by James Dawson
Laura seemed to soften at the compliment. This was easy, much easier than Lis had ever thought it would be.
‘Whatever. Look, I only came to talk about Danny. You need to get it into your dense head that it’s not gonna happen with you and him.’
The wild hoots and jeers of the lads in the play area were distant whispers now, the chattering of the wind through the trees much louder. The black copse loomed before them. By day, the trees were just trees, but now, at dusk, they were a single, swaying entity.
‘That’s what I’m trying to say,’ Lis said, suppressing the anger inside. ‘Friends are more important than guys. I’ll stay away from Danny if you stop giving me grief.’
Laura thought about it for a moment. ‘Yeah, but if I see you with Danny again, I’ll cut you, I swear. Oh, and you can’t hang about with that dyke Monroe – you know, she properly tried to tongue me once. Seriously. She’s obsessed with me.’
Lis fought the urge to punch her there and then. Kitty was twice the friend Laura was. ‘OK, I promise, scout’s honour!’
‘Yeah, I bet you were a girl scout too!’ Laura grinned.
They reached the stile into the copse, Lis stepping over first. Laura hung back on the other side, seemingly reluctant to set foot in the wood.
‘What’s up?’ Lis asked.
‘Nothing. I just hate the copse when it’s getting dark,’ Laura replied.
‘Scared?’ Lis knew full well that Laura was scared. She’d remembered their first conversation in G2 – Laura’s mother and the bedtime stories that had terrified her as a little girl.
‘Uh, yeah. You’ve heard the rumours, right?’ Lis could tell that Laura wasn’t kidding. Her mouth had formed a grim line.
‘What? Witchcraft and stuff?’ Lis asked lightly. ‘That’s all crap, though! And, anyway, it was hundreds of years ago – like in the Dark Ages!’
Laura climbed over the stile. ‘You’re not from Hollow Pike, though. You don’t know the stories. I grew up on them. Everyone here did.’
‘Laura, my sister’s house is like five minutes away. I think we’ll be fine!’
‘Whatev.’ The beautiful girl looked around apprehensively, surveying the winding forest path. ‘You lead the way then.’
Lis set off down the trail. Somewhere overhead a crow cawed loudly from high in the trees. Black, winged shapes darted through the forest canopy and, in the gloom, they could easily be mistaken for bats. Lis sensed Laura’s nerves but refused to feel any sympathy. It served her right; she had it coming. ‘So what stories should I be scared of?’ Lis asked her.
‘When I was little, my dad used to tell me stories about children who went into the copse and never came out. They just vanished,’ Laura said. Twigs crunched underfoot as the trees closed up around them, blocking out the dying light.
‘You don’t believe that, do you?’
‘No . . . Maybe . . . I don’t know. Everyone knows the stories. You just keep out of the woods after dark.’
Lis laughed. ‘Big, Bad Laura Rigg, scared of the—’ She stopped and turned, hearing a noise behind her. From out of the shadows, a dark figure had emerged onto the path. A pair of strong arms seized Lis and she screamed. Laura shrieked as another figure appeared from behind a tree. Both attackers wore long, rough brown robes, hooded like a monk’s gown. A third hooded figure charged down the path towards them.
‘Laura!’ Lis yelled, her scream ripping through the forest. ‘Run!’
Run
Laura backed across the forest floor, evading the hooded figure who stalked towards her.
‘Laura,’ Lis screeched again as the figure that held her produced a mean-looking dagger from his sleeve, ‘run!’ As Lis said it, her captor plunged the dagger into her stomach and she doubled over, gasping for air. She flopped to her knees, clutching her wound as the hooded man jerked the knife out of her torso.
Laura sobbed, her hands at her mouth. Then, as Lis toppled over into the dirt, she turned and fled, heading away from the hooded trio on unsteady feet. Lis and the dagger-man blocked the way they’d come – so Laura ran deeper into the copse.
The three robed figures stood over Lis’s body, watching Laura vanish into the indigo darkness. Within seconds, they could no longer hear her footsteps stomping through the leaves.
‘That was genius!’ said Jack, pulling off his hood.
‘Did you get it all?’ Lis asked, sitting up.
‘Yep!’ Delilah pulled back her hood and switched the digital camera off. ‘Laura Rigg, starring in Soil Your Pants!’
Kitty poked at the retractable blade Jack was holding, a bargain from the joke shop on the high street. ‘That was priceless! Lis, you were amazing, I will never forget the look on her face. Did you see it?’
‘Not really, I was too busy pretending to be dead. Can I see?’ She took her camera from Delilah and played it back. The action started, showing a jerky, grainy Lis and Laura strolling down the path, talking about how spooky the woods were. Then the battery sign flashed up and the screen faded to black. ‘Crap,’ Lis sighed. ‘I’ll have to charge it when I get home. At least it lasted for the filming.’
‘I can’t believe it worked!’ Jack laughed. ‘Now all we have to do is threaten to put this on YouTube if Laura doesn’t leave us all in peace. She’ll be putty in our hands. You won’t ever have to worry about her again, Lis – none of us will! Man, I love blackmail!’
Kitty looked ahead anxiously. ‘We should get out of here. If Laura calls the police, we are in deep, deep trouble.’
Nodding eagerly, Jack started to back out of the copse. ‘We should split up, just in case.’
‘Yeah, and lose the robes!’ Lis urged, clambering over the stile.
‘Give them here. I need to put them back in the drama studio before Mrs Osborne notices they’re gone.’ Delilah stuffed the robes into her rucksack.
‘Ring when you get home, yeah?’ Lis said. ‘I’ll email you the video.’
‘Epic!’ Kitty gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Call as soon as you’re home.’
Kitty and Delilah set off in one direction, towards the play area, while Lis and Jack went in the other, towards the main road. It was fully dark now, and Lis was so high on adrenalin that she didn’t see the raven watching her from the crumbling wall of the copse.
Less than a mile away, the tallest trees of Pike Copse stood, enveloped in the thickest night silence – until a scream rang out through the serene woods, echoing across the valley. The scream, not playful or coy, spoke only of terror. A girl was in great danger. Trees shook and the woods sprang to life. Birds took flight, fleeing the scene. The copse was suddenly wide awake.
Heavy footsteps pounded the damp earth. More screams, pleading now: ‘Stop! Leave me alone!’ The brittle crack of sticks and twigs. The crunch of autumn leaves. Desperate fingers snatched at branches and reeds. More feet pounded across the soil – a chase! It had been a long time since the copse had last seen a hunt, a return to the days of blood.
A girl fled, running with such intensity her legs burned inside. This wasn’t the kind of run used at races on sports day, this was the dash of prey. A race for survival, a predator close behind. Her breath came in short raspy bursts as her lungs heaved painfully. There was no air left in her body to scream for help and there were no saviours in sight. She spun unsteadily, searching for the hunter. She couldn’t go on, so she crouched behind a tree, cocooned in a network of roots. She clutched her chest, barely able to breathe yet too scared to make any sound. Her filthy feet were bleeding from where she’d lost her shoes in the chase. Her tights were torn and her hands raw. She strained to listen. Should she run again? Or should she stay hidden?
Fear drove her. She ran. But after only three paces, she tripped and fell, tumbling down a steep incline. Skeleton tree hands tore at her face and body. Barely recognisable as human, the girl looked feral in her fear. She rolled to a halt, groaning. A freezing sensation crept up around her legs. She was in water.
Everything hurt
: limbs, skin, nails, hair. With an exhausted moan she started to haul her body out of the stream, using weeds, but she found herself sliding back down in the slippery mud. She sobbed uncontrollably, pleading, wailing at the flock of birds that flew up, occluding the moon.
‘Help me!’ she screamed pitifully. ‘Someone . . . please . . .’ Please God, help me . . . I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. I’ll be nice.
She clambered onto her knees, not hearing the footsteps behind her. Too late, something flashed in her peripheral vision. Hands reached out, yanking her up by her hair. Rough fingers grasped her with vice-like strength, and then another flash: moonlight gleamed off a curved silver blade. As she was lifted clean off the ground, feet kicking uselessly in the air, she screamed: a primal scream from deep within her gut.
It was the last noise Laura Rigg ever made.
The Next Day
At 8.12 a.m. Lis saw the first police car. It hurtled past her, siren wailing as she made her way to the school bus. Her red trench coat was the only splash of colour on an otherwise monochrome morning.
She’d risen and dressed for school with a spring in her step. Would Laura even dare to show her face at school today? She must have realised by now that she’d been punked. Smiling to herself, Lis made her way to the bus stop. Laura deserved everything she’d got. Lis knew Laura had savoured her fear at school, well, last night they’d turned the tables. It had been Laura’s turn to be scared.
For once, Lis was on time for the bus. Today she boarded the vehicle with greater confidence than ever before, ready to take on the world. She saw Harry and Fiona whisper as she went past, but didn’t even think of entering into an argument. She wondered what Laura had told them. When she’d spoken to Kitty last night, her friend had reported that no one had called the police.
She joined Jack on the back seat. Ste and Cameron made some sort of comment as she walked by.
‘God,’ Jack said, ‘will they ever get bored?’
Lis smiled, not willing to let them bother her. ‘Probably not. They’re not going to change. But you know what? I don’t care any more; they can’t hurt me if I don’t let them.’
He laughed. ‘Right on, sista!’
‘Jack, today is day one! A new beginning!’
‘Amen to that!’
At 10.15, midway through English, Lis asked to use the bathroom, although in truth she merely wanted to check her texts to see if there was anything from Kitty or Jack – or even from Laura herself.
Excusing herself from class, she observed the rows upon rows of pupils as she drifted through the corridors. All these people – and, after last night, she felt she had found her place among them. She was no longer an outsider, but an insider; she belonged with Kitty, Delilah and Jack. She giggled again at the memory of Laura’s face. Where was she? She couldn’t wait for the punchline – when Laura saw her alive and well. Her phone found the network, but there were no new texts waiting to be read.
Leaving the girls’ bathroom, Lis drifted back towards her lesson, but was stunned to see a police officer heading into Ms Dandehunt’s office. The fluorescent yellow jacket was unmissable. She took a detour; the long way back to B8 would take her past the head’s room. Slowing to get a good look, she saw two officers, Ms Dandehunt, the deputy head and the school receptionist gathered around the gigantic desk in the centre of the room. Lis couldn’t hear what was being said, but through the thick glass she could see that Ms Dandehunt had turned a sickly shade of grey. As the head pushed her chair away from her desk, she knocked a potted plant onto the floor.
Anxious not to be caught, Lis hurried back to English and slid into her seat. Leaning close to Delilah, she whispered as quietly as she could, ‘There’s something going on. There are two policemen in Ms Dandehunt’s office. You don’t think it’s because of what we did, do you?’
‘No, it’s probably nothing.’ Delilah shrugged. ‘The school has a police liaison to deal with the naughty boys!’
‘No, it looks more serious than that. I saw Ms Dandehunt’s face; she looked pretty sick.’
‘Hmmm. Oh, well, the way gossip travels around here, I’m sure we’ll all know about it by the end of break.’
Lis smiled, oblivious to the majestic black bird perched just beyond the classroom window. She was being watched.
At 10.38, just before the break-time bell rang, Nasima Bharat was called out of English by the school receptionist. Looking confused and slightly concerned, she exited the room and was led away down the corridor.
‘Nasima!’ yelled Ste Mangano. ‘Been a bad girl, eh?’
‘Thank you, Stephen, that is quite enough!’ barked Mrs Osborne.
This time Delilah turned to Lis. ‘Curiouser and curiouser!’
At 10.47, Lis paused at a water fountain. After a moment, she realised she was standing in a steady stream of teachers and staff members flowing into the staff room. While it wasn’t especially surprising that teachers would use the staff room, it was unusual to see all of them going in at once. Something was seriously wrong, she could feel it. Even the teachers didn’t seem to know what was going on. Lis guessed it must be connected to Nasima’s disappearance from English. The girl hadn’t returned to class.
Rachel Williams, a cool, quirky girl from Lis’s Art lessons, paused alongside the water fountain.
Lis greeted her quietly. ‘What do you think’s going on?’ she asked.
‘Well!’ Rachel announced, clearly relishing the gossip. ‘Danielle Chung told me that Nasima Bharat’s dad has cancer or something. We think that maybe he’s died.’
Lis frowned. ‘Oh, that’s sad. I wonder if that’s what it is.’
As she said it, she saw the same police officers from Ms Dandehunt’s office now following Mr Gray into the staff lounge. Would the police really need to be here if Nasima’s dad had died? she wondered. It was tragic, yes, but surely no reason for a police presence.
‘I don’t think that can be it,’ she half muttered to Rachel, but she was already drifting down the corridor.
10.53 and frustration was starting to simmer in Lis’s belly. She couldn’t find Jack, Kitty or Delilah anywhere. She’d been to their usual spot under the shelter and not only were they absent, but no one had seen them all break. Sometimes Jack went to the snack shop in the canteen. It was worth a look.
By now the whole school buzzed as gossip spread like wildfire. Everyone had seen the police or knew someone who had, and everyone was speculating. You didn’t even need to eavesdrop, the rumours were everywhere: Jason Briggs has been caught with . . . Apparently she’s told police that he mugged her, seriously! Lis did her best to block it out.
A fork of lightning split the sky, drawing ‘oohs’ from awestruck pupils. Strange to see lightning without rain. A storm must be on its way. Looking to the heavens, Lis failed to see an oncoming Danny. Their shoulders clashed, almost knocking Lis over. He grabbed her and she stumbled into his strong arms.
‘Ow!’ The noise was a reflex more than an indication of pain. Lis steadied herself.
‘Sorry!’ they said together.
Danny’s face was milk white, a deathly, unnatural shade. He moved her out of the way to continue at his hectic pace, but Lis caught his hand.
‘Hey, are you OK?’
‘No, I’m not.’ He looked at the floor, avoiding her gaze. ‘I have to go.’
Lis kept hold of his hand. ‘Danny, what is it? You look awful.’
He looked up and, on seeing the pain in his usually tranquil eyes, Lis dropped his hand. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.
‘What is it?’ she repeated.
He frowned and a single tear pooled at the side of his nose. He caught it with the back of his hand before it could tumble down his cheek. ‘Cam’s mum called him,’ Danny said, carefully controlling his voice which threatened to tremble. ‘Laura was murdered last night.’
‘What?’ Lis gasped. She felt as though a sonic boom had hit her. No. Just, no. She was hearing things. Oh, hang on a minu
te, was this Laura’s way of getting them back? ‘Are you sure?’ she asked Danny.
‘They found her body in the copse this morning.’
‘No, this is a joke, right?’ she whispered, although Danny’s face was all the proof she needed. Laura was dead. The entire playground felt like a wildly spinning carousel. This couldn’t be real. She’d wake up in a second. But she didn’t. Why wasn’t she waking up? Lis reached out, leaning on the nearest wall to hold herself up.
The first drop of rain fell, hitting the concrete with a thick splat. Like a drop of blood.
‘Look, I have to go find Harry and Fi. They don’t know yet.’ Danny turned and ran.
Lis struggled for breath. Kitty. Jack. Delilah. They couldn’t have . . . What had they done? It was meant to be a joke! She had to find them.
A fierce wind picked up and the rain fell urgently now, joining the dots on the slabs. More lightning pierced the sky, which seemed to hang impossibly low, dense cloud closing in around the school. Lis burst into a sprint, heading straight for the canteen, barging past a group of Year Eights who cursed her loudly, but she was moving too fast to hear what they said. She became the storm, levelling anything that stood in her way.
Then the texts started to arrive. All around her, text alerts sounded before faces fell in shock and horror and disbelief. The fire was catching, spreading, burning out of control.
Almost falling up the stairs, Lis tumbled into the dining room, scanning the sea of students shovelling sandwiches and crisps into their faces. There was no sign of her clan. Her wet hair was plastered across her face. A couple of Year Nine girls giggled at her dishevelled state, but Lis had no time to dwell on it. She headed back out of the door. Where else could they be?
Lis prayed she was wrong. It had been a wind-up, nothing but a silly game. But now Laura was dead for real.
She stood for a second, letting the rain hit her face. It washed over her and she felt her shirt sticking to her hot skin. She took deep breaths, staving off the very real possibility that she might vomit in a public place. Opening her eyes, she saw the briefest glimpse of Kitty entering the old G Block by the boys’ toilets.