All Our Hidden Gifts by Caroline O’donoghue (books for 10th graders .TXT) 📗

causing, the fact that it’s only in this part of the country. There hasn’t been a freak snowfall in Kilbeg, he says, since the year 1990.

“1990 was the year I was pregnant with Cillian,” Mum says. “I remember that snow. I was on bed rest and couldn’t take Abbie out to play. She was livid.”

There’s the beginnings of a snowball fight happening on the tarmac as the bus pulls up outside school, people scraping dirty handfuls off car bonnets and pelting it at one another. Some of the St Anthony’s boys are hanging around, stuffing snow into each other’s necks and into the girls’ school bags.

I wonder, for a moment, whether anyone will throw snow at me. I walk through with my breath held, my hands on the straps of my rucksack. Nothing touches me. People run around. Through me, around me. Gasping, red, laughing with their teeth showing and their breath visible. The snow has brought something, some return to innocence that they’ve all been craving. This is the first real thing that has happened since Lily went missing two weeks ago, and it’s broken the tension of the moment.

Of course, no one’s going to hit me with a snowball. No one wants to remember I exist.

At lunch, I do my best to explain everything to Fiona. She’s fascinated by the Children of Brigid meeting.

“Two Truths and a Lie!” she gasps. “We used to have to play that in acting classes. Some people would take it way too far. They would, like, use it as a way to confess everything they’d be holding in. I used to feel strangely guilty for not having any painful secrets.”

“This was exactly the same! There was this weird pressure for people to not just confess, but feel this profound guilt for completely harmless things. One guy almost broke down because he shaved his legs. Then Aaron gave a big speech about how gayness doesn’t exist.”

“Jesus Christ. What did you say?”

“That’s the odd thing. I found myself … playing along. Like … like I wanted to impress him.”

I immediately regret saying this, thinking that Fiona will judge me for it. You’re not supposed to want to impress guys like Aaron. You’re supposed to tell them to piss off.

But Fiona just nods solemnly. “My ex was like that. The one I told you about,” she says. “I didn’t actually respect anything about him. I mean, I felt like a genius compared to him. But … I don’t know. I still wanted him to think I was … you know, cool. Fun. Insert vaguely positive adjective here.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

I decide, after a brief pause, that it’s time to tell her.

“Fi,” I say, testing the words out like you test your tongue against an open gum. “You know how Lily was spotted with that woman? By the river?”

She nods. Everyone has heard about the milkman sighting.

“I think … I know who she was.”

Fiona stares at me, her eyes practically popping out of her head, her lips pursed in complete confusion.

“And you … you’ve decided to keep that information to yourself, then?”

“It’s not as easy as that. No one will believe me.”

“Why?”

“Because the woman isn’t … a woman. She’s a…”

I break off. How are you supposed to explain this to anyone who hasn’t had the Housekeeper dreams? Who hasn’t found the Chokey cards back in their bedside cabinet?

“She’s a demon.”

Why aren’t there any less insane words for this?

“A demon,” Fiona repeats.

“Yes.”

“Not a ghost? Not a witch?”

“I don’t know. Either. Both. All I know is that me and Lily accidentally summoned her the day of Lily’s tarot reading. I mean, I literally said, ‘I wish you would just disappear…’ while the Housekeeper was staring at us.”

Fiona winces. “Oh God, I remember. That was bad.”

“And the night I got home from your party, I started dreaming about her. When I woke up, the Chokey cards were back in my bedroom.”

“The ones Harris took from you?”

“Yep.”

“Maeve. This is crazy.”

“That’s just the start,” I say, and explain what happened in the underpass with Roe last night. I tell her everything about the reading and the inside of Roe’s brain, skipping the part about Roe’s sexuality.

Fiona listens intently, her hands pressed together in prayer position, her thumbs tucked under her chin. After I’m done speaking, she’s quiet for a long time.

“So … what do you think?” I break the silence.

“I think,” she replies slowly, “we need to talk to my aunt Sylvia.”

“Your aunt?”

She nods. “She used to do fortune telling in Manila, while she was training to get her degree. There was this salon where they would do nails and tell women’s fortunes. They’re pretty casual about it over there.”

“I don’t know,” I say nervously. “I can’t imagine telling an adult any of this and them just accepting it.”

“Maeve, you’ve got to understand,” she says, shaking her head, “ghosts and stuff are sewn into my tita’s belief system. She considers God and magic as sort of … on a par with each other.”

“So she’ll believe me?”

“I don’t know. At the very least, she’ll listen to you.”

“OK,” I reply. “I mean, I trust you.”

“Great. Come over tonight. I’m babysitting my cousin, so she’ll be around at, like, six to pick him up.”

“I’m supposed to be meeting Roe. We were going to go back to the underpass.”

“Well, hello.”

“Not like that,” I snap, before adding, “unfortunately.”

“Well, bring him. Maybe Sylvia can cast you two a love spell or something.”

“Oh, aren’t you funny?”

“I’m hilarious, actually.”

“You’re being very … chill about this,” I say, cautiously. “Considering you’re a passionate atheist and everything, you’re accepting the notion of a spirit demon very … gracefully.”

“Yes,” she says, surprised by her own reaction. “Let me think about why that is.”

She’s silent then, pressing her fingertips to her mouth, pondering.

“Are you analysing your own motivations?” I ask, nudging her. “Wow, your mum is right. Acting school has made you pretentious.”

“Mmmhmm,” she replies, barely registering this accusation any more. “The thing about being atheist is that I don’t have a problem