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  “I have decided,” said Maia defensively. “I’m going to do my project on … on … orangutans.” She picked an animal at random just to shut Ionie up. Ever since they had been put on the same table at the start of term, Ionie had been driving her crazy. It was bad enough that Sita and Lottie, her best friends, were in the other Year Six class, but having to sit next to Ionie seemed very unfair. Ionie was clever and she loved pointing out any mistakes Maia made.

  “Orangutans? Really?” Ionie sighed. “Can’t you be more imaginative than that? There are at least four other people doing orangutans.”

  “So what amazing, unusual animal have you decided to do your project on?” Maia asked.

  “A pronghorn,” Ionie answered. “Do you even know what a pronghorn is?”

  Maia hadn’t heard of a pronghorn. Still, she didn’t want to admit that to Ionie so she hazarded a guess. “Is it some kind of deer?”

  She saw Ionie’s face fall slightly and knew she must have got it right.

  “Kind of,” Ionie admitted. “It’s a bit like a deer and a bit like a goat and a bit like an antelope, although actually it’s a totally unique animal. Anyway, why don’t I find you something that’s more interesting than orangutans.” She opened the book on her section of the desk. “Maybe you could do your project on a saola or a pangolin – they were my reserve choices—”

  “OK, everyone. It’s break time!” Miss Harris called.

  Maia jumped up before she had to admit to Ionie that she didn’t know what either of those animals were. She tidied her books away and headed outside.

  Lottie and Sita were waiting for her by the coat hooks – Lottie, small and skinny, her curly black hair clipped back with a pink butterfly slide, and Sita, tall and graceful, with her shiny dark brown hair in a thick plait.

  “Escape at last!” Maia said, immediately feeling better at the sight of them.

  “Your lesson was that bad?” said Sita sympathetically.

  “Any lesson sitting next to Ionie is bad,” said Maia.

  Sita’s eyes widened in warning. Glancing back, Maia saw that Ionie had followed her to the classroom doorway with an open book about endangered animals in her hands.

  “Well, that’s the last time I bother trying to help you with a project, Maia Greene!” she snapped and she marched back inside.

  Maia felt a rush of guilt. She didn’t like upsetting people – even people as irritating as Ionie.

  “Whoops,” Lottie muttered.

  “Wait here.” Maia hurried back into the classroom. Ionie was standing by their table. “Ionie, I’m sorry…”

  “Forget it,” Ionie said abruptly, picking up a book. “It’s not as if I care what you and your silly little gang think.”

  Maia bit her bottom lip, not knowing what to say.

  Ionie turned her back. “I’m going to read,” she said. “Go away.”

  Maia sighed and went back to the coat hooks. “Well, that was awkward,” she told the others.

  “It’s her own fault,” said Lottie loyally. “She shouldn’t be so annoying. It must be horrible having to sit with her.” She tucked her arm in Maia’s. “Come on, get your coat and let’s go outside.”

  “So, what have you been doing this morning?” Sita asked Maia as they went into the playground. The October sun was shining but a cold breeze was making fallen leaves skitter across the ground.

  “Miss Harris was telling us all about endangered animals,” said Maia, zipping up her coat and burying her hands in her pockets. “She told us how many species are dying out and about how people need to do more to help…” An idea suddenly popped into her head. “You know it’s the Harvest Show in the village hall next weekend? Well, why don’t we ask if we can run a cake stall to raise money for endangered animals? We’ll have all half-term to prepare for it and do some baking.”

  “Oh yes, let’s!” said Sita.

  “Great idea! We could bake loads of different cakes,” said Lottie. “My dad’s helping to organize the show. I’ll ask him if he can sort out a table for us.”

  Maia beamed. “Perfect. If you come round to mine tomorrow morning we can choose which cakes we’re going to bake and practise baking them.”

  “OK, but it’ll have to be before my gymnastics at eleven thirty,” said Lottie. “It’s a cool idea, Maia.”

  Maia grinned. It really was.

  Maia’s mum was waiting for her in the car after school. She could see her eighteen-month-old brother, Alfie, strapped into his car seat. He gave Maia a toy car as she opened the back door.

  “Ook! Car!” he said proudly.

  Maia grinned. “Yes, car,” she said. She was glad to get out of the cold and into the warm car.

  “Half-term starts now!” her mum said, smiling at her and starting the engine. “A whole week off. I bet that feels good.”

  “It does,” Maia said. “No more Ionie!”

  Ionie had spent half the afternoon ignoring Maia and the other half of it pointing out spelling mistakes in her write-up of a science experiment on cress that they had been doing. Maia’s guilt over upsetting her that morning had quickly faded.

  Her mum tutted. “Oh, Maia, that’s not very nice. You used to be good friends.”

  “In Reception and Year One, before she started being so annoying,” Maia said.

  It was true that she and Ionie had got on when they started school. Ionie was six months older than Maia and she’d always had really good ideas for games – fun things, not just playing tag or hide-and-seek like everyone else, but pretending to be dolphins or imagining they had unicorns of their own. But then Ionie had started to get really bossy and so Maia had made friends with Lottie and Sita instead.

  “Can’t you be friends again?” said her mum. “I was talking to Ionie’s mum and she says Ionie’s lonely.”

  Maia didn’t believe it. “She doesn’t act like she’s lonely and wants to be friends with people. If we’re all talking together, she just goes off and reads a book, and if she has to join in, she tells everyone their ideas are rubbish and hers are the best.”

  “It might be because she’s an only child,” Mrs Greene said. “I was one so I know what it’s like. It’s sometimes difficult to know how to fit in. She might secretly want to make friends with you all.”

  “Mmm,” said Maia disbelievingly. She changed the subject. “Are we going straight home?”

  “No. We’re going to Granny Anne’s house to collect some stuff for the charity shop. Dad’s meeting us there, and then he’ll go on and pick up Clio after netball practice.”

  “Dactor!” shouted Alfie, pointing at a tractor out of the window.

  “Yes, tractor! And look, there’s a digger, too!” said Maia, pointing things out as her mum drove on through the twisty streets of Westcombe.

  Maia had lived in Westcombe all her life – it was a large village on the North Devon coast and Maia loved it. On sunny days she and her mum, dad, Alfie and older sister Clio would go to the shingle beach and have picnics. On stormy, wintry days they would wrap up in raincoats and go for blustery walks, stopping for a hot chocolate at the Copper Kettle tearoom afterwards.

  Her mum drove across the main road on to a small bumpy lane that led towards the beach. There were a few houses at the top of the lane and halfway down was Granny Anne’s white stone cottage with its thatched roof and small windows.

  The car pulled up outside. Maia shivered. The curtains had been pulled across the windows ever since Granny Anne had died. It made her feel as if the cottage had shut its eyes.

  Her mum got Alfie out of his car seat and carried him to the front door. Turning the key, she pushed the door open. Maia followed her inside. The cottage was dark and cold, and there were packing boxes in the hall.

  For a moment, Maia pictured the cottage as it used to be – lights on, the smell of biscuits baking, Granny Anne standing in the kitchen making tea with her special red kettle that whistled when it boiled, the smile on her face as she saw Maia…

  Maia
backed out of the cottage. Being there made her feel too sad.

  Her mum saw her face. “Are you OK?”

  “Can I go for a walk?” asked Maia. “I’ll just go to the waterfall.”

  “That’s fine,” her mum said, “but don’t go any further than that. Have you got your phone with you?”

  Maia nodded and fled.

  STRIPES PUBLISHING

  An imprint of the Little Tiger Group

  1 Coda Studios, 189 Munster Road,

  London SW6 6AW

  Text copyright © Linda Chapman, 2017

  Illustrations copyright © Lucy Fleming, 2017

  First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2017

  eISBN: 978-1-84715-875-8

  The right of Linda Chapman and Lucy Fleming to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

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