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I thought we were going to get started?”

      “We are, we are!”

      “Then let’s work out the ground rules.”

      “What ground rules?” Jem was sitting cross-legged on my bed, cuddling Rags. She was obviously in a bit of a sulk. “What do we want ground rules for? Why can’t we just make up horoscopes like we said?”

      Oh, but it wasn’t that simple! Nothing is ever simple, with Skye. First off, she made me Google “Star Signs” on my laptop. Then she told me to write them all down.

      “Neatly.”

      Jem and I exchanged glances. Jem put a finger to her forehead and tapped. I just did what I was told. It seemed easier, somehow.

      These are the star signs:

      Aries (ram)

      Taurus (bull)

      Gemini (twins)

      Cancer (crab)

      Leo (lion)

      Virgo (virgin)

      Libra (scales)

      Scorpio (scorpion)

      Sagittarius (archer)

      Capricorn (goat)

      Aquarius (water carrier)

      Pisces (fish)

      Now, said Skye, we would cut them up.

      Excuse me?

      “Cut them up!”

      She held out her hand for the scissors. I passed them across. Me and Jem watched without saying anything, as Skye turned my list into a load of shredded strips.

      “What we do is take out our own star signs – well, go on! Take them!” Meekly, we did so. “Put those to one side. Then fold the others over, so we can’t see what they are. Now we do our horoscopes. Four each!”

      “You mean –” I said it slowly, trying to fathom the workings of her superior brain – “you mean we won’t actually know which star sign we’re writing stuff for?”

      “Exactly!”

      “What’s the point of that?” said Jem.

      The point, said Skye, was that nobody would be tempted to write nice things for some star signs – like if they knew who the sign belonged to – and nasty things for others.

      “Though personally,” she added, “I’m only going to write nice things, anyway.”

      “Why?” Jem said it aggressively. I guess she was still pretty mad at Skye for siding with me and not letting her tell the tomato-ketchup story. Not to mention bossing us around. “If you think it’s all rubbish, what’s it matter what you write?”

      “Cos I’d feel awful,” said Skye, “if I wrote something nasty and then it actually came true. Even though I’d know it was only coincidence.”

      I saw Jem’s mouth open, and quickly shoved my elbow in her ribs. We didn’t have all day. We’d come back to my place after school and Skye and Jem would have to be getting home pretty soon.

      “Just write,” I said.

      These are my four that I did:

      An exciting new opportunity will arise. It should be grasped with both hands.

      Big changes are coming your way. They will take your life in a different direction.

      A treasured possession will be lost, but do not despair. It will turn up.

      Be on the lookout: trouble ahead!

      “OK, I’ve finished,” I said.

      “Me too,” said Skye.

      Jem was still sitting hunched up like a little gnome, furiously scribbling. Now and again, a giggle would burst out of her.

      “I hope you’re not being gross,” said Skye.

      “What’s it to you if I am?” Jem threw down her pen. “Now what d’you want us to do?”

      “Cut them into strips,” said Skye, “then fold them up and shuffle them about so you don’t know which is which.”

      Jem rolled her eyes.

      “Do it!”

      “Yes, do it,” I said.

      “All right,” said Jem. “I’m doing it!”

      Skye said that now we would each take one for ourselves. “I’ll take one from Frankie, and Frankie can take one from Jem, and Jem can take one from me… go!”

      “Can we look?” said Jem. “Well, I’m going to, anyway!”

      We all opened our bits of paper. On mine, in Jem’s round squiggly handwriting, it said: Things will happen. Hm! It didn’t make much sense, but at least she hadn’t said bad things.

      I asked Skye which one of mine she’d picked, but she wouldn’t tell me. She said, “It’s got to be secret. Like a secret ballot.”

      “So what happens to all the rest?” Jem wanted to know.

      “We randomly assign them,” said Skye.

      Jem blinked. “You what?”

      “We randomly assign them!”

      There was a pause.

      “I do wish, just occasionally, she would speak in normal English,” said Jem.

      Skye made an impatient tutting sound. “It’s perfectly simple! What we’re left with is nine horoscopes and nine star signs.” She laid them out in two rows on the floor. “We’re going to staple one horoscope to each star sign.” She clicked her fingers. “Stapler!”

      “Haven’t got one.”

      “Paper clips!”

      “Haven’t got any.”

      Skye breathed heavily, like Mr Hargreaves when he’s about to blow up.

      “Sellotape?”

      “Oh, yes,” I said. “I’ve got some of that.”

      Just as well! It doesn’t do to cross Skye when she’s in one of her schoolteacherly moods.

      With brisk efficiency, she began picking up horoscopes and picking up star signs, folding them over and sticking them together. Jem immediately began bleating.

      “If they’re all going to be secret, how are we supposed to know if any of them come true?”

      Skye said we would wait till the end of term, and then we would open all the bits of paper and see.

      “But we don’t know what people’s star signs are!”

      “We know what our mums’ and dads’ are.”

      “I’m talking about people at school. I thought we were supposed to be asking them?”

      “You can ask, if you want,” said Skye. “No one’s stopping you. Honestly, I’ve never known anyone make such a fuss! It’s only a game.”

      “So if it’s only a game, why can’t we look?”

      “Cos even games have rules. There’s no point playing, if you don’t have rules. I’m going to go now, I promised Mum I’d be back by five. You coming?”

      “In a minute,” said Jem.

      “I’ve got to go now. I’ll take these with me.” Skye scooped up all the bits of paper, neatly stuck with Sellotape. “Cos I know what you two are like.”

      “Are you saying we’d cheat?” said Jem.

      “Well, you would, wouldn’t you?”

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