1-12:The Return of the Lost Gavel

‘Um, me,’ whispered the girl, glancing down and shifting slightly uncomfortably. She glanced up a little and gave Daisy a worried and hopeful smile.

‘I think…I am,’ confirmed Daisy. She was rather surprised when the girl exploded, though thankfully verbally rather than physically.

‘OhmygodI’myourbiggestfanit’ssoamazingtomeetyou,’ she exclaimed while bouncing on the spot and clapping her hands with glee.

Daisy leaned back as far as possible on the stool without falling off.

‘I love your latest album,’ gushed the girl. ‘And I’ve got all your work, including the spoken-word recordings.’

‘Oh,’ nodded Daisy, eyes wide. ‘That’s…’

‘And I just wish I could be like you,’ the girl continued, emoting wildly, ‘but my parents say they want me to be an accountant when I grow up.’

The girl stopped, glancing down, as if she was about to burst into tears.

‘But I just want to be interesting, I want to be something else,’ she said at last, looking up at Daisy with hope in her eyes. ‘My parents thought that naming me something odd would do that, but all it’s done is make me the butt of jokes at school.’

There was a pause and Daisy realised she was supposed to say something.

‘Oh,’ said Daisy after a moment. ‘Well, you should really just…’

She grasped for words, her mouth opening and closing like she was an asphyxiating fish, her head turning from one side to the other as her synapses backfired wildly.

‘…follow your own path.’

Daisy smiled, hoping the comment would strike a chord. Unfortunately she needed to add some more before it was even remotely musical, as indicated by the blank, yet attentive expression the girl was giving her.

‘Like, what you need to do is… ‘ Daisy madly invented, ‘…listen to your heart… and just see what you’re good at.’

It was not quite enough for a chord; perhaps a couple of notes in the same key, though.

The girl nodded and seemed to be hoping Daisy would add some more wisdom.

‘Right,’ said Daisy in the admiring cross-hair stare of the girl. ‘Um, like I think everyone’s good at something, something we really enjoy.’

The girl blinked.

‘And once we work-out what that is,’ said Daisy, now tapping the metaphorical ice beneath her words for signs of weakness.

‘We should concentrate on that.’

‘Oh, I know what you mean,’ said the girl, her shoulders dropping with resignation.

‘Well, there you go,’ said Daisy, relieved to be off the ice and onto what appeared to be more stable ground.

‘I just don’t know what it is yet,’ continued the girl, and Daisy dropped into a mental crevasse.

‘What’s your name by the way,’ asked Daisy, throwing out a metaphysical ice-pick in an attempt to anchor herself.

‘Carol,’ said the girl. ‘But it’s spelled with a K. And a U. Two ‘L’s’ and an H.’

Daisy blinked, memory hammering down on her like a million tons of snow. ‘Do you have a brother?’

‘Yes,’ said Carol. ‘Timmy. He’s such a little shit sometimes.’