Free Invisible Girl by Kate Maryon

turns. My money! I can’t spend it! Not on food. Not on food for Henny as well.
    “I’m all right,” I say, pulling away and adjusting my bag. “I’m not hungry, not really.”
    Henny looks me up and down. “Liar,” she says. “You’re starving, it’s written all over your face. You got money?”
    I stare at the pavement. I shake my head, my lie wriggling through me like a worm.
    “You’re a really bad liar,” she says. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you your nose turns red when you lie?”
    My hand flies up to my nose. My face burns ketchup red.
    “I don’t want your money,” she says, looking offended. “I’m just trying to help. I don’t know why I bother sometimes, but I guess they don’t call me Henny for nothing.”
    I look up, confused.
    “Listen,” she says, “I saw you go up and down the street like a tramp, round and round, sitting out there in the open. It’s not safe, the cameras and police and pervs and stuff.”
    She leans in close and whispers instructions in my ear.
    “See, it’s easy,” she says, taking my bag and stepping back. “You just have to look all big eyed and innocent, kitten.”
    Henny winks and slips round the corner. My heart flips and bangs in my chest.
    “Err… erm, my mum didn’t come back home after work,” I say to the red-faced man behind the fish and chip counter, “and me and my little brothers are starving. Any chance you could spare us some chips?”
    The man pierces me with his jet-black eyes. “Clear off,” he snaps. “You kids are all the same. Go on! Clear off! Something for nothing, all of you.”
    I stand firm, my voice getting stronger, my lie getting bigger.
    “I’m not lying,” I say, “honest. My brothers are crying they’re so hungry. I’ll drop the money off tomorrow. I’ll get it from my mum when she gets home.”
    “I said, clear off!” he shouts, so loud his words almost blow me over.
    A tall man in a smart grey suit and blue stripy shirt steps forward. “Look,” he says, jangling change in his pocket. “I haven’t got time for all this. Give her what she wants and I’ll pay.”
    I look up at him with big fluttering eyes, just like Henny said.
    “Thank you,” I say. “Thank you very much.”
    He keeps his eyes away from mine and he stares at the fish counter, jangling his change in his pocket again, silently nodding.
    I skip outside, my arms full of steaming chips, feeling full to the brim with pride. I search for Henny. I walk up and down looking for her.
    “Henny!” I call. “Look, I got them! I got loads for us to share!”
    I pace up and down, craning my neck, straining my eyes.
    “Henny? Where are you?”
    And above the slamming, thrumming, clattering sounds of the night-time streets my heart drops to my tummy like a stone.
    I gave her my bag.
    I gave her my bag!
    She has everything.

“T a-daah!” squeals Henny, jumping out of a dark doorway, throwing her arms open wide. “First rule, kitten, be careful who you trust, especially with your stuff.”
    She hands me my bag. My eyes brim over with tears, which I wipe on my sleeve as we walk along silently, sharing chips that stick in my throat like twigs.
    “Are you angry with me?” she laughs. “Didn’t scare you, kitten, did I?”
    “No!” I lie. “I’m not a baby! I knew you hadn’t gone! Not really!”
    I stuff more chips in my mouth, kick a stone and practise that poem about the dead soldier we had to learn for English, over and over inside my head.
    After a while we come to this huge multi-storey car park. Henny drags me inside to find a huddle of kids laughing and cheering at three boys racing shopping trolleys up and down. “Whhhoooooooooooo!” squeals one of the boys, skidding his trolley in and out of the cars.
    “Ekkkkkkkkkkkkk,” screeches another, almost scratching the side of a big blue truck.
    A girl with a ghost-white face wearing a jumper too thick for this weather starts chanting, “DARE! DARE! DARE!”
    The other kids join in.