Magenta Mine (Invertary 3)

“Mmm, Harry and Magenta locked together in a tight, dark place,” Megan said. “I wonder what could happen?” She turned to her sister. “Bodies rubbing against each other. Whispers in the dark. Good job Magenta is immune to Harry’s charms, isn’t it?” She turned back to Magenta. “You are immune, aren’t you?” She sat back in her chair and opened a bag of freshly made popcorn.

“You”—Magenta pointed at her—“are supposed to be my friend.”

“And you”—Megan pointed back—“need to wake up to what’s under your nose. He might be our annoying cousin, but even we can see that he’s prime man meat. And he’s been following you around with his tongue hanging out. Maybe if you put him out of his misery and did the dirty deed, you’d both be in a much better mood.”

“Yuck!” Matt covered his ears. “Don’t talk like that. It gives me nightmares. He’s your cousin and she’s your best friend. You shouldn’t be encouraging them. You shouldn’t know about anything even remotely connected to dirty deeds. You’re both too young to know these things. If I had my way, you two would never go near a man. Ever.”

“Yeah, you made that clear when we were growing up,” Megan said. “But we’re twenty-one, and trust me, we know all about dirty deeds.”

“La, la, la,” Matt sang as he covered his ears. “I can’t hear you. I don’t want to hear you. You’re making me want to run away screaming.”

“Oh, get a grip,” Megan said. “You should be thankful we’re so normal. After dealing with you, Harry and Flynn, it’s a miracle we’re still attracted to the opposite sex.”

“Exactly.” Claire flicked a piece of popcorn at him. “I’m still traumatised over the magazines you kept under your bed.”

Matt’s head went so red that Magenta thought it might explode. She smothered a grin as she picked up her backpack. “I need to get going. Harry is reciting the periodic table.”

She knew for a fact that he only did that when he was really nervous. She started to walk up the path to where the tunnel entrances were hidden.

“Good luck,” Megan called after her. “Don’t forget to kiss his boo-boos better.”

Magenta shook her head and kept on walking.

5

Being underground was something Harry’s brain couldn’t comprehend. Sure, he’d known he was going into the old tin mine to see Magenta, but he’d figured it would be like visiting a cave. A nice, open-plan cave. One that had been there for millions of years. A perfectly safe natural occurrence. The reality was far from the fantasy. He was trapped in a space the size of his bedroom, with very little natural light and evidence all around that this was far from nature’s doing. Someone had hacked this mine out of the hill. They’d shored it up with timber. Old timber. Timber that was probably rotting, or being eroded by mites. He was stuck in an old, badly made hole in the ground. Just the thought of it made his palms clammy and his throat close.

“Magenta’s on her way.” Matt’s voice cut through his rising panic. “Couple of hours and she’ll get to you. She’ll lead you back out through the mine. Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”

All Harry heard were the words back through the mine. No. No way. Not going to happen. “Call her back. She’s wasting her time.” His voice sounded kind of tinny. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m walking out of that door.”

“Don’t be a drama queen.” His cousin sounded tense. “Magenta knows this mine like the back of her hand.”

Harry looked at his hand. How well did anyone know the back of their hand? If he closed his eyes he couldn’t bring up an accurate image of his, and he saw it millions of times a day. Matt’s words were not reassuring.

“I’ve done the calculations,” he told his cousin. “If this comes down on me, there won’t be a body for you to recover. I’ll be pulverised.”

There was a pause. He could almost see Matt rubbing his jaw and muttering for extra strength. “You got any alcohol in that picnic basket Betty made you pack?”

“Wine.” Red, white and sparkling. He didn’t know what Magenta drank, so he’d covered the bases. He also had bottled water and a set of miniature cans of juice and soda. The damn basket was almost as big as a car. Harry had been pleased that years of workouts meant he could carry the thing.

“Good,” Matt said. “Pop the cork on a bottle and start drinking. It would make us all a lot more comfortable if your super brain was fuzzy.”

“You’re worried what I might do in here, aren’t you?”

“Harry.” Matt sounded resigned. “You reprogrammed a car when you were six years old. We didn’t even know a car could be programmed.”

If Harry had been outside the mine, he would have smacked his cousin upside his head. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Matt, but there are no cars in here.”

“Yeah, I know that, moron, but I’m worried you’ll hatch a plan to dig your way out. Or set about reorganising your surroundings to make escape more efficient. I don’t want you involved. I want you to let the problem go. We’re dealing with it. Your job is to be the damsel in distress. Sit back, look pretty and wait to be rescued.”

Harry decided he’d deal with the “damsel in distress” dig when he didn’t have a hill hanging over his head. “I’m not drinking the wine. I read up on caving before I came in here. It said don’t go caving while drunk.”

He could practically hear Matt roll his eyes. “You’re not caving. You’re stuck behind a door, in a room, in a

hill. Think of it as a Hobbit house. Imagine you’re visiting with Bilbo. Hanging out, having a glass of wine. See? Easy. The Hobbits live in hills, and they’re fine.”

“You know Hobbits aren’t real, right?”