Preface
I’ve always felt that there more to me than people would first think, but maybe that’s just the effect death has on you. There was the burst of orange sun shining through the midnight blue satins that hung from my window. It was going to be a beautiful day, but even as the sun shined through my window, a darkened cloud hung over my head, refusing to let me be.
Chapter one
Preparations
The sun - burning my sleepy eyes – continued to beat down through my window. I had a shower; washing my worries away as much as I could, and cleaned the sleepless tears from my face, and hurried downstairs for breakfast. As I managed to heave myself down the stairs, and into the kitchen, I plopped myself onto the nearest seat at the table. Pancakes – Faith’s favourite – dad always made my sister pancakes when she was upset, but not even pancakes could lift our mood today, not when today is our mother’s funeral.
We ate the pancakes in more silence than usual. Faith was trying to hold back her tears, but some managed to seep through and fall down to her now empty plate. I held my hand on her shoulder to give as much support I could give without falling into the pit of despair myself. She looked up at me; straight into my eyes – her eyes more deep brown than ever – seizing to speak. I nodded, hoping she understood the silent reply. Her head wilted; her satin black hair fell over her face like a curtain. Dad just sat there, staring into his bowl of cereal, his almost black eyes filled with guilt, his russet-brown skin seeming paler than usual. And that was what I didn’t understand. He was out fishing that day – he wasn’t with her when she got attacked – but he continued to sit there wallowing. It was hard for me to think about the bear attack. The pain was just intolerable.
He occasionally looked up at us, but was quick to return his gaze towards his breakfast-which was going soggy, and didn’t seem very edible anymore. It was like he couldn’t even look us in the eyes anymore. He was keeping something from us. Faith I could understand, for she was only 12, she probably couldn’t handle it, but why not me. Was there something I did? Would I not be strong enough? I didn’t understand the face he made at me before turning to place his bowl in the sink. It was like he was in pain, but couldn’t stand thinking about it. I couldn’t ask him what it was. Not now.
Before I would swallow the last piece of pancake in my mouth, he quickly snatched the plate and fork from under my hands. I wiped my fingers on my jeans as Faith silently proceeded with the washing up. She never does the washing up. Dad and I glanced up at each other, both in shock, and quietly left the room. Dad proceeded upstairs, and disappeared in his room. I had just reached the top step when he quickly reappeared with a suit in one hand, and a tie in the other. “Put these on. We’ll be leaving soon.” He ordered, and returned to his room. Days were long without mum, she was the heart of the family.
I walked into my bedroom, and the door clunked behind me – even louder than usual – and laid the outfit on my bed. I turned towards the window and wound the blind up. It was brighter that this morning, but seemed about the same temperature on my skin as before. My face seemed reluctant to smile, not even for myself. I can’t imagine what I look like to those round me. Like a shell. A body with no life. No personality. But I know I’ve improved since I first heard the news. I’ve learned to try and seem as normal as possible around Faith to try and make it easier for her sake; and my own.
I dug into my chest of drawers and pulled out a white shirt and quickly buttoned it up. I noticed the top button had been re-sewn, but was now almost worn completely off. A wave of sorrow came over me as I remembered coming home from school with my shirt – the top button ripped off. She was furious. I’d sit there in silence whilst she sews it back on. We’d looked at each other. We burst out laughing. That’s how it always was. I won’t have that anymore. She is gone.
I grabbed some plain back jeans and tugged that on too. My tense skin seemed less tired than this morning. I hadn’t realised how long I’d taken until dad came in. “Hey dad” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic as my current state could manifest. He seemed to see straight through me. He eyed my tie on the bed, scooped it up and turned me to face him, in one swift motion. “Let me help you with that” he did a weird, crooked looking smile that I recognised instantaneously. I could tell he was trying to cheer me up. He never did that smile unless I was sad. His desperate attempts succeeded as a huge grin appeared across my face. “Thanks”. He just looked up at me, neatened my tie some more, and left the room.
I stared at the door for a minute before pulling down my collar. I turned back to the mirror. A familiar boy with short black hair, russet-brown skin and deep brown eyes stared back, but he was different. He was happier. I didn’t want my last minutes with mum to be spent with me being a complete train wreck. I grabbed my jacket and slid my arms in either side. I re-adjusted my suit and tie, and with a quick run through my hair, I was ready. A part of me wanted to get this over with, but then the other apart refused to let me go. I had to force the two pieces of myself together –for my family- for my mother.
I left my room and walked up to Faith’s door. I hesitated slightly before knocking twice, like always. “Its m -” before I could say my name, the door opened and Faith stood there in a plain black dress with black gloves. She had a lily in her hair. Our mums’ favourite flower. She looked like she was ready to break down and cry. Instinctively I threw my arms around her supportively; she let out a huge cry, and went limp in my arms. I couldn’t help but cry a little myself. I knew that my arms were the only thing stopping her from curling into a ball and wishing for mum to come back. She was falling apart. My arm and her head were starting to get wet from our tears. It was then that I realised just how strong our bond is. It was moments like these that I didn’t want to ever end. To have the feeling of being loved so dearly. The way mum had. The way I want to love.
Suddenly a pair of huge arms was wrapped around us, we both looked up a little confused, and saw dad holding us both affectionately. “When do we have to leave” Faith asked more in sadness than curiosity, as she looked up to him. I looked up too, also wishing to know. He looked at his watch - which was a gift from mum – and let out a huge huff. Our bodies were pushed outwards with the force of his exaggerated breath. “Now kid. Come on, Lets get to the car” he pushed our backs towards the stairs and Faith continued forward, when dad called my name.
“Mike” I turned round a little confused. “Umm yes dad?”
“I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you. I appreciate your strength; especially around Faith” his eyes were buried deep into my eyes, I wasn’t really sure I deserved praise, but it was nice to know there was still love around in this family. “Thanks dad, your not doing such a bad job either” I added before jogging down the stairs, and made my way to the car, which was parked –engine running- in front of the house, instead of in the driveway. Dad was prepared.
I slid into the passenger seat and buckled myself in. The two clicks sounded tired and worn. Probably not the safest of cars, but I didn’t complain. His car was an old truck. From the 1980’s. It was in tip top condition, but nothing was stopping the rusting under the doors and rims. It was obviously out-dated, but that was just his style. He would to rust away along side it, before he sold it. He loved his car, but not as much as he loved mum, so I can’t imagine how much pain he is in right now. Loosing both the love of his life, and the heart of his family.
I looked behind me to check if Faith was alright. She was looking down at her lap; her hands neatly limp, resting on her knees. Seatbelt already buckled and set. I could tell she knew I was concerned, but I read the signs wisely. She wasn’t in the mood to want to talk to me. I casually turned back round to face out of the wind-screen. Dad was never a fast walker, or a graceful person. I heard dad slump into the seat as usual. He never seemed to grasp how to sit like a normal person – but then again – my dad wasn’t exactly normal.
Faith and I were well behaved kids, even for young teenagers, but we both knew why. It was pretty simple really. We didn’t want to be one of those stereotypical teens that everybody hated and couldn’t trust. But there was something else that neither of us understood, but followed obediently. We were always careful not to anger dad too much. He always seemed to start shaking violently, like a volcanic eruption was happening deep inside him; his blood boiling to his face, and would leave the room quicker than a speeding bullet.
Mum always told us that he was in anger management and not to worry, that he was getting better. We didn’t argue with her. But that never stopped my curiosity. I wonder – now she was gone – if I would ever find out the truth. Whenever he started shaking, he would always give me a strange glance. It was filled with guilt; which was appropriate given the situation, but there was more to it.
Ever since I turned fifteen he’s been watching me like a hawk. Like he was waiting for something to happen. Maybe for me to start turning into a ‘terrible teen’ but my dad knew me better than that, so I knew it was something else. Something bigger. It must have something to do with my age. Maybe it was some weird coming of age thing. Or maybe he was waiting for me to confess something. But I had nothing to confess. He knew everything, and that is what has bothered me from the very beginning of all this mayhem. I desperately wanted answers. No. I desperately needed answers. I scavenged for the right way to ask him for the answers I craved, but I came up blank. Surely he would have noticed by now my confusion. He had to tell me one day. He had to.
Chapter two
Fresh start
It was Monday. That meant it was time for my first day of school. It has been over a year since my mothers’ funeral, and as a family, we’re doing pretty well. We do have the odd moment where something reminds us of her, and we have our own minute’s silence for her. But apart from that small detail, you wouldn’t realise something massive was missing from our family. But now I can feel the pain lifting off us, and leaving all the happy memories that will stay with us forever-without causing us pain.
We had moved in the spring to a little out-of-the-way town called Petersfield. It was a lot smaller than Northampton, but I guess you could say it was cosier. It has everything I need. School, library, café -lots of cafés and parks. There are also a lot of woods surrounding it, which means I can go hiking with my dad like we used to.
But today I had to focus on school. I would be the new guy. The most likely the target for any jokes or games. But so long as I can make it through the first day, I should be fine. I’ve never been good at making friends. I mean I only had a lot of friends because of my best friend Terry. He was very popular, and I was very likable –so I’ve heard- so it played out good.
My new school is called ‘Petersfield High school’. Inventive. We don’t have to wear a uniform, which is good seeing as were just settled in, and my dad has just got a good job. Meaning I’ll be looking after Faith and cooking dinner after school. But mum taught me how to cook long ago, so that wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s good we don’t have to spend loads on a uniform.
I decided to wear my ‘classic’ outfit. Well it’s not really classy but I just wear it a lot. I began digging in my Tee-shirt draw and found my black top with red graffiti on it. My favourite. I slipped my arms in and tugged it over my head. I pulled off my old trousers –now bed bottoms- and chucked them into the laundry basket in the corner behind my door. It hit the wall above it before stylishly falling into the basket. I grabbed my favourite diesel black jeans with the washout bits on the knees and jumped inside them. I snatched the blue and green striped belt with the metal wolf on the front. I loved this outfit so that should keep me cheerful enough today.
I quickly strode out of my room and galloped downstairs where I yelled goodbye to my father and Faith before I left out the front door. My good old black dirt bike that my father and I fixed up a few months ago was parked outside, next to my fathers’ car. It was in desperate need of a new paint job, but it was durable and fast. Perfect for me. I could get somewhere in half the time my father could, and he drives like a maniac. Especially when angry.
I half-jumped on the bike, and rammed all my weight down to kick-start it. The bike roared to life underneath me, I put it in first and slowly released the clutch and began soaring down the street. The way the wind brushed against my face it was like flying! Like nothing could catch me and I was truly free. Slowly but surely the sign which marked the entrance to the school became visible – even from a distance - which proved how bold it was. As I grew closer I could make out the words “Petersfield high” in big black letters which seemed to reach out to me from the sign.
The car park was fairly packed, but the majority of the vehicles were teachers. There were no other bikes I could see, so maybe I would stand out more than I hoped. I parked in a free space that wasn’t too far so I would be late, but not too close to be early either-which was perfect.
To me, the mother's death by alleged bear attack that clearly wasn't an actual bear attack is the hook that would make me read on. I felt like the story is wasting a lot of time on pancakes and diesel black jeans when it could focus on this incredibly harrowing and dramatic event - the whole second chapter, for example, felt flat and undramatic. I ended up skimming it waiting for the plot to pick back up again.
