I’ll head to Mother’s flat.
Suddenly, P.C. Barnes’ words come back to me. If it’s true someone is out to get me, will I be safe if I leave the Academy? Will they track me down?
I shiver. How the hell did I end up making escape plans like some sort of criminal?
My thoughts are disturbed by the blonde girl jumping on her own bed and saying, ‘You’re not a good fighter.’
‘And you’re not terribly bright,’ I reply. I’ve had enough of today.
She blinks.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I thought we were taking it in turns to state the blatantly obvious.’
Her expression doesn’t change. She’s got no idea what I’ve just said.
‘You big-need to learn to fight,’ she says.
‘And you’re offering to teach me?’ I roll my eyes. She’s built like a bird and around five-foot nothing. Her pale hair makes her look young, although I suppose she must be the same age as me since we’re in the same class. Her arms are delicate and I can see that her legs are thin even through her trousers. I look at her little boots and realise that they seem oddly familiar. Last time I saw one of those boots, it was sending Deon sprawling. King Hell, how embarrassing; some scrap of an Academy girl is trying to look after me.
‘I saw what you did in the fight,’ I say.
She shrugs. ‘I can think-back my first fight.’
I wait for her to say something more, but she doesn’t. ‘Well, it’s nice that I’m bringing back tender memories for you, but I really don’t need your help,’ I say.
‘What’s “help”?’ she says.
‘What?’
‘What’s “help”?’
I’m annoyed. I’m annoyed that I had to have help from a girl in a fight and I’m annoyed that no one here understands basic English. ‘Oh, my life,’ I say. ‘King Hell on a sunny day. You’ve got a really, really basic vocabulary haven’t you?’
I’m pretty sure she still doesn’t understand what I’m saying, but she obviously picks up on the tone because she sticks her chin out and stands up to leave.
‘It’s doing something for someone,’ I say. I sound like Facilitator Johnson when he thought we were being dim. ‘Help is . . . aid?’
She shakes her head.
‘Assistance?’
And again.
‘Oh for efwurd’s sake, you won that fight for me! You did a thing for me. You were being nice.’
She tilts her head. ‘I didn’t do a thing for you. I don’t like Deon. I didn’t want him to win,’ she says.
‘Listen, in future, just remember, I don’t need your help.’
‘You do need help ,’ she forms the final word carefully. ‘But I won’t help you.’ She walks away and calls back over her shoulder, ‘And I’m not nice.’
I try to stay awake, but I’m worn out and my whole body is aching from both my recent beatings. The last thing I remember is listening to the dormitory door slamming shut and wondering if they were locking us in for the night.
I end up sleeping through until a buzzer wakes me. All around me Specials clamber out of bed. I peer out from under the blanket to see how they manage getting dressed. Most of them seem to disappear to the bathroom and re-emerge fully clothed, but some of the boys don’t seem to care. I could really do without starting the day with a view of some boy’s hairy backside.
The blonde girl leans over my bed. ‘Get up time,’ she says.
‘What if I don’t want to get up?’ I say. ‘What if I just stay here? What can they do?’
‘Okay. You stay and find out the thing they do.’
I suppose I’m not getting any closer to getting out of this place by just lying here. So I get up. I feel grubby from rolling around on the floor yesterday and sleeping in my clothes. I need a hot shower.
The showers are strangely empty, which probably explains why the Specials have their own interesting smell. I open up one of the cubicles. The shower head is crusty with rust. The drainage hole is clogged with hair and there are splatters of black mould up the tiles. I try the next one,
Suddenly, P.C. Barnes’ words come back to me. If it’s true someone is out to get me, will I be safe if I leave the Academy? Will they track me down?
I shiver. How the hell did I end up making escape plans like some sort of criminal?
My thoughts are disturbed by the blonde girl jumping on her own bed and saying, ‘You’re not a good fighter.’
‘And you’re not terribly bright,’ I reply. I’ve had enough of today.
She blinks.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I thought we were taking it in turns to state the blatantly obvious.’
Her expression doesn’t change. She’s got no idea what I’ve just said.
‘You big-need to learn to fight,’ she says.
‘And you’re offering to teach me?’ I roll my eyes. She’s built like a bird and around five-foot nothing. Her pale hair makes her look young, although I suppose she must be the same age as me since we’re in the same class. Her arms are delicate and I can see that her legs are thin even through her trousers. I look at her little boots and realise that they seem oddly familiar. Last time I saw one of those boots, it was sending Deon sprawling. King Hell, how embarrassing; some scrap of an Academy girl is trying to look after me.
‘I saw what you did in the fight,’ I say.
She shrugs. ‘I can think-back my first fight.’
I wait for her to say something more, but she doesn’t. ‘Well, it’s nice that I’m bringing back tender memories for you, but I really don’t need your help,’ I say.
‘What’s “help”?’ she says.
‘What?’
‘What’s “help”?’
I’m annoyed. I’m annoyed that I had to have help from a girl in a fight and I’m annoyed that no one here understands basic English. ‘Oh, my life,’ I say. ‘King Hell on a sunny day. You’ve got a really, really basic vocabulary haven’t you?’
I’m pretty sure she still doesn’t understand what I’m saying, but she obviously picks up on the tone because she sticks her chin out and stands up to leave.
‘It’s doing something for someone,’ I say. I sound like Facilitator Johnson when he thought we were being dim. ‘Help is . . . aid?’
She shakes her head.
‘Assistance?’
And again.
‘Oh for efwurd’s sake, you won that fight for me! You did a thing for me. You were being nice.’
She tilts her head. ‘I didn’t do a thing for you. I don’t like Deon. I didn’t want him to win,’ she says.
‘Listen, in future, just remember, I don’t need your help.’
‘You do need help ,’ she forms the final word carefully. ‘But I won’t help you.’ She walks away and calls back over her shoulder, ‘And I’m not nice.’
I try to stay awake, but I’m worn out and my whole body is aching from both my recent beatings. The last thing I remember is listening to the dormitory door slamming shut and wondering if they were locking us in for the night.
I end up sleeping through until a buzzer wakes me. All around me Specials clamber out of bed. I peer out from under the blanket to see how they manage getting dressed. Most of them seem to disappear to the bathroom and re-emerge fully clothed, but some of the boys don’t seem to care. I could really do without starting the day with a view of some boy’s hairy backside.
The blonde girl leans over my bed. ‘Get up time,’ she says.
‘What if I don’t want to get up?’ I say. ‘What if I just stay here? What can they do?’
‘Okay. You stay and find out the thing they do.’
I suppose I’m not getting any closer to getting out of this place by just lying here. So I get up. I feel grubby from rolling around on the floor yesterday and sleeping in my clothes. I need a hot shower.
The showers are strangely empty, which probably explains why the Specials have their own interesting smell. I open up one of the cubicles. The shower head is crusty with rust. The drainage hole is clogged with hair and there are splatters of black mould up the tiles. I try the next one,
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