Jump

(Josie Sayz: A rather gloomy Peter and Jane ending - I was in a bad place when writing this. I now have a new continuation piece in the works - reconciliation.)

The clatter of ceramic cups echoed. A vibrating hum rattled. Liquid gushed. Steam sizzled. A rich, roasted, caramel scent wafted. Chairs scratched against the laminate, wooden beams below. Muffled chatter bubbled. Jangling a tub of teaspoons, an aproned man slid one onto both saucers on the bar serving tray. He lifted his head, glancing around at the tables in front of him. Spotting his regular customer, a scrawny guy with his sandy hair scraped back in a ponytail, he scooped up the order and headed over. An inquisitive smirk poked into the corner of the barista’s mouth, as he approached the table. The petite red head in the black and white dress, opposite, was new.

“There just wasn’t anything there with Slightly,” the red head confessed with a sigh, as the barista approached them. “Thank you,” she smiled, as he placed the frothy drink, decorated in marshmallows, in front of her.

“Your usual, Fox,” the barista announced, placing a large glass (with a handle) of transparent earthy-amber liquid in front of his friend. The red head wrinkled her nose at the bitter, citrusy scent that wafted past her.

“Cheers Clank,” Fox nodded. Clank’s forehead furrowed at Fox, as he pointed at the girl sat opposite. “Old work mate,” Fox told him. The barista nodded, leaving. The red head frowned at him. “Curly and I come here all the time,” Fox explained. “Guess Clank’s never seen me with a girl before.” Shaking her head, she giggled. “Carry on Jane,” Fox told her. “You were talking about Slightly.”

“Yeah,” she muttered with a shrug. “He’s a great guy. We went on so many country walks, picnics, days out…” Dropping her sight to her mug, Jane picked up her spoon and prodded it into her mug’s marshmallow mound. “We had so much fun. I literally got to do everything that Peter never wanted to do,” she went on. “I just didn’t feel anything towards him. He was just a really good friend,” she told Fox with a sad sigh. “It was like spending the day with my cousin or brother or even you.” As Jane’s eyes met with Fox’s, they both laughed. “It felt uncomfortable to even hold his hand!” Jane exclaimed with a shudder. Sighing, she returned her sight to her hot chocolate, swirling the spoon. “And I was so annoyed with myself, because on paper, he’s perfect… I just don’t love him. And I didn’t realise what was wrong until he sent Peter over.” Taking a slurp from her hot chocolate, Jane’s stomach swirled. Her heart fluttered in her ribcage. “As soon as Peter walked into the room, it clicked in an instant. The second I saw him, I just wanted to hug him and tell him I missed him,” she beamed. Dropping her eyes to a knot on the table, she slid her fingers along her necklace chain, gripping the fairy pendant. “I couldn’t, not with Slightly outside the door… but that’s when I realised that I’m still in love with him. I know he felt it too,” Jane breathed, as her sparkling eyes widened. “His face lit up the second he saw me.”

Clearing his throat in a cantankerous manner, Fox averted his eyes to his glass. “Jane…” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What’s wrong?” she exclaimed. “Has something happened?” Shifting his sight from Jane to his earl grey, Fox’s brow puckered. “It’s Peter isn’t it? Fox… what’s happened? You have to tell me.”

“Peter’s with someone else,” Fox told her.

“Already?” Jane cried. Her heart flopped to her stomach.

“They’ve been together six weeks already,” Fox’s eyebrows slanted together, as he broke Jane the news.

“Six weeks?!” she repeated with disbelief. “I only saw him three weeks ago.” As Fox lowered his head from hers, Jane sank in her seat. “He said everything was fine,” she squeaked. “He said we were friends. He said he’d help me find somewhere to stay once I moved back.” Sniffing, she wiped the back of her hand across her face. “I’ve been emailing him, but he hasn’t replied.”

“I’m sorry Jane,” Fox muttered.

Grabbing a tissue from her bag, Jane pressed it against her nose, as she snivelled. Taking a big swig of her drink, she cleared her throat. “Who is she?” Jane asked. “Fox, you have to tell me. I need to know.”

“Iridessa,” he replied. “You know, client service – Alf Mason’s niece.”

“Her?!” Jane exclaimed. “I can’t stand that snooty little princess! It was because of her I wanted to leave in the first place!”

“They’re really close already,” Fox told her. “She’s practically moved in with him. They go places all the time. They’ve even double dated with Curly and me.”

“You’re not making me feel any better,” snapped Jane, folding her arms.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “But his social media following has improved dramatically. Now that he’s with ‘Dessy they’re going to events, vlogging, taking pictures together – they’re cute just-woke-up-together shots are the most adorable-” Fox halted midsentence, seeing Jane’s scowl. Taking a slurp of his tea, Fox continued, “Now Peter’s all over social media, Hook’s offered him a promotion to. He’ll be our new Chief Editor of Social News on Monday.”

“But Peter hates all of those things,” Jane objected. “He hates going out to places. He hates spending his money. He hates sharing his personal life with everyone online. He hates vlogging – he hates being on camera. And he hates the Social News team.” Folding her arms, Jane declared, “Peter wouldn’t join that department if Hook offered to pay his mortgage off. He’d never work a job he hates.”

“Well you’d better believe it,” Fox told her with a shrug. “He’s a changed man Jane. You were holding him back. Peter has spread his wings and is flying away. He’s a much better guy all-round now he’s dating ‘Dessy.”

“How’d you know all this?” Jane muttered with a frown and a shrug.

“Simple,” Fox told her with a shrug. “Stalk his social media.”

“I’d never do that,” Jane protested. “And you know I don’t do all that stuff. I don’t agree with it.”

“Then make a fake account,” said Fox with a shrug.

“I’m not Dani,” she growled, folding her arms. “You know that’s why I stopped talking to her. She kept emailing me taunting, malicious, negative mind-playing things and she wrote into the ‘Neverlandian News’, several times, reporting me for ludicrous stuff Starkey knew I hadn’t done,” Jane raged. “She even contacted ‘Hook’s Inc.’ about Peter too,” she cried. “Sadly, Hook believed her. That’s when I cut Dani out of my life. Soon after she stopped getting sobbing emails from me updating her on how miserable I felt when all of these random horrible things kept happening, all of the spiteful messages stopped.”

“I could always ask at the pirating guys at ‘Jolly Roger’ t’do the stalking for you,” whispered Fox, leaning towards her, over the table.

“Don’t you dare,” growled Jane, snarling her nose. Her blood pounded in her temples. “You’re not going to them again. Last time you did that, Peter thought they were me.”

“It got his attention, didn’t it,” he smirked with a shrug.

“Yeah, it made him hate me!” she exclaimed. “I got some long email rant from him, telling me to stop spying on his social media and leave him alone. I didn’t know what any of it was about. He knows I don’t use any of those sites and I defiantly wouldn’t pay him money to contact him, when I can email him for free,” she raged. “It wasn’t until I came crying to you that I found out what was going on.” Taking a gulp form her drink, Jane thumped the mug down on the table. “You promised you wouldn’t involve anymore of your so-called pirate friends in my life anymore.”

“I don’t,” he sighed.

“Then why did he say I was stalking him online?!”

“Chillax,” Fox told her, as he slumped back in his chair. “It was me this time.” Frowning, Jane opened her mouth, but before she could object Fox told her, “We’ve all got multiple phones at the ‘Jolly Roger’,” he told her. “I’ve multiple accounts. Look… I was just helping you out. I tried to light a few candles, you know, spark a few memories for you.”

“Fox,” she sighed. “I didn’t want you to do that. Now look what mess you’ve got me in. Peter hates me! He thinks I’m some sort of creepy, psycho, social media stalker and now you’ve driven him into the heart of someone else. Why would you do this to me?” she raged, pressing her fingers into her temples. “I thought we were friends.”

“I was trying to help.”

“Help?” Jane cried. “Help? How was any of that helping?”

“Look, you don’t need Peter,” Fox told her with a shrug. “You don’t need a relationship. Move away. Travel the world. Go exploring. Get a new job in some exotic location and earn loads of money.”

“That’s it Fox; I’ve had enough! You know nothing about me!” Jane raged. “How on earth Peter thought you and your pirate crew were me is beyond me, but this has to stop,” she ordered, thumping her fist on the table. “Stop spying on Peter! Stop talking to Peter – in person and online. Stop pretending to be me. Stop dictating to me what my life should and shouldn’t be, what I should and shouldn’t be doing. You’re the one who told me to move away – you keep telling me to do all the things, but you don’t have the guts to do them yourself – why, just in case things don’t work out? Now look Fox – I have nothing,” Jane erupted, jumping up from her chair. “I have no job. Peter hates me. The whole of ‘SlightlyFood’ and their fanbase are mocking me. I’ve had to move back in with my mum. My brother’s threatened to kill me for leaving them to struggle financially. I finally get Dani out of my life only to find that you’re creating fake stalker account people too, trying to ruin my life. And after everything I’ve done for you…” pausing, Jane’s eyes stung, as she felt them fill up. “It seems everyone in the whole world is only happy when I’m miserable,” she sobbed.

“Jane,” Fox sighed. “Of course the world looks bad when you only look at the negatives. Look, you’re a single, you’ve got nothing tying you down here. Go out there. Go make something of yourself.”

“Fox,” Jane warned, stomping her foot. “Stay away from me!” she cried. “Stay the Hell away from me – in real life and in all of the virtual online twisted lives that you live.”

“Jane,” he huffed.

“No!” she shouted, jabbing a finger at him. “I’m done with you. Now if you were ever my friend, you’d stay away from me.”

*

Stomping up the stairs, Jane stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her. Flopping onto her mattress on the floor, she groaned. “I hate people,” she grumbled to herself. With a groan, she reached out for her laptop, on top of her carry case, and pushed herself up to sit. Leaning against the wall, she slammed her fingers into her laptop’s keys. She took in a long slow breath. ‘Let’s check my email,’ the told herself as she exhaled. Tapping on her trap-pad, she chewed the inside of her cheek. Her eyes widened. A new email. It was from a job application. Her insides swirled. Sliding her mouse across the screen, she clicked on it. “Another rejection,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. Her heart sank. ‘I’ve been applying for jobs for weeks,’ she sighed. ‘All I have are, “Sorry, you have been unsuccessful this time,”.’

Closing her emails, Jane decided to watch a video, to wind down. She rhythmically tapped her nails on her laptop as she waited for webpage to load. “Oh great,” she muttered under her breath as a ‘SlightlyFood’ video appeared as her subscriptions’ most recent uploads. Reading the title, her stomach churned. ‘Rotten Tomatoes – The Ex-Girlfriend Edition’. “That’s all I need,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. ‘I know Slightly too well,’ she told herself. ‘They guys will quiz Slightly on a bunch of food facts. For every one he gets right, he gets to throw a rotten tomato at picture of me.’ Slamming her laptop lid closed, she grumbled, “Very mature Slightly. Very mature. Just like Peter.”

Thump! Thump! Thump! Footsteps raced on the stairs. Bang! Her heart crashed into her ribcage. Bang! Bang! Bang! A lump lodged into her throat, as her door rattled on its hinges. “Oi!” spat her brother, Daniel, as his snarled nose met her own, as Jane opened the door. “Get off the internet!”

“Last time I checked, it’s for everyone,” Jane retorted.

“Nah. I’m streamin’,” he barked. “Get off.”

“She’s on it too,” Jane huffed, jabbing a thumb at her old room, when Daniel’s girlfriend has since taken residence.

“So?” he growled. “She’s streamin’ too.” Jane’s stomach lathered. Her heart rattled in her chest. Her limbs trembled. Taking in a shaky breath, Jane opened her mouth. “I’ll smash yer head in if you don’t,” Daniel roared over her. “And I’ll set fire t’ your room. Now get off!”

“Fine,” Jane shrugged. “You win.” Her shoulders sank as she turned around.

“And Mum said you’re payin’ all the rent you owe us now you’re back.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Jane snapped, spinning back to face him.

“From when you weren’t here!” he barked. “You owe us three months full rent and all the bills. We ain’t payin’ nothing now.”

“What?!” Jane exclaimed. “I haven’t even got a job yet!” she bellowed back

“Tough!” he spat. “You left us. Now you gotta pay the price.”

*

Having left the house to get away from her brother, Jane wandered the streets. Passing by the old ‘Neverlandian News’ office, she hovered in the driveway. ‘Why did we have to move?’ she sighed. ‘Why did we have to merge with ‘Hooks Inc.’? Things were so much easier before.’ Gazing into the window, her eyes locked with the receptionist’s. Shuddering, Jane lowered her head. Slipping her hands into her pockets, she walked on.

Turning into the park, Jane plonked herself down on a bench. Gazing at the patch of grass at her feet, her vision blurred. Barking sounded to her right. Shaking her head, Jane twisted her head towards the dog. A bundle of scraggly fur bound towards her, with a ball in his mouth. Sliding to a halt at Jane’s feet, he dropped the ball in front of her. His tail wagging, he looked up at her. Smirking, Jane crouched down and scooped up the ball. “You want to play,” Jane cooed.

“Sorry!” called a lady in the distance, as she jogged towards Jane. “He’s very excitable,” she told her. “Bad boy,” she scolded. “Don’t bother the lady.”

“It’s fine,” Jane told her with a smile. “Here you go,” she said, returning the dog’s ball to his owner. As the lady threw the ball across the park, her dog raced away. “Bye!” Jane called after them.

Vibration rattled in her pocket. Jane’s heart leapt. ‘My phone!’ she gasped. Grabbing it from her pocket, she looked at the screen. ‘Mum Calling,’ it read. “Oh,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. ‘It’s not a job then.’ Pressing her finger against the screen, Jane answered, “Hello?”

“Are you home yet?” her mum asked.

“I’m at the park,” Jane replied with a sigh.

“Still?” her mum huffed. “I thought you’d be home by now.”

“I went home,” Jane sighed. “But Dan was being horrible, so I left.”

“Well, have you looked to see if you’ve heard back from any jobs yet?”

“Only one rejection email.”

“Well you have to keep looking,” her mum sighed with frustration.

“I know,” Jane told her. “And I am – when I’m allowed on the internet.”

“Well you can’t sit around at home!”

“But they can,” Jane mumbled

“What?” her mum shouted. “I can’t hear you?”

“I said I know,” Jane projected with a sigh. “And I am looking. I’m going to see if I can catch Mister Starkey when he leaves.”

“Well you’d better!” her mum barked.

*

Wandering the streets, Jane’s face became blotchy. Her windswept hair flapped against her. Her stomach churned. Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she stormed on. With her head down, she flickered her eyes about the street. Every time people neared, she branched off down the nearest road. Trailing streets, her pace increased.

Clouds bubbled overhead. A nearby streetlamp flickered on, as she passed beneath it. Slowing her strides, Jane arched her head at her surroundings. “Oh Peter,” she whispered to herself with a sigh, stopping at a weathered, stone bridge. Her heart fluttered at the mention of his name. Prodding her elbows on the cobbled rim of the bridge, Jane gazed down at the train track. ‘I used to love watching the trains with you,’ her thoughts gushed, with a sniffle, as though she were conversing with Peter. Clasping her hands together, she shuddered as the distant rhythmical chu-chug, chu-chug, chu-chug of a distant train, from behind, grew louder. ‘They’d rush by so quickly, yet you knew every one,’ she went on. The clattering hastened. Picking up speed, the ground beneath Jane trembled, as the train rocketed under the bridge. Zipping along the line before her, the train shrank, until it was no more than a speck in the distance. ‘You’d stand behind me,’ Jane remembered, ‘and wrap your arms around me… and kiss the top of my head.’ Folding her arms, she squeezed her biceps tight. Her chest pounded. Pinching her eyes tight, her bottom lip trembled. ‘I miss that…’ Opening her eyes, a squeak escaped her. “I miss you,” she sobbed out loud. Daggering her nails into her arms, Jane’s chest began to jitter. ‘I don’t know what happened… I don’t understand why you’ve gone away… why you’re not talking to me… why you’re with someone else…’ Her breathing grew shallow. Sniffing, she snapped her eyes tight, reminiscing of her last encounter with Peter, back at Slightly’s flat. Peter’s arms around her, holding her tight. The sweet sweat and black coffee scent she inhaled as she pressed her head into his chest. His gentle kiss on the top of her head. ‘You promised… you promised you didn’t want to be with anyone else… Peter you promised.’ Gripping her fairy necklace, a salty trickle trailed down her cheek. “I love you,” she squeaked out loud to the train track. ‘I miss you. Why has everything changed? I don’t understand. You don’t want me. ‘Hook’s Inc.’ doesn’t want me. I never fitted in at ‘SlightlyFood’. Mum doesn’t want me back. My brother keeps threatening to kill me. Dani ruined things. Fox is a lying, evil, manipulative toad and he’s made everything a thousand times worse,’ she snivelled. Taking in a shaky breath, Jane heaved herself up onto the bridge’s rim. ‘He’s made you think I’m some horrible person. I did so much for him. I try so hard every day to make people happy. Yet everyone seems to hate me.’ Gazing at the street ahead, Jane lowered her sight to her lap. Her heart raced in her ribcage. Her pulse drummed at her temples. Pounding filled her ears. Her hands trembled. She balled them into fists. ‘What’s wrong with me? Why is everyone so mean? Why does everyone push me away? I can’t get a job.’ As an elderly lady zipped by on a mobility scooter, Jane scrunched her face up tight. ‘It’s over,’ she cried to herself. ‘My life’s over. I’ve lost everything… I have nothing. I have nothing to live for. Nothing.’ Burying her head in her hands, murmurs squeaked from her. Sniffing, salty tears puddled in her palms. “I miss you,” she blubbered. ‘Oh Peter, I miss you so much!’

‘You’re probably cosying up with Iridessa right now,’ she tortured herself with images of the two of them. Her heart panged. Her stomach knotted. Rubbing he hands to her eyes, they stung. Taking in a snivelling breath, her chest tightened. Staring ahead, the cars passing by where nothing more than blurs of colour in her vision. She squeaked shallow breaths. ‘She’s prettier than me, richer than me, more fun to be around than me… she’s probably better at everything than me,’ her thoughts trailed to the two of them: Peter and Iridessa, arms around each other, snuggled up under and blanket on the sofa. ‘You’re probably kissing her right now,’ she squeaked. Shuddering, Jane wobbled backwards. Her heart dropped. Flailing her arms at her sides, she thumped her palms into the wall, pushing herself back up. ‘I wish I was dead,’ she cried, as her heart flung itself to the front of her chest. ‘I wish I was dead. I can’t do this anymore.’

Throwing one of her legs over the side of the bridge, Jane twisted herself around to face the track. As she clambered over, a lump lodged in her throat. Her heart raced. Her fingers trembled. Forcing a swallow, her breathing grew shallow. Her eyes flickered to the drop below. Pinching her eyes shut, her chest tightened. Balling her hands into fists, she clawed her nails into her skin. A shaky breath escaped her. ‘Come on Jane,’ she told herself. ‘Stop being scared. You can do this.’ Gripping the rim of the wall, Jane steadied her breaths. As the rapping at her ribcage decelerated, she opened her eyes. With her back to the road, she stared ahead. Sliding her hand into her jacket pocket, Jane pulled out her phone. Her heart thudded faster. Jabbing her thumb into the screen, her stomach spun in a circumbendibus as she hovered over Peter’s name. A distant hum sounded. Her ears pricked up. Chu-chug. Her heart thumped. She pressed dial. Thud-thud. Chugging grew louder. The dial tone vibrated her ears. A light flickered ahead. Her eyes shot up. A train. Beeb-beeb. She flickered her sight back to her phone. Thud-thud. Her heart raced. Chu-chug. The train accelerated. Beeb-beeb. “Hello?” came a familiar voice. Her hand trembled. Thud-thud. Her bottom lip quivered. Chu-chug. “Jane? Is everything-” Letting go of her phone, it plummeted to the track below. Chu-chug-chu-chug. Her chest shook. Her limbs tingled. The headlights sped closer to her. Her heart leapt. She jumped.

- Josie -

Death Threat

(Josie Sayz: This is a piece that I wrote for a ‘Life Writing’ module at university. Apart from my lecturer, I have only shared this with one other person before. This is a true story.)

Death Threat

“You’re paranoid.” Maddison and Kirsten laughed, while Abigail gave me another lecture. “No one’s at the window, we’re on the second floor.” I glared at them. They were always making fun of my constant worrying. That someone, anyone was lurking… watching… waiting to get me. So what if I was worried? They’d be sorry when something happened, and they weren’t prepared.

Shrugging off their laughter, I made my way up the next flight of stairs to my IT classroom. Swinging the classroom door open, I expected to be met by the warm smile of Ms. Sadler, but instead Miss Smith took her place. Forcing a smile in her direction, I took my seat at my computer – one row from the back. Our regular teacher Mr. Kilbride was teaching at the connecting school in Gloucester. He had been teaching there on a Thursday afternoon all half term, so we had been having cover teachers. Usually we had Ms. Sadler, but today it was Miss Smith.

As my computer powered up, I took out my IT instruction booklet and flicked it open to my next assignment: Assignment Five. While my dinosaur of a computer loaded its user settings, I glanced across the room at the rest of my class. They were only on Assignment Two, they wasted all of their time playing games and browsing the internet. Not wanting anyone to know that I was ahead of them on the assignments, I kept a low profile.

After Miss Smith took the register, a hand hit me on the shoulder. I turned around. “What assignment are you on?” whispered Ellie, who sat behind me.

“Three,” I replied.

“Will you send me what you did for the first two?” she asked. “I won’t copy.”

“No,” I told her, turning back around. I knew that coping was exactly what she was going to do.

“Caitlin,” she whispered. Miss Smith glanced up at us from her computer. I lowered my head and began typing. “Caitlin,” Ellie hissed. Again, I ignored her. “Caitlin!” BANG! Something thumped me on the head.

“Ooh!” Simon shouted out. “Did you see that?” Gripping my head tight I clasped my eyes shut. No I did not see that.

“What?” Niall asked.

“She just hit Caitlin over the head.”

People started whispering. Slouching in my chair, I felt my face heat up, embarrassed by the room’s conversation topic. It’s strange, my head hardly hurt until people took interest in it… now it throbbed. Noticing the commotion, Miss. Smith came over to me. Kneeling to my height, she asked, “Are you alright?” With a hand gripped upon my head I nodded. As she returned to her desk, Ellie hissed, “Send me the work,” yanking one of my pigtails.

“Ouch!” Jack gasped, sensing my pain.

“She’s terrorising her,” Niall laughed. I pulled my pigtails around my neck and rubbed my head. Ignoring everyone, I continued my assignment.

“Caitlin, are you okay?” Simon asked. I nodded. He didn’t really care; he just wanted to make sure that he was a part of the game being played – with me as the bait. THUMP! Something hit my head again.

Everyone burst out laughing. I knew they were laughing at me. They had to be laughing at me. What else was there to laugh at? My vision clouded as liquid filtered into my eyes. I blinked repeatedly, to ensure that I did not cry. “Ellie fell off her chair!” I heard someone shout. The laughter continued.

“She’s drunk!” someone added.

My thoughts exploded. The pounding spiralled ideas, notions around in a circumbendibus. I had to shut myself off from everyone. Their voices loudened. Their laughter loudened. Computers hummed. Fingers typed. Trap pads clicked. My heart drummed fiercely, above the room’s ruckus. My ears thudded. Voices grew louder. The drumming grew louder. My chest expanded. Contracted. Expanded. Contracted. Expanded. Contracted.

*

I stood outside the classroom, leaning against the wall, with Miss Smith beside me. “What’s going on?” she asked. How did I get here? I didn’t remember leaving my chair. My cheeks were wet. I’d been crying. Sniffing I shrugged. I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know what was going on? I just kept being hit over the head.

“Someone hit me over the head,” I heard myself say.

“Who?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” To be honest, I didn’t. There were five people sat behind me, any of them could have been the culprit. I wouldn’t put it past Lewis – he would probably do it for no other reason than amusement and to get attention for hitting someone with ginger hair.

The classroom door swung open. Ellie flew out, threw herself by my side, hugging my arm. “Go back inside,” Miss Smith ordered.

“But I’m worried about Caitlin, Miss. She’s crying and someone keeps hitting her over the head.” Leaving us outside, Miss Smith returned to the classroom. Once she had disappeared Ellie gripped my arm. “If you tell anyone it was me, I’ll kill you…” she sneered daggering her nails into my arm. “I’ll kill you Caitlin. I’ll be waiting for you after school. I’ll come after you.” Staring into her eyes, I swallowed hard. “I’m serious… you’re dead.”

Back inside the classroom, Miss Smith returned her attention to her laptop. I held my assignment guide up to my face and began typing. Typing what? Letters. Words. Phrases. Anything. Nothing. The sentences made no sense. My head made no sense. “Ellie, stop harassing Caitlin,” Simon warned her. Turning my head slightly, I saw her return the computer keyboard to the desk.

“I haven’t done nothing!” she protested.

“Well then why were you holding the keyboard over her head?” asked Lewis. Miss Smith glanced up from her screen.

“I wasn’t!” Ellie whaled.

“We all saw you.” Miss Smith rose from her chair, looking in our direction.

“I’ll kill you,” Ellie whispered into my ear, her breath contaminating my neck. As I turned to face her, she staggered past my desk to the classroom door, flung it open and sped off down the corridor.

*

Again, I found myself outside of the classroom. Miss Smith made me explain to her everything. Between bursts of hyperventilation, I managed to retell what I thought had happened. As I finished, she ran back into the classroom to retrieve a packet of tissues, piece of paper and pen. After scrawling a message onto a piece of paper, she handed it to me. “Mr. Llewellyn’s on lunch duty in the Hall. I want you to go and give this note to him, which explains everything that you’ve just told me.” My hand hesitated, refusing to grip the paper. “It’s okay,” she said. “You aren’t telling Mr. Llewellyn, I am.”

With the note clasped tightly in my hands, I crept down the IT staircase. As I reached the bottom, I checked to make sure that every direction was clear, before continuing. As I turned down the corridor towards the Hall, my heart’s loud drumming returned. Holding my fist against my rib cage, I held it securely in place.

I could see people. There were people in the Hall. What if she was there? If she was, she’d know that I had told someone. She’d know that I had told someone and that they had made me go to see the Deputy Head teacher and then she would kill me. My feet stopped. I stared at them, but they wouldn’t move. What was wrong with them?

Looking up at the Hall’s entrance, I saw a familiar face – my best friend, James. As he walked in my direction, my body began to relax slightly. “Are you alright?” he asked, placing a hand upon my arm. My eyes shifted from his, down to the piece of paper in my hand and back to him again. I could feel my bottom lip quivering. If there was one person I could tell, then it was him. We had known each other forever.

“Hey James!” a voice shouted. Flinching, I clasped James’ hand and turned to face where the voice had come from. It was Craig. Jerking his head in the direction that I had just come from, he asked, “You comin’ playground?”

“Yeah,” he replied, ignoring me. Leaving me. Before I could even find my voice, he was gone. I was alone.

*

Entering the Hall, everyone turned to me. They knew. They had to know. They all knew that I told Miss Smith, that I thought about telling James and that I was on my way to tell Mr. Llewellyn and this was going to be the last time they’d see me alive, because I was going to die.

Having made my way through the mass of bodies to the front of the Hall, I handed Mr. Llewellyn the piece of paper. I stared at him as he read it. His eyes widened. The bushes above them rose. His brow creased. Lowering the note, he searched the room for another teacher. “Wait here,” he told me. Clambering off the stage, he caught the arm of another teacher, commanding them to take over lunch duty. Without speaking, he led me out of the Hall and into his office, leaning against his walking stick.

“Do you know where this girl went?” he asked me, handing me his box of tissues. I shook my head. A search party was sent out. Teachers searched the school, some outside. Sitting at Mr. Llewellyn’s desk I watched several cars pull out of the car park. The door was locked. I was alone.

*

Swaying from left to right on Mr. Llewellyn’s spinning chair, I twirled the tissue box around. The box’s pink flowers were too feminine for him. Maybe the box was our Head teacher’s instead. They were quite a nice pink, dark, and not too girly. Maybe they were the sort of flowers that people would bring to my funeral. Would anyone turn up to my funeral? Maddison, Abigail and Kirsten would, wouldn’t they? And James. James would be there. What about Mr. Llewellyn? He would have to; he’s the Deputy Head teacher. I wonder what they’ll say… “Caitlin, she was a quiet girl, a good girl… too bad for her that it cost her her life.” If I hadn’t cared about Ellie copying my work, then maybe I wouldn’t have died. But wait a minute… I’m not dead yet.

I checked my watch. Three minutes had passed since I last checked it. I thought of making a will. Who would I leave what to? Maddison always wanted my spotty umbrella; she could have it. And I could leave Abigail my pencil case – it would match her bag. I searched for a pen and some paper.

I checked my watch. Two minutes had passed since I last checked it. I’d been in Mr. Llewellyn’s office for almost two hours. Had they found Ellie? Had she threatened to kill me? Had she killed them? She must have done, that’s why no one had been back for me. Ellie had gone mad and killed all of them. She killed everyone.

There was a knock on the door. I flinched. “Caitlin…” a voice croaked, before opening the door. Mr. Llewellyn’s head appeared in the doorway. “We’ve found her.” He perched himself on the edge of his desk and explained to me the events that had taken place during my incarceration. Two teachers had found Ellie hiding in a bush, outside my house. She knew they were looking for her. They had brought her back and she was sitting in the interview room. She had not meant to threaten me, Mr. Llewellyn explained. She was not herself – had been pressured by friends into drinking alcohol. “She wants to apologise,” he told me. But before I saw her, he wanted to make it clear to me first that she would not harm me.

He brought her in. She was crying. “I’m sorry Caitlin,” she bawled. “I never meant it. I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sorry. She was sorry that she got caught, but not for what she said.

“Ellie’s a good girl,” Mr. Llewellyn explained after she was gone. “She’s not going to hurt you, so don’t you worry.” I stared at him nodding. “It was the alcohol.” Again, I nodded. He escorted me back to lesson.

It’s funny. The next time I thought I saw a shadowing figure through the window, Abigail, Maddison and Kirsten thought twice about laughing. It shows that I was right all along. Even now, I double check the locks on doors and windows before I leave, I never walk home the same way two days running and I’ll always walk the wrong way if there is someone behind me. Just in case.

- Josie -