I was just explaining to your dads that the adoption process should be plain sailing as they’ve already been through it once,’ Pam trills. Of course – with everything that’s happened I’d completely forgotten about the visit from a social worker. ‘My name’s Pam – I’m an adoption social worker. ‘Er, yes, that’s me,’ I say, trying my best to sound normal. Where he’s standing, the wheel is blocking him from sight. ‘Oh, you must be Charlie!’ she says, beaming. My dads appear behind her as she makes her way down the garden with a wave. It’s a woman with brown hair and a kind face, a colourful bag swinging from her shoulder.
I didn’t want to get caught by my parents and have to explain to them –īut it’s not my parents standing in the doorway. I was going to go straight through to the back garden. I watch as he waddles over to an unfamiliar car that’s parked directly outside our house, cocks his leg and begins to wee on one of the wheels. I glance up and down the street to make sure there’s nobody around before putting him down. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, and suddenly his coat begins to heat up under my fingertips. I’m approaching our house when Firetail starts wriggling in my arms. I’m glad it’s not just me who’s made that mistake when his flames aren’t showing. ‘Aw, what a cute puppy!’ a passing girl squeals to her father, and I relax slightly. Which is hard when you’re cradling a fox cub against your chest.
But today I’m walking extra fast, and my head is extra down, as I don’t want to draw any attention to myself. I don’t make eye contact with anybody as I trek through town, which isn’t unusual for me. He looks as unsure of me as I feel about him. You could be a firespider, or a fiery naked mole rat.’įiretail blinks at me. Two days, and then everything will go back to normal. And he can’t escape because he won’t be able to get down the rope ladder.Īt least there’s no school tomorrow. What am I going to do with him? I can’t take him into the house – what if he sets fire to something? There’s always the treehouse, which Dad has fully flameproofed using a special chemical spray.
Of course I look like a Firetail, I can almost hear him saying. My empty art portfolio swings from my hand, caked with mud. So I’m heading down the hill with a firecub cradled in my arms. Why do all these things happen to me? First the goose, now this. Now I’m on my way down from the castle, and I did hide my pebble, but I have also acquired a highly flammable fox cub. Ten minutes ago, I was on my way up to the castle to hide my pebble. Illustrations copyright © Laura Catalán, 2022
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