Homecoming Chapter One

    I’ve sat alone at lunch for the last four years.

    The school cafeteria was filling up steadily as the smell of burnt lasagne and chips filtered out into the hallways. I looked down at my sandwiches, they were small and unexciting, but the dejected faces of those shuffeling away from the dank service window made me smirk in relief. The volume in the cafeteria was steadily rising, the lunch queue was almost to the door as more and more students filtered in. I smiled content in the knowledge that even when the hall was full it was unlikely I would be forced to share my small table.

    So when Richard slammed his tray down next to me I flinched and dropped my sandwich. I frowned as he pulled out a chair and dropped into it. His cheeks were bright red, matching his t-shirt. He stared hard at his lasagne, making a point of not looking at me.

    “So,” Richard said. “What’s up Tilly?”

    “Um,” I said. “Nothing much. What do you want?”

    “Who said I want anything?” Richard met my eyes.

    “Figured after a few years of ignoring me you must have a reason to sit there.”

    “I’ve not been ignoring you,” Richard said. “I spoke to you last week.”

    “You mumbled ‘see ya’ when Charlie dropped off Lizzy’s Birthday gift. That’s not talking.” I said. “What do you want Richard?”

    “Jeez,” Richard muttered, turning back towards his lunch. He seemed happy enough to sit there, so, picking up my sandwich, I left him to it. I turned my attention back to the clatter and chaos of the cafeteria.  I could hear the usual round of jokes about the food, and watched as one of the younger kids pretended his had come alive.

    “I hear Bri is back,” Richard said suddenly. My throat closed up and I had to gasp to get a breath, as my half chewed mouthful shot to the back of my throat, making me choke.

    “Easy there,” Richard laughed, hitting my back as I started to cough. 

    “Wha...what,” I managed, my throat burning. “What did you say?”

    “Easy, take a drink or something,” Richard said. I took a swig of coke and winced as my throat burned more fiercely for a moment, then cooled.

    “Bri?” I said, my voice raw.

    Richard nodded. “Yeah, I heard my dad say something about her coming home from the hospital today.”

    “Hospital?” My head felt light. I put a hand down on the sticky table top and squeezed my eyes closed to try and stop the black spots in my vision.
    

    “What are you talking about?”

    “You don’t know?” Richard said, and tutted. “I thought if anyone would know more it would be you, you two were so tight.”

    “We kind of lost touch after she died,” I said. I took several deep breaths. My stomach growled, a warning that, it had decided it might be happier with its contents on the outside. When I felt I could talk without vomiting, I glared at Richard, “what are you talking about?”

    “You didn’t believe the bible thumpers, did you?” Richard snorted. “They blame demons for everything. ‘My milk's gone off, demons must have broken into my house and left it on the kitchen top.’ ‘My cat's been hit by a car, the demons must have been drink driving again!’ Seriously Tilly.”

    “No, Richard, but she’s been gone for ten years. I figured some wacko grabbed her,” I said.

    “You might be right,” Richard shrugged. "Either way she's coming home."

    “Damn it Richard, that’s not even remotely funny, that’s sick.” I snapped.

    “Hey, Tilly, I wouldn’t joke about this,” Richard sniffed and blinked sad eyes at me. I didn’t believe it for a second.

    “Bri is dead,” I said through my teeth. “She died ten years ago when we were kids. Telling me she’s alive now is stupid and cruel.” Richard leaned back and smirked at me.

    “Not so dead as some would have believed. I never would have pegged you for giving up on her.” I glared at him.

    “I didn’t give up on her; she’s been gone for ten years.” I turned to look at him fully. “You’re messing with me,” I said. “That’s not funny, or clever. You’re sick.”

    “I’m not messing with you, Tilly,” Richard said. “Jeez, you really are a fruit loop if you think I’d do something like that.” I snorted at him and ate the rest of my sandwich. I wondered who had put him up to this, who would think this kind of joke was funny? Richard hadn’t been one to make up stories when we were little, he’s never had the brains. But that was years ago. I had no idea if he’d developed a habit of making up stories, but I doubted it. I looked around the cafeteria for a group that were watching us, but I couldn’t see one.

    “She’s long gone, Richard. My dad was in the search parties,” I said.

    “So was mine. He was Deacon, remember?” Richard said. “They never found a body.”

    “Doesn’t mean someone didn’t kill her,” I said.

    “This morning my dad was on the phone, he was asking when Bri was going to be out of hospital. He was surprised it was today,” Richard said softly. “I was curious, and I figured if anyone would know it would be you.”

    “It could be another Bri,” I said, a lump forming in my throat.

    “Tilly, he was talking to Ted,” Richard snapped.  “I highly doubt they had another daughter without someone noticing.”

2: Chapter Two

Homecoming Chapter Two

    I spent that afternoons lesson dwelling on what Richard had said. His words chased each other round in my head. My mind felt like a beehive that had hit the ground, a whirlwind of anger and confusion. I chewed on my pencil and reminded myself that Richard could easily have been lying to me. But I had no idea why he would; Richard wasn’t the type to play cruel pranks. But it had been a long time since we had been friends, and I had no idea who he had grown up to be. The pencil in my hand cracked and I released my grip, paint shavings sticking to my skin. 

    I had to find out the truth for myself. But that meant going to her house.

    By the time the bell rang at half past three I was shaking. I stood up fast enough that my knees hit the desk; the thump was drowned out by the screech of chairs on the linoleum floor, and bags being lifted and dropped on desks. Ignoring the dull pain, I swept my things into my bag, and walked out without zipping it up. 

    The bike shed was crammed full of people when I reached it. I wormed my way through to my bike, digging my elbows into soft abdomens and bony backs. I unlocked the chain and put it in my bag. Zipping my bag I swung it onto my shoulder, ignoring the shout of protest from behind me, and headed out into the crowd.

    “Come on,” I growled, as a group of boys laughed and jostled each other in front of me, blocking the gate out. “Excuse guys.” They stopped laughing and looked at me for a long moment, then, turning back, they ignored me. I held my breath and waited, when the boys cleared the gate I hopped onto my bike and pushed off.

    At the end of the road I turned onto High Street and picked up speed. The wind cut in around my sides, and I zipped up my jacket. My bike wobbled, veering to the left. I had to swerve to avoid hitting the plywood that had fallen off an old shop window, then veer around the black bags and cardboard boxes left outside one of the charity shops. By the time I reached the end of the stubby road I had had to swerve around debris half a dozen times.

    Turning off High Street, I cycled out towards the estates. Wild gardens grew up on both sides; battered fences barely containing the savage bushes and concurring weeds. Abandoned plastic furniture squatted in overgrown grass. I squeezed my bike between a stout house and a rusting workmans' van. A man clambered out of the back, his overalls torn and grubby, an unlit cigarette hanging off his bottom lip.

    “Hello, Tilly,” he raised his hand to me.

    “Afternoon, Mr Peterson,” I said, “Mrs Samson having the window repaired?”

    “Aye lass,” Mr Peterson nodded. “Only took her six months.” I forced a smile.

    “Money's tight,” I droned cycling on.

    “Money's always tight,” Mr Peterson shouted after me.

    As I continued on, the houses started to change, the drab stone was replaced by pale artistic brickwork. The overgrown gardens changed into manicured lawns, and the potholes vanished completely. I squashed the little ball of envy in my gut.

    When we had been kids, Bri had lived three doors up from me. We had played on cracked pavements and explored the ferocious blackberry jungle.  But a while after she vanished her dad had been promoted, and they were out of their home and into a big house so fast it took me three days to realise they had gone.

    I stopped on the bridge to catch my breath, and looked over the stubby railing into the water below. The river was high after last nights downpour. The black water hurtled along its course, ignorant of the rocks, fallen trees and shopping trolleys littering its depths. I pushed off again as a shiver worked its way through me.

    It had taken me less than half an hour to cycle across the town. Bri’s ‘new’ house was at the edge of the estate. The houses were all three stories plus, the streets were quiet, and all the cars had driveways. Which meant it was odd that three cars were parked on the road outside Bri’s house. I recognised two of them. One was Dr Nortons' car, and the other belonged to Marlene Hamilton, the lady who ran the town bulletin.

    My hands slipped on my handlebars as sweat seeped between my fingers. I squeezed the brakes and skidded to a stop. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and stumbled off my bike. I leaned it on the short wall and opened the gate to Bri’s front garden.

    The front door was ajar and I could hear voices. The voices fell silent when I rapped on the door. The door opened the rest of the way and the reek of cigars hit me. Inside was warm and red, with expensive looking paintings; it was a far cry from all the religious artefacts that had adorned the walls of their old home. Maria, their maid, stood glaring at me.

    “Yes,” Maria snapped.

    “Um, is ...” What if Bri wasn’t back? How would that look, me asking after her after all these years without a word? A manicured hand appeared on Maria’s shoulder before I could say anything and Mrs Salone, Bri’s mother, leaned over the maid.

    “It’s alright Maria,” she said, “I will speak with her.” Bri’s mother was all smooth curves and blonde hair, she oozed glamour and sophistication. She favoured the colour red, and tonight was no exception.

    “Hi, Mrs Salone,” I managed.

    “Matilda,” she said firmly, and I noticed that she didn’t look at all happy. Her normally luxurious blonde hair was frazzled and untidy, and her bright red lipstick was smudged at the corners, as if she had been wiping her mouth and not noticed.

    “Um I heard...” I managed.

    “Brianna? Yes I’m sure you did,” she snapped. I flinched. “Well I’m going to say this nicely just once; you have no business here.” With that she shut the door.

    I stood there, my nose pressed to the door, dumbfounded. I’m not sure how long I stood there, but when I moved away I left a sweat smudge on the door.

    I went back to my bike, blinking slowly. There was a sound behind me and I turned and looked up. In the window was a girl. She was gaunt, and her long brown hair hung limply around her face. She raised a hand and waved at me. I waved back.

Bri was alive.

3: Chapter Three

Homecoming Chapter Three

    It was three long months before they released Bri from the house and I saw her again.

    I slogged up the stairs of the antique science block, stuck behind a dawdling group.

    “You’re sisters sick?” one of the boys said.

    “Yeah, she collapsed last night,” another answered. “Mum’s still at the hospital this morning.”

    “Dude, sorry. What’s wrong ...” they went through the door to the third floor, I continued on, up to the fifth floor. Mr Meyer’s class was in the central lab, there was already a queue outside as I walked up resettling my headphones. I turned my music up and joined the end of the queue.

    Leaning on the wall with my head down, it took me a few minutes to notice something was amiss. Out of the corner of my eye I saw craning necks and wide eyes, all turned towards the front of the queue in whispering silence. Morbid curiosity made me pull my headphones off. I turned and saw Bethany and Jessica. They were laughing but their expressions were spiteful. 

    “Your parents did so much better after you were gone,” Jessica said.

    “They must be so disappointed to have you back,” Bethany laughed. I pushed away from the wall to get a better look.

    “I heard her dad cried when she came back,” I heard someone whisper.

    “Of course he did, he’s her dad,” another said.

    “Oh he cried alright, with grief,” Jessica said. “No one wants you back.” My stomach felt like a lead ball inside me as I stepped out and away from the queue and saw Bri. Her head was down, her hair shielding her face from hard stares and sharp words. I looked at the queue and saw Richard, he was watching along with everyone else, perfectly silent and still.
 

    “Oi!” I said before I could help myself. “Knock it off Jessica.” I strode up to the head of the queue and wedged myself in front of Bri. “What’s your damage that you think it’s funny or cool to harass someone who’s been through what Bri has?”

    “Oh sorry Tilly,” Bethany sneered at me, “Are we making your girlfriend cry?”

    “You’re sick,” I said as Bri’s hand took hold of mine tightly. I could feel her trembling.

    “We’re not the sick ones, what’s sick is coming back to a place where no one wants you,” Jessica said.

    “Oh shut up Jessica, you’re as transparent as bloody glass. It’s pathetic,” I snarled and stormed down the hall dragging Bri behind me. I turned out onto the stairs and started down.

    “Tilly,” Bri whispered. Her voice had changed. It surprised me but it should not have, she had been missing for ten years. She had grown up in that time. We both had.

    “Tilly, we’ve got class,” she pulled against me feebly. I stopped on a landing and turned to face her.

    “Bri, you can’t go to class with people like that,” I said. “We need to go talk to someone.”

    “I don’t want to get in trouble,” Bri said, her head down, not meeting my eyes. Her hair moved forward again to shield her face.

    “They are the ones who should be in trouble, not you,” I said. I leaned forward and she flinched. I jerked back, my face burning as if she had slapped me.

    “No, it’s not that,” Bri pulled her hand away from me. “My dad said I’m not supposed to see you.”

    “What?” I remembered how her mother had sent me away. I had been thinking about that a lot these last few months. “But Bri...it’s me.”

    “I know,” she whispered and looked up at me.

    “I really missed you Bri,” I reached out but stopped shy of touching her.

    “I missed you too, Tilly.” I heard her swallow. “You’re the only one that I missed.”  The door on the third floor opened and a teacher walked out.

    “You two are late,” she snapped as she went past us down to the second floor.

    “We should move,” I said, and tried to take Bri’s hand. She pulled away from me again and my chest tightened. I tried to speak but couldn’t. I took a deep breath and tried again.

    “Come on Bri, we’ll have lunch out on the field. Then you can try lessons again.”

    “But dad said,” Bri started, then stopped. She glanced at me and smiled. It was a small smile that lasted only a few seconds. “He was very loud telling me not to talk to you.”

    “Dad’s not at school,” I smiled.

    “But he knows the teachers,” Bri said.

    “I know somewhere out of the way down on the field, no one will see,” I said. “Please Bri.” She smiled fleetingly again.

    “Alright Tilly, just this once.”  

4: Chapter Four

Homecoming Chapter Four

    I walked ahead of Bri, listening to the dead grass crunch under our sneakers. I slowed my pace and she slowed hers to match mine, constantly keeping some distance between us all the way to the Hollow.

    The Hollow was a tree at the far end of the playing fields. An ancient weeping willow, whose leaves poured down to the ground, turning the area behind them into a green ‘cave’ that had been named the Hollow. Bri and I settled down amongst the roots and pulled our bags onto our laps.  Her fingertips played over the material of her bag, short sharp little movements that betrayed her nervousness.

    “Um...Bri, I have to ask,” I said softly. Bri shifted on the grass and turned her head away from me. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but I have to ask, so, you know, it’s not hanging in the air.”

    Bri opened her bag and started rooting around inside. I said nothing; instead I turned to my own bag. My sandwiches squatted at the bottom, warm and warped by books and pencil bags. They didn’t look appetizing but I needed something to do so I wasn’t just sitting waiting for Bri to speak. I pulled out and opened the sandwich bag, the reek of tuna crawled out and I winced.

    “Tilly,” Bri whispered. Her voice was so quiet I barely heard it. I looked at her, trying to ignore the stench. “I don’t know what to say.”

    “You don’t have to say anything,” I said quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked it’s none of my business.” I stopped for a moment. I had to say something more to her, I couldn’t leave it at that, but everything in my head sounded corny. So I stopped thinking. “Bri, I really missed you. When you disappeared, it was like I disappeared too.”

    “I don’t remember,” Bri said. “I don’t know where I went, or why. I don’t know why he took me.” She was shaking as she spoke, her hands squeezing tight on her bag, her knuckles bright white. I reached out to her but lost my nerve before I could touch her. I cleared my throat and tried again to think of something to say.

    “Has anyone told you what you missed?” I asked. Bri looked at me blankly for a moment before shaking her head.

    “No,” she sniffed.

    “Well, um, let’s see. You missed ... a lot of school.” I felt like my cheeks were heating. I was an idiot. Bri wouldn’t want to know about the petty rivalries and the day to day drama of school, she’d never cared for that. I tried to think of what she would want to know? “Everyone missed you a lot. The whole town pulled around your family. Your dad got that job on the council, the one he was always talking about. He seems pretty good at it too; he’s held it since you left.” 

    “I think they are disappointed to have me back,” Bri said. Her words stopped me in my tracks.

    “What?” I couldn’t stop it slipping out. Bri sniffed again.

    “I think they wish I wasn’t here,” Bri said. She sniffed loudly and wrapped her arms around her legs, holding her knees to her chest.

    Bri had never been a typical girly girl; her old room had been filled with jam jars holding an assortment of small creatures, from newts and crickets, to spiders and millipedes.  She’d been tougher than any of the boys in our group, and had always given worse than she got, which was why it turned my stomach to see her so demure.

    “They’re probably just a bit shell shocked; no one ever expected to see you again,” I said.

    “No, it’s more than that. I feel like they’re angry at me,” Bri said, rubbing at her leg and lifting her trouser. She caught me looking and pulled her trouser down.

    “Bri,” I said, reaching out again. She flinched and I pulled back. “Bri, did those girls grab you?” I hadn’t seen them grab her leg but there was a mark.

    “No,” Bri shook her head. “It’s nothing Tilly, just a mark; I had lots after I came out of the hospital.” I stared hard at her. “Every time they took blood I got a bruise.”

    “Bri, if they hurt you,” I said. She turned to me and frowned. For the first time since she came back I saw a flash of something like the old Bri in her face.

    “No one hurt me,” she said, her voice firm.

    “Ok,” I smiled and held up my hands. Bri visibly relaxed, the tension going out of her shoulders. She pulled a pack of biscuits from her bag and held one out to me, I took one.

    “Thank you,” she said after a few mouthfuls. I couldn’t say anything without spewing crumbs at her, so I frowned. “You’re the first person who seems happy that I came home.”

    “Bri,” I said. “You know that’s...”

    “Can I tell you a secret?” She interrupted me. I nodded. “You need to promise not to laugh.”

    “I promise,” I said.

    “I lied when I said I couldn’t remember anything,” Bri smiled. It was a soft smile, warm and secret. “I remember a little. I remember him, but not very clearly.”

    “Him?” I asked.

    “His name was Tagas, and I think he could do magic.”

    “Magic?” I said. It was possibly the last thing I was expecting.

    “You promised you wouldn’t laugh,” Bri said. I clenched my jaw and tried not to smirk.

    “You mean like rabbits out of hats magic?” I said, trying to imagine the evil kidnapping monster I had always pictured doing stage tricks.

    “No,” Bri pushed me. “I mean like magic, real magic.”

5: Chapter Five

Homecoming Chapter Five

    In class I warred with distraction. The poetry of Philip Larkin was no match for having Bri back. She had a math class scheduled while I was held hostage in English Literature. I flicked my pen against my desk as the clocks tick echoed through the room.

    I stared hard at the brittle paperback open in front of me, and tried to focus on the short lines and depressing verses. But my mind wandered. Bri had been quiet when I had left her at the door to her class, but I wasn’t worried, Bethany and Jessica were sat three rows in front of me. Bri would be fine and it was only a couple of hours until I would meet her at the gates.

    It was at 2:30pm when I noticed Bethany was twitching.

    I stared at her, drowning out Mrs Hammersmith’s prattle. Bethany was doodling, or maybe she was taking notes, but knowing her that was doubtful. I watched her doodle for a few moments, her movements were smooth and controlled. I was beginning to suspect that the twitch had been nothing when she flailed again, it was sudden and she yelped. I couldn’t help but smirk as she glanced around, her eyes wide, her cheeks pink.

    She turned round to face the front and put her head down. Her pencil moved furiously. I continued to watch her, and after a few moments she jerked again. This time the movement was hard enough to send the pen in her hand flying.

    “Miss Kutcher, I do hope we aren’t keeping you awake,” Mrs Hammersmith snapped when the pen clattered to the floor.

    “Sorry, Mrs Hammersmith,” Bethany muttered. I smirked. It was petty, but I enjoyed her embarrassment.

    Mrs Hammersmith grunted and looked back to her own thin paperback. “Now who can tell me what Larkin meant when he said a cut price crowd? What was he really saying?”

    I drowned her out again, and went back to watching Bethany. Her shoulders were hunched up around her ears. She was clenched tight, shaking and bent over her desk, her arms wrapped around her middle. A sharp sound had me snapping my head around to look at Jessica. She was shaking, holding her hand out in front of her.

    Clenched in her thin fingers was her own hair. It was tangled and brittle in her shaking hand, it filled her palm, and looked like she had torn a fist full out from her scalp. I frowned as she dropped it to the floor and buried her fingers into her hair again. This time when she pulled out handfuls she jumped to her feet.

    “Jessica, sit down,” Mrs Hammersmith snapped. But no one listened to her; everyone was watching Jessica as she started sobbing and clawing at her scalp.

    “My hair!” she squealed as Bethany suddenly dropped out of her chair without a word, and toppled onto the floor. She hit the floor in a boneless heap, and instantly her whole body started jerking. Her skin turned blotchy red, blisters formed, swelled and burst as we watched.    

    “Johnathan, go and call the nurse,” Mrs Hammersmith said. “The rest of you go and line up outside the classroom.” No one moved to follow her instructions. We all watched Bethany and Jessica. “Now!” Mrs Hammersmith snapped. We filtered out slowly, most of the students rubbernecking as they went.

    “Do you think it’s a disease?” One of the girls hissed when we were outside.

    “With two completely different reactions?” another said.

    “It’s not unheard of!”

    “I bet it was the witch,” a voice came, louder than the others. “That girl, Bri, my dad says she’s a witch. I bet she cursed them when they were mean to her. We all saw her.”

    “Bri,” I whispered.

6: Chapter Six

Homecoming Chapter Six

I walked out of class in the silent crowd.

Despite being let out early, no one was jovial; we walked with our heads down and spoke in hushed tones. I listened to the muffled sound of other classes still going on around us. People perked up as teachers spotted us through the windows and came out to question. Several of the girls bounced over, only too happy to divulge the gory details. I kept walking.

The bike shed was empty this time as I unlocked my bike and wheeled it down to the barren gate to wait for Bri.

I leaned against the gate post and chewed my lip. No one could really think what had happened in there was Bri’s fault. It wasn’t possible; there was no way she could have had anything to do with it. But logic was not this town’s strong point. I had a vision of a witch hunt, the town baying for Bri’s blood, men building a pyre. I pulled my mobile out of my pocket and fiddled desperately with it. Facebook was a mediocre distraction but it succeeded in shutting my imagination up, and replaced it with pictures of distinctly fed up looking cats.

I could hear the muffled rumble of dozens of voices. The classes must have ended. I glanced over at the oncoming crowd and saw a mob. All they needed was torches and pitchforks to complete the look.

“Come on, Matilda,” I muttered to myself. “Stop being overdramatic.”

“Talking to yourself, Loser?” A jeer came from a group of boys as they walked out of the gate. Those boys had been in Bri’s class. I scanned the crowd hoping to spot her.

“Tilly.” A small hand came up over the crowd. I waved back at Bri’s arm and smiled, she was with Richard.

“She’s never gonna see you, titch,” Richard laughed and lifted Bri. “Hey, she’s here!” Bri blushed as she was lifted, she was a vivid shade of red by the time Richard put her down. His hands lingered on her a few moments longer than was necessary.
 

“Tilly,” Bri said when they reached me.

“Bye Richard,” I said. Richard’s smile disappeared, but only for a moment before a smirk took its place.

“Alright, alright. I don’t want to cramp your style.” He leaned forward and handed Bri a torn off page from a notebook. “Here you go, Bri. Your dad won't freak out if I come round.” He trotted away, calling out to a passing group before joining them.
 

“Tilly?” Bri said. I was glaring at Richard. “Tilly.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, and turned to face her. “Um, come on lets go,” I turned and picked my bike up, ignoring Bri stuffing Richards phone number into her bag.
We walked without talking, our heads down until we had left the sounds of the school behind us. The roads were quiet, most of the kids who lived out in this neighbourhood got collected from school, usually in overly shiny cars.

“So,” Bri said. I looked at her. “How was class?”

“Richard was nice to walk you out,” I muttered. Bri snorted.

“Richard’s more of a torment now than he was when we were kids. You know he was just trying to embarrass me.” I nodded. “So how was class?”

“It was fine, usual...” I stopped and glanced at Bri. “Actually, Bethany and Jessica got sick.” 

“Sick?” Bri said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Very sick, very quickly. Jessica’s hair fell out and Bethany, I think she had some kind of fit.” I paused when I realised Bri wasn’t walking with me anymore. She had stopped dead in the middle of the path. She stood rigid, pale and shaking. “Bri?” I walked back and put my hand to her forehead. She was sweating. “Bri, what is it?”

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

“Bri, what’s wrong?” I steered her to the edge of the pavement and sat her down on the curb. I could feel her bones through her clothes, as she moved easily under my guidance. “Bri?”

“They were right,” she whispered.
 

“Bri, what are you talking about? Are you alright?” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. It sank into my chest and constricted. I coughed and felt suddenly ill. I knelt next to her, she had gone even paler, and her lips had no colour at all, they were whiter than chalk.

“They were right,” she said again. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders in case she fell backwards.

“Who?” I asked.

“My parents,” Bri said, looking at me. Her eyes were red and swollen, but no tears had fallen. “They said I was bad luck. They said it was my fault.”

“Bri, what are you talking about?” I asked. Her parents were upsetting at times, as they had become increasingly stuck up in the last couple of years, but they had always loved Bri. They would never have said something like that.

“My dad is in danger of losing his spot on the Council; he said it was my fault for coming back. He said I was cursed and that...” Bri started sobbing, her breath catching in her throat.

“Bri, you didn’t do anything. Bethany and Jessica, I don’t know what happened to them but it wasn’t you. How could it have been? You weren’t even there.” Her colour was coming back a bit now as she sobbed.

“When they ... when they were rude,” Bri tried to speak, but her words kept getting stuck on her sobs. “I wanted them to...” She stopped trying to speak and gave in to sobs.

“Bri, it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you.” I tried to sound soothing. “Your dad must have just been angry; he didn’t mean it, I’m sure. You’re not cursed.”

“Yes I am,” she wailed. “I’m cursed.” 

7: Chapter Seven

Homecoming Chapter Seven

The next afternoon, the usual lunch room stink of sour milk went ignored when I spotted a familiar head, sitting alone at a table.

“I didn’t think you’d be in today,” I said, putting my lunch bag down at Bri’s table. She flinched and turned away from me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump.”

“Its fine,” Bri said her head down.

“I thought you would have been off sick today,” I said. “Your parents were pretty worried and you were really upset.”

“No, it was fine,” Bri said still not looking at me. I frowned at her. Last night had certainly not been fine. After she had calmed a little, Bri had insisted that I let her go the rest of the way home alone. But I couldn’t leave her, sitting alone on the curb with her elbows on her knees. I had taken her home, a choice I didn’t regret despite the screaming reception I received from her father.

“But it...” I stopped when I saw the blood. It covered her fingertips like thimbles. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around her wrist.
 

“Tilly!” She hissed. I loosened my grip and looked at her hand; there was more blood on her shirt sleeve. I pulled at her sleeve. “Tilly, stop it.”

She had a thin bandage around her lower arm, just above her wrist. I touched it gently with my fingertips. They came away bloody, the bandage was soaked through. The skin around it was purple with bruising.
 

“Bri, what the hell happened?” I said, letting go of her. She pulled away from me and yanked her sleeve down. She didn’t answer me; instead she pulled a paper towel out from her bag and stuffed it up her sleeve.”Bri?” I said.

“It’s nothing, Tilly. It just happened. I don’t want to talk about it,” Bri turned back to her uneaten sandwich.

“But Bri, that sort of thing doesn’t just happen. Tell me what happened?” I pressed. Bri gave me a hard look, her eyes glistening and red. I had to look away. 

“My dad lost his job yesterday,” she said. I looked at her to see her taking a calm bite of her sandwich.

“Really?” I asked. I hadn’t heard anything, not that I monitored all the council’s doings, but this was a small town and the Council ran everything. If there was anything happening on the Council everyone knew about it weeks before it actually happened.
 

Bri chewed and swallowed slowly. She was too still, too calm. If my dad lost his job I would have been worried. I wouldn’t have been able to sit still. But maybe Bri wasn’t as worried as I would have been. Her family probably had money in accounts. I highly doubt they lived pay cheque to pay cheque like we did.

“I had a dream last night,” Bri said suddenly, her voice softer. “I think it was a memory.”

“A memory?” I asked, frowning at the sudden change of subject. Bri nodded.

“I couldn’t see much, but I was in a dark room. I was on a bed or a soft chair and there was a man there. I think it was Tagas.”

“A man? Tagas?” I said. “Could you see him?” Bri shook her head.

“I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there,” she said. “I could smell him.”

“He stinks?” I asked. I’d watched TV shows where the cops had located a kidnapper and hostage by background noises on the telephone, train lines and whatnot. Maybe Bri had smelt something that would help them locate this guy. Bri shook her head at me.

“No, he doesn’t stink,” she tutted. “He smells like feathers.”

“Feathers?” I said.

“You remember my bird, Bobby?” Bri said. I nodded. “He smelt the same, like feathers.” I had no idea what to say. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“No,” I said. I didn’t think Bri was crazy. I didn’t know what to think.

“Dad said I was crazy, and just looking for attention,” Bri muttered.

“Bri, I don’t think you’re crazy, or looking for attention,” I said. “I don’t know much, but I’m sure you’re not crazy, or cursed, or anything else.” She snorted and stood up. I stood up with her and she stopped me.

“Tilly, please don’t follow me, dad wasn’t happy about yesterday.” I sat back down and watched her as she walked out of the lunch hall.

Bri didn’t come to school the next day.

8: Chapter Eight

Homecoming Chapter Eight

The next the day went even slower than usual. I fixed my eyes on the clock, willing it to move faster. The slow regular ticks pushing my blood pressure up with each passing minute. I clenched and unclenched my hand around an oversized eraser, and tried to think of something other than the clock.

I kept telling myself I shouldn’t worry, Bri had been through a lot, and it wasn’t surprising that she needed time off. But that injury had turned my stomach. She’d been lying about how she’d gotten it that much was obvious. My mind churned up unpleasant example after unpleasant example, but always came back to her parents. Bri’s parents had always been nice. They were stuck up and snotty now, but I couldn’t imagine them hurting her. They had always loved her. At least I thought they had.

The bell rang, heralding the end of the first half of the day.

“Someone’s hungry,” Miss Kretcher said as I bounded out of the classroom.

“Um, yeah,” I forced a smile. I took the steps two at a time, but skidded to a stop outside the building. I looked left towards the lunch hall, then right towards the bike sheds. I’d never played hooky before, I’d never really wanted to. I certainly didn’t love school, but it wasn’t like there was anywhere I’d rather be. Except today.

Turning right, I jogged to the bike sheds. I unlocked my bike and pushed it to the field. There would be teachers on the front gates, but there were no patrols around the ground; it was a school, not a prison. Getting my bike through the gap in the hedge wasn’t easy, branches scraped my arms and face, one wrapped around the back wheel and I had to pry my bike free. But it was only a hedge and I was determined. Once on the other side I pulled broken twigs and leaves off the bike chain, and started towards Bri’s house.

No doubt when I arrived at her house Bri would laugh at me, call me paranoid, and scold me for skipping class. I smiled at the mental image, that’s what I hoped would happen.I peddled harder, speeding through the ‘centre’ of town and out towards the estates. I knew I was going too fast and should slow down, especially when I turned a corner without looking and almost went head first into a bumper of a turning car. But the faster I went, the more anxious I became, and slowing down was not an option. The bridge rattled under my tyres as I shot over it, too fast to hear the river. 

I was sweating and panting by the time I reached Bri’s neighbourhood. My stomach was in knots, and I was feeling a little woozy. I’m not particularly fit and going so fast, even over a short distance, left my legs feeling like jelly. I slowed my bike and stepped off, stumbling but not falling.

I wobbled the rest of the way to Bri’s house, and stopped when I spotted her dad in the front garden. He was smoking. I’d never seen him do that before.

“You’ve been told not to come round here,” he said when he spotted me.

“I’m sorry sir, I was worried.” I said looking at the ground. He laughed; a bitter and rough sound that turned into a cough, like he’d been smoking twenty a day.

“I’ve got enough problems without adding you to the list. Beat it.” He turned and walked to his front door.

“But I was just...” I managed.

“I don’t care what you just, we’ve been through enough already, without worrying about Bri mixing with the likes of you.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I don’t mean to...” I swallowed again, “Bri is my best friend, I just want to know that she’s alright.”

“She’s fine,” Bri’s dad snapped. “Now clear off and don’t come back.” He slammed the front door closed.

I stood, numb, in the front garden for a few minutes watching Bri’s window. But she did not appear. The curtains on the front door twitched, and I heard muffled swearing. I turned and walked away before they did something stupid like call the police.

“All I asked was how she was,” I muttered picking up my bike.

I started home, feeling worse than when I had arrived. I stopped and glanced back at the house, hoping to see her in the window. She wasn’t there.

“I’ll come back, Bri.”

 

9: Chapter Nine

I set my alarm when I went to bed, but it turned out I didn’t need to.

I lay awake, counting the ticks from the clock in the dark.  My alarm was set for 3am, but I clambered out of bed at 2:30am. My bare feet touched the cool carpet and the floorboards creaked. I flinched; the creak sounded deafening in the early morning stillness. Letting out an irritated huff, I stood and paced the room. I desperately wanted to go, but if I left to early I risked running into someone.

“Like you’re the expert,” I sighed, sitting back down on the bed. “Face it; you have no clue what you’re doing.” I growled at myself and stood back up. Heading to the wardrobe I pulled my jeans and an old jumper on.

I had thought about going out the window, but no doubt I’d make more noise going out that way than sneaking out the back door. Movies always gave kids sneaking out a handy plant or tree by their window. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a film and I had nothing handy to climb down. There was no way I was jumping. So taking my shoes in my hand I crept down the stairs, feeling like every sound I made was deafening. My breathing sounded like a dragon, and every creak was like an earthquake, but my parents slept like the dead, or at least the deaf. I made it to the back door without waking them.

The click of the lock was thunderous in the silence of the kitchen, and again I froze. My heart was hammering in my chest and my hands were shaking. If I didn’t get out fast I was going to have a heart attack.

I slipped out into the garden, grabbed my bike and was out onto the road in moments. I felt instant relief wash over me and my legs turned to jelly. I’d done it; I’d got out without being caught. But what if they woke up while I was gone and went to check on me? I had a vision of my mum shouting for my dad, of them phoning the police. I had a vision of me being found outside Bri’s house at stupid o'clock in the morning. Would they think I was stalking her? What if they thought I was planning another kidnapping?

I pulled on my brakes and my bike slowed. I stopped and looked behind me, the road was silent, save for the rustling of nearby trees. This was a stupid idea. It could get me in some serious trouble. I should go back. I turned my bike around, but didn’t move. I remembered her bruises, the cut, her dad refusing to let me even talk to her. Something wasn’t right, if I went home now and she turned up with worse injuries, or dead, I’d never forgive myself. I had to try and help her, somehow.

I turned my bike back around and pedalled off towards Bri’s house. Bri’s neighborhood was better lit than mine, and it made me nervous. I kept expecting police to come round the corner any minute. But apart from a couple of giggly couples on their way home, I saw no one. I stopped and left my bike a little way down the road, in case Bri’s parents heard the brakes squeak, and walked the rest of the way.

The lights were all out unsurprisingly. I watched for a few minutes, waiting to see if the curtains twitched, or a light flickered on.

“Now what, genius?” I muttered, and glanced down. The pathway was littered with small stones. They were small enough not to break the window, but big enough to make a noise. “This is such a stupid idea,” I said, reaching down to pick a couple up.

I took aim, paused, and wondered what would happen if I missed, or what if I threw it too hard? Getting fed up with my cowardice, I swallowed my fear and flicked a stone at Bri’s window. It hit dead on and the sound, while probably quiet, felt loud to me.

I ducked down behind a bush half my size, and tried to hear anything over the rushing in my ears. Nothing happened. After a few minutes I tried again, I missed and tried again, this one hit but again, nothing happened. I tried a few more times, and spent a couple more minutes hiding behind the bush until I was out of stones. I went to look around the back garden, but decided I looked too much like a burglar and went back to the front gate.

It was then that a light flickered on. I dove behind my trusty bush and closed my eyes. Then feeling like a complete fool, I opened my eyes and felt my throat clamp closed.

The curtains over the front door weren’t closed, and in the hall light I could see Bri’s dad walking up the stairs. Over his shoulder was an unconscious Bri.