by Sarah Dalton
“All right,” she replies. She sweeps her arm as though dismissing all the drama and moving on. “Tell me about the ghost.”
“The music that played before she appeared… it made me feel. I actually felt her sadness and pain. The simmering rage filled me up. I wanted to rip someone’s throat out.”
“Whoa, okay. So she’s seriously pissed off. I guess this is like Little Amy in Nettleby. We need to figure out why she’s so angry, then make her appear, and then stick her with the Athamé,” Lacey says, making hacking motions with her fist.
“She made this emaciated figure appear. It crawled along the floor, and every time it inched forward, I thought about it dragging me into hell with it.” I shudder.
“Reckon the emaciated figure is her?” Lacey asks.
“I don’t know. On her Facebook profile, she’s kind of chubby, and, well, normal looking. But I guess her anger could make her appear like that. Remember how Amy’s hair used to move like snakes around her head?”
“I remember,” Lacey says. “Maybe this Judith girl was teased for being fat. That would explain why her ghost version is so skinny.”
“Yeah, I guess it could.”
Lacey groans. “Can we please listen to something else? I came here to get cheered up, not make me want to die for a second time.”
I smile. “Sure. Go ahead and change the music.” I gesture to my laptop, where I’m listening to music through iTunes.
Lacey squeezes her eyes shut. A few moments later, Iggy Azalea blares out, and Lacey leaps into the air, suspended above me in all her gloriousness. She makes her hair move around her like lazily uncoiling snakes, like Little Amy once did. She is both beautiful and terrifying.
*
My skin itches as I walk into Ashforth Comp. After running out of Colleen’s party, I have no idea if Grace and company are going to hate me or act like nothing happened. After all, everyone was drunk and acting like an idiot. I wasn’t the only one, or the worst. Yet, still, it’s like bugs beneath my skin. I fold my arms close to my chest as I step into my form room. Grace waves me over, and it seems everything is normal.
“Did you have the worst hangover ever?” Grace asks. “I puked ’til the evening. Hey, you left pretty early, didn’t you? We stayed up ’til five. You should have seen the mess.”
“I had to hire a team of cleaners,” Colleen admits. “And someone threw Daddy’s golf clubs out the window. It’s lucky they weren’t coming back before Monday. It cost me a fortune to get it all fixed.”
“God, that sounds bad. Sorry I didn’t stick around to help clear up,” I say.
“Jesus, that’s what the help is for.” Colleen laughs.
“Hey, thanks for getting me home,” Melanie says. “I barely knew my own name, I was so wasted.”
“Sure,” I reply, eyeing Travis in the back of the classroom. Even now I see the features of the rotting zombie whenever I see his face. He will forever be bulging eyes and sagging skin.
The bell rings and we move on to English. I have to switch off partway through, sickened by Alex’s and his Droog’s violence. I’ve seen enough of the darkness in the world. I don’t need another reminder. The teacher leaves us to study alone, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Melanie says you pulled her out of a room with Trav and Anil. Pretty crazy, huh?”
I turn to Grace in surprise. “You know about that?”
She shrugs. “It was a party. Everyone was wasted. I ended up necking with a guy from Sheffield Uni.”
“That’s a little different,” I say. “Mel was so drunk she could hardly walk and there were two of them.”
“What’s the big deal?” Grace says. “I fuck around when I’m drunk.”
“Don’t you think they were taking advantage of her?”
“God, you sound like those stupid feminists.”
“What’s wrong with feminists?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“They’re basically lesbians with no sex life. They’re jealous of everyone and offended by everything. Look, don’t preach to me, okay? My relationship works the way I want it to,” Grace snaps.
“I won’t,” I reply, losing my patience a little. “But I won’t stand there and do nothing when two arseholes are taking advantage of a drunk girl. They were sober. It wasn’t right.”
“She said she was fine.”
“Is she mad with me?” I ask.
Grace pauses, and a ripple of tension flicks across her jaw. “Actually, no, she’s not. She’s glad you did it.”
“Then what’s the problem?” I ask.
“You’re judging us, that’s what. You’re new, you don’t know us, and you’re judging us.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to seem like I was judging you. It seems like you’re so defensive because you’re embarrassed of your boyfriend.”
Grace lets out a sigh. “Maybe you’re right. I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s just… Travis is out of control recently. We barely have a relationship anymore. He was never, you know, a nice guy, but I kind of liked that about him. I like bad guys. But he seemed to have a heart before. He seemed to care. Now, he does whatever he wants.”
“Do you want me to try talking to him?” I ask. “I’m new here. Maybe an outsider’s perspective might make him realise that he’s being a huge tool.”
She shrugs. “You could try.” Then she flashes me a megawatt smile. “Good luck, though.”
“Hey, did you see anything weird at the party?” I ask.
“I saw a lot of weird shit. Gary Leigh pissed in a shoe.”
I laugh. “No, not like that. Remember when the lights went out, and that music came on? Did you see anything then?”
She shakes her head. “Only a lot of people hooking up when it went dark.”
“It was the same music as when that film played.”
“Oh, my God, you’re right! Huh, but why? I guess it was Travis messing around again,” she says, resting her chin on her fist. “God knows why. But then I don’t understand anything he does anymore.”
The bell goes off, and I collect my books. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Like I said, good luck!” Grace grins at me before she leaves.
*
I find Travis by the vending machines during first break. His Snickers bar gets stuck in the machine, so he punches the side before rocking it back and forth. When I approach, his face is so red and sweaty I consider turning back, but he sees me in the reflection of the glass before I have time to go.
“What do you want, Hades?” He turns his back on the machine and leans against it with his arms folded. His gaze trails down my body, then back up, and rests on the scars on my neck. His expression is cold, but not without an unquenched hunger in his eyes. I think he only wants me because I’m different. My scars single me out from the perfect clones in this school. He wants something imperfect. Something dirty he can make dirtier.
“I’ve been talking to Grace.”
“Yeah? What about?”
“You. And how, if you’re not careful, you’re gonna be arrested or put on a sex offender register.”
Travis smirks. “Chill your knickers, love. You’re exaggerating.”
“You revenge-porned your ex!”
“If you think that’s porn, you’re way too innocent for this school. Colleen wears less on a beach than she did in that film.”
“You still humiliated her,” I point out.
He smirks. “She had it coming.”
“No one has it coming. It’s all in your head. Look, I only came here to say that you’re hurting Grace.”
He leans forward. “Then why hasn’t she dumped me?”
“Probably because you’ll show private photos or films of her to all her friends,” I reply.
“No, that’s not it. It’s because she knows we’re perfect for each other. There’s no one else in this world who can push her buttons like I can.” He takes a step forward so that I can smell the smoke on his breath. “The way I am turns her on. She ge
ts off on it.”
“You’re sick,” I say, taking a step back.
He laughs. “I’m just free. Free to do what I want. You should try it sometime. Let yourself go—you might like it. You’re wound up all tight like a coiled spring. God, I bet you’re awesome in the sack. I want to be around when you finally let go.”
Heat spreads to my cheeks. I step back. For some inexplicable reason my knees have turned to jelly. The whole time, my eyes don’t move from Travis’s slow forming grin.
“You’re going to have to toughen up if you want to stay here,” he says. “Not everyone can hack it.”
I sense my eyes blazing with anger. “You mean Judith. What did you do to her?”
He laughs. “I didn’t do anything to that fat cow. I’m no chubby chaser. The fact is, the girl was too weak for Ashforth. She could never hack it.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why? What did you do?”
“You should ask Jack Maynard,” Travis says. “He’s the one she was in love with.”
And, like a cat bored with a mouse, he turns back to the snack machine and starts pounding it again.
I tell my legs to move away at a normal pace, but my subconscious brain has other ideas. I half run, half scuttle away from Travis, with the sensation of bugs on my skin. Talking to him is like running away from a monster and falling in dog shit: you end up feeling scared, dirty, and thoroughly unsettled.
It’s a few seconds before the bell, but I know I need to head to the bathrooms and scrub away the crap Travis has left on my skin. A shower would be better, but the taps will have to do.
There, in the middle of the urine-scented, white-tiled room, I look at the reflection of myself in the cracked mirror and wonder why I’m so rattled. The guy was talking utter rubbish. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know how I feel or who I am.
“Hey, Mary.”
I spin around to see Grace walking out of one of the stalls. She touches her nose and heads straight to the mirror. In a chocolate brown playsuit with a cream cardigan, black tights, brown shoes, gold necklace, and her mane of blonde hair, she’s golden. She’s Midas, and her mere proximity will rub off on me and make me golden too.
“You all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She pulls a tube of lip gloss out of her bag and applies it to her full mouth. The shade is a neutral pink. Everything about her outfit co-ordinates and flatters. Mine seems amateur in comparison.
“I spoke to Trav,” I say.
“That explains the look,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “Did he frighten you? What did he say?”
“Basically that I’m a prudish control freak and that I’m too weak for this school.”
Grace doesn’t reply. She barely moves. Yet there’s something in her frozen expression that almost glows, a slight flash of her eyes. Surely, surely she doesn’t agree with him.
Then, just as suddenly, that flash is gone, and she’s by my side, squeezing my shoulder. “Ignore that twat. You’re nothing like that. You’re a bit more… moral than us, I guess. You’re more straight-laced. We could do with that around here. We need someone to keep us in check. Things have been getting a bit wild recently.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
At first, she looks like she might be about to open up to me, but then she thinks twice and beams her megawatt smile. “Oh, nothing.”
“Travis mentioned Judith,” I press. “Is it to do with her? Was she bullied by people here? Travis? Jack Maynard?”
Grace’s smile fixes in a less attractive way. “I… It’s complicated. The whole situation is complicated.”
“I’m interested,” I reply. “Look, if I’m going to survive this place, I need to know what I’m up against.”
Grace pauses. “Well… Look, we’re late. We should go.”
I shrug, ready to relinquish this line of questioning. I’ve bent down to collect my things when the lights above flicker on and off. I turn back to the mirror and almost scream. Behind my shoulder, in the now dim light of the room, is a gaunt face half covered by hair.
The light goes off. Grace’s hand grasps mine in panic. The cello music comes back, and I double over in pain. My stomach is raw and gnawing. My insides spasm. It grows, creating an ache through all of my muscles, spreading to my fingers and toes, grinding into my bones. I cry out, desperate for the pain to stop. And, as suddenly as it began, it does stop, leaving me breathing heavily over the sink.
The music goes off, the lights come back on, and the taps turn on. The water is red. Red as blood.
Chapter Eight
Grace runs from the room as I stare down at my hand. I never noticed her let me go.
“Grace,” I call. I turn the taps off and race after her. “Grace, wait.”
But she’s gone.
“Everything all right?” Lacey appears by my side in an explosion of grey and blonde.
“Judith made another appearance in the bathroom. It freaked Grace out. Now she’s disappeared.”
“Damn, I keep missing all the ghost action,” she says with a grin.
I shake my head. “There’s something going on in this school. It’s not just ghosts, it’s something else.”
“Drugs?” she suggests.
“Maybe. It’s something bad, anyway.”
“I’m going to stick around for a bit,” Lacey says. “I think I need to get a feel for the place.”
“Good idea,” I say.
Going to school with a ghost isn’t the most normal thing in the world, but I have to admit that Lacey’s presence is a comforting one. She even makes me laugh by dancing in front of the teachers and moving the whiteboard pen to confuse them. I have to sit at the back and stifle my giggles with the sleeve of my jumper. It attracts a few funny looks, but it still feels good to even want to laugh.
Both Grace and Travis are absent at lunch. I spend a little time with Colleen and the others before deciding to walk around the sports field with Lacey, chatting about boys, music, and anything that has nothing to do with ghosts. It feels good. And, finally, that sensation of bugs under my skin has faded away.
It’s only later that I’m plunged back into reality. As I’m heading for the bus, I see Willa and Jack Maynard in the queue. I can’t help it; when I see them, I say, “What happened to your car?”
Jack takes his time to turn, regarding me with bored, hooded eyes. “MOT.”
Lacey seems rigid beside me, and she crackles on and off like she does when she’s stressed. Her eyes are locked onto Willa.
“Shame,” I say.
Jack smirks and hops onto the bus. I follow, showing the driver my pass. Willa sits near the back, puts earbuds in, raises a booted foot onto her knee, and closes her eyes.
“Did you know Judith Taylor?” I ask Jack. Without asking, I sit on the seat across the aisle from them.
Jack shoves both hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and leans deep into his seat, slouching forwards. “So what if I did?”
“She committed suicide.”
“I’m aware,” he says. His expression remains neutral. Rather than look me in the eye, he stares at the seat in front.
“Travis Vance told me she was in love with you.”
“Travis Vance is an arsehole of the highest level. One: why are you talking to Travis Vance? And, two: why are you asking about Judith Taylor?” His eyes finally meet mine, still hooded and lazily attractive. Jack Maynard is bored with the world, and bored of these questions. “You didn’t even know her.”
“That’s why I’m asking. Look, I’m new here. It’s hard to fit in—”
“Well, you won’t manage it by asking people personal questions. Back the fuck off.”
“Okay, I think he’s right,” Lacey says. “He won’t talk to you.”
Red-faced and seething with anger, I turn away from Jack. Why is everyone at this school so bloody rude?
*
That night, I hope to contact Grace on Facebook, but her profile is set to offline. She doesn’t re
ply to a text, either. I lie back on the bed, thinking about how I’ve fucked up the first friendship with a live person that I’ve had for ages.
The morning comes and it’s claggy with the September rain. I tuck my umbrella into my bag and hop over puddles in the school carpark. Grace remains deep in conversation with Travis all through form time. During English, she sits next to me, but keeps her head stuck in her books. She barely even says hello. It’s only at lunch that I manage to get a five-minute conversation with her.
“So, you and Travis seem to be getting on well,” I say.
“We’re working through some stuff,” she replies.
“You’re avoiding me,” I say.
“What? No, of course not.” The megawatt smile is back.
“The stuff that happened in the bathroom was super freaky. It scared me too.”
She stiffens. “I don’t know what you mean.”
But I’m persistent. “Yes, you do.”
Grace turns her head away.
“Look. Meet me after school. I need to talk to you about something. It’s really, really important.”
She lets out a sigh. “All right. I’ll meet you on the rugby pitch after school. But I have yoga class at five, so it’ll have to be quick.”
“It will be,” I assure her.
“You’re making a big mistake,” Lacey says.
I almost start. I hadn’t known she was there. The bell goes off, and I start making my way towards the science labs.
“I know what you’re going to do,” she continues. “You’re going to tell her about your gift. Mares, I get why you want to tell her, but I’m warning you, it’s a seriously bad idea. She’s not ready.”
“I have to,” I say between gritted teeth. “Judith is haunting her. If I don’t tell her, she might get hurt. I have to at least warn her.”
“Judith is haunting you,” Lacey says. “Because of who you are. Because she can make you feel what she feels, and see what she is. This has nothing to do with Grace.”
