Merlyn Academy: Book One Read online

  Merlyn Academy

  Book One

  Sophia Stone

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Also by Sophia Stone

  About the Author

  1

  It’s 8.32am on a Monday morning and I’ve already pissed someone off. Must be a new record.

  ‘What have I told you about getting back late, Lizzie? That’s the third night this week you’ve been back past midnight.’ I gather my school bag from the living room floor and scoop its contents, which are all over the sofa, back into my bag. Amanda takes a drag from her cigarette and lets the ash fall over my belongings.

  ‘I’m sorry, Amanda. I’ll make sure I’m back earlier tonight,’ I try to sound as monotone as possible. Any hint of emotion and she’ll drag this out for days.

  ‘It’s “Mum”. We’ve been over this.’

  ‘Yes… Mum.’ I’ve only manged to salvage two half-used pens and one of my new exercise books. The other book has a large stain on it that has the familiar colour and smell of cheap beer. It’s embarrassing having to ask the teachers for a new book every few weeks after Amanda’s friends keep trashing them. I could feel the rage bubble inside as the ground beneath my feet feels like it was rumbling. I closed my eyes as my therapist had advised.

  Try to stay calm, I repeated to myself. You know what happens when you get angry.

  ‘You know the rules. If you aren’t back before ten then you stay out. This isn’t a hotel.’

  ‘Could have fooled me,’ I mumble.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing, Mum.’

  ‘Right. I’m getting Martin. I’m not putting up with this attitude anymore. Money or no money. MARTIN!’ She puts her cigarette in the over spilling ashtray on the coffee table and goes to retrieve Martin from the shower.

  I head down the hall towards the front door, trying to get out before seeing Martin as I don’t think I can stay calm around him.

  Stay Calm.

  ‘MARTIN! Did you hear her? I’ve had it. I’ve absolutely had it with her.’

  I close my eyes as the fire I feel in my chest raises until I feel heat at my fingertips. I smell smoke.

  Amanda and Martin seem to appear out of nowhere.

  ‘There she is, Martin. You deal with-,’ Amanda sniffs the air. ‘What’s that smell?’

  Martin turns around and follows the smell into the living room. I use this excuse to run out and leave. The most prominent noise that seems to deafen even the rush hour traffic is the sound of Amanda and Martin fighting over who lit the cigarette that now seems to burn into the coffee table. I know when I get back, it will somehow be my fault although I don’t smoke.

  My relationship with my delusional foster mother and her alcoholic husband has never been good. Even after living with them for a decade, they’ve never made me feel welcome. I am a cash cow to them. A fact which they never tire of reminding me.

  Arguments like today happen on a weekly basis although they usually happen in the evening after they’ve both had a few beers. I always end up kicked out and then they start a fight about me coming home late once they’ve sobered up. On nights like that, I would wish they had left me in the children’s home. At least I wasn’t constantly worried about getting kicked out. I wonder what my parents would have been like if they hadn’t died when I was small. I used to imagine how they looked when I was in the home. Did I inherit dad’s nose or mum’s eyes? No one has ever shown me a picture of them, so I guess I’ll never know. They might have been awful people for all I know. But after dealing with Amanda for all of these years, I would be happy to take a chance on them. I’m not sure if it’s because I am getting older or I’ve just reached my limit, but I find my temper harder to control. I’m aware that all teenagers are moody and full of angst. It’s normal to be angry when you’re a teen. Especially a teen in my current situation. But with me, it’s different.

  Things happen. Strange things.

  Things like the ashtray. I can’t explain why when I get up angry, things seem to set on fire. Or if I am upset, I seem to disappear. Not figuratively, but literally for a few seconds. I’ve even tried speaking to a therapist in school about it. As soon as I mentioned being invisible, she handed me a leaflet entitled ‘Am I depressed?’ and told me to come back in a few weeks. The leaflet mentioned the belief of being invisible, but not being invisible. There were also no mentions of fire. I didn’t bother to go back.

  Instead, I try to remain calm whenever I can. If I can stay calm, bad things don’t happen.

  2

  The walk to school always gave me a chance to decompress. Putting my earphones in and listening to music was my form of escapism, even if it was only temporary. Only a few short weeks of this routine and I’ll be free. Once I finish my exams, I can start looking at universities as far away from here as possible.

  Before I even check my watch, I know I am late for registration. That’s another detention. There’s no point in putting myself through getting shouted at by my form tutor so I might as well just skip it and head to the library before my first lesson; science.

  As I head to my locker, the hallway is quiet. Everyone is where they should be, except me. If I could just get my textbook before bumping into Laura and her friends, then maybe, just maybe, the day won’t be as bad.

  Over the keyhole, someone has left a poorly drawn caricature of me on a scrap of paper. This has been affixed to my locker with gum. The kids at this school are normally far more direct; preferring to call me ‘Skank’ and ‘Loser’ to my face. The popular insult lately is-

  ‘Frizzie. I was wondering when I would see you today.’

  My stomach sinks as I turn. It’s Karen Brown, one of Laura’s friends which means Laura isn’t far away. Her pack of hounds never stray too far from their mistress. She leans on the locker next to mine, making it impossible to open my locker wide enough to retrieve my books.

  ‘Karen. I’m in a rush,’ I crumble the note and stick it into my coat pocket. Karen and I used to be friends before she starting to hang out with Laura. I’d go over to her house at least once a week to play with her, and her mother taught me how to plait hair. We would take turns to style each other’s long brown locks. I missed Karen and her mum.

  ‘You’ve missed reg so what’s the hurry? Laura will be here soon,’ She smirks as she mentions Laura’s name. We both know what will happen when she arrives.

  ‘Karen, I have to go,’ I put my textbook into my bag and secure my locker with my key.

  As I go to walk around Karen, she steps in front of me.

  ‘Don’t be rude, Frizzie. I’m talking to you.’

  I can hear footsteps behind me. The telltale clip-clap of chunky heels on laminate floor.

  ‘Hey Laura. Look who I just bumped into,’ Karen yelled down the hall.

  There was no way I was going to wait around to see Laura. Especially in an empty hallway with no witnesses. A calculated risk would be to try and make a run for the library. I’ve never seen Laura or her friends in there and I’m not sure if they know where it is.

  I push past Karen and break into a sprint down the hall.
r />   ‘You little-,’ Karen said but is interrupted by Laura’s shouting.

  ‘Don’t worry Karen. We’ll get her in science.’

  As I sat in the library, I knew the girls would get me back; they always did. I could delay the inevitable beating by arriving late to classes when I knew a teacher would be around. Even Laura wasn’t stupid enough to bully me in front of a teacher.

  I check my watch and It’s 9:05am. Class will have started by now. Mrs. Jenkins was understanding of me being late to her lessons. I doubt my interruption thrilled her but to say something would mean confronting the fact the school had a severe bullying problem. Hell will freeze over before the school admitted that.

  As I make my way down the hall into the science block, I can hear my classroom from the other end of the hall. We were well known to be noisy.

  When I reach the classroom, I knock on the door and wait to be let in. After a few moments, Mrs. Jenkins still doesn’t answer. I knock again and wait. The class still sounds loud and doesn’t seem to be put off by knocking so I decide it’s best to walk in.

  I head towards my familiar seat by the window and sit down. I’ve taken my coat off and unpacked my bag before I realise Mrs. Jenkins is not in the class. Instead, a large note is left on the white board.

  ‘Running late. Turn to page 108 and answer the questions in your exercise books. Any problems: See Mr. Winton next door.’

  I glance around the classroom to see if I am the only other late student. From the corner of my eye, I can see Laura, Karen and Amy smirking at me from the other side of the classroom. Once they realise, I’ve seen them, all three get up and walk towards me.

  ‘You’re sitting in my seat,’ It’s Laura Jones. The most popular girl in the school. She also was the nastiest. Laura matured early, and it shows. She’s regularly been mistaken for twenty-one since she turned fourteen. Apart from a rumoured pregnancy scare last year, she has been untouchable. The girls of the school are afraid of her and the boys just want to get into her knickers.

  ‘Are you deaf? You’re sitting in Laura’s seat,’ Amy Smith, one of Laura’s best friends is joining in now. Amy is the least attractive of the three girls. Slightly overweight with badly dyed blonde hair. More cinder than ash blonde.

  ‘I was sitting here first Laura,’ I said but Laura narrows her eyes at me.

  While I am distracted by Laura, Karen reaches into my coat pocket and pulls out the scrappy note.

  ‘Laura, have you seen this?’ Karen passes the note to Laura.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ I mumble.

  Laura studies the note for a few moments. ‘Doing self-portraits are we now?’ The other two girls gather in to look at the picture. ‘It’s not accurate though is it?’

  ‘Needs more frizzy hair, Laura,’ said Amy.

  ‘The glasses aren’t big enough,’ Karen said.

  ‘Your right girls,’ Laura reaches down and takes a pen off my desk. She scribbles a few more marks on the paper before showing the girls and then me her handy work.

  ‘Oh, my god Laura. It looks just like her,’ Amy said.

  Karen tries to suppress a giggle.

  ‘What do you think, Frizzie?’ Laura had made the glasses thicker and larger on my face. While the original image only had a few strands of curly hair, Laura had added what looked like a bush. She’d also copied this design further down my body. The rest of my body had not escaped the hand of Laura, having started out life as an oval. Now it was circular. Flashing me a closed-lipped smile, Laura sauntered towards her boyfriend.

  ‘Look at this Dylan,’ She handed him the crumpled paper, which he studied for a moment.

  ‘That’s hilarious, Laura. You’ve even given her a frizzy bush,’ Dylan said which caused the class to break out into laughter.

  ‘Give it back, Laura!’ I lunged off my seat and headed towards her.

  ‘Can’t take a joke Frizzie?’ Laura continued walking around the classroom showing off the picture. I could feel myself getting madder as I came face to face with her.

  ‘Give. It. Back, Laura,’ I hold my hand out but I am ignored.

  ‘Oooow,’ was the collective noise the class made. Laura started laughing at me, so I reached forward to grab the note from her hand. Laura made a gasping noise. Suddenly, I feel myself being pulled back and a sharp pain in my head as I landed on the floor. As I look up, Amy is standing above me with strands of my plait still in her fists.

  The ball in my chest feels hotter.

  ‘Stay calm,’ I whispered to myself.

  ‘Are you talking to yourself, Frizzie?’ Laura asked.

  ‘Maybe she’s mad, Laura?’ Karen replied.

  ‘You know talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, right?’

  ‘Stay calm,’ I repeat.

  ‘“Stay calm.”? Or what Frizzie? What will happen?’

  I don’t reply. Maybe if I ignore her, she’ll get bored. Don’t antagonise.

  Sensing the game maybe over, Laura pushes my pens and exercise book onto the floor.

  ‘Opps!’ Karen and Amy smirk. The fire is spreading to my fingertips so I clench my fists to keep control.

  Stay calm. You must stay calm. Focus.

  I close my eyes. I need to focus before it’s too late.

  ‘Ouch,’ I feel a kick in my side. I can’t tell who it was by, but Laura had a huge grin across her face. I lower my head and continue to chant my mantra in my mind.

  Stay calm. Focus

  There’s another kick from Laura, followed by two more I assume are from Amy and Karen.

  ‘Stop, please,’ I beg. It’s falling on deaf ears. I roll into a ball as I feel the fire surge through every limb as the girls kick me harder. I can taste blood in my mouth as someone’s foot catches my lip. I don’t think I can stop myself anymore.

  It will be bad.

  ‘You need to stop. Please. STOP!’ But It’s too late.

  My eyes fly open, causing all the glass in the classroom to explode, showering everyone in splinters of glass. The wooden stools lift into the air and then are unceremoniously thrown outside through the broken windows. The class try to run to escape like a herd of panicked zebra, but the door is locked. A small group of boys take to kicking the door at the hinges, but the door won’t budge.

  ‘Duck,’ One girl screams.

  Instantly, everyone drops to the floor, narrowly missing being hit as table flies through the door into the hallway. There is pushing and shoving to get out of the door first and the commotion coincides with the click of the other classroom doors opening as more students spill into the hallway. Everyone else has left but Laura, who is still standing in front of me with her mouth wide open. I sit up and look her in the eye.

  ‘RUN,’ I scream at her, but it’s as if she’s frozen to the spot.

  A trail of wind speeds towards her and yet she stays still. Her eyes widen as she’s swept up into the air and thrown at the whiteboard. Mrs. Jenkins note smears as Laura slides off the board and lays lifeless on the floor. There is screaming from the hallway.

  Please stop, I whisper as I close my eyes. Please.

  It’s quiet now. Silent. No more screaming.

  I open my eyes and adjust to the bright light, blinking several times until I am comfortable. I look around and realize I am on the floor in the library.

  How did I get here? Was I dreaming?

  I sit up and feel wetness on my lips. Using the back of my hand, I wipe myself and see a crimson colour on my hand. I’m bleeding.

  Maybe I just bit my lip?

  I check my watch and it’s nearly nine thirty which means I’ve slept through both registration and the first half of science.

  I’m definitely getting a detention for this.

  Pulling myself up via way of a chair, I can feel a headache coming on. To ease the pulsating, I rub my temples, but the pain seems to intensify.

  Best to get it over and done with.

  I shuffle towards the exit passing the Librarian who returns my smile wi
th a taken aback look.

  ‘I must have fallen asleep,’ I said to her and shrug.

  Her raised eyebrow shows her disbelief.

  My head feels like it's pounding as I make my way across campus. It’s only as I reach the entrance to the science block and try to retrieve my books I realise I must have left my bag back in the library. I’ll have to borrow some paper and a pen from Mrs. Jenkins and get it later. I look at my watch. Its 9: 43am. Even Mrs. Jenkins can’t let students turn up this late unpunished.

  That screaming again. Maybe you are going mad?

  There’s a crowd outside Mrs. Jenkins classroom. High pitched screaming is coming from inside. As I approach the door, I get the sense I’m being looked at. Everyone is staring at me. I wipe my lip again and there’s blood.

  Surely, they’ve seen a bloody lip before.

  ‘Does anyone have a tissue?’ I ask but the class is shuffling away from me.

  Why is someone screaming?

  Mrs. Jenkins always keeps a box of tissues on her desk, so I try to push through to get one. As the crowd parts for me, I can see the desk in the hallway along with the classroom door on the hinge.

  The screaming is unbearable now.

  I push the door open and falls off its hinges backwards towards the wall.

  What the hell happened here?

  I slip past, trying not to let the heavy oak door fall on me as my feet press on the broken glass on the floor.

  Why is there glass on the floor?

  I look up and see the windows have been smashed, and a stool hangs precariously on the window ledge. It’s only when I turn to my right that I find the source of the screaming. It’s Karen. She’s on the floor next to somebody who isn’t moving.