Authors: James Dawson
‘I’m Lis.’ The words seemed misshapen and furry on her tongue.
Laura moved closer to him, stroking his arm. ‘We’ve adopted Lis from Wales. How immense of you would it be if she could come to your shindig . . .’
Lis squirmed uncomfortably under Danny’s gaze. Being around boys never usually fazed her. This was ridiculous! She barely dared to look him in the eye again in case some sort of sigh
escaped her lips.
‘Yeah, you should come. It’s in a few weeks. My parents are going away for the weekend, so I’m having some people round,’ Danny said.
‘Cool, I don’t think I’m busy,’ Lis kept her eye line just short of his.
‘Duh, of course you aren’t busy!’ Laura declared. ‘It’s not like you have any other mates yet, is it?’
The girls giggled and Lis managed an embarrassed semi-smile.
Danny seemed to roll his eyes as he got to his feet. ‘Cool, I’ll see you later then. Homework time.’ Without any messing around, he strode up the embankment, heading back to
the school.
Laura crawled nearer to Lis and Harry conspiratorially. ‘That is so epic,’ she whispered, ‘you can pull Cam at the party!’
Lis frowned. ‘Do I have to?’
‘No, duh, I’m not a pimp! But you should, he’s actually really nice.’
‘What about you, Laura?’ asked Nasima. ‘Danny?’
Laura laughed, throwing back her curls. ‘Maybe. Watch this space!’
And that was it. Game over. If Laura had her claws into Danny then it was finished before it had even begun. It was never gonna happen. And for some reason, Lis wanted to cry.
Stalking is a very strong word, but as the twenty-past-three bell rang throughout Fulton High School, Lis found herself stalking Danny Marriott. He was ambling down the slope
that led to the bus turnaround with Cameron and Bobsy, the sound of their cheerful camaraderie drifting up to her location some thirty feet behind them.
She studied every inch of him: the way his backpack hung just above his perfect bum, his dimples, his almost coy laugh. She knew this was pretty shameless behaviour. Lis had always considered
herself above this sort of nonsense. In fact, she’d been convinced that she didn’t have the ‘crush’ gene. Turned out she was just a late developer. He was
divine
.
Some distance ahead she saw the little circus that was Kitty, Jack and Delilah heading out of the bus lane and towards the main road. What was more interesting was the reaction to their
presence. As Kitty led their march, people almost dived out of their way like they had leprosy or something. Onlookers laughed nervously as they passed and, from such a distance, Lis could only
imagine what people were whispering to each other, but one thing was for certain, Fulton High was scared of the trio.
Suddenly hands grabbed her shoulders and Lis let out a startled yelp.
‘Guess who!’ Harry squealed.
‘Christ, you made me jump!’
Laura, Nasima and Fiona were close behind, fixated on something in the distance.
‘Quick,’ said Laura, ‘you don’t wanna miss this.’ Laura took Lis by the arm and steered her towards the bus stop.
‘What don’t I want to miss?’
‘You see the girl with the long ponytail?’ Laura pointed to an aristocratic-looking girl waiting for the bus. ‘That’s Poppy Hewitt-Smith.’
Laura stopped the group as they reached the gate.
‘Who’s she?’ Lis asked.
‘She is the bitch that grassed me up for sneaking vodka into her barbecue before I went to Thailand. Her mum told my mum and I was grounded for a whole weekend!’
‘She’s well stuck up, too. Just because her sister’s married to a Leeds United player.’ Nasima tossed her silky hair back.
‘OK,’ Lis said, confused.
‘Keep watching.’ Harry giggled. ‘The show’s about to start!’
‘How come?’ Lis asked.
Laura’s eyes widened, overflowing with fake innocence. ‘This afternoon in Chemistry, I informed Connor O’Grady that Poppy had told Ms Dandehunt who started the fire in the
boys’ toilets. Let’s just say he wasn’t too happy.’
Lis was beginning to understand. Her heart began to beat a little faster and her cheeks burned. That sense of dread returned and the knot in her stomach tightened.
Something
was about to
happen. Laura was claiming revenge, and Poppy, chatting to her friends, had no idea. Lis felt sick.
‘Who’s Connor O’Grady?’
‘School psychopath,’ Laura said, matter-of-factly. ‘You don’t mess. Seriously.’
Fiona stepped forward, camera-phone raised. ‘Here he comes. Here he comes!’
A rugged youth with a zero crop pelted down the slope towards the bus turnaround. His hand was outstretched, carrying something that glinted in the lingering sunshine. Charging through the line
of pupils waiting for the bus, he ploughed his way to Poppy, smashing onlookers out of his path. As her shocked friends began to protest, he clamped his hand around her thick ponytail and, with a
flash of metal, it came away in his hand.
Lis took a step forwards as Laura and the girls howled with hyena laughter. Even from their safe distance, she saw Connor toss Poppy’s severed hair into the overgrown wasteland beyond the
bus terminal.
One of Poppy’s mates shoved him aside, but he was already backing away, an ugly scowl on his face.
‘You’re a grass!’ he spat at Poppy, before legging it out of the school grounds.
Poppy yelped. Her hands flew to her head, frantically feeling what hair remained. As realisation set in, she began to cry.
Lis’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh, my . . .’
‘Oh, relax. It’ll grow back. The bitch needed a trim anyway.’ Laura wiped away a tear of joy. ‘Did you get it all, Fi?’
‘Every second! YouTube here we come.’
‘Oh my God.’ Lis watched Poppy crying.
‘Gotta admit, that was pretty effing special!’ Laura grinned, satisfied.
Harry shook her head. ‘You’re evil. Did Poppy even grass on Connor?’
‘How should I know?’ Laura tossed her hair over her shoulder. ‘But maybe next time she’ll think twice before she opens her horsey mouth to grass
me
up.’
As the others strutted towards the bus stop, Lis remained at the wrought iron gates feeling sick. She’d seen some things in Bangor, but this was a whole other level of cruel. Her new
friends were monsters.
Shadows
Despite the generous heat coming from the wood burner, the terrace beyond Lis’s bedroom was getting decidedly chilly as the evening closed in. The events of the afternoon
weighed heavy on her mind. Lis had thought about it, and there was no way she could have stopped the attack on Poppy from happening. She hadn’t even known what was coming, and Laura was
unstoppable – not to mention nasty and vindictive.
That said, surely better to be in with Laura than against her? As long as she kept her head down and did as Laura ordered, Lis figured the queen bee would have no reason to sting her. She
didn’t like to admit it, but being around Laura today
had
made her feel more beautiful, more special. After all the crap she’d taken in Bangor, she needed that validation.
Sarah came out onto the terrace carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. ‘Oh, Lis, cheer up! You survived your first day. It’ll get better from here on in.’ Sarah poured Lis
a glass of Pinot Grigio. ‘You’re only allowed this because it’s your first day back. Do not tell Mum.’
Lis laughed, pulling her legs into her chest. ‘I promise.’
‘Anyway, babe, tell me all about this nightmare.’
As soon as she’d mentioned her bad dreams to Sarah, Lis had instantly regretted it. What sort of lame fifteen-year-old admits to having scary nightmares? It had been some sort of flashback
to when she was eleven and Sarah had been the ultimate confidante. Back then, the pair had watched old films in Sarah’s room while Mum slept. Sarah, twelve years older than Lis, had always
had the answers Lis needed and the movie sessions had inevitably turned into therapy.
‘It’s silly.’
‘No, it’s not. I remember when you were six and dreamt about putting all the farm animals onto a boat. Next day, half of Bethesda flooded! “Troubled Sleeper” the doctor
said . . .’
Lis sighed deeply and took a big mouthful of wine. She didn’t especially like it, but it seemed like the kind of thing she
should
enjoy. ‘OK, but you are going to think
I’m properly mental.’
‘Babe, I already do, so it’s fine!’ Sarah laughed.
‘Cow!’ Lis told her with a grin. ‘Well, I first had the dream maybe a month ago.’
‘Go on . . .’
‘It’s always the same. I’m in this forest . . . or maybe it’s Pike Copse, I’m not sure,’ Lis continued, ‘and I’m in this stream, crawling along.
I’m covered in blood and it’s so cold. It’s like I’m trying to get away from someone, but I don’t know who. And it always ends the same way . . . someone grabs my hair
. . .’
Lis detailed every aspect of the dream. She’d forgotten what an amazing listener her sister was, her kind eyes sympathising with Lis’s endless nights of ruined sleep. Sarah listened
and nodded, without interruption or mockery, until Lis had told her everything, including the bizarre real-life incident with the magpie in Pike Copse.
When she was done, Sarah reclined in her patio chair, processing the information. ‘A stream of blood, eh? Are you sure you’re not pre-menstrual?’ she said, holding a straight
face for as long as she could before bursting with laughter.
‘No, you cheeky mare!’ Lis rocked in her chair, laughing too. Sarah had a gift for bringing humour to the direst situations.
‘OK, seriously though, Lis. I’m sure this is just an anxiety dream. You were having an awful time at school, and then you made this huge decision to leave Mum and come to Hollow
Pike. When I first moved here to look after Gran, I felt like a total bitch for months for leaving you and Mum behind – but I got over it. The nightmares are just your brain’s way of
working it all out.’
Lis absent-mindedly wiped her lip gloss off the wine glass. Her sister’s words did make sense. ‘You’re probably right. Actually, I’ve not had the dream since I got
here.’
‘There you go! Try not to worry; that only makes things worse. As you settle in, I bet the nightmares stop altogether.’ Sarah smiled brightly. ‘A good night’s sleep makes
all the difference.’
Even though there was so much on her mind, the chat with Sarah calmed the busy thoughts. As Lis lay in bed that night, woozy from the wine, thoughts of Laura, Poppy, Kitty and
Danny eventually began to fade away. A thick, empty sleep engulfed her.
Lis’s eyes popped open. For a moment, she was disoriented, expecting to see her old bedroom in Wales. It felt like she’d been asleep for ages, but it was still pitch
black outside, hours away from dawn. Why had she woken up? Wide awake, she looked down to the end of her bed, where the patio doors stood.
Pearly moonlight shone onto her crisp white bed linen and she realised she’d forgotten to draw the curtains over the French windows. For some reason, she now felt exposed and vulnerable,
the eyes of the night on her body.
She wearily pushed the duvet aside and got out of bed to go and draw the curtains, but froze as a tall, angular shadow swept across the terrace. She recoiled, pressing her back to the cool
plaster of the wall.
There was someone out there
. If she didn’t move, they wouldn’t see her. Screwing her eyes shut and holding her breath, she listened – listened for a
movement, a footfall.
Nothing
.