The Deviants

by C. J. Skuse

  But Shelby is mighty. She’s braver than all of us, as brave as a lioness. She does what neither I nor Jess could do in life – she stands up, knees shaking, hands fidgeting, dry-mouthed, and she looks Neil square in the face and she tells him and everyone else in that room the truth about what he had done to her since she was ten. How he had called her a ‘deviant’ too. How she was the one who trashed his brand-new Porsche at her birthday party. How she’d been at breaking point too, that night – she was just better at hiding it than me.

  Shelby got revenge for all of us, all the girls who couldn’t speak up. All the deviants whom he held down and forced himself into. All those little girls and babies in his laptop folders or on the CCTV tapes from the toilets at the garden centre, who didn’t know what was happening to them or were too young to understand or too scared to stop it.

  After the trial, more witnesses emerged. Girls on work experience at the arcades. Girls doing summer jobs in the garden centre café. Girls who didn’t like the attention, the touching, the ‘after-hours chats’. In all, twenty-two deviants came forward after Shelby’s testimony.

  They jail Neil for a minimum of seventeen years. The judge calls him ‘the only true deviant in this room’. Neil cries out on the stand. Protests his innocence. Shouts at Shelby. Calls her names. Pleads with Max. They both just stare back at him as he is led away.

  Two days later, Neil tries to hang himself in his cell, with a torn strip of bed sheet and an upended bunk. A man in the next cell tips off a guard who stops him just in time. Now they’ve given him stronger sheets and nailed his bed to the floor. They’re watching him all the time now.

  I ask Jess if we can haunt him, to make him suffer more. She tells me we already are.

  *

  The fireworks have started by the time we get to East Brynstan, but we’re taking it slow. This is the last time so we’re making the most of it. We go to Church Lane, passing Pete Hamlin’s cottage. There is a new estate agent sign up in the front garden now. Three families have lived there since Pete moved to London. No one ever seems to settle.

  I unlock the gate to the churchyard and we make our way up the path towards the Public Footpath sign. There’s a burning wood smell on the air, and the tang of cooking meat and tomato soup. A couple of car doors slam in the lane and two family groups emerge at the start of the footpath, chattering to one another, their kids wrapped up in big coats and wellies.

  Solar lights illuminate a runway snaking all the way up the side of Brynstan Hill so people know where to walk. Lining the route are candy-floss trucks and popcorn stalls and vans selling roasted chestnuts and burgers. We let people pass us, chattering, excited, kids writing in the air with sparklers, groups of people linking arms. It’s cold. I can feel it tonight.

  Up on the summit of Brynstan Hill, the flames of the humungous bonfire dance high into the night sky – crowds of people are up there already, beetling around in thick coats and boots, marvelling at the one time of the year Volcano Town’s volcano actually spews fire. We carry on walking as the gradient gets steeper and the bonfire grows bigger on the horizon.

  ‘There they are,’ I say, unable to hide my excitement as I pick out Fallon in her oversized white puffa jacket and white moon boots on the edge of the summit. In her arms is the little girl I met briefly as a baby and who I’ve watched grow ever since – this is Ella. She is so wrapped up in woollen clothes that I can only see her little red cheeks and big brown eyes, but she is beautiful. She looks just like Zane only she smiles way more he ever did.

  She looks in our direction and points.

  ‘Oh my God, can she see us?’ I ask.

  You frown. You don’t think so. But she’s smiling and waving right at us. Saying ‘Mumma, Mumma, Ella!’

  Fallon’s writing her name in the air with a sparkler. Maybe it’s that.

  When we reach the summit, Zane has lifted Ella into his arms to watch the bonfire.

  ‘Fire fire hot hot hot!’ she screeches. ‘Corey, nook!’

  ‘I know, big hot fire,’ says Corey, who stands beside them, still in his Costa uniform. He must have come straight from work.

  Fallon laughs, folding her arms. ‘She ate a worm this morning,’ she tells Zane. ‘She’s got this thing about insects. Loves them. Keeps a whole bunch of snails in an ice cream tub out the back, doesn’t she, Core?’

  Corey nods, pushing his glasses up his nose and rubbing Fallon’s arms on the outside to warm her up, like he has ESP when it comes to her being cold. ‘Yep. Has tea parties with them and then she kills them and eats them after. It’s hilarious.’

  ‘Little weirdo fits right in, doesn’t she?’ Max roots about in the picnic basket they all stand around and pulls out a large silver thermos. ‘Anyone for soup?’

  ‘Yeah, go on then,’ says Zane as Ella reaches for him. He takes her and lifts her onto his shoulders where she starts bouncing.

  ‘Did you see the flowers on the graves, Max?’ Fallon asks as he pours out her tomato soup. ‘Ella picked them out.’

  ‘Yeah I saw on the way up. They’re great. What do you think of the new headstones?’

  ‘Beautiful,’ says Corey. ‘I’m glad they’re next to each other.’

  ‘Yeah, so am I.’ Max nods, as a rocket zooms up into the air and screams across the sky in a blaze of starlight, finishing in a single resounding CRACK.

  ‘That was scary bang,’ Ella giggles, still on Zane’s shoulders. She reaches out her hand to Corey and he takes it gladly.

  I’ve watched them all over the past two years. I know what they all mean to one another now. Max lives in Cloud now – he bought an old manor house that needed doing up, close to Whitehouse Farm. My dad helped him with the legal side of things – Dad’s good like that – and it gave him something to focus on. Corey and Fallon helped with the decorating and for the last six months, Zane’s been lodging with him. His mum was a lot more understanding about him being gay than he gave her credit for but he still wanted his own space. He couldn’t be himself at home. He could around us. Or rather, them.

  ‘Did Zane tell you he’s getting grief from his rugby lot again?’ says Max.

  ‘You’re not, are you, mate?’ says Corey.

  ‘Only a bit of stick from a couple of new guys, yeah,’ he laughs. ‘Most of them have been all right. It’s just the same two who keep giving me static.’

  ‘What do you mean? What are they doing?’ asks Fallon, reaching into the picnic basket for a child’s drinking cup. She hands it to Ella.

  ‘Trolling mostly. The odd text. Used to be good mates with them at school but they just won’t accept it.’

  ‘Danny Leech and Andy Tanner?’ says Corey.

  He nods, his face illuminated by the fire. ‘They’re just twats. I can handle them.’

  ‘I said they probably fancy him,’ says Max as another round of fireworks starts up, drowning out their voices.

  ‘I doubt it,’ says Zane, handing Ella over to Corey. He stands her in front of him and puts his gloved hands over her ears when one, two, three, four, five loud rockets scream out in quick succession. She stares up at them, open-mouthed. Fallon bends down and starts talking to her, telling her that me and Jessica are up in the sky, two stars looking down on her.

  ‘Do you want to do something about it, mate?’ says Max. They all go silent again. ‘I meant, go and talk to them. See if they need help understanding.’

  Zane dips his roll in his soup. ‘When you say “help”…’

  ‘I don’t mean heavy stuff,’ Max laughs. ‘But we can’t let it go on, can we?’

  ‘No way,’ Zane laughs. ‘It’s their problem, not mine.’ He met someone recently, at the gym. His name is Sam. He hasn’t told them all just yet. He’s keeping it glowing inside him for just a little bit longer.

  Fallon smiles and squeezes his forearm. ‘We’ve got your back though.’

  Zane nods, before bending down to Ella and whispering something in her ear. Then they start chasing each other through the grass ar
ound the Iron Age remains.

  ‘How’s the application going, Max? Any more news?’ asks Corey.

  ‘Yeah, actually,’ he says, standing up. ‘I’ve got an interview.’

  ‘Oh that’s amazing!’ cries Fallon, pulling him in for a hug.

  ‘Yeah. Zane’s been training me for my bleep test for the past month. I’m still a long way off becoming a full policeman, but, well, ball’s rolling. Least I know what I want now.’

  Corey smiles and pats him on the back. ‘Well done, mate. That’s brilliant.’

  ‘Yeah. If all goes well, I could be pounding the beat a couple of years from now.’

  ‘Do you know what area you want to go into yet?’ asks Fallon.

  ‘Rape prevention,’ he says, without a moment’s hesitation. ‘You know, eventually.’ Neither of them says anything, even though their heads must be full of words. Fallon looks as proud as she did when Ella took her first steps. Corey just nods.

  ‘So what are we doing after this then?’ asks Zane, coming back over to them with Ella on his back like a little monkey. ‘Do you want to come back to the house for a bit of Disney and a curry or summing?’

  ‘Yeah, that place in the high street was good last time,’ said Corey. ‘The Chandni. We’ve still got the leaflet somewhere, haven’t we?’

  ‘Somewhere,’ says Fallon. ‘Yeah, that would be nice. Can’t be too late tonight though cos I’ve got a ton of homework to do for college.’

  Max nods. ‘We could pick it up and bring it round about eight. Same as last time?’

  ‘Ooh yeah, get more naan bread this time though,’ says Corey, as Zane puts Ella down and she appears at his side, asking for her drink, which he gives her.

  ‘I’m gonna eat all the poppadums,’ says Ella. ‘And you can’t have any.’ She points at Max and giggles into her little purple gloves.

  ‘No, I’m having all the poppadums,’ says Max. ‘You fart when you have curry.’ She cups her mouth like he’s said something very naughty and Max grabs her and tickles her off the ground.

  ‘Naughty Uncle Max,’ she laughs.

  ‘No, naughty Ella Bella Spinderella.’ And she laughs even harder. She asks for ‘Snuggly Duddlies’ and he lifts her up and they squeeze each other tightly as another lot of rockets scream skywards.

  She’s the perfect mix of all of us – she’s got Zane’s eyes, Fallon’s courage, Max’s intelligence, Corey’s sense of wonder – and my name.

  Max still misses me. I still see those moments in the mirror where his mind is wondering what the point is and his face crumbles. The few times of day where he’s without one of them and he crawls into himself like a crab, but little by ever so little, it’s becoming less of a habit. Zane is there with the tough love and the early morning jogs. He’s kept him off skunk too and even helped him fill out his Deed Poll forms to change his surname – he’s Max Walmsley now; his mum’s maiden name. Corey and Fallon are there with the counselling sessions and takeaway pizzas and trips to the zoo or town or some farm with the baby. Every day they all do something together, even if it’s just to go round and watch TV or have dinner. There’s no secrets now. They tell each other everything. It’s like their code.

  Five more rockets scream up, one after the other, screeching, howling and streaming over their heads, louder and brighter than any that have gone before. I look at the faces of my friends, illuminated orange and full of wonder. I look at Ella. I know she can see me now. I wave at her and she waves back. She can see the magic. I hope that lasts.

  I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to look at you. You tell me it’s time for us to go.

  I don’t want to leave them, of course I don’t, but there isn’t a place for me here any more. If I don’t leave them, they won’t be able to get on with their lives.

  Dad won’t put that new framed quote up in his office – the one from Great Expectations - ‘You are in every line I have ever read’ – the photo of me with my medals beneath it. And he won’t ask Celestina to marry him.

  Corey and Fallon won’t ever truly be happy.

  Baby Ella won’t thrive.

  Zane won’t move in with his boyfriend.

  Max won’t join the police, and save more girls like me from men like Neil. So I have to go. I think they’re ready for me to go.

  They’ve never stopped being the Fearless Five. Those years in between, they just got lost for a while. They don’t ever need to be lost again. I’ve made sure of that.

  And that’s enough for me now. Just enough.

  Acknowledgments.

  Jenny Savill at Andrew Nurnberg Agency for keeping the faith and for all the metaphorical chamomile when I’ve had too much Red Bull.

  Anna Baggaley, Clio Cornish, Lisa Milton, Taryn Sachs, Jen Porter and everyone at HQ for taking my little Monster, my lonely Deviants and my fragrant Sweetpea under your wing.

  Imogen Russell-Williams, for your vital advice just when I needed it most. Your Samurai editing technique is breathtakingly bloodthirsty and I love it.

  My early readers – especially Penny Skuse, Matthew Snead and Barry Timms.

  Laura Myers for your steadfast friendship, constant enthusiasm for my books and for never being afraid to tell me when I’m being a twat.

  Jamie Skuse, because he always looks for his name in the back of the book.

  Julia Green and the entire creative team at Bath Spa University, home of the finest MA in Writing for Young People in the UK. I wouldn’t be published without it.

  All the UKYA book bloggers who have supported me from the word go and who continue to spread the word of the Ceej, especially Laura @ Sister Spooky, Michelle @ Tales of Yesterday, Sally aka The Dark Dictator, Ray Reads a Lot and Jess Hearts Books.

  All my author mateys who encourage me, calm me and generally Retweet the crap out of me, especially Christi Daugherty, Keren David, Fiona Dunbar, Hilary Freeman, Helen Grant, Emma Haughton, Zoe Marriott, Keris Stainton and Lee Weatherly.

  And the soundtrack for this one was as follows: Arctic Monkeys, Birdy, Busted, Calvin Harris, Death Cab for Cutie, Devlin ft. Ed Sheeran, Echobelly, Ellie Goulding, Fall Out Boy, Feeder, First Aid Kit, 5 Seconds of Summer, Foxes, Gorillaz, Imagine Dragons, Kesha, Hoobastank, Linkin Park, MCR, Prodigy, Radiohead, Skrillex, Sleigh Bells, Slipknot, 30 Seconds to Mars and Youth in Revolt.

  ISBN: 978-1-474-05095-1

  THE DEVIANTS

  © 2016 C.J. Skuse

  Published in Great Britain 2016

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

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