by Stuart Boyd
Chapter 3: Followed
After the display in the corridor, things did not go well for Stella at school. Everybody seemed to think that Stella and Tom were boyfriend and girlfriend. She was constantly being teased in class by people making kissey noises at her. She soon got sick of saying that she and Tom weren’t together and tried to ignore all the comments.
Tom wasn’t helping: he just wouldn’t stay away from her. If it wasn’t for the look of terror on his face whenever he got within ten yards of her, Stella could have believed that Tom did actually like her. Wherever she was in the school, he always seemed to be around the corner. Despite trying to warn him away with a frosty look or snarling at him to, “Go away,” every lunchtime in the canteen, he’d always have an empty chair next to him. She’d stalk straight past him, but he would cause a lot of sniggering by calling out for her to sit with him. She even suspected that he was following her home. A glimpse of movement would often catch her eye, but whenever she stopped and span around, nobody appeared to be there. What disturbed Stella the most, though, was that whenever she saw Tom, she was reminded of what had happened to Shane Biggs.
One evening, Stella was in her room, trying to do some homework. She couldn’t keep her mind on the pages of her exercise books. The same thoughts spun around her head, like clothes in a washing machine, ‘Did I blast Shane Biggs into the tree? How did I do it? What if it happens again?’ Tom had said something about light coming out of her hands. Stella stretched out her arms and carefully examined her palms and fingers. They looked the same as they had always done. Cautiously, she pointed her hands at her homework and shouted, “STOP!”
Her book was unharmed. The only marks on it were her handwriting.
She remembered that she had been really angry before and there had been that strange rushing sound. Stella tried to build up a rage over the stupid maths questions that she was meant to be doing.
“STOP!” she yelled again, this time with more force.
“Stella! Stop making that racket!” Her mum’s voice floated up to her.
Stella looked down. Her homework had stubbornly remained unsinged.
She gave a sigh and slumped onto her bed. In spite of everything, she felt a bit disappointed, “Maybe it was just a fluke,” she said to herself. “Maybe I didn’t do anything at all.” She was interrupted from these disturbing thoughts by the wet sound of chewing coming from under the bed.
“Helix,” Stella called out, “you haven’t got in the fridge again?”
She sometimes regretted that she’d taught Helix how to stand on his hind legs and use his nose to open the fridge door (she knew that her mum definitely regretted it). Stella peered under the bed, expecting to see some leftover chicken being licked clean by a hungry husky. It seemed, however, that Helix had found himself a dog toy.
“What is that?” Stella asked.
She reached under the bed and tried to pull the object that Helix was chewing out of his mouth. Helix was unwilling to give it up without a fight and clung on with his jaws until Stella managed to yank it away from him.
“Yuck! You’ve slobbered all over it.”
The toy felt like it was made of thick jelly. It was wet because of being in Helix’s mouth and surprisingly warm to the touch. Helix’s teeth marks were gradually smoothing away, and it was regaining its shape after being stretched by their tug of war. It was bright orange and shaped like a man, with arms, legs, torso and a round head. The small face had eyes and a nose, but no mouth.
“Where did you get this, Helix?”
Dogs don’t shrug as a rule, but Helix did a good impression.
“I suppose Mum must’ve got it for you. You best look after it. You know how she’s always threatening to shave you if you keep breaking things.”
Helix gave an offended sniff. He always claimed that it was Stella’s dad that broke things and felt it was pretty mean that they always blamed the dog.