Not a lot of people reviewed chapter 1, so I'm going to post chapter 2 in the hope it will generate at least a bit of interest and get some people reading it...
This chapter is worryingly short (just over 600 words :s) but I'm hoping that it should work.......should....
My apologises to the poets for posting this in their section....
Jam
......~BEN~......
Ben came home, threw his bag at the foot of the stairs and turned on the computer. The regularity of this event meant his mother (long resigned to the fact that talking to Ben was like talking to a brick wall) did not even bother to ask him how his day had been. Instead, she waited for her daughter to come in, in order to ask her the questions and get her to help with the tea.
Of course, she was naive to think that Alexa would do it quietly and without protest. But by now, she had learned that by asking the questions while she worked, Alexa would have less time to protest about her unjust treatment and how they favoured Ben, how he didn't have to do anything around the house.
Despite knowing what Ben was doing, she still covered for him when his little sister moaned that he wasn't helping. "Your brother's busy doing coursework, his GCSEs are very important", you know, that kind of thing. She knew things were going to have to improve though. His sister had bought home a letter from school, His grades were dropping. Her mind was made up. It would have to be done...
......~Rachel~......
Mr Bailey had died. Once Mr Eastwood had got us all in the hall, he stood up and told us straight.
I didn't know what to think. My form tutor, the one who's been there for me since, like, forever. The one who'd been there to talk to last year. Gone. He must only have been in his early thirties. Mr Eastwood let the ripple of shock that had come over the hall subside, leaving an eerie silence in it's place before he carried on. He had, he told us, suffered a heart attack on the friday evening while he was still marking coursework in his office. Mr Koneschi, the caretaker, had found him slumped on his computer on his last sweep of the building before locking up. We were told, that as a mark of respect, the school would be closed for the day, in order to allow students and pupils alike, grieve at the loss without academic pressure.
The buses were waiting outside still as we left the hall, many a face shining from fresh tears. I looked round for Jenny, but found only other students hugging and crying on each others shoulder and the teachers, in serious conversations with a couple of policemen who'd been at the entrance as we'd come in. Finally, I found her, but found I couldn't speak to her, because she wasn't crying. At all. She looked more thrilled at the prospect of a day off school, and was positively smiling when she came up and asked if i wanted to go into town with her and get a lift home from her Dad. The fact she wasn't even attemping to comfort me made me see red. I gave her one last look, and ran.
I stopped running, the tears in my eyes and my heart prevented me from seeing my surroundings. I looked up, bleary eyed and found nothing but a wishy-washy mix of pale and dull colours, nothing which told me where I was. I dried my eyes on my sleeve and looked up. Yellow tape was all around me. I stopped. I suddenly realised where I was.
This was room 27A. This was Mr Bailey's office. Despite the fact that he was my form tutor, I'd never actually been in there. And yet here I was.
I looked around. The shock of finding out where I was seemed to have brought me to my senses. Surely there must be a policeman, or someone around. Clearly the tape meant something suspious had happened. I listened for a minute. There was nothing, nobody. I don't know what I'd have done if someone had walked in. I don't even know whether it was people I was listening for. Either way, my heart beating and shallow breathing were the only things that accounted for life in the room that ultimatly had just take one from someone else.
Cautiously, I decided to have a look round. I went over to the desk, which obviously had been left untouched, There were two piles of papers, one marked and one still to mark. In the middle of the two, right infront of the chair was a few sheets of paper held together with a bright green paper clip. I gasped. I recognised that paper clip straight away. It was mine. |
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