Grace groaned as her alarm clock squeaked nosily from her bedside table. She rolled over moaning and let her hand crush the off button. It whined slightly before shutting down. The room was soon left in silence. Grace smiled to herself- she liked it that way.
'Everybody, wake up!,'' Miss Lee yelled, ''you're all going to be late to school.'' Grace growled angrily, she was fully aware that today was the start of a new term at Goshelm High, and she didn’t need to be reminded by her good for nothing social worker. She rolled over in bed and let herself crash onto the floor with a loud thump. She could feel the floor shake beneath her and chuckled to herself. That should send a message to Miss Lee downstairs- hopefully the message would be interpreted correctly.
Unfortunately, it had the adverse effect, ‘Grace Jenner, I know that was you!’ She squealed in her infuriatingly nasal voice, it had brittle quality about it that made Grace cringe.
She pulled on her dressing gown and made her way downstairs. Felix Jameson- who was another bane of her life- came whizzing past her almost making her trip.
‘Watch it,’ she warned. He spun round and poked out his tongue. Even at his young age he knew Grace’s threat was empty. She regained her composure and continued to tackle the stairs. She was the eldest child here at St. McLean’s orphanage, and would be turning 15 this Friday- she couldn’t wait. She knew that she wouldn’t be showered with presents like most children on their birthdays but she was looking forwards to Peter’s homemade birthday cake- he was the orphanages’ cook. Peter always let the children choose whatever shape they wanted their cake to be and this year Grace had chosen the Parthenon.
When she had told Peter of her decision, he had sucked in air very quickly though his teeth,’ Well, I don’t know Grace.’ He had then removed the pencil from behind his ear and scratched his head with it. ‘That’s going to be very tricky,’ he had continued with a look of utter confusion plastered on his face. Grace had resorted to dirty tactics and had said sighed heavily pretending that a typical sponge would suffice. Peter had smiled at her and ruffled her hair, ‘I suppose I could give it a go.’ Eventually, Peter had relented and had consented to making her the cake, on one condition, that she told him one of her stories. She had happily agreed.
Peter was no older than 20, he was a gap year student, doing community service so it would look good on his UCAS application, however Grace loved him. She didn’t love him in the romantic kind of way but she looked up to him almost as a hero. Peter was a student of ancient history, and was currently writing a thesis on ‘the downfall of the Incan civilisation.’ When Grace had discovered this fact she had taken full advantage of this and had splurged out her love of the ancient Greeks and their mythology. Peter, amazed to find a child as well read, had humoured her and listened to her stories. At first he had resented being lectured on ancient history by a child, though as time went on he was slowly transported into Grace’s world. Now, Grace’s stories had become a sort of ritual that they shared together whilst Peter cooked the dinner. Grace would be sad to see him leave next month.
As Grace made her way into the kitchen she was greeted by the smell of softly simmering porridge. She smiled, salivating at the thought of Peter’s porridge- it was to die for. She took her seat at the head of the table, and cheered with the other children as Peter carried in a tray filled with multiple porridge bowls.
Grace pulled hers towards her and began to eat greedily; the smooth, sweet porridge filled her swiftly and made her feel ready to take the day by the horns.
She quickly left after breakfast was done, so that she didn’t have to walk to school with the other children, and stormed out of the door. She had left so quickly that she was still putting on her blazer as she left through the gate.
It was a bright morning and the day seemed to hold so much promise. The sun was still low in the sky, and streaks of red were still evident in the east. Grace groaned inwardly, it just made her feel depressed (as it reminded her of how early it still was). The walk to school was a long one, and usually took around thirty minutes, however she enjoyed the walk, and could generally not be bothered to wait for the school bus.
As she approached the end of her street, she decided to veer left into the park, it was the more ‘scenic route’ and would inevitably mean that Grace would be late for school. Grace, however, was in no hurry and decided to take her time as she strolled through the dense park.
Her backpack bumped against her back as she walked further through the thick knots of trees that surrounded her. Brown’s Park, had used to be an orchard that belonged to the Brown Manor at one time, but it had been sold in the early 30’s, after the Great Depression.
Grace simply loved this park, it reminded her of countless summer days she had spent reading her Greek mythology book. She continued to walk through the orchard lost in her thoughts until something very peculiar happened. Normally, peculiar things did not happen to her, so this unexpected event left her rather speechless- which was a miracle in itself. However, right in front of her she was met by a conundrum. Laying glistening in the grass below her were three golden apples. It reminded her of the Greek myth when Paris was presented with a Golden apple and had to choose the prettiest out of the Goddess Aphrodite, Athena and Hera- needless to say it hadn’t gone well and had resulted in over 10 years of bitter bloodshed.
Without thinking Grace bent down to pick it up, but just as she did so they disappeared. She immediately fell to her knees and began to feel around for them on the floor, muttering to herself.
‘They were here!’ she muttered in desperation, thick tears coursing down her face. She had been so close to her dream world, so close, but it had all been an illusion. A madness developed by her over-imaginative brain. Grace figured that she must be going mad; she began to panic at a loss for words.
To make matters worse, she could soon hear the chuckles of her least favourite crowd at school. Much to Grace’s dismay, judging by the quickening of their footsteps they were heading in her direction. She glanced over her shoulder and took a quick look at Mellissa and her advancing cronies, and grumbled inwardly. This was the last thing that she needed.
Grace picked herself up and began to run, however her flight to freedom was short lived as her quick exit from the orphanage today came back to haunt her. She had forgotten to tie her shoes and so fell promptly onto her face.
The girls caught up with her and towered over her. Grace began to use her hands to push herself up, but Mellissa kicked her hands from beneath her so that he fell again, her face no full of dirt. The other girls laughed heartily. Grace resisted the urge to cry, she would not look weak in front of them. She continued to hold her nerve and dodged Mellissa’s foot for the second time, springing up so that she was standing. She turned to face the girls, and they began to bend double with laughter.
‘Look,’ one of the younger ones cried gleefully, ‘her face is full of dirt!’ Some of the other girls began to join in chanting ‘dirt face, dirt face.’
Grace frowned, unimpressed- was that really the best they could come up with? Mellissa seemed to sense the same thing and quickly silenced them with an upturned hand. She sauntered forwards in her black high heels and pointed her cigarette towards Grace’s face. Grace froze. Mellissa tittered, however this time the other girls didn’t join in. they all began to exchange nervous looks.
The girls had been bothering Grace for a good four years now ever since she had started the school in year seven. Grace was different and they didn’t like it. Mellissa hovered the cigarette in front of Grace’s face, its acrid clouds blinding her vision. She could feel herself begin to shake, and licked her lips nervously.
‘Mellissa-,’ she started cautiously.
Mellissa cut her off and pressed the cigarette closer to Grace face until it was inches away from Grace’s cheek. She could hear some of the Mellissa’s other cronies begin to run away- they obviously didn’t want to be held responsible for this.
Mellissa still pushed the cigarette closer into Grace’s face until it was a hairsbreadth away. Grace began to feel her breathing rate quicken, her heart was thumping erratically in her chest.
The heat from the cigarette was uncomfortable; she could feel her cheeks begin to feel wet. She wasn’t sure if they were wet from sweat or her own tears.
Mellissa’s eyes were cold, emotionless, ‘not so smart are you now, Grace?’ she hissed with so much venom that she would have scared a python.
Grace shut her eyes, sure that the worst was to come. She opened her left eye a fraction to peer at Mellissa one last time before squeezing them tightly shut once more. She didn't wan to witness the final blow. Her nails dug into her hands, waiting. She peered at Mellissa again for a fraction of time then closed her eyes once more. Waiting. The fatal moment never came.
‘I’ll see you after school, Jenner, you got off lucky this time.’ With that Mellissa dropped the cigarette and fled with the few of her cronies that had remained, laughing.
Grace shut her eyes reeling from that last encounter- she was defiantly going to be late for school now. Yet, that was the least of her concerns. She touched her face with shaking hands and felt the place where the cigarette had hovered. That had been close. Too close.
******
The school day had passed without much spectacle. Grace had kept herself to herself and had avoided meeting people’s gazes in fear that they would question her over the new red ‘addition’ to her face. When she arrived- over half an hour late- she had been sent to the administration’s office, where she attributed her being late to falling over on her way to school- which wasn’t strictly un- true.
On the way back to St. McLean’s after her day at school, she decided against walking through the park and took the quickest route home- by school bus. Grace looked at of the window feeling downcast as the houses blurred past her into non- existence. As she entered the door of the orphanage she was greeted by a cheerful Peter who invited her to come and taste the soup that he was making, she declined his offer and instead went straight to her bedroom.
Tears streamed down Grace’s face as she headed up the stairs, her only consolation that she could lay in her own misery as soon as she entered her room- with the lights off to reflect her mood.
However as she entered her room, she immediately sensed that something was out of order. Her clothes were strewn around her room. Her pencil case and all its contents were dotted around on the floor. She could feel herself panicking and instinctively dived to her pillow on her bed throwing it in the air, what if someone had taken her book? She knew the idea was ridiculous, who would trash her room to find one book, but she just had to be sure. As she removed her pillow she saw it safely nestled there just where she had left it, she breathed a sigh of relief. However, it wasn’t in the same position- someone had touched it.
She flicked the book open and it fell immediately onto page 100- the middle. She sat amazed. On page 99 was the leaf of a golden apple. It was the leaf of the apple she had seen this morning. She held it up to the light and admired the latticed veins that encompassed its surface. She watched it stunned. Grace's face broke out into a huge smile. As she twirled it round her fingers she muttered silently, 'Now I've got myself a mystery.'