“I’m not going to let them zap me,” said Roxy.
“Yeah, you say that, but you’ll be totally powerless against any enchantment Mrs Smith puts on you. So you’ll be back to believing all the old rot, a brainless…”
Jones stopped talking.
Roxy had just opened her fist to show her what she was holding there.
And what she was holding there was a teeny-tiny fragment – barely bigger than a large grain of sea salt – of grey stone.
“You’ve got a weeny bit of the Stone,” breathed Jones.
“I have.”
“Is it a tiny bit that blew off it or something, when everything exploded?”
“It is.”
“And are you going to hang on to it for dear life,” Jones continued with a widening grin, “so that even when they think they’ve zapped you with a False Memory Enchantment, they haven’t succeeded?”
“That’s the plan,” said Roxy. “Frankie mentioned a magic-blocking spell that might be powerful enough, if I’ve got some of the Stone, to hold it off. Exodus Magicam,” she murmured. “Exodus Magicam.”
The fragment of Stone in her hand was suddenly warm … very warm. It glowed bright white, as if ready for action.
“Awesome,” whispered Jones.
Roxy couldn’t help giving her a grin. “I know! And then, if it works, and they eventually let me out of here, I can come and give the fragment to you, Jones. I know it’s not the entire Stone, but you have to admit it’s pretty incredible to have ended up with even a tiny fragment of it. And it’ll be yours.” She held out her hands. “You can do whatever you like with it. Display it as the first ancient artefact you ever collected. Use it to put a nasty curse on your stepfamily. Honestly, whatever.”
For the first time since Roxy had met her, Jones’s face turned a vivid pink.
“Look, for your information,” Jones said, “I’ve had … a bit of a rethink over the past couple of days. About … stuff.”
“I’ll say,” Mirror interrupted cheekily. “She’s been so stressed, you see. I swear she even cried.”
“HEY! I did not cry!”
“I’ve heard her mutter, Cripes, what if my only friend had died?”
“Mirror, I swear on my life…”
“Oh, come on, Mirror, that doesn’t sound the slightest bit like Jones,” laughed Roxy.
“Thank you!” said Jones.
“I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever heard her use the word cripes.”
Jones glared at her.
“So you do actually care about someone else?” Roxy smiled.
“Maybe I do!” snapped Jones. “I don’t see what’s so funny about that! And that’s got absolutely nothing to do with changing my mind about the whole revenge thing. It’s not because I’ve gone soft or anything, in case that’s what either of you are thinking! It’s mostly just, since we saved the planet, and all that—”
“The country.”
“… I’ve realized I’ve got more important things to do than take petty revenge on my stepmum and stepsisters. And seeing as I’ve probably got to go back and live with them again, for now at least, I’d rather just concentrate on getting the heck out of there as soon as I can.”
“Oh, Jones.”
“It’s all right.” Jones’s chin lifted. “Turns out it’s quite hard for a twelve-year-old to live on their own. Y’know, money and stuff. The manager of Mrs Kettleman’s wants me to start paying for that room. Which is kind of a problem, ’cos I’m massively broke. And I can’t go and live with Frankie, which is what I was sort of hoping, because of all those rules about fraternizing. Oh, and Frankie and Skinny are fine, by the way, in case you were worried. Frankie’s back at home – all bandaged up and complaining about his hair being singed, but fine. And Skinny’s staying with him for a bit, while they wait to find out if these stupid treason charges are going ahead…”
“Gretel may be able to help them with that,” said Roxy. “And speaking of Gretel, I have so much I need to tell you! Stuff I’ve only just found out. So maybe you could stay with us for a while! I could speak to her, say you’re a new friend and—”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll think of something. Besides, it’s actually better, probably, to live with people who make you totally miserable, because it makes you more determined to break free and save the world with your best buddy all over again.”
Roxy opened her mouth to reply, but found that she had something stuck in her throat.
“Anyway, I can’t stick around,” Jones went on. “Way too risky to be here in the DZ. And anything you need to tell me, you’ll have to tell me in a more secure location. You’ve said far too much already, you know,” she added, darkly and a tiny bit patronizingly, which was Jones all over.
“You’re telling me!” came Mirror’s voice. “I said, dear Jones, I didn’t care to risk it. But once again your stubbornness completely takes the biscuit!”
Jones rolled her eyes. “Mirror, for the last time, if you’re coming back home with me, you have got to learn to keep your non-existent mouth shut! Honestly, I don’t know why I’ve agreed to this ridiculous set-up.”
Roxy was glad, though, that Mirror was staying with Jones, so that at least she would have someone, even if that someone was … well, Mirror.
Jones’s hand was already on the door handle, “Anyway, I just wanted to say bye. And, obvs, thanks for saving my life and everything.”
“Right back at you,” said Roxy.
“And I’ll be in touch,” Jones said. “To get the lowdown on whatever your sis has been telling you. And if I need your help again. If you’d like to help, that is.”
“I’d love to,” said Roxy. Quite suddenly something occurred to her. “Wait a sec. I’ve just realized! I don’t even know your first name! I mean, there are millions of Joneses. If I only know you as Jones, how will I get in touch with you?”
“You won’t need to. I’ll contact you.”
“Fine, but even so … we’ve been on this massive adventure, Jones, I’d kind of like to know the real name of the person I went with!”
Jones’s lips pressed together so hard they were almost white. “Stupid name anyway,” she muttered. “Always hated it.”
“But what is it?”
“Um … it’s Cinderella,” Jones muttered. Then she raised her hand in a kind of half-wave, half-salute. “See you around,” she added, “partner.”
Then she flashed Roxy a brief, wild, beautiful smile.
And then she was gone, shutting the door behind her.
Leaving behind a blue-and-white trainer that had just fallen off her foot.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Huge thanks are due to my magnificent agent, Helen Boyle, who has unflaggingly helped me steer Roxy and Jones in the right direction, aubergine motorbike or no aubergine motorbike. Without her, this book would simply not exist; she is a shimmering star. Huge thanks also to the fabulous Emma Lidbury and all her team at Walker Books, for editorial super-powers, for getting the jokes and for absolutely everything else in between. Thanks to Paola Escobar for bringing Illustria so beautifully to life with her gorgeous illustrations. And so many millions of thanks, more than they know, to Josh and to Lara, for making an ordinary old world feel like it just might be a little bit secretly magical.
Angela Woolfe is the author of the Avril Crump trilogy as well as a series of magical adventures for younger readers under the pseudonym Emerald Everheart. She is married with one young daughter, who is even more obsessed with fairytales than she is. Angela lives in Wimbledon.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
First published in Great Britain 2020 by Walker Books Ltd
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Text © 2020 Angela Woolfe
Cover and interior illustrations © 2020 Paola Escobar
The right of Angela Woolfe to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data:
a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-4063-9624-9
www.walker.co.uk
Roxy & Jones Page 16