The New Girl. Ariana Chambers

long – it’s almost down to my elbows now. I know from the one photo Dad gave me that I look like my mum. I get the same anxious bubbling in my stomach that I got in the cab, but way stronger this time, so strong it’s making my legs go weak.

      ‘You look so much like Celeste,’ Aunt Clara whispers. But she doesn’t smile.

      ‘Can I – is it OK if I sit down?’ I gesture at one of the tables.

      ‘Of course. Yes. Do. You must be tired. And hungry. Are you hungry? I’ll get you something to eat.’ Aunt Clara seems really nervous too, and it makes me realise what a big deal this must be for her. She never got married or had any children, and now she’s been lumbered with a thirteen-year-old she barely knows – one who looks exactly like her dead sister.

      Even though I’m not hungry, I nod, not wanting to upset her. She hurries off behind the counter and returns with a glass of really bright orange juice and a chocolate brownie. I smile in relief. If there’s one thing guaranteed to make me feel better it’s a chocolate brownie. I take a huge bite. Ugh! It takes all of my willpower not to spit it straight out again. It tastes vile.

      ‘Ah, you’re obviously not used to beetroot brownies,’ Aunt Clara says.

      I stare up at her. ‘Beetroot?’ Who puts beetroot in a brownie?!

      ‘Yes. It’s a vegan recipe. This is a vegan café,’ Aunt Clara explains, pointing to a blackboard on the wall with Soup of the Day: Pumpkin Seed and Potato written on it in chalk.

      I manage to swallow the mouthful of brownie without retching and reach for my orange juice to help get rid of the taste. But that’s even more disgusting.

      ‘It’s carrot juice,’ Aunt Clara says.

      ‘It’s lovely,’ I lie.

      Aunt Clara raises her eyebrows. ‘Don’t worry, lots of people hate vegan food at first but you’ll soon get used to it.’

      I frown. She’s caught me out.

      Aunt Clara shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. She has silver rings on every one of her fingers, including her thumbs. My eyes are drawn to one on her little finger, a cat’s head with emerald eyes. ‘Once you get used to organic, sugar-free foods, you’ll never want to eat anything else,’ she says. ‘It’s so full of flavour.’

      I take another bite of my beetroot brownie and force myself to swallow. Aunt Clara looks down at me like she might be about to say something but she stays silent. I smile at her. It makes my face ache.

      One thing’s for sure, if I’m going to stay here without hurting Aunt Clara’s feelings, I’m going to have to work a whole lot harder on my lying skills.

      I once read in a magazine that the very first thought you have the moment you wake up is the most important thought you will have all day. Apparently your first thought sets the tone for the rest of the day, so you should try your hardest to make it a happy one.

      The very first thought I have the moment I wake up the following morning is Oh no ! Swiftly followed by I’m still in Fairhollow and I have to go to school! I really hope that magazine article was wrong, otherwise today is totally doomed.

      I turn on my bedside lamp and grab my phone. I have two new text messages, one from Dad and one from Ellie. I read Ellie’s first as I’m still officially upset with Dad.

      How did you sleep? Xxx

      I quickly type a reply.

      Not good. My stomach kept making really weird noises. I’m not sure if it was hunger or fear xoxo

      Last night’s dinner was something called quinoa. It was like eating soggy seeds, even worse than the beetroot brownie. I ended up telling Aunt Clara I was too tired to eat very much and going to bed at eight o’clock. I didn’t go to sleep though. I texted Ellie and played my guitar until gone midnight. I’m halfway through composing a song called ‘Dad, Dad, You Make Me Mad’.

      I click on Dad’s text.

      I miss you lol x

      LOL! Why has he put LOL? Why’s he making a joke about leaving me here? Then I remember that Dad thinks that LOL stands for ‘lots of love’. I give a massive sigh and press reply.

      Miss you too xxx

      And I do, even though I’m still mad at him. I miss his stupid jokes and the way the sides of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. I really miss his cooking! But most of all, I miss how he makes me feel safe. My phone bleeps with another message from him.

      Don’t forget, this isn’t forever – just till I’ve got enough money to get us back on our feet again lol x

      I feel a stab of guilt at getting so angry with him. If he hadn’t taken the job in Dubai we would’ve lost our house.

      I know. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine lol xxx

      I can’t believe I’m using LOL that way now.

      My phone instantly chimes with another text – from Ellie this time.

      It’s probably hunger. I wonder what she’ll give you for breakfast!! xxxxx

      Somehow I don’t think it’ll be bacon xoxo

      I quickly text back.

      I sit up a bit and look around. My bedroom is right at the very top of the building, tucked away in the attic, so the ceiling slopes down on either side. It looks really quaint and cosy but it should come with a hazard sign; one with a big red cross and a picture of someone rubbing their head. Last night, I bumped my head on the ceiling about twenty times just getting ready for bed! The walls are creamy white, and so is the carpet and the duvet cover and the chest of drawers. This room is in serious need of some colour. I’ll have to put up some of my photos when I get back from school. School. My heart starts pounding again.

      It’ll be fine, I tell myself. Sometimes, when my inner voice says something wise or comforting like this, I pretend it’s Mum speaking to me. I picture her looking down at me, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders like Rapunzel’s. It’ll be fine.

      I look at the school uniform laid out on the chair by the window. The tartan school uniform. How can it be fine when I have to wear tartan?!

      ‘Nessa, are you awake?’ Aunt Clara calls up the stairs. ‘Breakfast’s ready.’

      Breakfast is a glass of green paint and a bowl of hamster bedding. Aunt Clara says that it’s ‘super juice’ and ‘gluten-free muesli’. I raise the glass to my lips and take the tiniest of sips. The juice tastes like pond water – or how I imagine pond water to taste, anyhow. I force myself to swallow it down. I’m getting really good at that.

      ‘That’ll be the spirulina,’ Aunt Clara says, looking at me across the table. She’s still wearing her dressing gown and her make-up-free face is gleaming with moisturiser. ‘It’s definitely an acquired taste.’

      I thought I’d been able to hide my frown. Obviously not.

      ‘The what?’ I ask, not sure if I really want to know.

      ‘It’s powdered algae,’ Aunt Clara replies with a smile, like drinking powdered algae is something to be happy about. ‘It’s very good for you, but it does taste a little weird at first.’

      ‘Right.’ I want to cry. Why is she making me drink powdered algae? No wonder there was no one in her café yesterday if this is the kind of thing she has on the menu.

      Aunt Clara puts down her glass and looks at me, concerned. ‘Are you OK? Would you like something else?’

      My stomach starts churning