Dark Season: The Complete Box Set

by Amy Cross

  "All this stuff is useless if you meet a vampire," Amanda continues. "Vampires can do what they want. There's nothing you can use to scare a vampire away. Vampires have gray skin and they're, like, eight feet tall and they have long, thin fingers and -"

  "Shelley, what do you think you're doing!" Mrs. Hardstone shouts, grabbing the back of my collar.

  "Shit!" I say, turning to look up at her.

  "Don't you use that language!" she replies, staring down at me harshly before looking over at Amanda and the others. "You girls are from the high school! Amanda Hodgson, I know your mother and your principal! Are they aware that you're out here? What are you doing, anyway? Is this some kind of witchcraft?"

  "Where did that fucking kid come from?" Amanda says, staring at me with a look of horror and disgust. She and her friends grab their stuff and run away through the forest.

  "Didn't you hear me calling for you?" Mrs. Hardstone says, still holding me firmly by the collar as she leads me back through the forest. "Or did you just decide to ignore me? Did you think I was just out here shouting your name because I had nothing better to do?"

  "I didn't hear you," I say quietly, my eyes filling with tears. I hate the way I always cry when I'm in trouble. It's like, I don't care what Mrs. Hardstone says, and I don't care that she's mad at me, but I have this annoying physical reaction to being told off. The tears just flood down my face, making me look like some kind of idiot. If I could just stop crying all the time, I'd feel much better.

  "You didn't hear me calling after you?" she asks. "Don't lie to me, Shelley. I know perfectly well that you heard me. You're not deaf, are you? You just wanted to get away with doing whatever you were doing. There's a reason children aren't allowed out here alone. This forest isn't safe."

  "I'm not a child," I reply, my lower lip trembling as she continues to march me back to school. "You're walking too fast," I whimper, stumbling over the rough forest floor.

  "Tough," she says. "You most certainly are a child, Shelley, and so are those girls you were with."

  "I wasn't with them."

  "It doesn't matter," she continues. "I recognized them. Their principal will be getting a phone call from me this afternoon, and so will their parents."

  "No!" I say, trying and failing to break free from her grasp. "If you do that, they'll blame me! They'll hate me forever!"

  "Nonsense," she replies. Up ahead, the school is coming into view as we reach the edge of the forest. "Those girls need to be taught a thing or two. They'll thank you in a few years when they realize that they've been saved from wasting their lives. You'll thank me too, Shelley. You'll look back on your time with me and you'll realize that everything I do, I do it because I care about you. You're a smart girl but your head is filled immature rubbish."

  "It's not!" I say, barely able to speak over the tears.

  Mrs. Hardstone unlocks the gate and pulls me back into the playground, before marching me over to the corner. This is where people have to go when they've been naughty, and I spend time here almost every recess. I swear, I don't set out to break the rules; I just seem to have this instinct for doing things that get me into trouble. It's not fair, but I don't think it's totally my fault. If Mrs. Hardstone is gonna set stupid rules, it's inevitable that people are gonna break them. This corner isn't really for naughty people; it's for smart people.

  "You know how this works, Shelley," she says as she positions me in the corner, facing the wall. There's another girl standing nearby; I guess she was naughty too. "You'll stay here until the end of recess," Mrs. Hardstone continues. "I hope you'll use the time to think about what you've done, and about why it's so important that you change your attitude. No talking between the two of you." With that, she turns and walks away.

  Sighing, I imagine her phoning the high school and telling the principal about Amanda and the other girls; I imagine Amanda being told off and being made to stand in the high school's naughty corner; I imagine Amanda realizing that it's my fault Mrs. Hardstone found them in the forest. Sniffing back tears, I realize Amanda and the other girls are gonna hate me forever. They're gonna think that I ruined their lives.

  After a few minutes, I look over at the other girl in the naughty corner. I recognize her, but we've never really spoken. She's not crying; she's just staring at the wall in front of her.

  "What's your name?" I ask.

  She doesn't reply. Glancing back across the playground, I see that Mrs. Hardstone is busy with some other kids.

  "It's okay," I say to the girl. "She's not looking. I only asked your name. I'm Shelley."

  The girl looks over at me.

  "It's okay," I tell her. "You're allowed to tell me your name."

  She pauses for a moment, clearly not sure whether to speak. "Sophie," she says eventually.

  "Sophie what?"

  "Sophie Hart." She looks over her shoulder, to check that Mrs. Hardstone is busy.

  "Why did you do?" I ask.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why are you in the naughty corner?"

  "I swore," she replies.

  I smile. "What did you say?"

  "I can't say it again," she says. She seems kind of sombre and serious.

  "No-one can hear you," I remind her. "Tell me."

  She shakes her head.

  "It won't shock me," I say. "I know all the swear words."

  She double-checks that Mrs. Hardstone isn't watching us. "Damn," she says after a moment.

  "Damn?"

  "That's what I said."

  I stare at her. "Is that a swear word?" I ask eventually. "I thought it was just a normal word."

  "Mrs. Hardstone says it's a swear word," she says.

  "Mrs. Hardstone's a bitch," I reply.

  "Don't say that!" she hisses. "That's another swear word!"

  "What is?" I ask, grinning. "Bitch?"

  "Shut up!" she says, staring straight ahead at the wall.

  "A bitch is a female dog," I say. "That's what a bitch is."

  "I'm not allowed to talk to you," Sophie says firmly.

  "Because I'm naughty?" I wait for an answer, but Sophie is clearly ignoring me now. "Damn and bitch," I say finally. "And damn again!"

  "Stop it!" she says, her face turning bright red from embarrassment. "You'll get me into more trouble."

  "Okay," I reply. "I'll shut up and never talk to you again, if you just do one thing for me. You have to call me a bitch."

  She shakes her head.

  "Call me a bitch and I'll leave you alone forever."

  She shakes her head again.

  "Call me a bitch."

  "Shelley!" Mrs. Hardstone shouts, having come up behind me. "What did you say?"

  "Nothing," I mutter, feeling tears in my eyes once again. Damn it, I hate the way I get so emotional when I'm in trouble.

  "Did you use the b-word?" she asks. "Be honest with me, Shelley. Did you use that word?"

  "No," I reply, glancing over at Sophie.

  "Sophie," Mrs. Hardstone says, "I'm going to ask you, and I expect you to be totally honest with me. Did Shelley use the b-word or any other swear words?"

  Sophie looks over at me, and I can see the indecision in her eyes. She seems totally prim and proper, and I bet she's desperate to rat me out so she can score some points with Mrs. Hardstone. At the same time, I think maybe she's wondering whether she should keep quiet and help me stay out of trouble.

  "Answer me, Sophie," Mrs. Hardstone insists.

  "Yes," Sophie says.

  "Thank you," Mrs. Hardstone says. "Sophie, as a reward for your honesty, you may go and play now."

  I watch as Sophie turns and runs back across the playground. Damn little snitch.

  "Okay, Shelley," Mrs. Hardstone continues, "I think we've reached the limit of the naughty corner. It's quite clear that there's something deeply wrong with you, and my traditional discipline is never going to iron out all your creases." She pauses for a moment. "Turn and face me, young lady."

  Sniffing back
tears, I turn and look up at her.

  "Do you know what you are, Shelley?" she asks. "You're possessed by demons. You have evil and ungodliness in your heart, and I don't think you'll ever be saved. You were doomed long before you ever came to this school, and I'm afraid it's beyond my abilities to help you." She kneels in front of me, fixing me with a dark stare. "You're a fucked-up little bitch. You're going to grow up to be a monster who does nothing but hurt people until the day, hopefully soon, when you decide to do the only decent thing and kill yourself. You have no value, no worth. You have nothing to contribute to the human race, other than misery and suffering. Everyone who ever spends time with you, will end up regretting that they even met you. How does that make you feel?"

  I turn to run away, but she grabs my shoulders and forces me to stay. I try to wriggle free, but it's no use. She's got me held firmly, and I just have to stand here and wait for her to be done with me.

  "Do you want to know how you'll end up, Shelley?" She pauses for a moment. "You'll end up as some diseased pus-bag tramp, dying on the streets somewhere with a needle poking out of your arm. You're going to have a miserable, pointless life and then you're going to die a horrible, meaningless, agonizing death. People will walk past your body, and they'll be glad that they're nothing like you. You'll be buried in an unmarked grave, and no-one will come to your funeral because no-one will like you. Maybe they won't even bother to bury you; they might just burn your body and toss your ashes into the trash. And then you'll go to Hell, where you belong, and you'll suffer for all of eternity. And do you know what I'll do on that day? I'll laugh."

  She turns and walks away, leaving me standing here with tears streaming down my face. I'm crying so much, it's hard to breathe, and I can see other people in the playground have noticed that I'm upset. Damn it, they're gonna start making fun of me. Turning back toward the wall, I try to hide my face. I shuffle as far into the corner as I can, determined to make sure that no-one can see me. I usually hate the naughty corner, but right now it feels like a good place to hide. I have to make sure I pull myself together before recess is over, because I can't go back to class looking like this. Still, though, the tears just keep on flowing and it feels like I'll never, ever be able to stop crying.

  Shelley

  Wyoming, Today.

  I'm woken by the smell of bacon cooking in a pan downstairs. For a moment, I'm gripped by a ravenous hunger, but as soon as I sit up in bed, I feel my stomach do a somersault and I almost throw up. The events of last night come back to me in a big, hideous mess: I went out to a little bar in town, got blind drunk, met a guy, and... I look around to make sure that I'm alone. What happened with that guy? He wasn't bad-looking, so it's quite possible I went home with him for a while, but I seem to have ended up back at my friend Alice's house, sleeping - as has been the case for the past week - in her son's bed. I grab my phone and see that it's 1pm, which means I've almost slept another day away. I have a vague memory that I dreamed of old Mrs. Hard-Ass, a teacher from back when I was a kid. A shudder goes through my body as I remember her vulture-like face.

  "You were out late," Alice says as I stumble into the kitchen a few minutes later. Still wearing my dressing gown, I head over to the fridge and grab some milk, drinking directly from the carton. "Do you have to do that?" Alice asks.

  "What?" I ask, puzzled for a moment. "Oh, right." I wipe the lid of the milk carton on my dressing gown sleeve. Well, it's not actually my dressing gown. It's Alice's, like everything else in this house.

  "Can you go to the shops for me in a bit?" she asks, dishing the bacon up onto a plate along with a couple of eggs and a fried tomato. "I've been run off my feet all morning." She brings the plate over and puts it on the table. "Eat," she says firmly, with authority.

  "Me?" I ask. "Isn't that for you?"

  "I've already had lunch," she replies. "And breakfast. I was going to bring this up to you in bed, but now you're down, you might as well eat at the table like a civilized person."

  I smile as I take a seat. "You're the best friend ever." As I start to eat, I watch Alice cleaning the kitchen work surfaces. It's strange, but since I arrived here in Wyoming last week I've started to see her totally differently. Before, I thought she was kind of pathetic. She used to be a marketing executive, but she gave up her career in order to be a full-time housewife and mother. When we were younger, she was full of radical feminist ideas, and then she did a three-sixty turn and settled for a life like this. I couldn't understand it at first, and I'd go out partying and feel sorry for her stuck at home. Now, though, I'm starting to think I would have liked a life like this.

  "Those eggs okay?" she asks.

  "Perfect," I reply, slowly starting to feel a little more human. Damn it, I'm not going to drink for a few nights. I know I said that yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, but this time I really mean it.

  "I need to ask you a question," Alice says suddenly, turning to me with an awkward look on her face. "Don't take this the wrong way, Shelley, but Tom and I need to plan things ahead a little bit. You're welcome to stay for as long as you need, but if it's going to be much longer, we were thinking of maybe moving you into the garage."

  I stare at her. "The garage?" I say, with my mouth full of bacon and eggs. "With the spiders?"

  "There aren't that many spiders," she replies. "The problem is, Bobby needs to have his bed back soon. Sleeping on the sofa isn't good for his back, and we're worried his school work might suffer. You understand, don't you? We can make the garage really, really comfortable. We'll park the car on the street and you'll have the whole place to yourself."

  I sigh. "I don't know, Alice. I was thinking of moving on anyway. I've got other people I need to visit on this little road trip." That's what I've told her I'm doing: taking a road trip. The truth, though, is that I'm keeping a low profile so that Benjamin and the Watchers aren't able to track me down. The last time I heard from Todd, he sounded worried, and I'm scared that something might have happened to him. I keep waiting for him to call and tell me it's all okay, but as time goes by, I'm starting to realize that maybe he isn't going to call; maybe things aren't going to be okay.

  "Please don't think we're kicking you out," Alice says, sitting next to me. "I love having you here. Tom loves having you here. It's just that we need to re-organize things a little if this is going to be a semi-permanent arrangement, you know? Just a few little things here and there, for all our sakes."

  "It's not permanent," I reply, realizing that I've perhaps relied too much on her hospitality. I have friends in California, so I can go and visit them for a while. After that, I'm sure I'll have heard from Todd, and if not... Well, maybe it'll be time to think about getting some money together and leaving the country. I can't live in limbo forever, constantly looking over my shoulder while relying on some kind of vague, ill-formed plan that's never actually going to come to fruition. "You've been brilliant," I continue, "and to be honest, I was kind of feeling bad about having to move on. I mean, it's mean of me to deprive you of my wonderful company."

  "Just don't be a stranger again," she replies with a smile. "Damn it, Shelley, I didn't hear from you for more than a decade before you turned up last week. We used to be such good friends. You and me and Callum and Rob and Sophie." She pauses, and there's a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Do you ever think about the old days?" she asks. "When we were young?"

  "No," I say quickly, hoping to cut the conversation short. "Did you say something about some shopping you wanted me to fetch?"

  Half an hour later, having got dressed and tied my hair back, I wander out of the house and head toward the nearest store. Although Alice offered me money for the stuff I'm fetching, I told her I'd pay for it; after all, I feel I should contribute something to her household, given that she's letting me stay for free. Unfortunately, this approach is severely depleting my finances and I'm running out of money pretty fast. Without a miracle, I'm going to be totally broke in about two weeks, which means... W
ell, there were certain things I used to be willing to do for money in the bars back in Dedston, when I was younger, but I'm not sure I'd be as successful these days. When I was in my early twenties, I could easily make twenty bucks for ten minutes on my knees; now that I'm in my late thirties, I figure it'll be tougher to use my body to make ends meet. Then again, desperate times call for desperate measures, and it's clear that I need to get out of here. I'm definitely desperate.

  Passing the bus station, I check the times for a few inter-state services. A plan is rapidly forming in my head: I'll stay one last night with Alice, and then I'll head to California. There, I'll get some money together and buy a ticket to somewhere like Australia or New Zealand, or maybe somewhere totally exotic like India where I can get really lost; once I'm out of the country, I figure Benjamin and the Watchers won't be interested in me. It's a shame I won't get to see Todd again, but we never really knew each other too well and I'm sure he'll be just fine without me. The most important thing is that I get the hell out of this place before I'm dragged back into that world. No matter what I might have thought earlier, the truth is that I have a choice. I'm in charge of my own destiny. No-one can tell me what to do.

  "Hey," says a voice nearby. I walk on, assuming the person isn't talking to me, even though something deep down in the pit of my stomach tells me that I'm wrong. "Shelley!" the voice calls out.

  I stop dead in my tracks. I recognize that voice. Turning slowly, I see Abby standing in a dark doorway. It's been almost a month since I last saw her, and she seems a little different: older, and maybe a little tougher. The way she's staring at me is more intense, as if she can see right through me. Maybe I'm over-reacting, but I feel like she looks less like Sophie and more like Patrick these days. I have this urge to run, to get as far away from her as possible, but at the same time I feel that I owe it to her to at least stay and hear what she has to say.