The Third Person by Stephanie Newell

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upset me. I can’t believe he invites her round, not me, and that he prefers her silly games to my intelligent conversation. ‘Is Helen here?’ I splutter. ‘She’s gone missing from home. I’m really worried! I’m meant to be looking after her, but she went off on her own. Do you know where she is?’ Katie Nelson hovers behind her dad, trying to smile at me in a friendly way. Katie’s only in the first year at my school, so I generally tend to ignore her. ‘Where’s your mum?’ Mr Nelson asks. ‘She’s at work. She won’t be back till about half eight tonight.’ Mr Nelson exchanges a Funny Look with Mrs Nelson, who has appeared in the hall. When I started my story, my vague aim was for them to call the Police and report my sister missing, then a search party would discover Helen at the shop and she’d be in Deep Trouble. She’s still a minor in the eyes of the law, so she’s clearly committing a criminal offence if she runs off like this. But as I stand on the doorstep facing the Nelsons, I start to worry about what I might have started. I don’t want any trouble for him. If they find Helen with him, he might be implicated in her crime by association with her. I shuffle from foot to foot. ‘Maybe she’s at home after all.’ ‘There she is!’ Katie shouts, pointing over my shoulder. Helen wanders down the road sucking a lollipop. She waves cheerfully at us. ‘Where have you been?’ Mrs Nelson shrieks. ‘You must tell your sister exactly where you’re going, especially at night. You never know who’s out there.’ ‘I went to see my friend,’ Helen says, and looks at me triumphantly. ‘Did you think I said I was going to see Katie? Silly Lizzie!’ ‘What friend?’ I demand. ‘My friend up the road,’ Helen replies enigmatically. By the time our mother gets home, Helen is sitting happily in her bedroom. She’s dry and warm, smiling, lips stained red from her lollipop. I, on the other hand, am wet to the bone and my teeth are chattering. My whole body is pressed against the radiator in my bedroom. Steam rises from my damp clothes. I smell like a dishcloth.

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