here!”
I got up and left his office.
Chapter Twenty
I was relieved to discover not only was I sharing many of the same classes as Sam, but we had rooms next to each other. Sam seemed friendly enough, and I guessed I would need a friend at Ravenwood. My room was little more than a box, three floors up in one of the school’s winding towers. To get to the room, I had to navigate a set of stairs that spiralled upwards like a corkscrew. The stairwell was dark and the steps echoed with each snap of my heel.
A metal framed bed lent against the far wall of my room, and the sheets were rough and made my skin itch. It was like falling asleep in a bed of stinging nettles. The walls were made of stone and a desk crouched in one corner.
I intended to stick close to Sam, as I tried to find my way around Ravenwood and understand many of the odd rules that seemed to be at its heart. On my first night I took my iPod and sent a brief message to Kiera. I told her about the freaky Greys and how I had made a friend who might be able to give me information about what had taken place at the school. I stressed that I needed to be careful as I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Within minutes of sending my message, Kiera sent one back explaining that she and the others had arrived at the nearby farmhouse. I took comfort from knowing that. Kiera also said that she had made a visit to the local cop shop, but wasn’t holding out too much hope that they would help her.
Once I had read her message, I deleted it as she had told me to do. Should my iPod be found and the messages read, then that would have given our whole plan away.
I pulled the blanket made of stinging nettles over my head. The feelings of uncertainty and loneliness that I suddenly felt as I lay in the dark were almost suffocating.
Unable to bear it any longer, I reached for my bag, slipped my fingers into the tiny tear in the fabric and pulled out my iPod again. I wore the earphones and scrolled through the tracks I’d downloaded during my last night at Hallowed Manor. I dragged my fingernail down the screen until I found the song that I was looking for. With the blanket over my head and my eyes closed, I listened to
Alan Dorsey was small for his age and very burnt. The rumour was that his parents had been killed in a house fire, a fire that Dorsey had managed to escape from; but the flames had left their mark, a permanent reminder of what had taken place that night. His face was scarred, the skin stretched tight across his face, and in places it looked as if it had run like melted candle wax. Dorsey’s eyes were two narrow slits, his nostrils looked like two puncture wounds in the middle of his face and his mouth was pulled into a permanent grimace. Dorsey knew that the other kids at Ravenwood stared at him, and I guess he didn’t blame them. No more than I now blamed those girls who had stared at me. After all, wasn’t it human nature to stare at the freaks?
On my first morning at Ravenwood, I had overslept. Fearing that I would be in trouble with the Greys for being late for class, I showered in the communal girl’s bathroom and hurried down to join the queue for breakfast, which snaked across the schoolyard. The day was overcast and dull-looking again, but at least the rain had stopped. It was still very cold, though. I found Sam, propped up against a wall.
“What you doing?” I asked him. “Not joining the line for breakfast?”
“Waiting,” Sam said, and it was only in the pale winter light that I realised how good looking he actually was. It wasn’t only his thick, black curly hair, it was his eyes; they were a brilliant blue that had such a look of mischief in them.
“Waiting for what?” I asked, looking over his shoulder at the other kids on the schoolyard. Some of the girls stood chatting, while a group of boys kicked a scruffy-looking football about.
“For the fight to start,” Sam said.
“What fight?”
Sam nodded in the direction of the boy who I had caught staring at me from the back of the class the day before — the one with the scrunched up face and Marine haircut. “See Pryor over there? He’s gonna smash Dorsey,” Sam told me.
“How do you know that?”
“He’s been winding-up that kid for weeks,” Sam said. “Pryor’s a bully — an animal.”
“What makes you think he will — ” I started, but before I could finish, Sam stepped away from the wall.
“Watch,” he whispered.
I looked at Pryor amongst the crowd of boys with the football. He stood amongst them and watched Dorsey walking alone. I saw Pryor’s eyes narrow as he followed Dorsey’s progress. Unaware that he was being watched, Dorsey made his way towards the school building, his head bowed, chin almost touching his chest. Pryor broke away from the pack. Slow at first, and I could hear his shoes whispering against the concrete. Then, he was running, narrowing the gap between himself and Dorsey.
“You’re dead!” Pryor screamed, leaping through the air and crashing into Dorsey.
The first Dorsey knew that he was under attack was when the back of his head bounced off the ground and the air from his lungs belched out through his burnt and twisted lips. Dorsey looked up to see who it was that had knocked him off his feet, his eyes wide and full of bewilderment.
“You fucking freak!” Pryor roared, straddling Dorsey.
From where I was standing, I could see the loathing Pryor had for Dorsey in his eyes. Dorsey could see the hate in them too and he knew he was in trouble. Throwing his hands in front of his face, Dorsey managed to block the first wave of blows that Pryor threw at him.
“Freaks like you should be caged!” Pryor spat, smacking Dorsey up the side of his head.
“What have I done?” Dorsey cried out.
“You should be in a circus!” Pryor said, punching Dorsey in the face.
I stepped away from the wall. The first thing that struck me was the sound Pryor’s fists made as they pounded into Dorsey’s face. They didn’t make the
I wanted to stop Pryor. Not for Dorsey’s sake but for my own. I couldn’t bear that