Chapter 2

 Rain clatters through the doorway, unfortunately unaware that Mr Braxton has changed the layout of the classroom, and barges straight into Gregory’s table. Since when was Gregory Fletcher in his history class? Damn it. Rain swallows as he picks himself up and gingerly replaces Gregory’s pencil case on the table. He can’t help but wonder why he even bothers having a pencil case when there’s nothing in there but half a pencil and a battered rubber with the words ‘Paul is bent’ etched into it. There’s not even anyone called Paul at their school.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Gregory growls at him, his eyebrows drawing together in a thick glower. His voice broke when he was eleven, and he sounds like a grown man with a sore throat. Or a bear that’s about to tear him apart. “Think you’re tough now ‘cause you killed a girl? You're sick, you.” He raises one eyebrow, daring Rain to respond. Gregory’s always had a problem with him, ever since primary school. And now, he’s finally got a proper reason to. According to the students of Dockford Secondary, Rain is a ruthless killer.

“Leave it, Gregory, I’m sure he was just being clumsy, as well as late to my lesson.” Mr Braxton stumps over and positions his large frame between the two of them. He fixes Rain with a stern look, but it’s impossible to have any respect for the man, since he resembles an overweight basset hound wearing spectacles. He also reeks so strongly of coffee and fags that Rain nearly staggers backwards, and Gregory wrinkles his nose, making a rude gesture at Mr Braxton’s back. “Well, lad? Why are you late for class? We’re taking truancy very seriously this year, you know.” He folds his arms across his podgy stomach and waits for a grovelling apology. Stealing a sideways glance at the clock, Rain replies,

“I’m literally two minutes late, Sir. Surely, we’re wasting more time talking?” He tries his best to sound polite, even though he’d very much like to punch Mr Braxton right on his fat, fleshy nose.

“You gonna take that Sir?” Kane Richardson, Gregory’s best mate, calls out from the other side of the room, laughing. Braxton’s face turns beetroot red and he bellows, “You sit down, young man!” Rain sighs heavily, and slumps into a chair at the back of the room. The student in the next seat, a tall girl with ginger plaits and a nose ring, shoots a disgusted look in his direction and moves to the other side of the room. Kane and Gregory are hooting with laughter as they watch, slapping their desks at the apparent hilarity of it. They make a funny-looking pair, although nobody would dare to say it to their faces. Gregory is an absolute beast of a boy, towering at a whopping six foot one, with an unpleasant smile, a large nose and tousled golden hair; Kane is his polar opposite in all but personality: abnormally short, with brown hair, bright green eyes, and glasses perched a face that doesn't resemble an eternal mugshot. Rain has been their prime target to pick on since day one.

“Right then, today we’re going to learn about the Battle of Hastings.” Mr Braxton drones, sounding just as bored as his slouching students. “Anyone care to share their knowledge?” He is greeted by deathly silence. “No? Alright then.” He whips a chunky green whiteboard pen from his shirt pocket and writes ‘BATTLE OF HASTINGS’ on the board in wonky capital letters, before underlining it.

“You should be using a ruler, Sir!” Someone calls out in an pretty accurate impression of his voice. Ignoring them, Braxton scrawls ‘HAROLD GODWINSON VS WILLIAM THE CONKER’ beneath the title. Rain smirks. No one else bats an eyelid. Three years at this illiterate car crash of a school has probably made them more stupid than they were to start with.

Mr Braxton is about to explain who William the ‘Conker’ was, when the door is flung open yet again, and a stressed-looking woman with a blonde bob enters, juggling a pile of papers.

"Mr Braxton, I’ve got a new student for you. Kali Sherman? I think you’ve got her on your list?” She sounds hopeful, as though she’s expecting Braxton to be thrilled at the interruption of his abysmal history lesson. He sighs heavily,

“Well, bring her in then, Ms Munroe.” The receptionist shuffles aside to let a girl storm her way into the classroom. A girl wearing the expression of a bear who’s just been told it’s getting turned into a fur coat. Her eyes, bright amber and outlined with dark, smudgy eyeshadow, glower around the room, assessing the enemy. No one’s exactly jumping out of their seats to welcome her. Even Braxton has a greying eyebrow raised judgementally as he looks his new student up and down. Kali Sherman is no more the picture of elegance than he is. Her hair is wild and blonde and curly, and clearly doesn’t have a good relationship with hairbrushes. She’s wearing a purple fishnet cardigan over her school shirt, which definitely doesn’t count as uniform, black combat boots that come up to her knees, and too many necklaces to count. Her untamed locks are held back by a clip that looks disturbingly like a small bird’s skull, and long earrings hang from each of her ears, in the shape of dreamcatchers. “Everyone, this is Kali. Kali, this is everyone. Take a seat wherever there’s space.” Mr Braxton waves a podgy hand towards the sea of unfriendly faces and Kali rolls her eyes, sliding into the chair beside Rain without looking at anyone else. She slams her bag down so forcefully that the desk wobbles. Rain manages not to flinch, but it’s a close call. The room remains silent, the air thick with boredom. No one bothers to acknowledge Kali. That is until Gregory, who’s never one to hold his tongue, helpfully decides to call out,

"You know, you’re sitting next a murderer?” He smirks, looking awfully pleased with himself, and everyone sniggers. Rain’s fists clench and he can feel the blood rushing to his ears. Kali glances at him, a flicker of curiosity crossing her features, but she doesn’t look scared. Just…intrigued.

"Yeah, you’d better watch he doesn’t stab you!” Kane laughs, tossing a screwed up ball of paper at Rain’s head. Clearly he isn't that worried about getting on the wrong side of 'the pyscho'.

“Nah, I reckon he’s got a gun in his bag!”

“Or poison in his lunchbox!”

Rain shoots a desperate glance at Mr Braxton, praying he’s actually going to do something, but the teacher is tapping angrily at his keyboard, trying to load a documentary about the Battle of Hastings. As his classmates continue to come up with increasingly bizarre methods that he might use to kill someone, Rain actually considers just getting up and running away.

“Maybe there’s an chainsaw in his locker!”

“Look,” Kali’s tone is forceful but her actual voice is a touch softer than he was expecting. “I couldn’t care less if he’s a deranged serial killer. Could you all just shut up?"

"Of course you’re defending him.” Gregory rolls his eyes and spits his chewing gum at her. “You look a right freak.”

“And I think you’d look better with a broken nose.” Kali flashes him a venomous smile.

“Are you threatening me?!"

"Awww, well done, maybe you’re not as stupid as I thought!” Kali smirks, clearly unfazed by the furious look that Gregory is giving her. Mr Braxton finally decides to intervene, with the enthusiasm of a sleepy sloth.

"Alright, alright, settle down. Kali, please refrain from making threats. We don’t tolerate violence here. Now, let’s get back to the lesson.” He flicks the lights off and waddles back over to his laptop to click play on the video. Rain risks a glance at Kali and whispers,

"Thanks for backing me up.”

"Don’t mention it. I know what it’s like.” She pauses to pick at the skin around her thumbnail, peeling a flake of it off and flicking it at the back of Kane’s head. “People used to call me a murderer.”

Her words hang in the air as Rain struggles to believe that he heard them right. “Really?” He whispers back. Kali nods slowly, frowning at the screen where a very unenthusiastic historian is explaining the origins of the battle in front of a patchy green-screen.

"Yeah. My mum had complications when I was being born. Apparently that makes it my fault.” She shrugs as if she couldn’t care less, but Rain knows that look. He knows that she cares more than anything.

"I’m really sorry.” It’s all he can think to respond, even though those same words have been irritating him for the past month.

“Doesn’t matter.” Kali glares down at her thumb, where a bead of blood has formed, bright scarlet against her pale skin. “I was just saying I get it.”