Shining On by Lois Lowry

head like a mantra. She had no idea if it would work or not, but it was the only magic she knew. When she had finished, she laid a sprig of holly on the mossencrusted gravel, and went on to the next. Her hand shook even harder as she heard the sound, muffled but loud. A deepthroated yowl rose up from beneath her, strong enough to vibrate the ground. She nearly dropped the chisel and ran, but made herself continue. Aloysius was calling to the others. She had to work fast. The cry was taken up by one, then another; a highpitched yodeling, an unearthly pleading, somewhere between anguish and anger, halfway between cat and child, in no language known to man. The calling rose in a crescendo as she worked on the last grave, then subsided, the voices dying away one by one, silenced forever. Jules rested back on her heels, her whole body shaking. It was only then that she noticed the gash in her wrist, the blood springing in bright beads, as red as the berries on the sprig of holly that she had just laid on the last grave.
    “What are you doing, out here in the dark?”
    Jules almost toppled over with shock.
    “I was, um, collecting holly,” she mumbled as her mother helped her to stand. “For decorations. Deck the halls, and all that.”
    “What happened to your arm?”
    Blood showed against the white of Jules's wrist.
    “Brambles. Have you seen these?” She pointed down at the small graves at their feet. “Children. All died in an accident.”
    “How do you know?” Sadie bent down to look at the inscriptions.
    “I just assumed,” Jules said hastily. “Because they all died on the same day.”
    “How tragic! And tomorrow is the anniversary! We ought to do something. How about Christmas roses?” Sadie stood up. “We could plant them by their graves.”
    “Yes.” Jules took her mother's hand. “I think they'd like that.”

Malorie Blackman

    M y hands slowed, then stilled on my book as I listened. I turned my head and sniffed at the wind. Mum always said I had ears like a bat, but if it wasn't for the wind blowing in my direction I doubt if even I would have heard this particular conversation. I listened for a few moments until I'd heard enough, then returned to my book—which was far more interesting. Nine pages on and I was interrupted. I'd thought I'd get at least twelve pages further on before he plucked up the nerve to come over.
    “Hi, Amber. It's Kyle. Kyle Bennett.” He didn't have to tell me his name. I recognized his voice. Kyle Bennett—the new boy in my brother Matthew's class. Well, when I say new I mean he'd been in Matthew's class for over a month now. Kyle had been to our house once or twice with someof Matt's other friends, but this was the first time he'd actually said anything to me. I sniffed the air. I could smell a lie. Not lies. Just one lie. Even if I hadn't heard, I would've known.
    “Can I sit down?”
    “I don't know.” I shrugged. “Can you?”
    “Huh?”
    I smiled. A teenytiny smile for a teenytiny joke.
    “No, I … er … I meant, d'you mind if I sit down?” Kyle's voice was anxious, eager for me to understand.
    “Help yourself.” I carried on with my book.
    “What're you reading? Is it good?”
    “Rebecca
by Daphne du Maurier. And yes, it is good. I've read it before.”
    “If you've read it before, why're you reading it again?” asked Kyle.
    “It's one of my favorites.” All the time I spoke I carried on reading, my fingers skimming over the page. But then my fingers unexpectedly touched Kyle's and an electric shock like a bolt of lightning flashed through my fingers and up my arm.
    “Ouch!” Kyle exclaimed.
    With his touch still humming through my fingers, I snatched my hand away. “Are you OK?”
    “Yeah, I just got a shock.” Kyle dismissed it easily. I could hear that he was still shaking his sore fingers. “I don't see how we could've been shocked just sitting on grass.”
    I said nothing. It was there in his touch too. The touchof a lie. Not a liar, but