In two days, you will be twelve. That is when your dæmon will take its final form. You look at Petronella, the large brown bug attached to your shoulder with a short length of cotton and sticking plaster. You secretly wish for her to become a mongoose, but you think any creature will be OK so long as she isn’t still a bug.
“Hurry up, Josh, you’ll be late for school”, shouts your mum. You are already dressed.
“Don’t forget dad’s picking you up tonight. You’re spending the weekend with him. Remember, we agreed? I’ll see you on Sunday for your birthday.”
You nod, more concerned that your dæmon is in the proper position not to get squashed when you put on your rucksack.
Friday is your worst day at school. Year seven football. Like always, you stay well clear of the ball. The others call you names like “batty boy” and “sissy queer“, but you only care about your dæmon.
You sit alone through double maths until the last bell finally comes. Outside the gates, your dad stands waving. A younger woman is at his side. Your dad bends to greet you; her hand stretches towards your shoulder. You see it coming. With lightning speed, like deflecting a snake, the arm is knocked aside.
“That’s not very nice, Josh. Apologise at once“, demands Josh’s dad.
You shrug. “Doesn’t she know a human must never touch another person’s dæmon?” you think in anger.
Something wasn’t right about this woman. You must be on your guard. But you feel very tired. Hardly touching your dinner, you ask to go to bed early.
Come morning, you lay under the covers, half dreaming of what your dæmon might become. A sickly scent hits your nose. The woman is in your room. She pulls back the curtains and opens the window.
“What a beautiful day. Your dad and I have a little surprise planned for…“
As she speaks, a large black bird perches on the windowsill. You were right; she’s a witch. You scream. Petronella is in its beak. You scream and scream and scream.
Cradled between your dad’s arms, your tears slowly subside. On the eve of your twelfth birthday, you wish you were dead.