Glimpse (2 page)

Finally breathing easy, I put my satchel on the floor, opened my locker, and pulled out my lunchbox.

‘What have you got for me today, freakazoid?’

An ink-stained hand plucked the box from my fingers. I slammed my locker door shut to reveal Derek, busy examining the contents of my lunchbox through its transparent lid. His friends – his usual gang, three boys and two girls – grinned over at me from behind him. One of the girls, Danielle, waved; a sarcastic wiggle of her fingertips.

‘Give that back!’ I lunged for the lunchbox, tripping over my satchel and sending it spinning towards Danielle. Danielle squealed and jumped sideways, like my bag was something disgusting, then picked it up and threw it to Leah. Leah echoed Danielle’s squeal and let my bag whack to the floor. My books spilled around Derek’s feet.

‘Stop it!’ My voice was small, like my lungs had shrivelled. I balled my fists at my sides.

Derek shook my lunchbox, making peanut butter smear across the plastic. ‘What is this?’ His tone was bright, like we were having a friendly conversation. ‘Diarrhoea sandwiches? Your dad send you to school with diarrhoea sandwiches, did he, loony?’

I wanted to tell him to shut up. I wanted to tell him we weren’t twelve any more; that I didn’t care what he said, because after today I’d never see him again. But all that came out when I opened my mouth was another weak, ‘Give it back.’

Derek held the box towards me, a smile on his round face. ‘Go on, then. Take it.’

I hesitated, then reached for it. With a flick of his wrist, Derek flung my lunchbox past me as if it were a Frisbee. It banged against a wall further down the corridor. There was a rustle, splat and crunch as the contents fell out.

‘Oops. Slipped. No shit sandwiches for you today.’

I folded my arms across my chest. My heart pounded against my ribcage. Four more hours, and I’d never have to go through this again, I told myself. One more missed lunch didn’t matter.

‘You’ve got what you wanted.’ My voice was almost a whisper. ‘Please leave me alone.’

‘Leave you alone?’ Derek’s eyebrows shot up, his new eyebrow ring – which had already earned him multiple detentions – glinting in the light. He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned close enough for me to smell his cheap aftershave. ‘But I thought you were never alone.’

I stiffened. Though I knew he was winding me up, the hairs rose on my arms, making my skin tighten. Without warning, the sensation on my skin intensified into full-blown pins and needles. No. Please not now. Not in front of him . . . But it was now. The tingling spread across my skin like flames.

I gasped and stumbled backwards, bashing my heels against the bottom of the lockers. Unable to stop myself, I scanned the corridor, my eyes wide. No, no, no . . .

‘Oh my God, she’s scaring me!’ Danielle shrieked gleefully, grabbing Derek’s arm.

‘And the freak show begins,’ Derek said. ‘Luke, get your phone out. I want a video of this. I’m going to miss Loony over the summer.’

I pressed my back against the locker doors. I didn’t know which way it was going to come from, but I had to be ready to run.

I saw it. Behind Leah’s head. A pair of disembodied hands.

I knew those hands. Of all the Glimpses I’d seen at Jameson Secondary – the booted feet that had run towards me, the eyes that had glared at me, the mouths that had snarled at me, the torsos that had floated behind me – I knew those hands the best. I knew every coarse, black hair sprouting from the pale skin. Knew the exact red of the shiny, stretched nubs where thumbs should be.

They were the hands that had attacked me in year seven, making me scream – the first time Derek noticed me.

They were the hands that had earned me the title Loony Lizzie, when they’d attacked me in a Science lesson in year eight.

And now they were ruining my last day at Jameson Secondary.

I watched, transfixed, barely daring to breathe, as the eight pale fingers tangled in Leah’s shoulder-length hair. I couldn’t tell whether they were trying to caress her bottle-blonde locks or pull them.

Leah, of course, had no clue. She grinned at me, and made circles next to her ear with her index finger. ‘Looooony,’ she sing-songed.

One of the hands freed itself from Leah’s hair and copied her gesture, circling her other ear. Then, in sickening slow motion, it pointed its long index finger at me.

I shrieked and ducked as the hands flew straight for me, fingers spread. They slashed across my cheek with a sensation light and creepy as moth-wings, then disappeared down the corridor behind me. The tingling on my skin cut off, like my body was a conductor and someone had pulled the plug.

The hysterical laughter of Derek’s gang filled my ears.

‘Jeez, don’t pee yourselves,’ Derek told his friends, though he could barely get the words out, he was laughing so much. ‘Good show, Loonz.’

He turned away from me, which was the cue for the others to leave. They kicked the contents of my bag – my school books, my pencil case, my purse – halfway down the corridor with them, before they finally got bored.

‘Watch out for men in white coats over the summer,’ Derek called over his shoulder, before they rounded the corner. ‘Though even a straitjacket would be an improvement. At least then your grandma could get her dresses back.’

The peals of Danielle’s and Leah’s laughter echoed down the corridor towards me.

I hissed every swear word I knew, standing up for myself too late, as always. I looked down at my vintage purple dress – a seventies charity shop find I’d been proud of, until this moment – and tugged angrily at its lace cuffs. I was glad I hadn’t told anyone but the teachers I was leaving. I could only imagine the torture Derek would have inflicted if he’d known this was his last chance.

Shaking with adrenaline, I gathered the contents of my bag and the bits of my lunch that were still edible from the floor. I kept an eye out, but the Glimpse-hands had gone, their damage done.

I thought of the creepy way those fingers had tangled in Leah’s hair, and shuddered. Miss Mahoney was wrong. I might be the only one who saw Glimpses, but there was no way those horrors came out of my own head. I was messed up, but not that messed up.

No. The Glimpses were real, just like Derek was real; and that was why I was going to be able to leave them behind, just like I was going to leave Derek behind. By the time I got to my next school, my nightmares and the Glimpses and Derek and his stupid cronies would be gone, and no one there would know a thing about me.

Six weeks from now, I was going to seem perfectly normal, for the first time in seven years.

This isn’t happening. Concentrate, and the pins and needles will go away. Concentrate, and there won’t be anything there.

I edge towards my bedroom door. With each step the tingling gets worse. Dread churns in my stomach. It’s like I’m ten years old again. This should have ended.

Nausea rolls through me and I clamp a hand over my mouth. My fingers burn where they press my teeth into my lips. It’s in my room. My new room.

Wait.

Like a compass needle, my focus flips. I freeze, my skin on fire where I’m touching the door handle. It’s moved. It’s . . .

Behind me.

My back bristles, not with pins and needles, more painful – more like daggers and blades.

Fighting every instinct, I turn. I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see, I don’t want . . .

I see it.

The Glimpse.

*

I slid out of bed and picked the crumpled ball of paper off the floor. I’d almost got it in the bin, not bad for a half-asleep throw.

Smoothing it with one hand, I looked again at the offensive words: ‘1. No nightmares’.

Okay, so my resolutions hadn’t got off to a good start. No big deal. No need to give up so quickly.

I padded across the floorboards to the boxes piled in the corner – I really had to unpack today – rooted for some sticky tack, and fastened the crinkled list to my wardrobe door. White tack, white paper, white wardrobe. Everything in my new room was white. The door, the bed covers, the furniture, the shutters at the window. Even the exposed beams that crisscrossed the walls and ceiling, that were dark brown in the rest of the inn, were painted white here. That’s why I’d chosen this room. It was a blank canvas.

Bang bang bang bang bang.

‘Liz? Liz! Are you okay in there?’

Bang bang bang bang bang.

‘Dad, what’s wrong?’

‘I heard you shrieking.’ His voice was muffled by the thick door, but the worry in it was obvious.

I winced. ‘I’m fine.’

I really had to work on ‘No nightmares’. It would help a ton with ‘Stop worrying Dad’.

‘Are you almost ready for school?’

I frowned. School was still hours away. I was up early; my alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. My gaze slid to the bedside table, finding the digital display of my alarm clock. The very blank display of my alarm clock. I hadn’t plugged it in.

I inhaled sharply. ‘Dad, what time is it?’ I didn’t bother to sound calm this time.

‘I’m coming in.’ Dad pushed my door open. He stared at me from the threshold, his eyes wide beneath his glasses, his pyjamas rumpled, his hair wild from sleep. ‘Liz, you’re still in your nightie.’

‘What time is it, Dad?’

‘Seven forty-five.’

Twenty minutes until my bus. Twenty minutes until my first bus journey, on my first day at the new school.

I yelped, and dived for the pile of clothes I’d laid out yesterday.

‘I’ll make you breakfast,’ Dad said, and speed-stumbled away.

I pulled on my brand-new jeans and shirt and ran down the worn carpet to the nearest bathroom, pulling my unbrushed hair into a ponytail on the way. There was no time to tiptoe through the corridors like I had yesterday, no time to think about the abandoned rooms I passed.

The dank air of the small bathroom filled my mouth. I scrubbed it away with a thirty-second toothbrushing, then ran back to my room for my bag and half fell down the unfamiliarly steep stairs.

Dad stood at the bottom of the staircase, a plate of toast in his hand.

‘You eat it,’ I said. ‘Sorry, no time. Bye, Dad.’

I pushed open the inn’s heavy front door and headed into the dull morning. I shivered. I should have brought a jacket. I’d have given anything for one of my comfortable, thick dresses and a pair of tights right then, but I was taking no chances: nobody would call me ‘granny girl’ again.

Just school, just school, just school.

I crunched across the gravel towards the road, skirting around the gnarled tree that filled the driveway. I slowed only to slip a compact mirror from my jeans pocket. For a second, the reflection of the Highwayman Inn loomed in the glass, framed by dark clouds that promised rain. The inn looked like an abandoned building from a horror movie.

My face was scarier though. My unwashed curls sucked to my scalp, then exploded out of my ponytail like broken tarantula legs. My eyes were puffy and rimmed with shadows, and my cheeks were pale.

So much for first-day-at-school attractive. Six weeks of summer holiday hair-and-make-up prep wasted because I forgot to plug in my alarm. I looked like a corpse with issues.

At least my outfit – skinny jeans and a fitted white shirt – would pass for ‘normal’. I’d chosen it straight from the pages of a magazine, accessories and all, for being just the right blend of fashionable and forgettable. The only things that were ‘Liz’ about my outfit were my old leather satchel and my gold heart-shaped locket. I tugged the necklace straight under my shirt collar, and rounded the corner out of the inn’s driveway.

I could feel them watching as I started down the road towards the bus stop. I scanned the queue as I got closer, passing a row of chocolate-box cottages. I ignored the kids in uniform – they wouldn’t be going to my new sixth form, they were no threat. It was the faces of the students in jeans and dresses and logo-ed T-shirts that I scrutinized. A few of them stared at me right back, but seemed nonplussed. I silently congratulated my new clothes – score one for New Liz.

At the edge of the group, a goth couple were latched in an unending kiss. I moved to the other side of the crowd. I held back from speaking to anyone.

Less than a minute after my arrival, the double-decker pulled up to the kerb. I hadn’t taken the bus to school in years, not since Derek had moved to my part of town.

My nerves jittered as I joined the back of the sloppily formed queue. When I got to the front, I flashed my pass at the driver in the nonchalant way I’d seen the other girls do, and took the stairs to the upper deck, where I found an empty pair of seats at the back. Today was all about number four on my list – ‘Get friends’ – but I wouldn’t introduce myself to anyone yet. Not till I’d worked out who they were and how nosey they were likely to be.

‘Down the corridor, up the stairs, turn left, and 12G’s the third door on your right.’ The receptionist circled a room on a map of the school and handed it to me along with a timetable. ‘Smile, love. We’re all friendly here.’

I shoved my way through the scrum of first-year students and their parents at the reception desk. The school map sprawled across the paper. Noyes College was the only sixth form for miles, and served all the local villages. It must have been at least twice as big as my last sixth form. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. More potential friends, but also more potential enemies.

Right now, it was bad. I twisted the map and frowned.

‘Need a hand?’

I recognized the girl instantly as one of the goths from the bus. She was dressed all in black, with New Rock boots, which looked too heavy for her slight frame, and a tutu-like skirt with stiff net layers. Her chin-length bob was black, with a slash of red dye through the fringe. Black eyeshadow ringed her eyes – which were rapidly changing from friendly to ‘maybe I shouldn’t have asked’ the longer I stared at her.

Smile, Liz.
I beamed so suddenly that the girl’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Yes! Thanks. I’m trying to find 12G?’

She smiled, and jerked her chin to the right. ‘Easy. I’ll show you. I’m Susie, by the way.’