Spending as much time as I did in my own company made it difficult for me to integrate back into normal teenage society. Having people other than Joey and his friends that were willing to sit with me, talk to me, and walk with me at school was a mind-blowing experience.
When my other primary school friend, Lizzie Young, eventually showed up to school halfway through the third class of the morning, blaming a dentist appointment for her absence, we immediately fell back into the familiar friendship we always had.
Lizzie rolled into school in a boy's school trousers and runners, uncaring of what anyone had to say about her appearance. She honestly didn’t seem to care what people thought. She dressed according to her mood and projected vibes the same way. She could show up tomorrow in a skirt and with a full face of makeup. She did what she wanted to do when she wanted to do it, unaware and uncaring of anyone else's opinion.
She oozed a lazy sort of confidence with her long, dark blonde, swishing ponytail and makeup-free face, emphasizing those big, blue eyes of hers.
I also noted all through our classes that Lizzie received plenty of male attention regardless of the baggy trousers and messy hair she was sporting, proving the point that you don’t need to strip down and paint your face to attract the opposite sex.
A genuine smile and a nice personality went a long way.
Lizzie was a lot like Claire in many ways, but starkly different in others.
Like Claire, Lizzie was blonde and leggy.
They were both tall for their age and both sickeningly beautiful.
But where Claire was outgoing and, at times, a little overly excited, Lizzie was laidback and slightly introverted.
Claire was mostly unfiltered and Lizzie took her time to make a decision on something.
Claire was pristine at all times with a full face of makeup and a perfectly coordinated outfit for any given occasion, while Lizzie's style was unpredictable.
Meanwhile, I was the tiny brunette who buddied up with the best-looking girls in class.
Sigh…
"Are you okay, Shan?" Lizzie asked after big break.
We were walking towards our next class, English in the south wing, when I stopped mid-stride, causing a pile-up of students.
"Oh crap," I muttered, suddenly realizing my blunder. "I left my phone in the bathroom."
Claire, who was on my left, turned and frowned. "Go and get it, we'll wait for you."
"The bathroom in the science building," I replied with a groan. Tommen was ridiculously large, with several classes taking place in different buildings around the vast property. "I have to get it back," I added, feeling anxious at the thought of someone finding my phone and invading my privacy. The mobile phone itself wasn’t worth anything, it was one of the cheapest prepays on the market and didn’t even have a camera, but it was mine. It was filled with private text messages and I needed it back. "Dammit."
"Don’t panic," Lizzie interjected. "We'll walk you over."
"No." I held a hand up and shook my head. "I don’t want to make you both late for class, too. I'll go and get it." I was new. It was my first day. I doubted the teacher would go hard on me for being late to class. Claire and Lizzie on the other hand weren't new and didn’t have any excuse for not being in their seats on time.
I could do this.
I didn’t – or at least I shouldn't – need a babysitter to walk me across the school.
Claire frowned, her uncertainty evident. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah." I nodded. "I remember the way."
"I don’t know, Shan." Lizzie chewed on her bottom lip. "Maybe one of us should go with you." Shrugging, she added, "You know, just in case…"
The second bell rang loudly, signaling the start of class.
"Go on," I urged, waving them off. "I'll be grand."
Turning on my heels, I hurried down the hallway to the entrance and then broke into a run when I reached the courtyard. It took a solid nine-minutes running at full speed in the lashing rain down a laneway that circled several sports training pitches to reach the science building – not an easy feat in heels.
By the time I reached the girls bathroom, I was breathless and sweating.
Thankfully, my phone was exactly where I had left it – on the sink next to the soap dispenser.
Sagging in relief, I swiped it off the sink, quickly checked the screen, sagged again when I saw the unperturbed locked screen, and then tucked it safely into the front pocket of my school bag.
If this had happened in my old school, a phone left unattended in a bathroom wouldn’t have survived fifteen seconds, let alone fifteen minutes.
You're walking shoulder to shoulder with the wealthy now, Shannon, I thought to myself. They don’t want your shitty phone.
Splashing some water on my face, I shouldered my bag onto my back, using both straps like the nerd I was. I hadn't been to my locker yet and I was carrying what felt like four stone in there. Both straps were entirely necessary in this situation.
When I stepped out of the science building and looked at the long, unappealing trek back to the main building where my class was, I bit back a moan.
I wasn’t running again.
I physically couldn’t.
All of my energy was zapped.
Forlorn, my gaze flickered between the unappealing, uphill laneway and to the training pitches.
There were three pitches in total on this side of the school.
Two smaller fields, neatly tended, that were empty, and one larger pitch that was currently being occupied by thirty or so boys and a teacher shouting orders at them.
Torn, I debated my options.
If I cut across the training fields, it would shave several minutes off my walk.
They wouldn’t even notice me.
I was small and quick.
I was also tired and anxious.
Cutting across the pitches was the logical thing to do.
Sure, there was a steep, grassy bank on the far side of the pitch that separated the fields from the courtyard, but I could make it up that without any problem.
Checking my watch, a surge of dismay rose inside of me when I saw that I had already missed fifteen minutes of the forty-minute class.
Decision made, I climbed over the low wooden fence that separated the training grounds from the footpath and powerwalked towards my destination.
With my head down and my heart hammering violently against my ribcage, I hurried through the empty fields, hesitating only when I reached the largest of the training pitches – the one filled with boys.
Huge boys.
Dirty boys.
Angry looking boys.
Who were glaring at me.
Oh crap.
"What are you doing?"
"Get off the fucking pitch!"
"Jesus Christ!"
"Fucking girls."
"Move, will you!"
Panicked, I ignored the shouting and jeering as I hurried past them, obviously disturbing their training.
Mortification seeped through my body as I upped my pace, breaking into a clumsy jog.
The ground was wet and muddy from the rain, so I couldn’t move as quickly as I – or those boys – would have liked.
When I reached the edge of the pitch, I felt like crying in relief as I hobbled up the steep bank. However, my relief was only a momentary, fleeting feeling that was quickly replaced with a searing pain as something very hard and very heavy smashed into the back of my head, taking the air from my lungs and my feet from beneath me.
Moments later, I was freefalling backwards, tumbling down the muddy bank, the pain ricocheting through my head making it impossible for me to think clearly or break my own fall.
My last coherent thought before I hit the ground with a thud, and a thick cloud of darkness cloaked over me, was this; nothing changes.
I was wrong though.
Everything changed after that day.
Everything.
3
Flying balls