I felt a sharp elbow jab me in the ribs and, feeling horribly guilty and more than a little foolish, I quickly said, “Yes. That.”

“Just so we’re clear, Kiki,” my mother said to me, “you looked out of your window. In the dead of night. And saw a girl with a sword. And your reaction was to leave the safety of your bedroom and go outside to join her?”

“Um. Yes?”

“As for you.” Mum turned to Ashwini. “You’re in a school play, in which you presumably have to use a sword in some way, and you needed space to rehearse. And your solution to this problem was to venture forth in the middle of the night and practice in the street?”

“That is correct,” Ashwini chirped, apparently oblivious to Mum’s mood.

Mum blinked several times. “I think you’d better go home,” she said at last. “Kiki, back to your bedroom. Now.”

It was only when Mum said this that I remembered that the last time I had been in my bedroom, my desk, curtains, and sketchbook had all been on fire.

I raced up the stairs. Behind me, Mum shut our front door and followed me. She froze in the doorway of my room.

“What happened to your desk?” she demanded.

I gawped. The flames and smoke were gone, but so were my curtains and desk. And in the spot where my desk should have been, lying on the carpet were my slightly blackened blankets—and my sketchbook. It was exactly as I’d last seen it. Dog-eared and cracked and loved from three months of almost constant use, but wholly unburnt.

“I”—I couldn’t think of even half an explanation—“I don’t know.”

Mum looked exasperated. “Kiki, I have no idea what’s going on, but as long as you’re inside the house and not outside of it, I don’t care. I’m too tired to make any sense of this right now, but we’ll be having quite the conversation tomorrow, believe me.”

I believed her. I had never believed anything more.

“Until then, stay put. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Mum. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

As soon as her bedroom door clicked shut, I closed my own and whipped around to figure out what had happened. How could my desk and curtains have just disappeared? How had my sketchbook come out of the flames completely unscathed?

Yes, these questions were pretty irrelevant given everything else that had already happened, but I still required answers.

The bedroom window was open, which was probably how the smoke had cleared, but I knew I hadn’t opened it. Not in October! I went over to close it and let out a startled squawk when a face appeared outside.

“Ouch,” Ashwini complained, rubbing her ear dramatically. “Squeal right in my face, why don’t you?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I hissed. “Did I scare you?”

She hopped nimbly through the window. How had she even gotten up here? Had she scaled the ivy?

“Ooh, cookies!” I turned around to see Ashwini seize a tin of chocolate walnut cookies I always kept by my bed. She crammed a whole one into her mouth and grinned, her teeth smeared with chocolate. “These are good!”