The Piper's Call

Chapter 9

Hello again! I hope you're all having a good day! As usual, I am thrilled to see such a response and the drama can only increase, guys.  I suggest listening to Adele's "My Same"- the song that symbolises Helen and Nina's differences and similarities. I want to remind you all how amazing you all are and I want to hear what you think. But enough of this babble, on with the show!

 

Chapter 9- Team Player?

Nina P.O.V.

Loughshore was the kind of place that was closed off from anything exciting going on in the world outside. Shielded, comfortable, boring. Only those unfortunate to live there knew anything about it. I kicked at the gravel on the pitch, shivering in a thin school regulation P.E polo shirt and itchy track bottoms. It's not fair. I had been to so many places, you'd never think you'd miss the smog of Manchester city, or the Paris traffic and definitely not the little dots of lights to keep you up at night in Cairo. Now, I looked out and saw darkness everywhere. 

And I was stuck here. I felt guilty at the anger rising up within me. What had Dad been thinking? He had left me alone and I was stuck here. In an infinite loop, never ending like a cycle that goes on and on, slowly disintegrating over the years. 

The boy, Thomas, limped along beside me on a pair of  clunky crutches. He looked like he wanted to ask a million questions but stuck with just one. "Something wrong?"

There is no purpose for me here. I don't belong in this quiet, pretty, little town. But most of all, I'm here and Dad isn't. But that was news for myself and not for sharing. Not yet.

I sighed and gave him an even-toned statement. "P.E. Waste of my time. I could have this Piper problem sorted, but no, here I am out in the cold, doing what? Something any old idiot can do!"

Thomas looked at me incredulously, "So you think it's true then? This Piper story?"

I reflected on the newspaper cutting, Eliza Reynolds sprawled over a cold tarmac road, dead eyes staring up with a last look of helplessness. My fingers went up to my temples, rubbing them steadily. It wasn't a story any more.

PEEEEP! A gruff man blew a whistle sharply, ruining my thought processes. He wore a grubby white track suit that didn't quite cover his huge stomach, estimated BMI of 37, I guessed. His face was covered in a rough, unkept stubble.There was something in his stride, in his look that suggested he was not a man to be messed with. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, eyeing each of us in turn in disgust. His nose turned up as if the very sight of us was sickening.

"Right, due to all those lazy scroungers being off, we're merging the two classes, boys and girls." The voice was gravelly, with a threatening note. "Now, get moving! Around the the track. Twice." He looked at the reluctant, shivering group in front of him and his temper seemed to be close to breaking point.  "Do you need a formal invitation? Go!"

Hesitantly, I set off, feet pounding in too large trainers. Round and round in a circle- I never seemed to escape the endless cycle. White mice could do this- what was the point?  I sped up past the tired teenagers that lagged behind. This was how Dad and I had always been, never staying too long. Always moving. Which was fine by me. I drank in the sights of a million different areas. Each as diverse and vibrant as the last. I didn't stay in a school, tied down to fruitless activities and domineering assistants and patronizing looks everywhere I went. I learned from Dad, and the dusty tomes of calculus and historian's records. And the best thing was that every new city brought something new to me, a new set of facts and figures to work with. Variety in learning was a thing of the past now, held captive in classrooms for hours on end to distract me from the important things I could be interpreting.