Fracture

by C. J. Daugherty

  A brief stunned pause was followed by a rush as everybody spoke at once.

  ‘Of course we can…’

  ‘Don’t even think…’

  ‘Anybody would have…’

  They were all kind but when the conversation veered away from the uncomfortable reality of Allie’s breakdown and wandered to the safer territory of her escape, she was relieved.

  ‘How did you do it?’ Lucas asked, with real interest in his eyes. ‘They say you climbed over the fence.’

  ‘No way,’ Allie scoffed. ‘That’s impossible. For me anyway. That thing is huge.’

  ‘Did someone help you?’ Jules asked, her voice cautious.

  Thinking of Mark, Allie paused. ‘Not exactly…’

  ‘What are they doing to you?’ For Allie, Carter’s voice made all other sound stop and her eyes flashed up to meet his. ‘What kind of punishment?’

  ‘Loads of homework. Garden detention for the rest of my life.’ She faked an insouciant shrug. ‘The usual.’

  The look on his face told her he knew there was more to it than that. But she couldn’t tell them everything. She couldn’t say what Lucinda had promised her. Not now anyway.

  At that moment, the kitchen doors opened and staff poured out in rows of two into the room, steam rising from the platters they carried. As Allie watched the waiters enter in their crisp black uniforms, her gaze fell upon Sylvain, watching her intently, knowingly. His eyes as bright and cold as chips of glacier ice.

  SEVEN

  T

  he next day Allie went to all her classes for the first time in weeks.

  Her teachers must have been warned to expect her because none of them commented on her sudden reappearance, although Zelazny shot her a bilious look as she slid into her seat in ancient history.

  The students, though, were not so polite. She could handle the staring, although it made her skin crawl. But the whispered insults just loud enough for her to hear were harder to take. Most of the time she managed to ignore them. Until, in maths class, she heard someone stage-whisper, ‘Do you think she killed Jo…?’

  For a moment, Allie couldn’t breathe. Then a flash of white-hot pain made her forget all her promises.

  Holding her pen like a dagger she spun in her seat and levelled it at two girls who sat behind her. Amber and Ismay: acolytes of Katie Gilmore. The ‘twins of evil’, she’d always called them back when she had a sense of humour. She didn’t think anything was funny any more.

  ‘If I were you’ – her voice was low and surprisingly steady – ‘I’d shut up.’

  For a second they just giggled uncertainly. She could see that they weren’t sure whether to ridicule her or be afraid.

  Then Amber flipped her long blonde hair over one shoulder with practised nonchalance. ‘She’s terrifying,’ she said. ‘She has criminal eyes. I can’t believe she’s loose among us.’

  This gave Ismay, ever the follower, the courage she needed to be hateful. ‘She’s some kind of monster.’ Her lips curled up in a disdainful smile. ‘Why don’t you do us all a favour and run away again?’

  Somehow the pettiness of their words defused the situation. Allie’s anger receded, like a wave drawing back from the sand. When they weren’t talking about Jo – when they were just insulting Allie – she could take it. Still, she ached to punch them both in their pert little noses and see what they had to say then.

  But she’d promised Lucinda no trouble. No rule breaking at all. In return she’d get to hurt the right people.

  Uncurling her fist from the pen she flipped it into writing position.

  ‘Little tossers,’ she said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. Then she turned her back on them and, cold with rage, tried to block out the sound of their insipid giggles.

  Once class began, though, she had no time to worry about what anyone was saying about her. She was so far behind in her studies she wasn’t certain what her teachers were talking about.

  Chemistry was the worst. She took copious notes but, as the complex formulas and diagrams spilled meaninglessly across the pages of her notebook, panic rose in her throat like bile.

  Am I too far behind to catch up?

  Two days ago she wouldn’t have cared. But she’d promised Lucinda she’d pass all her classes and with so much at stake she now cared very much.

  The biggest problem was that the teacher was Jerry Cole and, even as she struggled to understand the lesson, she was also working studiously to avoid meeting his eyes.

  He was back to his normal, good-humoured self, making bad jokes about atoms and molecular structure. He smiled easily and she could see he’d made an unsuccessful effort to tame his wiry curls. There was no sign at all of the angry man she’d faced the day before.

  When the class ended, she raced to join the queue of students streaming from the room, losing herself in the crowd. She was already congratulating herself on making it away when he called her name.

  ‘Allie – could you stay behind for a second?’

  She froze, her heart sinking.

  For a moment she considered just running out – pretending she hadn’t heard. Then, with heavy slowness, she turned to face him. His wire-framed spectacles glittered in the light, hiding his eyes as he motioned for her to sit in a desk on the front row.

  After a brief hesitation she perched stiffly, her arms crossed in front of the book bag in her lap.

  He leaned back against his desk. Allie thought he looked uncomfortable; his feet moved restlessly.

  ‘Allie, I wanted to clear the air about yesterday. It was a difficult day for both of us and I would just like to put it behind us.’ Wary, Allie watched as he took off his glasses. His eyes looked tired. ‘You know, the things that have been happening here – Jo’s death, your injuries – they haven’t only affected students. Teachers have feelings too. And we’ve all been under a lot of strain this term. But if I’m to teach you, then you need to be comfortable around me. You need to know I’m not judging you all the time. So I hope we can work together again the way we have in the past. I think you’re a good student – and a good person – and I enjoy having you in my class.’

  His words sounded genuine and she longed for things to be normal again. He was offering her something she really wanted.

  ‘I’m… sorry too,’ she said shyly. ‘For… well, all the stuff I did.’

  He visibly relaxed, as if he’d been as nervous about having this conversation as she was. It was disarming and she found herself feeling better about things.

  ‘Good. I’m glad,’ he said. ‘Well, now that we’ve settled that… I want to talk to you about something more mundane – chemistry.’ He chuckled and Allie smiled politely as he polished his glasses on a cloth he took from his pocket. ‘You’re quite far behind with your work and I know how hard it is to catch up with this class. Once you’re behind things can spiral out of control fairly quickly and before you know it’ – he held up an empty hand – ‘you’re being held back.’

  She kept her expression blank but tightened her grip on her bag.

  Is he going to hold me back? Even hearing the possibility expressed aloud was humiliating. Hot blood rose to her cheeks.

  ‘I don’t want that to happen to you,’ he continued, oblivious to her tension. ‘But I think you’ll need some extra help to get you up to speed. I’ve spoken to Rachel Patel, and she’s offered to tutor you for the rest of term. As you know, she’s one of our science stars so I think this is a great idea. Given your previous high scores, I think you can catch up with the class if you work hard – can I count on you to do that?’

  A sudden burst of hope, warm as sunlight, filled her. He still had confidence in her. He thought she could do it. And best of all, she’d be working with Rachel – maybe she could figure out a way to mend their damaged friendship at the same time.

  ‘Definitely,’ she said with heartfelt enthusiasm.

  ‘Good.’ He stood up and she knew their talk was over. But as she headed towards the door, he
called after her. When she turned back he was looking at her oddly.

  ‘You’re going to be just fine, you know,’ he said.

  Taken by surprise, Allie didn’t have time to be anything but honest. ‘I hope so.’

  That conversation was the only light in an otherwise dim day, and Allie’s feet dragged as she lugged her heavy book bag up the stairs towards the girls’ dormitory wing after her last class.

  When she saw a small familiar figure ahead of her, darting through the crowds of students, she swallowed hard.

  ‘Zoe thinks of you as a big sister,’ Isabelle had said. ‘She needed you.’

  ‘Hey, Zoe,’ she called out. ‘Wait up.’

  The younger girl stopped in mid-stride. When she turned around, her expression was guarded.

  Zoe was a prodigy – just thirteen, she was already studying well above Allie’s level. The two of them had been close last term but after Jo’s death Zoe acted as if nothing important had happened. She didn’t seem to care. Allie never once saw her cry. She just got on with her life as if Jo had never existed.

  Early on, Dr Cartwright had tried to explain to Allie how Asperger’s worked but she hadn’t wanted to hear it at the time. It had just been too hard to take.

  Now, though, her own actions seemed mean to her.

  When she caught up to her, Allie rushed into her apology. ‘I just wanted to tell you again that I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you. It wasn’t fair. I’ve been messed up but I shouldn’t have… done that.’

  Zoe’s face screwed up, and Allie knew she was thinking it over – flipping through the words as if they were numbers. Adding them up. Coming up with a reply.

  ‘I forgive you,’ she said finally. ‘But you can’t do it again or I won’t be your friend. And that’s for ever.’

  Something fluttered loose in Allie’s heart. She couldn’t lose Zoe. She needed her. She spoke with a fervour she hadn’t realised she felt.

  ‘I won’t do it again, Zoe. I swear it. And I… I really hope things can go back the way they were. Please. Let’s just… be normal again.’

  Clearly satisfied by this, Zoe gave a nod that sent her ponytail swinging. ‘Good. I want that, too.’

  Side by side, they walked down the narrow corridor lined on both sides with small white doors, each with a number painted on it in black.

  Tilting her head to one side, Zoe spoke with her usual bluntness. ‘Why did you run away? Because you were sad?’

  Allie hesitated. ‘Yeah…’ she said eventually. ‘I was sad.’

  Zoe seemed to accept this. ‘Where did you go?’

  There was no easy answer to this question.

  ‘To church, in the end.’ Allie’s voice was rueful. ‘Although that wasn’t the plan. Like… at all.’

  ‘What was the plan?’

  ‘To go to London and find out who hurt Jo.’ Allie shrugged – it sounded so foolish now. ‘Somehow.’

  ‘Aren’t you from London?’ Zoe’s gaze sharpened.

  ‘Yeah…?’

  ‘Nathaniel would have found you immediately. He’d know right where you’d go. It was a terrible plan.’

  Allie opened her mouth to reply then closed it again. Zoe had a point.

  When they reached the younger girl’s door, Zoe stopped. ‘If you ever decide to run away again, come to me. I’ll help you choose the best place to go. Statistically speaking.’

  Allie was surprised by how much that touched her; for a second she didn’t trust herself to speak. When she recovered, though, her reply was fervent.

  ‘If I ever run away again you will be the first person I tell.’

  When she opened the door to her room, the chemical-lemon smell of furniture polish greeted Allie before she’d even switched on the light. She inhaled deeply. Loath though she was to admit it to herself, she was glad her dirty clothes had been taken away and fresh towels stacked on the shelf by the door. Glad everything was orderly.

  Outside, cold winter rain tapped against the bedroom window as if it was trying to get in. She dropped her book bag by the desk with a clunk and kicked off her shoes. The room was warm and snug.

  Grabbing the thick stack of work assignments her teachers had given her to make up, she sat down on the floor to sort through it – she’d need a lot of space.

  ‘Let’s see,’ she muttered, frowning as she looked at the first page. ‘This is urgent.’ She set it on the floor to her right. ‘And this is… sort of urgent.’ She set another paper on top of the first. ‘This is’ – she held the next sheet – ‘totally freaking urgent.’

  The process continued in that manner for some time as the ‘urgent’ stack grew alarmingly. When she’d gone through everything in the file, she looked around in dismay; the floor was so covered in paper she could barely see the whitewashed wood beneath it.

  ‘Bollocks,’ she announced to no one. ‘I’m totally screwed.’

  In the end, she decided the biggest worry was an English essay for Isabelle’s class – twelve hundred words on the Romantics in Italy due the next day. Allie hadn’t read a single page of the assigned work.

  She was flipping worriedly through her English textbook when someone knocked at her door.

  ‘Come in,’ she said without looking up.

  ‘Hey, Al… lie.’ Rachel’s voice trailed off as she walked in, her eyes widening at the scene in front of her. ‘Yowza. That is, like, a whole tree on your floor.’

  ‘Help.’ Allie waved her assignment at her. ‘What do you know about the Romantics in Italy?’

  ‘That depends. In Tuscany?’ Rachel walked the rest of the way in, closing the door behind her. ‘Or in Rome?’

  Allie gave her a desperate look. ‘They went to more than one place?’

  Without replying, Rachel held out her hand. Allie gave her the paper and she scanned it quickly. ‘I did this one already so, let’s see…’ Looking through the books on Allie’s shelves, Rachel pulled out a slim volume. ‘This is what I used. Chapter eight has everything. Read that and you can write up a basic essay – quote some Shelley poems to take up space. That man liked the sound of his own voice. Check it out.’

  Holding up the book in one hand, she intoned with great drama:

  ‘Let a vast assembly be,

  And with great solemnity

  Declare with measured words that ye

  Are, as God has made ye, free…’

  Allie held out her hand for the book. ‘Rachel, God has made ye a life-saver.’

  ‘That’s what they tell me.’ Rachel’s smile was steady but Allie knew her well enough to see the hint of uncertainty behind it.

  Still, she reassured herself, at least the smile happened.

  A sudden silence fell. Allie flipped through the papers trying to think of something to say but Rachel filled the conversational gap. ‘Did Jerry tell you I’m your chemistry teacher now?’

  Allie tried to affect cool. ‘Don’t think this means I’m your bitch. I’m still a free woman.’

  Rachel grinned, genuinely this time. ‘Oh really? Who’s your daddy?’

  ‘Wait…’ Allie swung cautiously back into the rhythm of their rapid-fire rapport, although it felt creaky after so long away. ‘Are you saying my new daddy is a girl named Rachel? When I write a memoir I’m calling it “Allie Has Two Daddies and One of Them Is Rachel”.’

  ‘You will sell a million copies and I will be famous. I’ll accept a percentage.’ Rachel rubbed her hands gleefully. ‘So, should we start suffering… I mean working tonight? An hour of science torture will be good for you.’

  The banter made Allie feel almost normal. Like she had her friend back.

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  ‘No.’ Rachel walked to the door. ‘See you at dinner, minion. Where you can peel my grapes.’

  EIGHT

  ‘A

  llie, help me! Oh God. Please help me…’ In the darkness, Jo’s terrified voice sailed eerily on the breeze that rattled the tree branches above Allie’s head.

&
nbsp; Each word cut Allie like a blade. Panicked and desperate, she ran left, then right, then left again. But the voice never seemed to get any closer and it was getting harder to breathe. Her chest felt as if it was wrapped in bands of iron, inexorably tightening.

  Trying to summon the breath to speak, she panted harshly.