Spellweaver

by CJ Bridgeman

  SPELLWEAVER

  Book One of the Spellweaver Chronicles

  CJ BRIDGEMAN

  Spellweaver

  (Book One of the Spellweaver Chronicles)

  Copyright: CJ Bridgeman

  Published: 21st October 2013

  The right of CJ Bridgeman to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  1.

  The classical music playing over the sound system echoed in the ears of Felicity Lucas as she followed her mother’s coffin into the church.

  It seemed like she was watching a film, observing someone else’s misery as a stranger, an outsider. Even as she passed the faces of people she knew, people she vaguely recognised and others she didn’t know at all, even as she saw the sympathy pouring out of their eyes in waves, she still felt detached from it all. She didn’t even feel sad, and that was the saddest thing of all.

  The service passed in a blur. Felicity spent the entire time with her eyes focused ahead of her, staring at nothing. She didn’t listen to much, but she was aware of the minister talking for a little while, and then there was some singing. She didn’t join in.

  Afterwards, there was a reception at the pub next door. Felicity sat alone at a table in the corner. To begin with, people kept on coming up to her, saying how sorry they were, encouraging her to ‘be strong’ and that at least she still had her father. Someone even bought her a lemonade, and then they settled for standing by the bar and flicking confused glances and enquiring stares in her direction. She was a strange girl, they said. She didn’t speak to anyone. Didn’t even cry when he mother died. An odd one.

  Eventually they started to ignore her altogether and she faded into the background. She was good at that.

  After about an hour and once the majority of the people had left, taking their well wishes and opinions with them, Felicity’s father sat next to her.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked quietly.

  Felicity didn’t respond.

  Her father nodded to himself. “I put all your suitcases in the car. Everything you couldn’t bring is still at your mother’s; I suppose the solicitors will sort that out.” He looked at her for a moment, and then he stood up and began to make his way to the door. It was clear that Felicity was supposed to follow, so she did.

  Her father’s car smelt of dust and cigarettes. Felicity peered through the dirt smeared windows at the passing scenery that was so different from home. Her father made one or two attempts at conversation but it was clear that he didn’t really know what to say or how to say it, so he eventually gave up and drove on in silence.

  Their destination was a tall block of flats on a busy road lit by bright street lamps, illuminating everything that you did and did not want to see. The block itself was concrete and pebbledash, grey and miserable like the funeral had been. Felicity followed her father up several flights of steps until they reached what was to be her new home.

  It smelt of dust and cigarettes. Her father gave her a brief tour of the place, which consisted of an open plan lounge, dining room and kitchen, a bathroom, one double bedroom and, finally, what was to be her bedroom, which was small and boxlike. Although it was obvious that some attempt had been made to tidy up, the flat was messy. The furniture was old. The walls probably hadn’t been painted since the block was first decorated and the olive green bathroom suite looked like it had been installed in the seventies. As for Felicity’s new room, it looked more like a prison than the personal, private haven that every teenage girl’s bedroom should be. The bedsheets didn’t match the pillow cases. The metal bed dipped in the middle. The blinds over the window were stuck at an uneven angle.

  Felicity’s father placed her bags and suitcases on the floor and looked at her. After a moment, Felicity walked slowly into the room, almost tripping over a loose floorboard in her path, and sat down on the bed. It creaked.

  Silence followed. And then: “I suppose you’ll want to be on your own, then.”

  He left the room, closing the door behind him.

  A lorry passed by on the busy road outside. It was a late afternoon in summer, but the weather so far had not been kind and there was a chilly breeze coming in through the window, which appeared to be stuck open.

  Ignoring the bags and suitcases demanding her attention, Felicity lay back on the bed and stared at the textured ceiling. A spider was busy making its home in the corner, weaving the delicate web with precision and care. The creature was lucky, Felicity thought, that it had the liberty of choice when selecting a location to live, for that had certainly been out of her control. But then, a great many things had been out of her control recently. She had been unable to stop her mother from dying, she couldn’t prevent the move to her father’s flat; she hadn’t even managed to shed a single tear on the day of her mother’s funeral. Things were changing.

  What Felicity Lucas didn’t realise was that from this day on, her life was going to change in ways she could scarcely imagine.

  2.

  Felicity stared at her reflection in the mirror, and her pale, unsmiling face stared back. There had not been many smiles in the two weeks since she had moved into her father’s flat; in fact, Felicity was hard pressed to think of any at all. The state of her room had slightly improved since she unpacked, but she had fairly little in terms of sentimental items and the lack of wardrobe meant her clothes were on hangers on the door, over the window and flung loosely on the furniture. She did have a picture of her mother in a frame on her bedside desk, but it had come from the funeral, not her home. Felicity didn’t even know who had framed it.

  There was a knock at her bedroom door and then it was opened by her father. Felicity looked at him in the mirror.

  “It’s quarter past eight,” he told her. “School starts in fifteen minutes.” When his daughter didn’t respond, he beckoned her with a nod. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”

  The school was only a ten minute walk away, but Felicity obediently picked up her satchel and followed her father to the old car.

  The journey was brief and silent, but Felicity’s father had become used to that by now. He had thought that the flat would become chaotic and noisy with a teenager around, but somehow it felt quieter, even emptier. It was not at all what he had expected. However, the girl had just lost her mother, so maybe that was understandable. Maybe she would get better once she got out of the flat and made some friends.

  Teenagers dressed in the recognisable dark green blazer soon littered the streets, indicating that they had reached the school. Like the rest of the buildings in the neighbourhood, it was not a new construction, yet it wasn’t old enough to have any character that would make it charming or beautiful. The walls were dirty and the coloured panels beneath the windows had faded over time. The metal sign by the front gate was suffering from a severe case of rust, but Felicity could just make out the words: Greenfields High School - In Our Hands We Hold The Future.

  She must have sat in the passenger seat for some time, because her father mistook her absent stare for nerves and said: “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

  Felicity nodded. “Thank you for driving me,” she said politely, and got out of the car, almost immediately lost within the sea of students.

  With a sigh, her father drove away.

  The interior of the school building was quite dark, although the day was warm and sunny. Felicity made her way to the reception desk, where th
ere stood an incredibly busy woman talking on the phone, gesturing at students and filing paperwork, seemingly all at once. It was only eight twenty-five but already she looked ready to go home. Felicity stood patiently by the desk and waited for the woman to notice her.

  When she did, she greeted her with a smile. “And what can I do for you, dear?” As Felicity opened her mouth to answer, the woman’s attention was suddenly diverted. “Callum Johnson! Get off that piano!”

  Felicity turned to see a boy of about fourteen or fifteen sitting on top of an old and rather dilapidated grand piano in the reception area, laughing with his friends. “But Miss, I’ve always wanted to learn piano!” he joked. “Maybe you could teach me?”

  The receptionist seemed unimpressed, and placed her hands on her hips defiantly. “I mean it, Callum!”

  Still laughing, the boy identified as Callum Johnson hopped down from the piano and nudged his friends, who followed him away down the corridor. As he passed Felicity, he winked.

  “And don’t forget your appointment with Mr Oakley this afternoon!” the woman shouted after him, and then she turned back to Felicity. “I’m sorry dear,” she said. “That boy will be the death of me, I swear! What was it you wanted?”

  “I’m new,” Felicity replied, handing her a piece of paper. “Felicity Lucas.”

  The woman peered at the paper through her spectacles. “Ah yes, I remember,” she said. “You’ve been placed in 10G. Let’s see if I can find someone to show you - oh! Hollie!” She began calling and waving to a group of girls who were chatting excitedly amongst themselves. At the mention of her name, one of them skipped daintily over to the reception desk. She was blonde and was carrying a handbag that looked far too small to contain any exercise books or school equipment. Most of the students seemed to wear their uniform somewhat inappropriately, but Hollie was the absolute master of them all; whereas other girls wore their skirts far too short and had their shirts untucked, Hollie wore a tight fitting black pencil skirt and had rolled up the sleeves of her blazer to about three quarters of their original length. Her heels put about six extra inches on her height and she wore the biggest pair of gold earrings that Felicity had ever seen. Her hair had been styled on top of her head like a yellow watermelon with various strands hanging at either side. Her friends, who were standing in a huddle around her, were clearly trying to imitate her style, some more successfully than others. None of them did it quite as well as Hollie.

  “Yes, Miss?” she said as she arrived at the reception desk, flashing a perfect smile.

  “This is Felicity. She’s new here and has been placed in your form group. Could you take her there for me please?”

  “Of course I can, Miss!” the girl said happily, and turned to Felicity. “Welcome to Greenfields! You’re lucky that you’ve been placed in the best tutor group in, like, the universe. We win Sports Day every year, you know.”

  Felicity stared.

  “Oh don’t worry, I know that Greenfields seems a little scary, especially when you’re joining half way through, but you’ll get used to it. And having Hollie Clarke as your guide is like, a total bonus. Just hang with me and you’ll be fine. I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

  Unaccustomed to this kind of attention, Felicity squirmed uncomfortably. She preferred to keep herself to herself, and this had always proved a success since her peers at her previous school had barely noticed her. That was how she liked it. But here she was, faced with a girl with an astounding ability to talk and a clear reluctance to allow Felicity to do anything on her own. She was like no one Felicity had ever met.

  And then she made things even worse by slipping her arm around Felicity’s, locking the two of them together. “10G is this way, Fliss,” she said. “I can call you Fliss, can’t I?”

  Felicity was rather painfully aware that she had little choice in the matter.

  Much of the school day passed as a blur to Felicity. She was vaguely aware of being present in a few lessons, moving through crowded corridors and filling up her satchel with books, paper and random pieces of stationery that would apparently be necessary for her education at some point during the year. She listened to teachers, she made notes - and Hollie was there the entire time, telling her everything she needed to know about Greenfields High School.

  “Miss Anderson sets brutal homework but it’s all for show,” she was saying during that morning’s English lesson. “She thinks it makes her look good to the parents, but she never makes us do it. And she never gives detention. She did put a piece of my work on display, though. There, on the far wall - do you see it? ‘The Role of Fashion in Great Expectations’. I was mega proud of that piece. I got a C!”

  Hollie had continued in this way every lesson, giving Felicity few opportunities to be alone. Still, she felt she learnt more about the school in those three short hours than she could recall about her entire three years at her old school. Hollie told her all about the neighbourhood, which was one of London’s poorest and most deprived, and the school was a reflection of that. There was apparently little point in refurbishing the classrooms, redecorating the walls with a fresh lick of paint and replacing the furniture, for it was inevitable that these things would once again become damaged. Carpets were stained, lockers dented and lights no longer worked. The gym was currently closed due to an ‘accident’ involving improper use of the equipment - and today was only the first day of term.

  Despite the negative impression she was giving of the school, Hollie seemed oddly jovial as she discussed all she knew. It was clear that although she recognised the state the place was in, she was comfortable with it - and so was everyone else. They were satisfied with the mediocrity of their education and the failures of their teachers; these were things that Hollie frequently joked about. It was very, very different to the world that Felicity had come from. She had been used to strict rules, silence in every lesson and nothing but the most perfect behaviour. Teachers rarely joked, and when they did it was usually about something the students didn’t understand, for it was clear that they were incredibly intelligent. Felicity wasn’t stupid, but she had often found things difficult to follow at her old school. Constant study to catch up had been a welcome distraction from social interaction with the other girls.

  But she didn’t talk about any of that and she was glad that Hollie didn’t ask. If nothing else, the girl had given her the perfect distraction from recent events.

  What else was clear was that Hollie was well known throughout Greenfields. Other students stopped to talk to her in the corridors, and she always welcomed them with a bright smile. Upon seeing her for the first time that morning in the corridor, shadowed by her friends, Felicity had felt slightly intimidated and anxious. It wasn’t just the crowd of people but Hollie’s seemingly unwavering confidence and the power that that seemed to weave. Felicity had seen that power before, and been victim to its abuse. But it was clear that Hollie was different, for other students didn’t look at her that way; everyone seemed to want to be her friend. She had no shortage of partners for classroom tasks, but thus far had insisted on working with Felicity. They had been teamed up as ‘buddies’, so she told everyone; she was looking after her, showing her around and making sure she didn’t get lost. It was treatment that Felicity was not used to.

  When the bell sounded for lunchtime, the two of them - tailed, as always, by Hollie’s entourage - headed for the canteen, which was another glistening example of the problems Greenfields had. The lunch queue was being poorly controlled by a couple of teachers who seemed to have given up and were reprimanding only the smallest of students. Boys dodged between the tables, bashing their schoolbags into anyone and anything that got in their way. Amidst the chaos there was a single table that stood unattended in the overcrowded hall, and Felicity followed Hollie to it.

  “Everyone knows this is our table,” Hollie told Felicity with a smile. “Even the year sevens, and they’re new this year. Trust me, Fliss, you stick with me and you’re sorted. O
h em gee, I’m so excited! We’re gonna be BFFs!”

  “Oh God, don’t tell me you’ve got your claws into another one.”

  The two girls looked up to see a boy standing by the table. He was tall, looked about their age, and was carrying a leather schoolbag over his shoulder.

  Hollie rolled her eyes. “That’s Jamie. Just ignore him and he’ll go away.”

  Jamie offered his hand to Felicity. “Jamie Clarke,” he said, smiling. “You’ll have to forgive my little sister. She might be the most popular girl in school, but her manners leave something to be desired.”

  As Felicity shook his hand, she noticed that he was much more well spoken than Hollie, and anyone else in the school for that matter. He was also very well dressed. He wore his school uniform correctly, as if with pride, and his dark blonde hair was neatly styled.

  Hollie nudged Felicity. “Little by about two minutes,” she said. “Jamie is my twin.”

  “Unfortunate twin, yes. You can see which one of us got the looks,” Jamie said with a smile, ignoring Hollie’s scowl, and then he looked at Felicity. “You must be the new girl everyone is talking about.”

  Surprised, Felicity looked around the canteen. “Everyone...?”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Jamie continued, seeing her concern. “Everyone knows everyone around here, so it’s quite a big thing when there’s someone new in the neighbourhood. News travels fast. But everyone will forget about it by the end of the day. Especially...” He leaned in closer. “Especially when I hear that the library computers are being upgraded!”

  This information seemed to fill him with great excitement and anticipation, but his sister groaned. “Who in the world cares about that?” she exclaimed.

  “Well, me,” Jamie replied.