So, as you can see, I’ve got a new friend. I’ve stuffed the idea of becoming friends with any girls. What’s the point? It’s just Romi, my brothers, and me. There’s nothing wrong with that? Is there?
The next three weeks went fine. No trouble. Until we had a swap of classrooms (some Year 11’s needed to do some exams, so we kinda needed to ‘get our butts outta there’ as our rather laid back history teacher said) and our history lessons were in room 18. It’s there, we know, but it’s not on the map on the back of our planners. We had to find room 17 and 19, which were there and go into the room with half a number written on it.
It’s stupid. But anyway, me and Romi got lost. It’s not our fault about its number plate! We found room 19, but we walked straight past 18. The plate is exactly the same colour as the door. We went outside thinking it was there, but we couldn’t find it. We eventually decided to go back inside to room 19. We were meant to go to the history lesson, but we suddenly heard some talking. We started to creep towards a door with no number, almost the same colour as the walls, and no window in it (the walls are yellow-beige. They’re not exciting). It had a keyhole, so I peered through it.
“She must know!”
“Know? Know?! Not yet!”
Two people were standing in the room. They looked deathly pale and wearing grey… everything! They were also wearing these really frilly dresses. There was no windows in the room, but candles. But even with them, the people had no shadows.
“What do you see?” Romi whispered. I didn’t answer, just put a finger to my lips.
“Why not yet?”
“She’s not ready!”
“Oh, for goodness sake! I’m going to faint! And not from my bodice!”
“Oh stop complaining! I’ve been through worse!”
“Oh yes! Just because you wanted to look beautiful and skinny! Seriously! That thing was so tight, no wonder you suffocated!”
“Oh shut up you lobscouse!”
“Shut up yourself, nincompoop!”
Romi sniggered. “Worst argument ever!” he whispered.
“Look, she’s got to do it! Dear Owain Glyndower! If she doesn’t, who will?”
“Well, how about US?!”
“Oh, goodness sake Mythryl! We’re DEAD!”
I gasped and backed away from the door.
“What?” Romi asked.
“They… they just said… they were… dead!” I didn’t want to be, but I was seriously freaked out.
“DEAD?!” he cried. He quickly slapped a hand to his mouth.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Oh, Llaila, don’t tell me you didn’t hear that?”
“Oh, you firing lobscouse! WHAT?!”
“You’re going deaf Llaila! A boy just shrieked the word ‘Dead’!”
It suddenly went silent in the room. I suddenly had a surge of courage and put my eye back to the keyhole. There were two women. They were both wearing lipstick. But it was grey. It was like they had come out of a black and white photo. They were both staring at the door.
“So you think there’s someone… behind the door?”
“Well, yes!”
“Someone spying on us, you think?”
“Yes! Oh, just go to the door, Llaila!”
Suddenly, instead of seeing a cold room, I saw a pale, grey-blue eye. I screamed (for a split second! Thinking back, that was so pathetic!) And jumped back. Romi grabbed my arm, pulled me up and we backed away another few steps. When I screamed, I was pretty sure someone else screamed too. After a few minutes, Romi gestured to me to stay where I was, and began to approach the door. He grabbed the handle, looked back at me, before twisting it open. I couldn’t help my curiosity. I rushed over and peered round the doorway. I saw two deathly pale people before there was a flash and they disappeared.
“What the…?” Romi exclaimed.
“What the? That’s all you’ve got to say? You two, what are you doing?” came a voice from behind us. Damn it. Here comes our first restriction.
