Horse of a Different Colour

Pre-teen fantasy by Melodie Trudeaux

Cover reproduced with permission from Fantastic Books Publishing

Melodie Trudeaux is the alter ego of crime writer, Penny Grubb.

My Alter Ego Is A Children’s Writer

She stopped my criminal career in its tracks — but only temporarily

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Review Quotes from Adults

fast-paced and very funny

both funny and moving

although intended for children there’s no dumbing down

aimed at late pre-teens, but this post-post-post-teen would certainly read another by the author

Review Quote from a 10-year-old

I loved the fact that it was really quite thrilling at the end! My favourite chapter was chocolate and grass because I think it was a great way to start the book with a really curious and dramatic scene and that was what urged me to read on.

Horse of a Different Colour

CHAPTER 1 CHOCOLATE AND GRASS

‘Get up, Megan Crewe. This is where you get off.’

Megan felt her arms gripped as she was hauled out of her seat and dragged down the bus.

‘Get off me, Naylor O’Neill,’ she screeched. ‘This isn’t my stop.’

As she struggled and fought, Megan glimpsed Naylor’s face, red and contorted, as her captor screamed, ‘Grab her legs. She’s kicking me.’

Strong arms closed on Megan and bustled her down the aisle. There was nothing she could do. Now that Naylor was bus monitor, she and her gang decided where people got off. And it was no good appealing to the bus driver. He just snapped bad words and muttered, ‘Kids!’ to himself.

Megan called out anyway, ‘Amy! Help me,’ and heard a loud burst of laughter from Naylor. Well, I suppose I deserved that, she thought as they pushed her off the bus and into the lane. Naylor was the strongest girl in the class. No way Amy could stand up to her.

Naylor’s grinning face looked out at her as the doors swung shut. This was all because Naylor had heard her say she thought the lane was creepy, and now she’d have to walk all the way down it on her own.

She pulled herself to her feet and bashed her hands down her skirt and sweatshirt. It would be even more unfair if she ended up in trouble for messing up her school clothes.

As the bus swept off, she caught a glimpse of Amy being pushed back into her seat. Good old Amy for trying to get off too, but she hadn’t a hope against Naylor’s gang.

No one was about, and despite the sunshine, the lane felt cool. ‘I don’t care about walking down here on my own,’ Megan announced to the world, but her voice sounded thin.

She hadn’t gone more than a meter before a sound caught her attention. The pad-pad-pad of soft footsteps following her.

She spun around. The lane lay empty behind her. Gritting her teeth she strode on, head held high. No creepy old lane was going to scare her. That whisper of footfalls was just her imagination. And that sound like heavy breathing was just the rustle of the breeze.

She gulped and speeded up. I’m not scared of a silly old lane … I’m not scared of a silly old lane, she said over and over in her head.

But as she sped along, her hand rummaged in her pocket for her phone. If she rang Amy, it would be like having someone here with her. Of course, it would only work if Amy had her phone. Megan crossed her fingers for luck on that one. Amy was the most phone-forgetful person she’d ever known. Except for Amy’s mum who was just as bad. Amy’s dad was always pulling at his hair and shouting things like, ‘I’m surprised you’ve remembered your own heads!’

Then a wonderful thing happened. Instead of closing on her phone, Megan’s hand met something far nicer at the bottom of her pocket. The chocolate bar she and Amy had bought to eat on the way home. She’d kept it hidden while Naylor was around, and it was too bad about Amy who wouldn’t get any now, but she would understand. Eating chocolate would drive scary noises right out of her head. She stopped to pull it out.

… pad … pad … pad…

The chocolate bar was in her hand before she realized. Footsteps! Those weren’t imaginary. They were loud and clear and coming closer.

With a squeal of shock, Megan identified the sound of someone following her just the other side of the hedge.

Then she was sprinting down the lane as fast as she’d ever run, her heart pounding. The footsteps were no longer soft. They thundered after her from behind the hawthorn.

The thick hedge only lasted as far as the gate at the end. And when she reached it, Megan knew she would be face to face with … it …

But there was nowhere else to run. This was the way home. Her heart hammered as the gate approached. With a gasp of horror, she glimpsed an enormous head … huge eyes …

She couldn’t outrun it. It had got there first.

Megan threw herself to the ground and buried her face in her hands. Cowering, she waited for the touch of a soul-sucking Dementor.

Nothing happened.

Warily, she opened one eye and looked up. The long face peered down from over the gate.

A wave of relief flooded through her and she pulled herself to her feet. It was only the horse that lived in the field.

‘Oh, Jack, you threadbare old nag! What were you doing scaring me like that?’ She pointed her finger at him and tried to be stern, but she was so pleased he wasn’t a demon, she couldn’t help smiling.

Jack had lived in this field forever. Megan’s mother used to lift her up to pat him when she was very little, but she hadn’t been past this way for ages.

‘I didn’t know you could run that fast,’ she told him. ‘I thought you were too old.’

In reply, Jack whinnied, bending his head sideways to cast a longing glance at the chocolate clutched in Megan’s hand.

‘Do you like chocolate, Jack?’

It was funny, but Megan felt she wanted to eat something springy and fresh like the lush green grass hanging from Jack’s mouth. It seemed like juicy blades of grass would taste far better than chocolate. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe you did get to like sprouts as you got older.

‘Swap you a piece of chocolate for some grass,’ she said, laughing.

But something very peculiar stopped the laugh.

She gasped as the field opened up before her. She could see too much of it. It was like looking both ways at once. Her eyes were in the wrong place. She panicked and tried to get away. But that made things worse. She had forgotten how to run. It was too complicated.

‘I’ve got too many legs,’ she wailed.

Everything tangled. She felt herself falling.

And as she landed in the mud, she heard Amy’s voice. ‘Megan. Megan.’

‘Amy?’

Megan lifted her head. Amy had got away from Naylor and come back for her. Good old Amy. But yuk! What was this horrible taste? She was lying in the mud, face down. Her mouth was full of grass.

And there was Amy, running towards her.

‘What happened, Megan? Did you fall?’

‘I … I’m not sure.’

‘Come on, Megan,’ Amy urged. ‘Let’s get going. That awful man’s over there.’

‘What awful man?’

‘Naylor’s uncle.’

Megan stood up and turned to look. There was Nathan O’Neill at the far side of the field standing staring, but not at them. He was staring at Jack, who was churning the grass in an effort to get to his feet, and as covered in mud as Megan was.

‘What’s up with Jack?’ Megan said.

‘I don’t know.’ Amy cast anxious eyes towards Nathan O’Neill. ‘He just fell over.’

‘What do you mean, just fell over?’

Amy glanced at the horse. ‘It was like he was trying to balance on his front legs. He fell on his face. Come on, Megan. Let’s run. Naylor’s uncle gives me the creeps.’

‘Hey!’ Megan was indignant, ‘Jack’s got the silver paper in his mouth. He’s got our chocolate.’

‘Come on, Megan. Run!’