Matt was an ordinary boy. Nothing special, nothing important, just Matt. 14 years’ old, tall and awkward, brown eyes and styled black hair, and a pair of square glasses. He was your typical bookworm; he spent most of his time in the school library, the public library or locked away in his book-filled room (his library). He had always made sure to keep himself to himself. Always.
Matt woke up. It was early, but not school early. He looked at his alarm clock, covered with Star Wars stickers. 09:56am.
Crap! I’m late for school, Matt thought suddenly.
He threw aside his bedcovers and stripped from his pyjamas to his school uniform. It was a grey jumper, with a yellow rim. It was accompanied by a white shirt and black pinstripe trousers. On top of it all, there was an ugly crest for St Johns, his school. In between pouring out cereal and brushing his teeth, he scurried into his parent’s room to find both of them in bed. They should’ve been in work.
“Mom! Dad! Get up, quick, we’re late!” he shouted, shaking their bedcovers.
His mom let out an unladylike snore and opened an eye.
“Matt! What the hell are you doing up?” she whispered.
Matt gave a look of confusion. “It’s 10 o’clock, and you’re not in work,” Matt said.
His mom stifled a laugh. “Matt, honey, it’s St Patrick’s Day. Go back to bed.”
It was then Matt realised how stupid he must have looked. Half wearing his uniform; a toothbrush in his hand, and a spoon in the other. He retreated out of their room, and closed the door. He went back into his own room, slipped off his uniform and placed the spoon and toothbrush on his desk.
“Oops,” he muttered to himself, and fell back into a slumber.
It was exactly 13 minutes after he fell asleep that he woke up again. This time though he knew he didn’t have school. He opened his eyes and his room was filled with an unearthly light. Suddenly, a green, translucent figure appeared in the air. He was in robes, and wearing sandals. He had a staff in his hand with a shamrock carved at the top.
“Matthew,” the ghost croaked.
“H-how . . . how do you know my name?” Matt’s eyes were large and bulbous. Full of worry, fear and shock.
“My name is Patrick, surely you’ve heard of me, I rid all the snakes in this damn country. And do I get any sort of recognition? Hmm? No, never,” the ghost grumbled.
“Well, Mr Patrick, you did appear in my room as a spirit, remembering about the old Irish culture wasn’t my first thought. But anyway, why are you here?” Matt was prone to be sarcastic, even when something like an alien appears in your room.
“I have a wee mission for you. If you accept, you will be rewarded. If you decline, you will be killed,” Patrick informed.
Matt gulped. “Okay . . . what’s this mission?”
“Apparently, I haven’t got rid of all the snakes,” St Patrick told him.
Matt laughed, deliberately.
“And you have to get rid of it for me,” St Patrick told him.
Matt stopped laughing altogether.
“Farewell,” St Patrick said, and started to fade away. Then he stopped, as if he remembered something important. “By the way, her name is Sekra, and she can talk.”
It was then that the ghost, the spirit, whatever it was, vanished into thin air.
Matt was certainly an anti-social person, but he did have one friend. Julian, a total French mathematical dork. Julian and Matt were in most of the same classes in St Johns. So he figured that Julian would be the perfect person to help him. He pulled his smartphone off his beside locker and dialled Julian’s number. He had it memorised so he called it out as he entered it in. After four rings, Julian picked up. There was a lot of background noise, and Matt could hardly hear him.
“Julian! Where are you?” Matt asked.
“At the parade meeting! You’re late!” Julian sounded so pissed off.
“OK, sorry. I’ll be there in five,” Matt said and he hung up.
He threw on a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms, and a yellow hoodie. He slipped on his converse, and scrambled out the door, shouting a quick “bye” to his parents on the way out.
He kept his promise and arrived at the parade five minutes later.
“Julian!” he called out, and slapped his friend on the back.“You’re late, again! How many years is this gonna keep happening, Matt?” Julian started to lecture.
“Dude, the parade is the least of our worries right now!
“I need your help,” Matt said.
“What now?” Julian moaned.
Matt knew he’d never believe the true story, so he came up with a lie on the way.
“My aunt’s snake has run away. We need to find it!” Matt lied.
“Are you kidding me?”
“It’s really important. It’s . . . um . . . poisonous!” Julian’s eyes opened wide with fear and disbelief. He paced over to a large man and muttered something. The man said something back, and Julian came running back over, zipping up his coat.
“Allon-sy!”
The ghost had told Matt that the snake would be hiding near a lot of shamrocks.
“She’s somewhere near a lot of shamrocks,” Matt told Julian, “I don’t know, maybe she thinks they’re food or something?”
“Okay,” Julian said slowly.
They both thought long and hard for the next few minutes.
“Ah, mon ami, she must be in the shamrock float! Let us go!” Julian suddenly exclaimed.
Julian dragged Matt to the town hall, where all the floats were stored for the parade at midday. There were floats with leprechauns, and Irish dancing outfits, and Heineken, and representations of pious St Patricks.
Matt noticed that none of them looked like the real one. Julian spotted the Shamrock float almost immediately. They sprinted over to it and leapt onto it.
“What now?” Julian asked.
Matt looked at Julian, expecting him to answer. He thought back to the all the books he read about snakes, but no one them came across as helpful.
“Sekra,” Matt hissed, taking Harry Potter’s approach, and attempted to speak Parseltongue.
There was no answer.
“Sekra,” Matt called out again.
Suddenly, the two boys heard a noise. Like a gasp, but quieter. Julian signalled for Matt to look in the corner. He trembled as he took the baby steps towards the curtain in the corner.
What if the snake really was poisonous?
Why did the ghost pick him?
Would he come out of this mission alive?
More and more thoughts like those were scattered through his mind, in that moment, during that day. He never quite knew what happened next. He could feel the breath of Julian standing behind him on the back of his neck.
He stuck his hand out and pulled back the curtain. There, huddled in the corner was a frail, young girl, with two slits for a nose and incredibly bright green eyes . . .
