Slated

Chapter 27

Another flora cash song— you're somebody else enjoy!:)
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The first thing I hear the next morning is a deep rumbling purr: Sebastian. He seems to have decided that my pillow is the place to sleep, and is curled across it. I, for one, am going to let him sleep wherever he likes.

He seems unfazed by his experiences: scrapping with foxes or whatever creature it was, rescued and given to Phoebe, stitched by the vet. He accepted special titbits of dinner from Mum when we got in last night, then went straight to sleep on my bed.

Phoebe: I just can't work her out. She is so nasty, yet that robin trusted her. Sebastian purred in her arms, and she brought him back to me. I saw her face when she handed him across; she didn't want to give him back, yet she did. She must like animals and birds better than people.

Well, I like Sebastian better than most people, so who am I to judge?

It's the bus for Amy and me today as Jazz has a class trip.

As we get on, I wonder: should I stop and tell Phoebe that Sebastian is all right? But I try to catch her eye and she scowls, gives a slight shake of her head. So the answer to that is no.

I sit with Ben at the back.

"Heh," he says. "All right?"

"Sebastian's back home," I say. And on the noisy bus I lower my voice, and tell him about what Phoebe had done.

"Just goes to show you," he says.

"What?"

"That people aren't always how you think they are. That was a nice thing she did for you: who would have guessed?" He smiles.

Though I am sure she did it for Sebastian, not me. Nothing's changed, she said last night.

Mrs Ali waits for me outside my first class.

"Can we have a quick word?" she says, and draws me into an empty office across the hall, not waiting for an answer. She shuts the door behind us.

"Is something wrong?" I say.

"Don't look so worried, Kyla. You haven't done anything. But you know that I am here to help you, don't you?"

"Uh, of course."

"Listen to me, Kyla. If anyone is hassling you at school or causing you problems, you have to tell me. I don't like hearing about things from other sources. It makes me look like I'm not doing my job."

I stare back at her, confused. The only one who fits that category is Phoebe, yet no one knows about that: we were alone in the woods when she said those things. "I don't understand. What have you heard?"

Mrs Ali smiles and shakes her head slightly. "Poor Kyla. This world must be so confusing for you; that is why I am here to help you work things out. But I can't help you if you don't help me. So is there anything you want to tell me, dear?"

"No. I don't know what you mean," I say, yet I am convinced: somehow, she knows something about Phoebe, and wants me to tell her about it.

But no matter what Phoebe said, I'm no spy. Anyhow, how could I say anything against her when if it wasn't for her, we wouldn't have Sebastian back? We wouldn't even know if he was alive or dead.

Mrs Ali stares back at me, and I can see it in her eyes: she knows there is something I'm not telling her. She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Kyla. You might not know that you need my help, but you do. I'm all that is between you, and...most unpleasant possibilities. Do look after yourself. Now, go to class."

And she turns, opens the door and marches out.

My knees turn to jelly. That was a threat, wasn't it? What unpleasant possibilities?

And I stay in the office, pull the door to and try to draw myself together. Picturing my Happy Place, floating on the clouds. But more and more I get a sense that something is wrong, that I've done something. And I'm going to pay.

At the very least I'll get told off for being late to class. I shake my head: right, Kyla, pull yourself together. I take a deep breath and reach for the doorknob, but hear footsteps. Clipped, precise footsteps. I hesitate; my hand drops back to my side. The office light is off, the hall is lit and there is a window in the door. I step back into the shadows and watch. The footsteps get closer: two men appear, in grey suits. Lorders.

They open the door to my English class, where I should be, right now.

Is this an unpleasant possibility? Have they come to take me?

They disappear inside, and return moments later. And between them is a white-faced Phoebe.

At the end of the day when I get on the bus, there are whispers; whispers and pale faces. Eyes walk up my spine as I go down the aisle and sit with Ben, but when I turn to look around no one meets my eyes. They think I've done something. They know she was nasty to me, so somehow, Lorders taking her out of class is my fault.

Phoebe's usual seat stays empty; she doesn't come late. The bus pulls away. So they didn't just talk to her, then let her go, did they?

I shiver.

Ben takes my hand. "Are you all right?" he says, and watches my eyes looking around the bus, from face to face. Sees the eyes that slide away."What is going on?"

I shake my head. What can I say with so many hostile ears, listening in?

I want to run tonight, I want to run now but am hemmed in on the bus, bodies all around. I concentrate on Ben's warm hand, close my eyes, wish myself anywhere but here.

"Tell me what is wrong," he says. "Maybe I can help."

I open my eyes, and shake my head. "Not now. Are you training before Group tonight?" I ask. He nods. "Can I come?"

He grins. "Of course."

"We can talk then."

And his hand tightens on mine. He knows it is something serious, if I have to run to be able to talk about it.