Chapter One

The first day at a new school rarely ends well for me. I always seem to find myself in the wrong place at just the wrong moment- last time I was wandering past the wannabe “cool kids” while they were smoking round the back of the school right

when the headmistress looked out her window, and let’s face it, you see an oddly dressed youth with a Mohawk and a skateboard, you’re going to assume that they’re in on it. The time before that, some douche bag tripped me up, and I in turn managed to trip my maths teacher up with my stumble. I explained what had happened but again, nobody trusts the kid with the Mohawk. And the time before that…well, that one was fair enough, I started that fight. But you get the picture.
This time however, my hopes were high, maybe not shoulder high but a good old waist height, perhaps even up to my kidneys. I was starting at Darwin Academy, which was my old buddy Shawn Whiteley’s school, therefore my hopes were hoping that he’d be able to stop me making all my usual mistakes. He saved my skin so many times in primary school, you would not believe. Though I genuinely was a delinquent in those days- hiding the PVA and the glitter from the teacher, hoarding all those treasured erasers that were supposed to be shared with my classmates, not to mention starting a food fight just about every single lunch time. Nasty stuff.
After making my way through the school gates and into the building itself, I managed to get what I judged to be at least halfway to my form room before I was officially lost. Rather than have an awkward conversation with a stranger and receive dodgy directions for my trouble, I decided to meander the halls until I reached my destination. Fortunately the teacher was waiting for me outside, or I would’ve missed it.
“So you’re-” she consulted a sheet before continuing, “Rowan Alyn, aren’t you?”
“Alwyn.” I corrected her, surprised she had got it wrong. I mean, it’s not exactly a complicated surname, and she was reading it off a piece of paper.
“Sorry, I haven’t had any coffee for days, I’m struggling to concentrate.” she confided. “Well, come on in then, I’ll introduce you to the class, sort out the seating plan, and if you need anything you can come and see me whenever you want. Oh, I’m Miss Farrow, before I forget.”
I followed her into the room. She was quite young for a teacher, with dyed blonde hair, too much make up around her pale green eyes, and she was just a little too skinny to look healthy.
The class had already found their seats, so the idea of a seating plan quickly blew out the window. Miss Farrow pointed out my seat, next to an unhappy looking girl whose face was half-concealed beneath a shoulder length bird’s nest of spiky auburn hair, but put her hand on my shoulder to hold me at the front of the class a little while longer. I fought the urge to shrug it off.
“Quiet!” she shouted, and was obeyed immediately, surprising me as I had already formed the impression that she was the sort of teacher students walk all over. “This is Rowan, one of the new pupils. I want you all to do as much as you can to help her settle in.” She paused for a moment while I cringed visibly and half the class sniggered at her words. “You can sit down. Now, let’s go around the class, and each of you can say your name and something about yourself. Start at the back.” Evidently, this was her first time meeting most of them too.
I only actually remembered four names by the time it was my turn: Maxwell, a curly haired, watery eyed ginger; a dark haired, brown eyed girl called Adrien, and a blonde guy named Dexter who had eyes like Miss Farrow’s, the pair of whom were chewed off four times for messing around in the two minutes that had passed; and Joanna, a brunette whose fact about herself was that she was the smartest girl in the year. Though after that comment, I wasn’t so sure. I marked her down on my ‘people to stay away from until I find a chainsaw’ list.
“What about you, Rowan?” the teacher asked.
“Well, I guess you know my name,” I said uncomfortably, “and I guess I like skateboarding.” A couple more people sniggered, but I ignored them, glad I didn’t have to say anything else. The class turned expectantly to the girl sitting next to me, or at least, the three or four people still listening did.
“Uh, I’m Lydia. And-”
"And she's a lesbian." called Maxwell the ginger from across the classroom, getting a laugh out of almost everyone in the room. Another surprise- he looked like too much of a dweeb to start picking on somebody else. I’d have to work on my split second character judgements. Thankfully, instead of bursting into tears or something, Lydia just scowled and the unpleasant atmosphere quickly passed, followed by the school bell going off.
"Right, that's the end of registration. Class dismissed."
Lydia stood up quickly, eager to leave, and as she did so her hair shifted, revealing a relatively fresh bruise that obscured a large part of the left side of her face and had swollen her eye half shut.
"What happened to your face?" I blurted, too shocked to stop myself. She looked down at me, and I felt decidedly uncomfortable, like she was looking right through my eyes, into my soul, and didn't like what she could see.
"Make an educated guess, and stay away from me."
I raised an eyebrow at her and held her gaze until she turned away, my usual reaction when I piss people off. I let her push past me before I hurriedly grabbed my timetable out of my bag and tried to decide who was least likely to mislead me if I asked for directions. Settling on Adrien and Dexter, because they were the last people left in the room whose names I could remember, and the only ones who didn’t laugh at Maxwell’s comment, I made my way over to them.
"Sorry, can you tell me where English three is?" I asked, sounding nervous even to my own ears.
"It's kind of up and across and down and then left and forward a bit. I think." answered Adrien, helpfully. Dexter elbowed her, and I got the feeling she wasn't necessarily being unkind.
"Just ignore her. She's socially inept from playing too many video games. I'm in there next, I'll take you."
"Thanks." I said uncertainly, wishing Shawn was in my class.
"No problem. See you later, Adrien."
"If you can cope with being away from me long enough." she teased, and left the classroom at a much more relaxed pace than most of the others, while I waited for Dexter to pack his bag.

"Morning, sunshine." A moronically-grinning Shawn materialised next to me. I rolled my eyes.
"You took your sweet time coming to find me. I've already got lost a hundred times."
"You know, there's a map of the school in your planner.” he said somewhat condescendingly, flicking his dark, wavy hair out of an equally dark, yet less wavy pair of eyes. “Anyway, how are you finding it so far?"
"Total craphole. But a slight improvement on St whatever-it-was." I answered honestly.
"Is that the place that kicked you out after two weeks?" he asked, snaking an arm around the waist of a pretty redhead that had just appeared at his side.
"Two days. But you know what I'm like with places that strict. It was their fault for being religious. Who's this?" I had only ever known Shawn to have one girlfriend in the past, and it had ended in tears. Mostly his.
"I'm Allie. Shawn's girlfriend

. We've been going out for a month now. Who are you?" she answered in his place, shooting me a look that told me she thought I was up to something.
"Rowan. We’re friends from primary school. I'm new here." I told her.
"Oh yeah, I can tell. You might want to consider a wardrobe change. Honestly, a Doctor Who t-shirt? I don't know where you came from, but that's social suicide here." Allie snootily informed me.
"I came from Gallifrey. Though they don’t really understand it over there, either.” I said, concealing my ire. She turned to Shawn, pointedly mouthing the words “what the hell is her problem?”, and I put all my willpower into not kicking her in the face.
“Nice to meet you too.” I muttered as I ran a hand through my Mohawk, already disgusted by Shawn's taste in females. "Well, I'm gonna try and find my next lesson. Should fill up the rest of my break. I'll leave you to it."
They walked away hand in hand, Allie appearing triumphant, and Shawn throwing an apologetic glance my way.
I had history next, which was awkward, because when I eventually arrived at the imaginatively named History b, I discovered that Lydia was in the same class as me. She caught my eye and gave me the finger, at which point I realised I'd been staring. I winked back, and found a seat on the opposite side of the room, hoping that if I didn't reciprocate her hostility then at the very least she might stop flipping me off one day.
"Mind if I sit here?" It was Shawn again. I almost gagged when I noticed the smear of lipstick on his cheek.
"As long as your girlfriend isn’t going to put out a contract on me if she finds out."
"Sorry about that, she's just a little…insecure. But she's a good person. And no, I'm not just saying that because she has boobs." he added upon receiving the look I was giving him.
"How come you didn't tell me about her?" If they really had been going out for a month, it seemed a little strange.
"I dunno, I guess I just wanted to see how it went. Plus there was the danger that you'd mercilessly take the piss. But mostly, I wanted to make sure we were going somewhere before announcing it and stuff." he looked like he was going to say something else, but our teacher came in, and thankfully he stopped talking, sparing me the inevitable soppy relationship crap.
"I'm Mr Toadstone, for those of you who don't know me. I can't be bothered to do introductions, so let's just get straight into the Ancien regime, shall we?"
Why I decided to take AS level history, I'll never know.

"How was school?" my uncle asked. I'd always called him Gandalf, for reasons I forget. I'd also forgotten his real name, if I'd ever actually known it, but I don't think he cared. I had just moved in with him- my dad got diagnosed with terminal something or other a couple of years back, and a month ago, when he lost his mobility, Gandalf had to step in, because I wouldn't have been able to stay home to look after him and go to school at the same time. So now my uncle was looking after him, while he worked from home. Given the amount of care my father needed, I was surprised that he’d come to meet me. Then I realised what it meant.
"I haven't been suspended yet, if that's what you mean." I said, trying to act normal while my heart started beating out of control. He led me to the car in uncomfortable silence. It was parked a lot further away than was necessary. We passed several empty spaces along the road outside the school, one of which appeared to have a bloodstain in it, which took my mind off my father for a moment, but once we were past the majority of the students, I had to ask.
"Is he dead?"
Gandalf sighed and stopped walking. "He got a lot worse this morning. I've been with him in the hospital all day. I probably should have called you but it was your first day and everything, plus the doctors said he’ll probably have a couple more days left, so there was no immediate danger."
I took a moment to digest his words. "So, are we going to the hospital now, then?" It might sound bad but I didn't really want to see him, not that I could say that to my uncle.
"Yeah. I've brought my laptop, so if you've got any homework you can do it while we’re there. I'm going to stay overnight, but if you want, I can drive you home after a few hours." he said, and with a rush of embarrassment I realised there were fresh tears in his eyes, the brown of his irises standing out more than usual against the bloodshot whites. I looked away, only for my discomfort to be replaced by trepidation. Lydia was sitting hunched over on a wall twenty feet away, staring at the ground, and I could see in her expression that she had heard everything. This was the last sort of thing I wanted to get around. She looked up suddenly, apparently aware that I'd been staring again, and met my gaze, with a look just as intense as the one she'd been giving the ground, though slightly different- more of a "don't worry, I'm not going to spread this around the year" sort of look than a "deary me, this is bloody awkward" sort of look. You know the one. I gave her an almost imperceptible nod of gratitude in return, and she looked away.

“Rowan…” my father croaked. I looked up at him. Well, I moved my eyes up from the laptop’s screen in order to look at him, but technically I was looking down at him. I raised my eyes? Anyway.
“What?” I asked. Uncle Gandalf had just left the room to speak with a doctor and find some coffee.
“I’m…sorry…for everything.” His eyes were barely open, his skin cracked, pale even against the sterile white and blue of the room. He was running a fever, but his kidneys were failing and he was too dehydrated to sweat. Before his illness, he had been proud that he still had a full head of hair at his age. Now there were only a few wispy grey tufts left on his scalp.
I didn’t know what to say. What do

you say to a dying man? And when that man is your father?
“And…your…mother…” he breathed, “tell her…I’m sorry…for what…I…did…” his eyelids fluttered closed.
“She’s dead, dad.” Our family secret. Skeleton in the closet, if you’re into clichés.
“I know…but…” he fell silent. I looked up and watched him for signs of life, relieved to see the slight rise and fall of his ribcage as he breathed raggedly. A frown creased his skeletal face and he spoke again. “They’ll be here…soon…I can…see them…” he flinched, as if he really could see something I couldn’t. One of the nurses told me earlier that there might be hallucinations. “Don’t let…don’t let them…don’t let them get you!”
I still have no idea where he found the strength to shout his final words.
One of the machines started screaming.
“Don’t let them get you!”
A doctor ran in yelling for a crash team.
“Rowan!”
The nurse I saw earlier ushered me from the room.
And is it wrong that I felt like he’d got what he deserved? Because the skeleton in our closet isn’t just that my mother died.
My father killed her.

It was in the middle of a shouting match with my dad that it all came out. She told him she’d been seeing another man, and she wanted a divorce. She ran upstairs, grabbed the cat, and just left. For the next two weeks I thought he’d lost his mind, but to be honest, I was happy she was gone. I had known something was up for months- I’d seen the texts, caught glimpses of emails over her shoulder, noticed her turning the wrong way down the road when she was supposedly on her way to work. Looking back, she was pretty pathetic at hiding it- part of the excitement I guess. So at least when she wasn’t around I didn’t have to feel the mixture of guilt and revulsion that came every time I saw her.
Then she came back to get the rest of her stuff. I heard knocking, answered the door, and took a step back from the resultant cloud of perfume. She ruffled my hair in an attempt to seem like she gave a damn, and I took another step back, trying to close the door on her, but she pushed through before I managed it. The door slammed shut behind her, and my dad appeared at the top of the stairs, preparing to complain about the commotion. The look in his eyes when he caught sight of her was...well, unsettling. He muttered something about going to make tea as he shuffled down the stairs into the kitchen.
“He hasn’t got rid of my things, has he?” she asked.
“Going straight in with the materialism? I should be used to it by now, I s’pose. So how much is the new guy paying you?” I scowled as I moved to block the staircase, finally feeling the anger I had been repressing.
“Very cute. Get out of my way.” she answered, her faded Californian accent stronger than usual.
“Get out of our house. I’m not letting you past. Your crap’s all gone to the charity shop, anyway.”
“Sweetie-” her eyes flashed.
“Piss. Off.” I spat, angrier than I’d been in my life.
“I’m sorry, but it has to be this way. You’d do the same if you were in my shoes. I know you’re lying, sweetie, now let me get the rest of my things.” Speaking dangerously patronisingly, she placed a hand on my shoulder, at which point I started to shake with fury. My hands clenched into fists, nails cutting welts in my palms.
“Get out.” I growled, my mind blank with rage. She started to push me with the apparently caring hand that rested on my shoulder. I pulled back my fist, about to strike, when she cried out. Something hot splashed onto my cheek, scalding me, and I winced a little. Through watering eyes, I saw my father standing behind her, pulling her head back by her fashionably styled, fashionably copper hair, emptying the remains of a freshly boiled kettle onto her blistering face.
“Dad, what the fuck?!” I screamed. No matter how strong the animosity I felt towards my mother was, I still didn’t want anything like that to happen to her. I leapt towards him as he brought the now empty kettle down on her head, and ended up catching the full force of the blow on the top of my own head, staggering me. He threw me out of the way, and I think I must have passed out for a while, because next thing I knew my mother was curled in a ball, and he had replaced the kettle with an axe, and he was bringing it down again and again, blood splashing all over the walls, the carpet, the ceiling, the furniture. The neighbours heard her gurgling screams and called the police, but I was unconscious again before they arrived.
I woke up in a hospital two days later- the same hospital my father had just died in. The police came to interview me on the murder, but I told them I couldn’t remember what had happened. He might have been a psychopath, but I wasn’t capable of selling him out. They told me his version of events: one of our particularly unpleasant neighbours came around asking for money, went crazy, and attacked my mum when she didn’t give it to him. I got in the way, and he knocked me out. My dad had to kill him with the same axe that finished off my mother, who had died of her wounds in the next bed half an hour before I woke up. I don’t know how my dad managed to frame the guy. I didn’t ask, because I really didn’t want to know, and that was that. We never brought it up again.

I slouched back into a chair, rubbing the scar left by the kettle as I thought back to that time. It was two inches long and a jagged centimetre thick, but fortunately my Mohawk covered the bald patch as long as I didn’t shave the sides.
“What happened? What happened?” Gandalf dropped his coffee, staring through the glass sections of the door.
I somehow reacted quickly enough to catch the coffee, only a little of it sloshing onto the floor. Setting it down on a nearby table, I opened my mouth, trying to talk, but no words would come out. His face paled and he brushed past me into the room, where they were covering my father with a sheet. It was half an hour before he came out again, thankfully not in tears, though he was blowing his nose. I myself hadn’t cried, though my Mohawk had drooped a little.
“Are you alright?” he asked me. I nodded, and he continued, “They’re offering you counselling, if you want to take it.”
I shook my head, and he sat down next to me. There was silence for a moment, as we watched a haggard, blood spattered young doctor run past. I could hear a patient moaning in agony in the direction he had just run from, and wondered if he had screwed up really badly.
“You’re how old, seventeen now?” Gandalf asked.
“In December.”
“Ah, sorry. Well, you have a choice. Either you can stay with me for now, or you can stay at your house and Ellen will move in with you. I think the plan was for her to inherit the house when Rhys passed, given her financial situation.” he said.
“Can I stay with you? She’s a bit…y’know…” Ellen was my aunt on my mother’s side. She had an odd combination of a victim mentality and a superiority complex which resulted in some pretty bad anger issues, but that wasn’t why I wanted to stay with Gandalf instead. I never liked living in that house after what happened, and there was no way I intended to move back there, if it could be at all helped.
“Of course. And you won’t have to move schools yet again, which is a bonus.” he smiled, though it looked painful.
“Thanks...”
“We should get home.” he glanced at his watch. “Wow, its three in the morning. If you want to take the day off school-”
“No. Last thing I need is more time to dwell on it.”
“Let’s get out of here then.” he sighed. We took another few minutes to thank the medical staff, most of whom threw pitying glances my way, but I felt like a huge load had been taken off my shoulders. Don’t get me wrong- inside, I was barely holding together. But it finally felt like the whole business with the murder was over. For the first time in almost three years, I could relax. The secrets were dead, and in a week’s time, they’d be buried.
We waited for the lift for ten minutes before we decided it definitely wasn’t going to arrive, and took the stairs down to the ground floor. I noticed out the corner of my eye that the door to the basement was chained up, with a ‘NO ENTRY’ sign on it. It looked a little out of place in a hospital, but I was too tired to use up any brainpower thinking about it.
We had to walk for half an hour to get to Gandalf’s car, as it seemed he made a habit of parking in distant lands, and I fell asleep the moment I leant back in the seat, neglecting even my seatbelt. Come to think of it, he must have strapped me in, because it was on when I woke up. Awkward.
“I’ll drive you in tomorrow. But you need a lie in, at least.” he said, unlocking the front door.
“Morning break is at ten thirty, could you take me then?” I asked, hoping to get in early enough to pretend I overslept.
“When does it end?” he looked thoughtful.
“Eleven.”
“I’ll try and get you there for ten to, then. If you hurry to bed you should be able to get in a good four or five hours sleep. Don’t worry about setting an alarm, I’ll wake you up.”
“Thanks. I’m gonna have a shower first though.” I said.
“Sure. If you need anything, feel free to wake me up. I think I might just crash on the sofa, I can’t be bothered to go all the way upstairs.” he yawned, which set me off.
“Night.” I started the journey to my room, which seemed so much longer than it had the night before.
“Night.”

“And just where have you been, young woman?”
“Huh?” I wheeled around to see Mr Toadstone striding towards me.
Balls.
“It is nearly eleven o’ clock!” he roared, emphasising each individual syllable. “Did you think you could simply sneak into school unseen after wantonly skipping my history lesson?” Spit flew from his mouth, forcing me to walk backwards as he came towards me to avoid being showered. He sped up so that he was almost chasing me.
“I slept in. My alarm clock broke.” I backed into a wall, trapped.
His face literally turned purple with rage. “Right. Headmaster’s office. Now.” he growled, his face half a foot from mine.
“Sir, you can’t make me go for my first offence.”
“Gah…maybe not. But the next time you so much as slip up...” he turned away, leaving the threat hanging as we both walked swiftly away in opposing directions. As soon as I turned the corner I burst out laughing, incapable of holding it in any longer.
“Alwyn!” his voice roared, and I heard running footsteps.
“Crap.” I sprinted past a bewildered girl whose face I vaguely recognised from my class, looking for a suitable hiding place.
Girls’ toilets. Not the most original hiding place, but I doubted he would be brave enough to venture inside, male as he was.
I backed away from the door as it slammed shut, thinking that maybe it was just a little too obvious a move. Sure enough, fists began hammering on the door.
“Rowan Alwyn! I know you’re in there! Get out here NOW.” he screamed. I looked around, and realised I was getting some serious WTF stares from the students around me, but I felt a rush of relief as I caught sight of Adrien.
“Is there another way out of here or something?” I whispered pleadingly to her.
“Window. There’s a fire exit a hundred feet to your left once you get out there- it’s always open, that’s how you’ll get back in. I’ll take care of Toady.” she grinned, as I suspected having clearly been in this situation herself many times before. I nodded my thanks, vaulting over the sinks and through the beckoning window.
“Calm down, there’s a whole bunch of year sevens in there who are losing bladder control because of you.” I heard her informing Toadstone as I lingered momentarily beneath the sill, keeping low as I spanned the distance to the fire escape, my many days spent in Skyrim making me an accomplished sneak.

The rest of the day held less excitement, at least until lunch break. I ran into Shawn and Allie in the lunch hall, and they invited me to sit with them. I thought it would be awkward, and I was correct, but it was better than having to sit on my own.
“Are you gonna eat your cake?” Shawn asked his girlfriend at some point.
“That’s it!” she shouted, and everyone in the lunch hall turned around with wide eyes just in time to see her slap him across each cheek. It was totally worth having to sit there listening to them flirt for the last twenty minutes, just to see the look on his face, and hear the fragments of his shattered dignity chiming as they dropped to the floor.
“What the hell, Allie?” he gasped incredulously.
“I may not have the perfect body but that doesn’t mean you need to start controlling my diet!” she shouted, tears pouring down her face.
“I didn’t say-”
“We’re over, Shawn. I hope you’re happy.” She stormed off, leaving everyone at our table crying with laughter, and Shawn speechless.
“Don’t worry, she was totally insane. It was never going to last.” I comforted him briefly, patting his shoulder before taking my leave. I dumped my tray on the rack and headed to my form room, where we were about to have PSHE.
“Oh, Rowan. You’re here.” Miss Farrow stated as I entered the room, feigning surprise. “Where were you this morning?” she asked.
“Slept in. Won’t happen again, probably.” I answered distractedly, for a ginger was in my seat. Not Maxwell, this one was a girl, and she was talking to Lydia, who looked less like a zombie now that the swelling around her eye had gone down a little. I dumped my bag as close to my desk as I could get it and retreated to the other side of the room, choosing a desk at the back which I knew wasn’t taken by anyone. My lack of sleep was finally catching up, so I just put my head on my arms and napped.
“...freak.”
“I hope it’s not contagious.”
I opened my eyes, wondering if the voices were part of my dream or not.
“Piss off or I’ll rape you in the shower.”
Perhaps not.
I sat up.
Miss Farrow had left the room, and a group of five had Lydia pinned against the wall, which I thought was just to stop her running off until one of them, who I recognised to be Joanna, hit her in the stomach. She doubled over, coughing.
“Hey! Stop that.” I shouted, jumping over the desks and trying to look hardcore as I strode towards them, willing my Mohawk to stand tall and give me the extra four inches of height I so desperately needed. Joanna turned on me, her cronies dropping Lydia who sank to the floor clutching her stomach, still coughing.
The punch was clearly harder than it looked, and it was only as I realised this that I understood the full extent of my stupidity.
“Looks like we’ve found another queer.” sneered the smartest girl in the class.
“The problem being?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We don’t like lesbians here.” She stuttered slightly on “don’t”, and I gained back enough of my courage to avoid soiling myself.
“I’m not a lesbian, I’m bisexual. And I doubt you have any valid arguments whatsoever for being a bigoted arse wipe, so why don’t you all just bugger off now and save me the effort of kicking the idiot out of you?” I spoke calmly, trying to conceal how intimidated I was.
“What’s going on here?” Miss Farrow had reappeared, coffee in hand. I would have said ‘nothing’, but I was standing alone in the middle of the classroom in a kickboxing stance, facing off five other girls who were standing in a uniform group, looking just as violent, with the twenty or so other people in the room all watching us apprehensively or, in some cases, with amusement, even excitement.
What can you pass that off as? I wracked my brains, or lack thereof.
“We were about to have a dance off.” was my answer. Not my finest excuse. Just about everybody giggled at my failage.
“Um...okay, well, save it for the school talent show, not my classroom, please. Take your seats.”
I realised Lydia was still on her hands and knees, so I offered her a hand up which, surprisingly, she took.
“You shouldn’t have stepped in.” she said under her breath.
“I had to live up to my Mohawk.” I explained. “Besides, what fun is school if you don’t have any enemies?”
She gazed at me with that super intense stare she kept shooting me, and ended the conversation with the warning: “Your Mohawk won’t survive this.” identifying what was both my hubris and the source of all my strength. I shrugged, pretending not to care, and Miss Farrow started talking about the dangers of the internet. I zoned out immediately, staring out of the window. A drunk guy was staggering along the street, moaning disconsolately. He grabbed at a passing policeman and leant in as if he was trying to kiss him, but the officer shrugged him off easily. The dude kept coming, and after a few minutes the policeman slammed him to the ground and handcuffed him. A bus stopped in front of them, and by the time it moved on they had disappeared somewhere.
“Rowan. Rowan. Rowan!”
Lydia elbowed me in the ribs and I turned away.
“What?” I grumbled.
“What was the last thing I said?” Miss Farrow asked angrily. I looked at the whiteboard for inspiration, but it was about as inspiring as Shawn’s love life.
“Um…you need to be careful on the internet or…paedophiles will get you?” I guessed, thinking back to the last internet safety talk I had endured.
“Almost,” she sighed, “Although I didn’t put it quite so bluntly. And at your age, they would be classified as rapists, not paedophiles.”
Well. You learn something new every day. I waited for her to turn away before returning my attention to the view outside the glass.

I was rather impressed with myself as I unlocked Gandalf’s front door, having managed to get through the entire school day without even thinking about the events of the previous day. Of course, that meant that the moment I was inside I started to break down. Fortunately Gandalf was out doing the shopping, so instead of hiding in my room, I ran into the kitchen and put the kettle on, trying to calm down and man up while it boiled. I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking steadying breaths. Breakdown averted. Dignity intact. My Mohawk was a little pissed off with me, but no lasting damage.
The water inside the kettle started jumping around, and I poured it over the coffee granules in the bottom of my mug, refusing it the chance to click off on its own. I carried the mug up to my room and sat at the desk, spinning in circles on my chair as I tried to decide what to do.
Then I heard a scream.
I jumped up immediately, creeping towards the window and leaning against the wall to the left of it so I was difficult to see from the street. A man was stumbling along the pavement, his arms stretched out in front of him like he needed a hug with weird, kind of depressed grunting noises issuing from his gaping mouth. Another drunkard. Not afraid of being seen now, I opened the window and poked my head out to see the screamer- a skinny blonde woman in high heels. From the back, she reminded me a bit of Miss Farrow, but when she turned her head around to look at the drunk guy I realized she was about thirty years older. One of her heels snapped off but she kept moving, disappearing round the corner, and I lost interest. Returning to my coffee, I flopped down in my spinny chair and leant back with loosely crossed legs.
At some point I went to have a shower in an attempt to get rid of my residual grogginess. I towel dried my hair afterwards, but because I was at home I didn’t bother to wax my hair up before flipping open the Fellowship of the Ring and returning to my chair.
The front door slammed as I was midway through sitting down. I tried to reverse the action so I could go and greet Gandalf, and ended up landing arse first on the floor, having confused my body.
“Afternoon. Why are you on the floor?” he said cheerily as the bedroom door creaked open a moment later.
“I fell.” I explained, and feeling slightly awkward just sitting there, got to my feet.
“Right. Have you seen that drunk guy in the middle of the road? He tried to hug me while I was unlocking the door, I had to push him into Agnes and Betty’s garden. I hope he didn’t crush any of their petunias- I’d never hear the end of it.” he moved to the window and I followed him.
“Yeah, there was a woman running away from him a few minutes ago.” I peered at a kicking pair of legs sticking out of the old ladies’ rose bush. It took him a while to untangle himself from the thorny stems, by which time Agnes was leaning out of her own window, bellowing at him as he stared mournfully up at her. I knew from experience that Betty was the hardcore one of the couple, so I hoped for his sake that he was gone by the time she got involved.
“We’d better leave them to it. Things will start getting ugly pretty soon. Ooh, your hair looks so sweet like that!” my uncle said, catching sight of me after closing the window.
“Weirdo.”
He giggled. The adults in my family were usually just as immature as the teenagers, though as far as I was concerned that was a good thing. I never saw the point in maturity- all it did was make the world a boring and crappy place.
“Gandalf? What’s your real name?” I asked, trailing after him as he left my room and descended the stairs.
“Gilbert. I always suspected you had forgotten.” he turned and winked at me in the way creepy teachers do if they catch you staring at them.
“Gilbert? But you’re not even in your seventies, how is that possible?” He laughed, though I hadn’t been trying to be funny.
“My parents let my grandparents pick my name. Anyway, next time, phrase it like ‘but you’re not even in your forties’, it’s more flattering. Well, I’m going to watch the news, then I have some work to do, so you’ll have to entertain yourself for a while. Watch tv or do your homework or whatever it is you kids get up to these days.”
“Sure.”
“That’s it! I’m calling the police! You’ll be lucky if I don’t bash your brains out before they arrive.” Betty’s voice floated through the walls, like petals drifting on a summer breeze.

Chapter Two

I walked through the school gates as slowly as I could without looking like an idiot. Gandalf made me leave the house about half an hour earlier than was necessary, and an hour earlier than when I usually left, which meant I had ages to kill before school started. I’d been late every day for the last month, which as it turned out had been a good thing for my health, for as soon as I turned the corner out of the locker room a group of about five or six jumped me, Joanna amidst them. Two of them pulled my hands behind me and dragged me back into the room. The rest followed, trying to look menacing.
“Uh…can I help you?” I asked, confused.
“You’re dead, Alwyn.” Joanna growled. My brain suddenly kicked in and I realised what was going on, half a second before her fist connected with the side of my face.
My instincts were second to kick in. I prayed that the two holding me were male, and kicked out hard in what I guessed to be their general crotch area with both feet, using their grip on my arms to support me. Fortunately, they both hit the ground retching. The rest of the group was caught by surprise and I easily dodged past them, sprinting to the relative safety of the girls’ toilets where at least I knew of an escape route.
Feeling a trickle of blood running down my face, I surveyed the damage in the half-shattered mirror that spanned the wall above the sinks. There was a small cut and slight bruising just below my right temple, which made me think she had been wearing a ring. But it was nothing on what I did to the two guys, so I felt victorious as I pressed a wad of toilet paper against my wound and washed away the blood, hoping my mutilation wasn’t too noticeable.

“Oh dear. Looks like they finally got you.” Lydia grinned as I sat in my place, no longer early.
“What’s got you so chipper?” I asked, perplexed.
“They’ve been so busy trying to figure out how to kill you that they haven’t even insulted me for the last two weeks. You’re their new target!” she almost sang her response.
“Thanks for the support.” I rolled my eyes.
“Way I see it, better you than me. No offence.” This earned her a punch to the arm, which in turn earned me a slap to the good side of my face. Rather than start a bitch fight, I spun around in my seat to see if Joanna had returned yet. She had indeed, and made a slicing gesture across her throat as I met her eyes. I resorted to a wink again and turned back to Lydia, who was laughing at my misfortune.
“Arse wipe.” I scowled, making a mental note to take up kickboxing again.
“Detention. Next Friday after school.” Miss Farrow called across the room, somehow having thrown herself into her office chair just in time to hear me.
I kicked Lydia under the desk.

“You need to see a doctor about that.” Gandalf said with some concern as he saw my face.
“It’s not that bad.”
“You could have brain damage! Have you seen your reflection?”
“It’s nowhere near my brain!” I went into the kitchen and stared at my reflection in the glass of the window. The bruise had darkened considerably and spread to cover about three inches square of the lower part of my face. “Okay, it does look pretty bad.” I admitted.
“How did it happen?” he asked, putting the kettle on to calm himself.
“Somebody caught me with their bag.” I lied.
“They must’ve been swinging it bloody hard. Are you sure you don’t want to get it checked out?” My uncle wasn’t the suspicious type.
“Yep. It doesn’t even hurt that much.”
“Okay. Coffee?”
“Get away from my gnomes!” Betty’s voice wafted through the open window. I stuck my head out and saw yet another drunk, though this time it was a woman. She had her hands pressed against the old women’s immaculate green door, and appeared to be trying to make out with it.
“I’d better call the police.” Gandalf sighed down my neck, making me jump.
“Yeah, Betty’ll have her head off any minute.”
“That’s not what I- never mind.” he grinned, picking up the handset. He had just begun dialling 999 when it started ringing. “Hello? Yep, I’ll hand you over.”
I took the receiver from him gingerly, wondering who was on the other end.
“Hello?” I frowned.
“Hey there!” It was Shawn.
“What’s up?”
“I feel like boarding. I’m at the end of your road.” He hung up.
“Did he ask you out?” Gandalf sang across the room.
“What? No, you creep. We’re going to the skate park.”
“Oh.” he sounded disappointed. “Your hobo gloves are on the table.”
“Thanks.” I pulled the black material over my hands. Gandalf hated fingerless gloves, for reasons undisclosed.
“Make sure you aren’t back too early. Ellen’s coming over for dinner and if she sees you looking like that, she’ll have a heart attack.”
I caught my reflection in the mirror and immediately understood what he meant. The tartan trousers, studded jacket, Wednesday 13 shirt and the Mohawk were enough on their own, combine that with the bruise on my face and the skateboard tucked under my arm- forget the heart attack, she’d summon a bloody exorcist.
“What time is she leaving?”
“Should be gone by eleven thirty.”
“I’ll aim for midnight.” I grimaced.

“How are you holding up? You know, after…” Shawn trailed off, taking a sip of water. We were sitting on a grassy hillside, our backs against the chain-link fence of the skate park. The trees were spread thin here, allowing us a perfect view of the town and most of the surrounding farmland. It was small enough that the light pollution was too weak to block out the stars, so at night it blazed like an amber reflection of the sky above.
“I’m alright, I guess.” I shifted uncomfortably, twisting the cuffs of my jacket between my fingers. I should have seen the questions coming- the hillside was always the place we shared, even before we started skateboarding.
He turned and raised an eyebrow at me. “Honestly?”
I smiled reluctantly. “Okay, I feel like crap. But I’m coping. What about you? You know, with the whole Allie thing? You’ve been going on about her nonstop since you broke up.”
“To be honest, I’m just confused about it. She was kind of crazy and kind of a dick, but I really liked her.” he sighed.
It took me half a minute to summon the courage to say the words I knew he wanted to hear.
“I think you should try to get back together.”
“Really? Me too! I’m gonna call her!” he whipped out his phone, grinning like a maniac.
“Dude! If you call her at half eleven you’ll be doing more harm than good. Leave it ‘til tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah. Oh crap! I told my parents I’d be back for eleven.”
“We’d better get going then.”
I hauled myself to my feet via the fence and gave Shawn a hand up before picking up my board.
We walked down the hill in silence for several minutes before a smile broke across his face. “Do you think she’ll say yes? I think she’ll say yes. I mean, I feel like we’re, like, supposed to be together, y’know? I can’t wait to call her!”
Well, as long as he was happy. I held back my sigh.

“Ooh, that’s a smart jacket you’re wearing, dear.”
“Um…thank you, Betty. I like your blanket. And your hair, Agnes.”
Betty often nipped out for a spot of midnight gardening when she couldn’t sleep, and occasionally Agnes joined her. Tonight they had pulled out a couple of chairs and were sipping tea in the moonlight, despite the light snow that had started to fall.
The scene reminded me of the day I first encountered the old ladies on a winter’s morn twelve years ago, when I fell in their half-frozen pond on a visit to Gandalf. My dad dragged me out and bundled me up in what must have been just about every towel in Wales, but I was still shivering so hard I could barely stand. Agnes appeared out of nowhere with a mug of hot chocolate, and Betty with a mountain of hot water bottles. I don’t remember much else apart from one of them saying something about their dwindling bladder control, but my point is that they were the best old people in the history of the planet, even with their fiery tempers and the death threats that ensued if you trod on their penstemons.
“Oh yes, I had it trimmed this morning, you know. Good night, dear.” she smiled.
“Night.” I replied, and let myself into the house.
I knew I was in trouble as soon as I closed the door. Firstly because I could hear voices coming from the kitchen, and secondly because Ellen’s coat was hanging on the banister.
“Rowan! Is that you?” she called in her shrill, vaguely American accent, destroying my attempt to sneak upstairs. She was, of course, from my mum’s side of the family- the people on my dad’s side were only ever irritating in an epic way.
I kicked off my shoes and practiced my pleased-to-see-you face as I walked the short distance between freedom and…well, having to talk to my aunt.
“S’up, El? G-star?” I greeted the adults.
Ellen looked me up and down, eyes narrowing until they could be narrowed no further and then widening again, her face one of absolute shock. Gilbert giggled at her reaction.
“My, you’ve…grown. The last time I saw you, you must have been four feet tall.” she said, composing herself.
“And she was wearing a rainbow jumper.” Gilbert noted gleefully.
“Yes, quite. Well, I think it’s time for me to leave. Lovely seeing you both. Goodbye.” she leapt up and whooshed past me, grabbing her coat and slamming the door shut behind her before another word could be said.
“Oh thank God, I couldn’t have taken another minute of that.” he groaned, pulling a mess of knives out of his pocket and placing them on the counter. “Oh, I don’t mean literally!” he laughed, noticing my expression. “You know what she’s like about mess. She arrived when I was in the middle of washing up and I didn’t have anywhere else to hide them.”
“Right…well, I’m off to bed. See you tomorrow.” I turned to go, but caught something out of the corner of my eye.
“What is it?” Gandalf asked, and I realized I had frozen in place.
“Um…nothing, just…tired or whatever. Later.” I hurried upstairs and sank onto the edge of my bed, shaking.
Did I imagine it? Or had my dad been standing in the corner of the room?
I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes, trying to calm down, but an image of his face flashed across my eyelids, maggots writhing in his eye sockets and beneath his skin, his flesh sunken with decay. I jumped off the bed, swearing, but even with my eyes open the image remained, not just his face now but his entire being. He smiled and stepped towards me, throwing me so far beyond terror that I could barely breathe. I stumbled backwards, scrambling across the bed, but there was nowhere to go, only a wall against my back, and him between me and the door.
My father reached for me, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted me dead.
I kicked out with everything I had, almost hoping I wouldn’t hit anything, because that would prove that this wasn’t just insanity, but my foot connected with his stomach and he went crashing to the ground..
“Rowan…” he croaked from the floor.
Fight or flight?
Flight, obviously.
But I had to get Gilbert first.
“Rowan, what the hell?”
Oh.
Oh dear.
Gilbert heaved himself off the floor, doubled over and coughing.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 12.06.2012

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