Free Miss Spelled by Sarah Belle Page B

people.
    ‘Oh…it…when…?’ My mouth fumbles around the abstract thoughts floating around in my headspace. There she is, Mel smiling and waving from inside the flat.
    ‘You live here? In the backyard!’
    This is too strange. Just what the hell happened with that spell?
    The spongy grass cushions my journey across the backyard to Mel’s oversized cubby house.
    ‘Are you alright? You look kind of…mentally disturbed,’ Mel says.
    ‘What did we do last night?’ I ask.
    Mel scrunches her mouth to the side and says, ‘I was here, watching television and sipping on cold wine, and you were out and about.’
    I deflate. ‘We didn’t go to the Crown Towers or cast a spell?’
    Mel shakes her head and tilts it to the side, the way a dog does when it can’t make sense of something. My voice has begun to rise in pitch and my speech accelerates as the words throw themselves out of my mouth.
    ‘It was a spell that you found on the internet, from Majique, to erase me from the memory of the rat-bastard, so that he wouldn’t tell Aiden that we’d had a relationship 11 years ago,’ I prattle away, without any regard as to how much of a loony this probably makes me sound.
    Mel gives me a look that screams ‘crazy lady’, and it’s clear that she is just plain confused by all of this. And a bit scared.
    ‘Why don’t you come and sit down and…rest for a little while. You’ve been under a bit of stress lately, maybe it’s all come to a head. You know, been too much for you to cope with. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, we all have our breaking point.’
    She takes my hand, drags me across the room and plants me on the floral upholstered couch. She sits down, but not as close as usual.
    ‘I’m not at breaking point, it’s just that…’ How can this tale be relayed to Mel without me being mistaken for a right raving loony?
    A large breath fills my lungs and restores a fraction of calm. A tranquil mind is the only way to start, just like on the days of a high wind at school when the kids are scatty and driving me to insanity.
    ‘Are you a teacher?’ I ask.
    ‘Of course I am.’
    ‘Do you teach prep at St. Andrews?’
    Mel laughs, a nervous kind of laugh.
    ‘Bear with me, Mel. It will all make sense in the end.’ Really? Will it, or will it just end with a trip to the psychiatrists and a prescription for Valium?
    Mel gives me a smile that shows she is trying to be patient, but is finding it difficult.
    ‘Yes, I do teach prep at St. Andrews.’
    Okay, so a couple of things are the same with Mel. Time for the big question.
    ‘What am I?’
    The look on her face shows she is only a poofteenth away from moving to the other end of the couch, towards the door and bellowing for Mum to call an ambulance.
    ‘Please, humour me,’ I say.
    I hold my breath and bunch my fists in my lap in hope that Mel’s answer will be different to Mum’s.
    ‘Okay. You work as an executive assistant at a temp agency.’
    As if in a vortex, all life leaves me. My hands flop open and my limp body falls backwards on the couch. Shit! What the hell has happened?
    ‘Lou, what’s going on?’
    ‘I’ve done something crazy. Stupid crazy. Life-changing, stupid crazy.’
    Mel face wrinkles in concern. ‘Tell me. What’s happened?’
    Although we are bestest-ever friends, I am at a loss as to how much to say. At what point does an interesting case of confusion become ambulance sirens, a straightjacket and refuge in an institution for an indeterminate amount of time?
    But then again, if anyone is going to believe me, it will be Mel. Or Ben. Ben! Jeez, this would be right up his alley, proof of alternate realities or hocus pocus or something sciencey. This would freak his enormous PhD genius brain. Maybe he’s the one to talk to? But where is he? If everything else was different, and everyone’s lives had changed to some degree, what’s had happened to Ben?
    ‘Where’s Ben?’ I ask, as life is injected back into me and my