“Your bedroom is a little bare,” Beatrix said, eyeing Saffie’s blank walls with distaste.

Saffie clenched her teeth together. She couldn’t believe Beatrix Hawthorne was standing in the entrance to her bedroom, but she had had to agree to spend the day with her for Dax’s sake. Holly still had the power to turn his life support off if she wanted, and if Saffie was just able to play it cool for another week, Ruben’s antidote would be ready and everything would be okay. So it was that that Saffie had reluctantly gotten dressed and called Beatrix up to her room when Holly and Peter had left for work after gushing over Beatrix in the kitchen.

Saffie took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

“It used to look different,” she said. “Before my parents ransacked it and threw all of my belongings onto a bonfire.”

“So the whole family’s weird. Got it,” Beatrix noted, widening her eyes as she strode in and began walking around the room, inspecting every corner. She picked up a holder full of coloured pencils from Saffie’s desk and examined it from all angles.

“Please don’t touch any of my stuff,” Saffie said. “I barely have anything left.”

But Beatrix didn’t pay any attention. She continued to lift things, prod things and manhandle things, before opening Saffie’s wardrobe and rifling through her clothes.

“Stop it!” Saffie pleaded, slamming the wardrobe shut. She could have sworn she saw Beatrix slip something into her pocket.

“If I’m going to fix you, I need to get to the root of the issue,” Beatrix said, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at Saffie.

“Fix me?” Saffie blurted. “What exactly is going on? How did my parents rope you into this? Don’t you have better things to do with these last few weeks of your summer?”

Beatrix gave a big sigh.

“My parents cut off my allowance. Said I needed to gain some experience in the real world. I mean, come on. Me? Work. Na-ah. Then they got a call from your parents, and the stars aligned. You’re my first project. Your parents offered to compensate me very well to make you normal.”

“They’re paying you?” Saffie spat. “They’re paying you,” she said again, and this time it wasn’t a question. “Of course they are.”

“Oh yes, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Silly me.” Beatrix chuckled lightly. “Come on,” she said, heading back downstairs, “the first thing that needs fixing is your outrageously bland fashion sense.”

Saffie followed Beatrix out onto the street to find a parked white Bentley, its engine already running.

“You have a driver?” Saffie said in disbelief.

“Not for much longer if he keeps going so slow,” Beatrix complained. “He stops for EVERY pedestrian waiting to cross.”

“What a tool,” Saffie said dryly.

The driver opened the door and Beatrix pushed past Saffie to be the first one to get in. Saffie reluctantly clambered in after her, and Acorn reappeared on her lap, making her feel a little bit better.

“Harvey Nichols,” Beatrix snapped at the driver. “And be fast about it. Daddy doesn’t pay you to dawdle.”

“Yes, Miss Hawthorne,” said the driver in a fed-up tone.

Harvey Nichols was a chain of department stores, whose flagship store was situated in the upmarket borough of Knightsbridge, and was, according to Beatrix, the best place to get a full outfit, if you could ignore the stupidity of the staff. Saffie had never been inside.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

When they entered, Saffie found it to be thick with the powdery mix of a dozen different perfumes, and it wasn’t long before Beatrix had her traipsing up and down several floors. As they went, Beatrix pulled the most random looking pieces of clothing from different racks and threw them at Saffie as if she were her servant.

Just when Saffie was about to collapse from the weight of the items, Beatrix led her to the women’s changing rooms, and said: “Go and put something together.”

Saffie couldn’t picture herself in any of it.

“I’m really quite happy with what I’m wearing right now,” she said. It was true, both in regards to her Overworld robes and the real clothes she was wearing underneath.

“A hoodie?” Beatrix raised an eyebrow. “Saffie, we’re fourteen, not four.” With that she shoved Saffie in the direction of the changing rooms and swatted her away with the back of her hand. “Go on. In you go. I want to see what you come up with.”

Saffie resisted the urge to throw the clothes back at Beatrix and made her way into a changing cubicle.

Everything Beatrix had pulled out were things Saffie would never dream of wearing, so she rifled through and found the most basic looking skirt and top of the lot. She pulled them on and looked at herself in the mirror, which was pointless. All she could see was her Overworld mage robe, but Beatrix would see the real outfit underneath.

She exited the cubicle and presented herself to Beatrix, who screwed her face up in disgust.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“Um… trying on clothes,” said Saffie. “Like you told me to do.”

“I mean, what are you doing pairing a green shirt with a blue plaid skirt? Go and change that hideous combination. I’m literally about to vomit.”

“You’re literally about to vomit?” Saffie said dryly.

Beatrix pinched her forefinger and thumb together in front of her face.

“Literally,” she re-iterated.

Saffie turned slowly back to the cubicle, trying to keep her blood from boiling. She kicked the door shut behind her, whipped off the green shirt and replaced it with a white one.

Saffie strode back into the waiting area expecting Beatrix to heave at another fashion faux-pas, but she was too busy admiring herself in a mirror, wearing a pair of glasses.

“I’ve kinda got that geek chic thing going on, huh Saffie?”

She bit her bottom lip seductively and flipped her head from side to side, still staring at her reflection. It took Saffie a moment to realise that the glasses Beatrix was wearing were the ones she had found at Dax’s apartment - the ones with the Overworld logo printed on the frame. This had to have been what Beatrix had stolen from her wardrobe.

“Give those back!” Saffie demanded. “They’re my uncle’s.”

“Your uncle’s?!” Beatrix chuckled. “What were you doing with your uncle’s glasses?”

Beatrix reluctantly pulled herself away from her own reflection and turned to Saffie. This time, she eyed her up and down with a look of complete confusion.

“Don’t tell me,” said Saffie, “you’re literally going to spew your guts up. A white shirt and a plaid skirt. What WAS I thinking?”

“Um, Saffie,” Beatrix replied, frowning. “I don’t know what you think you’re wearing, but it is no shirt, skirt combo. I did NOT give you that… that… medieval cloak.”

Medieval cloak?

Saffie felt Acorn crawl up her back and settle on her right shoulder.

Beatrix let out a stifled yelp.

“Saffie! Don’t panic, but there is a frickin’ HUGE creature on your shoulder. I think it’s some kind of RAT!”

Acorn growled, making Beatrix scream.

“Wait - you… you can see Acorn?!”

“What’s an Acorn?! And of course I can see it! It’s about to attack me!”

The glasses.

This had to be why they had the Overworld ‘O’ printed on them. They were some kind of preview glasses - a temporary glimpse at Overworld before committing to becoming a player. Of course Saffie hadn’t seen anything different through them when she’d tried them on herself at Dax’s apartment - she was already in the game at that point.

“He’s my friend,” said Saffie, stroking Acorn’s bristling fur.

“Of course,” Beatrix said, her voice hysterical. “Of course Saffie the Strange has a pet rat! Why wouldn’t she?!”

“He’s not a rat,” Saffie insisted. “He’s a… one of a kind.”

“Kill it!” Beatrix screamed. “Somebody kill it right now!”

She was beginning to attract the attention of other shoppers and a couple of members of staff.

“Give me my uncle’s glasses back, Beatrix,” Saffie said sternly.

“Not until you throw that horrid THING to the floor and stamp on it!”

That was it. Something inside Saffie snapped, and within moments, the perfect plan had formed in her mind.

“Do you know why I’m wearing this robe, Beatrix?” she said, narrowing her eyes. “It’s because I’m a mage. A mage who can cast powerful spells.”

“A mage?!” Beatrix scoffed, but her eyes looked uncertain. “What spells?”

Saffie felt a smirk creep up her face. There was one spell she’d gained access to a long time ago that she’d written off as useless at the time, but perhaps she had finally found a use for it.

In a slow motion, she raised her arm in the direction of Beatrix’s perfect face, and said:

“Uglify.”