"That one looks good."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"I thought it made my arms look kind of fat…"
"Amelia? You couldn't look fat if you tried."
"Do you think it's too…grannyish?"
"Grannyish? No. Why?"
"The lace…"



It was the following Saturday, and Amelia and I had decided to make a trip into Eridessa to do some shopping. Amelia happily drove us there (she'd gotten her P plates* about a month ago – the only teenager in our town to have got them), claiming she needed to buy 'a nice dress'. We'd already been to several stores, where Amelia had tried on 'nice' dresses, but none had passed her test – whatever that was. The dress she was trying on at that moment seemed to be the most promising yet.
Amelia studied herself in the mirror. "I think I might shop around and come back to it," she said decisively, heading back into the change rooms to change.
I'd been clothes-shopping a little myself, since there was such a bigger range in the Eridessa stores compared to Lou's tiny selection in his shop. I'd already purchased some new jeans, a black polka-dot skirt, and a few tops, one of which would have made Mystery jealous (a black strapless top, designed to look a little like a corset but made of soft, comfortable material). And – an added bonus – it had been on sale for only $15. Bargain.
Amelia returned from the change room and handed the dress to the shop assistant. Then we walked out of the store, hunting for another one.
"So, a cure for arthritis, huh?" Amelia asked. "And your mum found it."
"We're still not entirely sure yet," I cautioned. "But we think we've found it. Of course, they still have to do heaps of testing, and that could take years. Mum seems to think though, based on all the theory behind it, that yes, she's found a cure."
"Perhaps your mum should try the plant extract on cancer!" Amelia suggested. "It might be a miracle plant!"
I laughed. "I doubt it. To me it just looks green and viney."
We kept walking and chatting until Amelia pulled me into another clothes store and we both started browsing the racks. Suddenly, I heard Amelia give a little gasp.
"I've found it!" she cried.
"What?"
"The dress!"
I looked at what she was holding up. It was short, strappy and a vivid dark blue, with a large black bow at the back.
"Try it on!" I urged, and Amelia happily found her size and trotted off to the change rooms again. I kept browsing while I waited for her to emerge.
In a few minutes, she did. The dress looked great on her.



"That looks great on you!" I cried enthusiastically. She beamed, and looked at herself in the full length mirror.
"I love it," she sighed. "Much better than the fat-arms granny-lace one I almost bought. God, I'm glad I shopped around."
Before I could tell her that her arms didn't look fat, she pranced back into the change room. I smiled and rolled my eyes heavenwards. Amelia was a very excitable shopper.
Before long, we were walking out of the shop, Amelia with a new bag to carry. She seemed very happy with her purchase.
"Well, now that you're satisfied," I said, "I'd like to go to the library."
"Don't you already have enough books?" Amelia sighed.
"One can never have enough books," I said firmly. Although I wasn't able to borrow from the library, it provided me with a good browsing opportunity: if I found a book that looked promising, I'd note down the title and author, and then ask Lou to order it in for me to buy, or I bought it online. It was a pretty good system, in my view.
Amelia, however, was easily bored by the library. If she ever wanted something to read, she generally borrowed books from my personal collection. "How about you go to the library, while I go to the art place?" she suggested.
"Sounds like a plan," I agreed. Amelia, on the other hand, could spend hours in the art supplies store, where she purchased all her photography gear.
Just before we reached the spot where we'd split up, we walked past a café, with tables spilling out onto the street. My nose was assaulted by a familiar, pungent odour.
"Uh oh!" I groaned, clutching my nose.



Amelia looked worried, and sniffed the air. She quickly understood, and sighed.
"It's really not that bad," she said, while I felt my stomach roll with nausea.
"Not for you," I said, nose still resolutely blocked.
Amelia shook her head. "I cannot believe you actually react this badly," she said. "Most people love the smell of frying bacon."
"Not this one," I grimaced, and located the source of the smell: a man had ordered a serving of bacon and eggs, even though it was nowhere near breakfast time. I glared at him. He didn't even notice.
"Anyway," Amelia said, when we'd walked far enough away from the cafe so that the offensive smell was no longer detectable. "You go to your library and I'll go to my art store, OK?"
"Uh huh." We went our separate ways.
The smell of books was much more pleasant than the stench of bacon. I inhaled deeply as I entered the library, savouring the scent of old, printed pages. I wished I could bottle the smell and take it with me – I didn't go into Eridessa Library as often as I wanted to.
I also liked the peacefulness of the place. The only noises came from the soft whir of computers behind the librarian's desks and the occasional whisper of an enquiry. There was also a comparatively noisy self-checkout machine, which clunked alarmingly every time someone scanned out a book to borrow. I tried to ignore it.
I headed towards the youth fiction section, passing the desks of public-access computers along the way. As I glanced at them, a particular person caught my attention, staring intently at the screen. I was surprised – I thought that people under witness protection weren't meant to make themselves so obvious when out-and-about.



"Hello, Mr. Dessler!" I whispered, coming over and smiling.
He jumped about a foot in the air, and hastily minimised whatever had been on his screen. I'd caught a glimpse of it – it looked like lines and lines of some obscure code, scrolling down into oblivion. He turned quickly to look at me.
"Shhh!" he hissed angrily. I stepped back, holding up my hands apologetically.
"Sorry," I said. "I was only saying hi."
"Well, hi," he said irritably. He kept looking around, suddenly extremely nervous. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't approach me in public," he continued. "I'm trying to keep a low profile…"
"Then why are you in a public library, in full view?" I asked, annoyed. I walked off before he could reply. The next time I looked, he was gone.


"What, he just left?" Amelia asked. "Man, what a weirdo."
I shrugged. "I don't know what I did wrong."
Dark had fallen and we were driving back to Solitaria. The boot of the car was full of bags, including our clothes and photographic equipment for Amelia. I also had a list of books stowed safely in my pocket, which I would follow up as soon as I could. I'd told Amelia about my encounter with the reclusive Anthony, and she was just as confused by his reaction as I had been.
"If he doesn't want to be noticed, he shouldn't be out in public like that," Amelia went on, defending me.
"I know!"
"And I don't see why he should get so upset just because you said hi."
"Speed," I murmured, pointing to the speedometer. Amelia grumbled and slowed down a little.



"I hate speed limits," she complained. "They're unrealistic. And I don't see why I should be restricted to 90 k's on a wide road with no traffic." Amelia preferred to view speed limits as "guidelines, rather than actual rules". I had to say I agreed with her most of the time.
We continued towards home at speeds which generally hovered a little above the 90km/h limit. We chattered away about things that annoyed us, things we'd bought, things we'd like to buy, what we'd do tomorrow…
We finally swept into Solitaria, and Amelia dutifully slowed down. In fact, she slowed down enough that as we went past Lou's shop, I caught sight of something very surprising.
"Amelia!" I exclaimed, looking out the window.
"I'm doing the limit," she replied in annoyance.
"No—look!"
"I can't, I'm driving," she said. "What is it?"
We'd already passed the shop by that time, but I was able to describe it fairly clearly in words.
"Oh, just Lou and Victoria, having a good old pash," I replied.



Amelia's eyes bugged, but she kept control of the car despite her astonishment. "What!"
"Kissing," I repeated, beginning to smile. "On the verandah!"
"Lou and Victoria!" Amelia couldn't quite comprehend it.
"Yes!"
She shook her head. "What!"
I snorted. "Talk about an odd couple," I commented.
Amelia laughed. "Imagine what their children would look like!"
I thought for a moment. "I guess they'd be…vampire aliens!"
"And then, if they got bitten by the same wolf that bit Christopher…" Amelia's eyes widened.
I joined in. "They'd be…werewolf vampire aliens!"
"And," Amelia added, slapping the steering wheel, "if they were killed and brought back to life by that crazy mystic who resurrected Hannah…they'd be—"
"Zombie werewolf vampire aliens!" I said, nodding very seriously.
Amelia snorted. "That's ridiculous."
Our little world was just too crazy to comprehend sometimes.

----------------------------------------------------
AUSTRALIAN 101: P plates - provisional driver's licence. Once you've finished learning how to drive (L plates), and manage to pass the driving test, you are put on 'P plates' and given a Provisional Driver's Licence. The length of time spent on P plates varies according to state. In New South Wales it's generally a minimum of three years (first 'red' P plates, then 'green'...it's complicated and irrelevant). Basically, you're allowed to drive (independently), but with a whole bunch of draconian restrictions imposed upon you (for example, a maximum capped speed limit, a limit of the number of passengers in your car after 11pm, etc), and you also have to display 'P plates' on the front and back of your car.
Oh also, boot = trunk.