Chapter 1

The knife clattered to the floor, skidding on the cold black slate beneath the worktop with a high pitched screech. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and a shudder crept up my spine.

“Damn it!” I yelled. I spun round to retrieve the kitchen knife and somehow managed to catch the plate with my elbow sending it spinning toward the floor.  My instincts took over and I saw my hand shoot out to the side, aiming for the plate, hoping to catch it before it anymore damage can be done.

Too late.

A thousand tiny little shards scattered across the room some reaching into the far corners under the fridge.
“Double damn” I exclaimed walking across to the cupboards to where the pan and brush was kept. I had to clean up and fast. If mum came downstairs and saw the mess, all hell would surely break loose. As I swept up the shattered plate I could hear shouting echoing off the high ceilings and bouncing off the plain white walls.
Great. I thought. Mum and dad had been arguing for months, sometimes over big things like money and my dad’s work but mostly it was the silly little things that really grated against mum’s nerves. Silly little things like my dad’s tie not being in the wash basket at the end of the day, or my mum’s somewhat unhealthy obsession with her weekly magazines which always got left on the coffee table and which my dad inevitably spilled coffee on every morning.

Today however, was over something much much more pathetic than the rest. Today, as usual, my mum was getting ready for her job at a local court as a bailiff. My dad, trying to keep the peace said that she looked good in her black skirt-suit, with her hair folded and pinned neatly on top of her head. My mum, for a reason unknown to the rest of the sane world believed that dad was just being sarcastic and as usual, an argument had broken out. This was not something I wished to be privy to, so I quickly finished what I was doing and as I grabbed my half-made sandwich off the counter, a loud bang filled the room. Not more than a second later, a thud, followed by smaller more cushioned noises swept down the stairs. Grabbing the satchel off the back of the chair, I flung my lunch in and proceeded towards the front door, Dangerous as it was, as I would have to cross the bottom of the stairs.

“Bye mum, Bye dad” I yelled up the stairs. I’m pretty sure they heard me as there was a brief silence as I headed out the door.

‘Great’ I thought as the rain splashed against my face. It was rather bleak for a midsummer’s morning. Usually I walked to school, but I had an exam first thing and sitting in the gymnasium for 2 hours in dripping wet clothing was not on my to-do list.

Running for the bus stop, I arrived with seconds to spare. Digging my purse out from the bottom of my satchel, I handed the driver my fare and took my seat in the back corner of the overcrowded bus. Pushing through the bodies of my fellow students wasn’t a difficult task as for some reason, crowds parted and rooms emptied when I appeared. I often wondered why, as I had never done anything wrong¸ neither was I the unpopular kid in school, yet there must have been something about my demeanor which seemed threatening to those around me.

Before long, I had arrived at Thorncroft Academy. It wasn’t really an academy, but rather a run-of-the-mill state school which had adopted a fancy name to try and revive its somewhat dismal reputation. Made of stone and 5 stories high, the building looked, from the outside, as more of a prison than an establishment for education. In the rain, it looked even more haunting and foreboding than ever. A clock tower stood in the centre of the courtyard situated in the very center of the school building. It was of course, broken, and lacking the funds to have it repaired, or even torn down, the headmaster had left it standing, like a decrepit representation of the school’s age.

Shaking the rain from my hair, I entered the building via the east doorway, which led to the small gym complex in which all the exams were held.
Walking along the narrow un-lit corridor, I struggled to read the door signs. ‘Room 504 – Biology Paper 1’ ‘Room 505 –Religion Studies’ ‘Room 506 – Advanced Chemistry’ I peered through the window into the artificially lit gymnasium, hoping to ascertain how many of my ‘fellow’ students were present. Luckily, there were only 5 people in the small, table-crowded room. 2 of these were the exam invigilators assigned to prevent cheating – not that they needed to as only the crazy and smart took Advanced Chem. In fact, there were only 9 of us. Why they had filled the gym with tables for 9 students was beyond me. Nevertheless, opening the door, I took my pencil case out of my satchel, flinging it into the corner of the room along with the other students’. My Chem. teacher came rushing haphazardly towards me, waving a piece of paper in the air for me to sign. Sighing, I took out a pen whilst Ms Davies showed me to my seat. Sitting down and paying no attention to what I was doing, I scribbled my name on the paper and proceeded to unpack my pencil case onto the graffitied table top, adorned with bored students’ attempts at humour. “Mr Hawks is GAY” one had written, while another had replied “so is your mum” as if the original artist was going to have the chance to read it.

Time seemed to drag as I watched the clock count down the 5 minutes remaining before the exam started. I was vaguely aware of Ms Davies reading the list of Do’s and Don’ts for exam etiquette and handing out the papers, as I stared at the ceiling pondering what to do with the rest of my day. After the exam, students were free to go home and study, which usually means that everyone went to the park to get pissed or go shopping, needless to say that neither of these activities were something I regularly partake in.

A piece of paper landed on the table in front of me, and Ms Davies instructed everyone to start the exam. I sighed deeply. This was going to be a long 2 hours…..

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