Bubbles was being sort of different from the way she was in class. Even talking different. Briony guessed it was like how she made herself keep her head down and her face straight because her parents had begged Toby’s parents to give her a lift to school that morning and he got nosebleeds when he was scared. That yellow button-up shirt had looked all smart until they got to school – now it was a muddy brown down the front and looked like her big brother had bust him in the face with his favourite boxing gloves on. Every time Toby went anywhere she could see, Briony’s face tried to light up with a smirk. “Not social where the teachers are watching,” she explained quite matter-of-factly, nose wrinkling as she glanced over to where she last remembered seeing a grown up monitoring the playground. They all had a view of her, her parents said – but she knew that or else she wouldn’t try to keep it that way. Did they think she was stupid? “I wanted to though.” Clearly, or she would have taken her jump rope over to one of the other corners, away from just about everybody.
Bouncing over the rope in time to a rhyme from a movie she’d seen but wasn’t supposed to be allowed to watch – “Beware the stare of Mary Shaw. She has no children, only dolls.” – Briony giggled brightly, her face finally breaking into a small smile. She really needed to try saying something like that one day. When she had a reason to. Nobody at school ever really gave her one. “That blonde one over there with the sort of spiky hair? He cries if he thinks he has a spider on him.” For a moment, she wondered if she was having an effect on Bubbles, then pushed aside her sudden desire to grab her hand or wrist to see if the usual panic greeted her. It might get her into trouble. “… And if you see her in your dreams, be sure you never, ever scream.” “Oh, I know what a Shepherd is,” Briony declared, pleased that there was definitely something about Bubbles within her understanding. “Good I don’t have a familiar. Have to ask for a puppy instead. Or a scorpion!” A whole catalogue of animals that really should not be kept as pets began to unfold in her head while she tried to find ones she could use. Spiders were almost too obvious – and anyway, there were lots of bitty ones around the house. “I’m Fear,” she added, remembering it was relevant. “And I’m nine.” Briony’s brow furrowed in a manner that invariably made her seem concerned. She wasn’t. She was just frowning. If anything, she was suddenly curious. “How old are you?” Because she didn’t know demons could stop aging in 5th grade.