Fracture

Clearly satisfied by this, Zoe gave a nod that sent her ponytail swinging. ‘Good. I want that, too.’

Side by side, they walked down the narrow corridor lined on both sides with small white doors, each with a number painted on it in black.

Tilting her head to one side, Zoe spoke with her usual bluntness. ‘Why did you run away? Because you were sad?’

Allie hesitated. ‘Yeah…’ she said eventually. ‘I was sad.’

Zoe seemed to accept this. ‘Where did you go?’

There was no easy answer to this question.

‘To church, in the end.’ Allie’s voice was rueful. ‘Although that wasn’t the plan. Like… at all.’

‘What was the plan?’

‘To go to London and find out who hurt Jo.’ Allie shrugged – it sounded so foolish now. ‘Somehow.’

‘Aren’t you from London?’ Zoe’s gaze sharpened.

‘Yeah…?’

‘Nathaniel would have found you immediately. He’d know right where you’d go. It was a terrible plan.’

Allie opened her mouth to reply then closed it again. Zoe had a point.

When they reached the younger girl’s door, Zoe stopped. ‘If you ever decide to run away again, come to me. I’ll help you choose the best place to go. Statistically speaking.’

Allie was surprised by how much that touched her; for a second she didn’t trust herself to speak. When she recovered, though, her reply was fervent.

‘If I ever run away again you will be the first person I tell.’

When she opened the door to her room, the chemical-lemon smell of furniture polish greeted Allie before she’d even switched on the light. She inhaled deeply. Loath though she was to admit it to herself, she was glad her dirty clothes had been taken away and fresh towels stacked on the shelf by the door. Glad everything was orderly.

Outside, cold winter rain tapped against the bedroom window as if it was trying to get in. She dropped her book bag by the desk with a clunk and kicked off her shoes. The room was warm and snug.

Grabbing the thick stack of work assignments her teachers had given her to make up, she sat down on the floor to sort through it – she’d need a lot of space.

‘Let’s see,’ she muttered, frowning as she looked at the first page. ‘This is urgent.’ She set it on the floor to her right. ‘And this is… sort of urgent.’ She set another paper on top of the first. ‘This is’ – she held the next sheet – ‘totally freaking urgent.’

The process continued in that manner for some time as the ‘urgent’ stack grew alarmingly. When she’d gone through everything in the file, she looked around in dismay; the floor was so covered in paper she could barely see the whitewashed wood beneath it.

‘Bollocks,’ she announced to no one. ‘I’m totally screwed.’

In the end, she decided the biggest worry was an English essay for Isabelle’s class – twelve hundred words on the Romantics in Italy due the next day. Allie hadn’t read a single page of the assigned work.

She was flipping worriedly through her English textbook when someone knocked at her door.

‘Come in,’ she said without looking up.

‘Hey, Al… lie.’ Rachel’s voice trailed off as she walked in, her eyes widening at the scene in front of her. ‘Yowza. That is, like, a whole tree on your floor.’

‘Help.’ Allie waved her assignment at her. ‘What do you know about the Romantics in Italy?’

‘That depends. In Tuscany?’ Rachel walked the rest of the way in, closing the door behind her. ‘Or in Rome?’

Allie gave her a desperate look. ‘They went to more than one place?’

Without replying, Rachel held out her hand. Allie gave her the paper and she scanned it quickly. ‘I did this one already so, let’s see…’ Looking through the books on Allie’s shelves, Rachel pulled out a slim volume. ‘This is what I used. Chapter eight has everything. Read that and you can write up a basic essay – quote some Shelley poems to take up space. That man liked the sound of his own voice. Check it out.’

Holding up the book in one hand, she intoned with great drama:

‘Let a vast assembly be,

And with great solemnity

Declare with measured words that ye

Are, as God has made ye, free…’

Allie held out her hand for the book. ‘Rachel, God has made ye a life-saver.’

‘That’s what they tell me.’ Rachel’s smile was steady but Allie knew her well enough to see the hint of uncertainty behind it.

Still, she reassured herself, at least the smile happened.

A sudden silence fell. Allie flipped through the papers trying to think of something to say but Rachel filled the conversational gap. ‘Did Jerry tell you I’m your chemistry teacher now?’

Allie tried to affect cool. ‘Don’t think this means I’m your bitch. I’m still a free woman.’

Rachel grinned, genuinely this time. ‘Oh really? Who’s your daddy?’

‘Wait…’ Allie swung cautiously back into the rhythm of their rapid-fire rapport, although it felt creaky after so long away. ‘Are you saying my new daddy is a girl named Rachel? When I write a memoir I’m calling it “Allie Has Two Daddies and One of Them Is Rachel”.’

‘You will sell a million copies and I will be famous. I’ll accept a percentage.’ Rachel rubbed her hands gleefully. ‘So, should we start suffering… I mean working tonight? An hour of science torture will be good for you.’

The banter made Allie feel almost normal. Like she had her friend back.

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘No.’ Rachel walked to the door. ‘See you at dinner, minion. Where you can peel my grapes.’

EIGHT

‘Allie, help me! Oh God. Please help me…’ In the darkness, Jo’s terrified voice sailed eerily on the breeze that rattled the tree branches above Allie’s head.

Each word cut Allie like a blade. Panicked and desperate, she ran left, then right, then left again. But the voice never seemed to get any closer and it was getting harder to breathe. Her chest felt as if it was wrapped in bands of iron, inexorably tightening.

Trying to summon the breath to speak, she panted harshly.

‘I can’t find you, Jo!’ she called weakly. ‘Where are you?’

‘Allie!’ For some reason the hope in Jo’s voice broke her heart. ‘Help me! Please!’

A sob tore Allie’s throat as she ran. Trees that seemed to swoop down to snatch at her clothes with branches that ended in sharp points, like long, jagged nails. She ignored the pain. She had to find Jo. If she could just get to her in time, she’d live.

She was exhausted by the time she saw Jo in the distance, lying on her back in a grove of trees, blonde hair glowing around her head like a halo. Her cornflower blue eyes stared up at the sky, unseeing.

Dropping to her knees, Allie reached for her slim hand. ‘I’m here, Jo. I’m here.’

Jo’s breath rattled in her throat. As she turned to look at Allie her blue eyes clouded over and turned white.

‘Too late, Allie,’ she said bitterly. ‘You’re too late. I’m already dead. And it’s your fault.’