It was early when I found the note.

I was in my dressing gown, walking through the lounge on my way to get some cereal when I saw it.

A scruffy yellow post it, lying on the mat by the front door.

Morning sunlight streamed through the window and framed it in a golden rectangle.

Before I'd even read the message, I could tell by the messy handwriting that it was from

Toby.

Jamie, come to the old sawmill as soon as you get this, it's urgent.

Toby.

I read the note twice, then stuffed it in my pocket, and frowned.

Toby is my best friend in our village,

and we see each other almost every day, school and at weekends,

but he was never normally up this early and he'd never left me a note before. Normally, on the rare occasions, he was up before me, I'd wake to the sound of him throwing stones

on my bedroom window from the garden.

I'd park the curtains and there he'd be a curly-haired teenager with a big grin on his face

squinting at me through the morning sunlight. But this, this was new.

It wasn't like Toby either.

I paused for a moment, listening.

The house was silent around me.

It was a Saturday, which meant mom and dad was still upstairs asleep, lying

in. Normally I'd have a lion too. But I'd woken, sweating from a nightmare I could no longer remember.

Hadn't been able to get back to sleep.

So now here I was.

...