That night, no matter what, Violet couldn’t sleep. There was a strange lump in her bed. After hours of tossing and turning she got up to investigate.

On close inspection she found a thin tear along the top of her mattress. It was about the length of her arm from her elbow to her wrist. She poked her fingers inside, finding there was enough room for her hand she squeezed it through until her fingers brushed off something solid. She pulled the mysterious object from it’s hiding place.

The small, flat box fit neatly in her hand. It was dark blue and covered in a bendy ladder like pattern. As she turned the box over the ladders caught the light giving off a silvery sheen. There was a faded stamp on the cover with the words “Optical Prescriptions”. The box was closed on one side by a small magnet and rusted hinges held firm the other. Slowly she prised it open. The prettiest pair of glasses sat proud on dark blue velvet interior.

The frames were made of wood and she’d never seen wooden frames before. The lenses were oval and the arms of the glasses were flexible to bend round the ear. They looked as if they came from another world. A label, browned by time, sat centre inside the lid. It read Optical Prescription Spectacle Makers, 135 Wickham Terrace. She’d never heard of Wickham Terrace. She took off her specs and fitted the new pair. It was strange, she could see. The lenses suited her perfectly. She was just scanning past the curtains when a figure caught her eye.

“Ah!” she screamed, throwing the glasses from her face.

The room went blurry and she scrambled for her normal specs.

“You saw me?” a voice shouted.

Violet grabbed her duvet and pulled it quickly up over her head. The duvet flew from her grasp and fell to the floor.

“You saw me?” the voice shouted again.

“I didn’t. I didn’t,” Violet shivered, “I didn’t see anything. I’m not talking to anyone.”

“You did! You saw me,” the voice sounded ecstatic, “You saw me standing by the curtains. Wohoo!”

Violet bobbed from side to side as if someone was jumping on her bed.

“The glasses, it has to be the glasses,” the voice said again.

There was a scramble through the room.

“Here put them back on.”

Her hand was pulled open and the glasses were shoved back into her grip.

“Please put them on,” the voice said, “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He sounded sincere and Violet had heard this boy’s voice before. Slowly she moved the glasses towards her face and pulled the arms around her ears once more. She kept her eyes shut.

“Please,” the voice said again.

Wind swished past her face as if someone moved their hands back and forth in front of her. Slowly she opened her eyes.

There at the edge of the bed stood a boy.

He looked straight at her. Twelve maybe thirteen and dressed head to toe in black, he looked like the teenagers her friend Emma talked about. They called themselves Moths or something like that. He had jet black hair that flopped round his ears and his white face was dappled in tiny freckles mostly gathered round his nose. His eyes were deep navy almost black like the sky at night. Something about them unsettled her.

“You do, you see me,” he said, jumping into the air.

A smile filled the boy’s face and Violet couldn’t help but laugh, he had the most contagious smile she’d ever seen. They stared silently at each other and a little awkwardness flooded the room. Violet tried hard not to blush as she racked her bed brain for something to say.

“I’m Boy,” the stranger said, breaking silence.

“I’m Violet,” Violet replied, shaking his extended hand, “Is your name really boy?”

“Yes,” Boy nodded.

“But that’s not a name.”

“Yes it is. I’ve always been called Boy. It’s my name like yours is Violet.”

“But do your parents call you Boy? They must call you something like Paul or Brian. I knew a few boys from home and none of them were called Boy. They all had names.”

“I don’t have parents,” he smiled.

“Oh!”

There was a little silence and unsure of what to say next Violet copied what adults said at funerals.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I didn’t lose them,” Boy laughed, “I never had parents!”

“You can’t never have had parents,” Violet replied, “Everybody has parents!”

“Well I don’t and as far as I’m concerned I’m better off. Look how yours treat you!”

“Hey,” Violet said annoyed, “don’t say that about my parents. They’re the best anyone could ever have.”

“Then why have you been crying for the last few hours. Don’t deny it, I saw you.”

She fell silent and looked away.

“I didn’t mean to upset you Violet,” Boy said, “It’s just I’ve been watching you for a while and I know your parents are changing.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re changing. It’s this place, it does that to people. I’ve watched every new person that came here and it’s happened to them all. After a while they all change. Except you.”

“What do you mean change?” Violet asked, though she knew what he meant.

“Well everyone is normal when they get here,” Boy replied, “they can see me. I’ve even had conversations with some newcomers then after a day or two, they start to change. First I’m ignored, then they begin to change their clothes, their hair, the way they talk, even the way they walk and all of a sudden they become like everyone else in this town.”

“I know,” Violet whispered, “My mam has changed since we’ve moved here. She was never like this at home. I can’t talk to her anymore.”

“It’s the glasses,” Boy said bluntly.

“What do you mean? Without the glasses I can’t see.”

“But without them you can see,” Boy replied, “you can see reality, it’s just a little fuzzy. Haven’t you noticed all the times you’ve heard my voice it’s when you’re not wearing them. Then when you put them on I disappear. I bet you thought you were going mad!”

“But how can I see you now?”

“I don’t know I think it has something to do with those,” he said, pointing to the new specs perched on her face. “I don’t know how they work but they work and that’s all I care about. It’s not easy being invisible.”

“I knew it,” Violet said sitting upright, “it’s my Dad! He must have left them here.”

“But why would he do that?” Boy asked.

“I don’t know,” Violet shrugged, “maybe it’s a message. I think he’s in some sort of trouble. I have to help him. Maybe he’s trying to tell me something.”

“I think you’re a little dramatic,” Boy laughed, grabbing her hand. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”

“Can’t it wait until morning?”

“No it can’t it has to be at night. They patrol in the day.”

“Who patrols?”

“You’ll see,” Boy winked as he threw Violet’s clothes at her and ran out the door.