Hi again! Okay, first up, let me apologize for this chapter. It's not my favourite. To make up for it, I'm uploading chapter 9, too, which I think is better! Thanks to all reviewers, hope I get more lovely reviews (hint hint) ;-)

zooombiez: no, I'm not Australian, I'm English. I have relatives in Oz, though, and if you live there you're very lucky, and I'm jealous!

Chapter 8.

It's odd being on your guard around your own family. I was discovering how uncomfortable it was to know that my parents and grandmother were planning to subtly interrogate me at some point soon. It was, however, quite funny to watch Watson try to bring the whole thing up while we did the dishes after lunch. He kept glancing at me, then opening his mouth, then shutting it or finding something trivial to say, like 'please pass me the cloth'. After a while, he put down the plate he was holding and turned towards me.

"Kristy, is everything alright?"

"Yes, fine, why do you ask?" I replied casually, trying not to smile too much.

"Well," he cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, "it's just that you seem a little... out of sorts."

"Do I? Well, I really am fine. Great, in fact." I smiled at him as innocently as I could manage, continuing to dry and put away the dishes.

"How's school?"

"Okay," I shrugged, "the usual. Got an 'A' for that social studies assignment I turned in last week."

"Oh, great! Well done, um..." he cleared his throat again, "and your friends?"

"They're all alright," I answered, looking at him strangely as if I didn't know why he was asking. "Mary Anne's a little down still."

"Of course," he nodded, "and how's everything else?"

"Everything's good." I made sure to smile at him again, and he seemed to relent. He smiled back at me.

"Well, if you're sure. We're just about finished here. Have you got any homework that needs to be done for tomorrow?"

"No, I did it all on Friday."

"Oh, well, go and have fun then," he told me, giving me a gentle push towards the kitchen door. I went. I went straight past all the rooms with people in them. I went up the stairs and into my bedroom. I went straight to my dressing table, sat down and put my head in my hands. I didn't have a clue where I had even learned how to do that. I'm not a natural hider of my feelings, and I hate lying and pretending. It makes me feel sick. I slowly sat up, and dared to peek in the mirror at myself. I was surprised to find that I could, actually, look at myself in the mirror. I took a good look. My face, which had been a little pale, was returning to its normal colour. I took a deep breath. Other than my down turned mouth, I looked just like I always do. No horns or anything. I tried a smile. That was better! I realised that I looked a little, well, ragged. Apart from my oldest, scruffiest jeans, I was wearing an old, torn, plaid shirt that used to be Charlie's, and my hair was a mess. It was all in my face. I hate that. Pausing slightly, wondering why the hell I was bothering, I changed my shirt and brushed and pulled back my hair into a ponytail. Then I changed into a pair of jeans that didn't look like I had owned them since I was six. I looked a lot neater. I don't really care much about clothes, mainly because nice ones on me tend to get ruined fairly quickly, but I do like to look tidy. All part of the good girl image, I suppose. I grinned at my reflection, and decided then and there to throw away those old clothes. They weren't even fit for a charity shop.

As I straightened up my room a little, I tried to think what to do for the afternoon and evening. I desperately wanted to go and see Abby, but I was afraid of arousing any suspicions. As I was weighing up the pros and cons in my mind, I heard shouts from the backyard. I looked out of my window to see Karen, Andrew and David Michael playing out there. It cemented my decision. I'd leave Abby to herself for a while, and try to behave a little more normally. I grabbed my baseball cap and flung open the door, ready to go play with the kids. I found my Mum standing on the other side of it, obviously about to knock. 'Oh, boy,' I thought, 'it's time for round two...'