Clara said we could use it on our trip I was really touched. If your mum dies when you’re little you tend to grab on to every memento you can. Holly unzips the bag and slides the tent poles out and we start putting them together. Beside us, Eve starts unpacking her single-man tent and I feel a pang of sorrow. If our tent’s big enough I might suggest to Holly that we invite Eve to share with us. I glance across the clearing to Izzy, Vivien and Stephen. You would think that with three of them they’d be almost finished, but they haven’t even started. Instead, they’re looking around at everyone else with smirks on their faces. Oh, whatever. I pick up the tent tarpaulin and start pulling it over the frame.

‘We’ve finished, sir!’ Izzy calls a second later.

I look over in shock. How can they be finished? They haven’t even started! But their tents are up and all three of them are standing in front of them beaming smugly.

Mr Matthews looks as bewildered as I feel. ‘What? Oh, I say. How on earth . . .?’ He starts to chuckle. ‘Well done. Well done indeed.’

I look at Holly, my heart sinking as I figure out what’s happened. ‘Izzy must have time-shifted,’ I whisper. As a time-shifter, Izzy has the ability to slow down time.

Holly nods. ‘Why’d she have to get that power?’ she sighs. ‘It’s not fair.’

‘Can we have our prize, sir?’ Vivien asks.

‘Yes, yes of course.’ Mr Matthews scratches his head and looks at Miss Black. ‘Do you, er, do you know what the prize is?’