I threw on my uniform; a deep blue cardigan with a short pencil skirt. Not high enough to make the teachers moan but short enough to make the boy’s heads turn. I always wore my tie short. I liked it that way. It matched me. No I was not a short person and neither was my hair. It just suited me. I can't really explain it very well, I guess it's just a reminder of my brother. He was quite short for his age.
I glanced at myself in the mirror. I would never look as beautiful as that dream made me feel. That boy, he made me feel like the most beautiful girl. Like nothing could compare to the sparkle in my eyes or the smooth waves in my hair or maybe the soft peach tone to my skin. I brushed at my untidy, blonde hair until it was straight with a slight waved like always. It was smooth, silky even. My mum has always said that my hair was what she has always wanted. It was thick and had a wave at the back. It was straight around the front and was the shade she had always dreamt of.
“Leanne? I just got in, sorry I’m a bit late. Hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”
"Speak of the devil" my mother. I loved my mum. I was proud of her in a way. After dad left she had to work twice as hard for money. That was why she was always late in. She was at work from 4:30 in the afternoon until 6:30 in the morning! Well, it depended on the shoot really. She was a model. I could tell where she had been for the past few hours since she got off work. She had been drinking. I could smell the brandy and gin from up here in my attic bedroom. The sharp stench of alcohol was heavy and coated the air almost as soon as mum had entered the house. Mum would probably start vomiting after I left then she would clamber up the stairs and go to sleep in his bed, her expensive mascara caked tears staining the sheets. How could I blame her for drinking though? After all that has happened to us. I really REALLY don’t blame her.
“On my way Mum.” I groaned.
Just then my slim, pink Mobile began to ring. It rang out, loud and annoying. Today of all days. Why did she have to remind me every month? Couldn’t she just let it lie? It wasn't only hard for her you know, it was hard on all of us, but after eight years I have learn to finally move on. That's what they would have wanted though, that they might want. I guess she could just never let it go. I slid the phone into my clammy hands. Her picture was flashing up on the screen. The text beneath read one single word: Miranda. She was my best mate. We met through... the incident.
I jammed my thumb on the answer button on my keypad.
“Hello.” I sighed, deep and long.
“Hey. Guess what today is.” Her voice was sweet but sad mixed together. Miranda was always happy and perky but never on the fifteenth th of every month. She could never be happy this day again. I silently choked back the small sobs of pain and loss. I had to say it straight.
“Eight Years today. Tommy.” My voice was drained and hiccupped. My little Tommy. Well, my big Tommy. Tommy was two years older than me when he was taken and so was Miranda’s big brother. That’s how we became friends. Tommy and Miranda’s brother Jacob were mates. They went to a football training club together when they were nine. A man drove to the club they trained at. It was after practice. He told the trainer that mum had asked him to pick up the boys. He kidnapped Tommy and Jacob. My Tommy. He was just a boy.
I never saw him again. They never found his body. He could still be alive. But, eight years? I’m beginning to lose all hope.
“Yeah. Feels like longer doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” For a long moment we paused, waiting “Well I’ll see you in school then.” I sulked
“Yeah. Bye.” She hung up.
Miranda was my best mate, the coolest girl in school. It was not because she’s pretty (But she was), it was not because she could always get a guy (Which she could) and it wasn’t because everyone liked her (Which they did). It was because she could get what she wants. She could bully the teachers and students alike. She ran the school with me right by her side. Partners in crime we called it, because that’s what we were. In Detentions together, in trouble together and getting boys, together! Although she was always a little better at that last one!
She was the most brilliant mate I could ever ask for and she would never leave me. We chose what went on. We even turned the Geography loos into our own private office, with appointment sheets and everything. We were the girls everyone wants to be. And we got this when the spotlights were directed at us, the sisters of the innocent victims that were kidnapped. It’s like we used them but I don’t like to think of it that way. I never did.
I hurtled at top speed down the stairs like always, kissed mum night and slid the front door open. I could feel a sense of change in the air. Maybe it was the feeling of love the dream left over me. Or could it be something was really changing?
I made my way to the bus stop on the quiet country road just behind our house. There were a few corner shops there but not much else. It was nice scenery though. The trees that shimmered in the morning sun light and the fresh tarmac road almost glowed with the heat of the warm days that lead to summer.
The bus clattered its way over to the bus shelter. I never sat down at the bus shelter. It was gross; covered in old chewed gum, graffiti and all sorts. I wasn’t about to sit on that monstrosity! URGH! Some people just don’t care do they?
The bus’ mechanical doors shot open. I gradually planted each foot on the dirty, metal flooring inside. I fumbled in my pocket for my bus fare. They smooth coins slipped into my fingers and I dropped it into the narrow change slot. I then took the same blue bus seat I had taken for the past three years.
The bus jerked to life, its heavy body shuddering with the engines. I glanced out of the heavily dusted windows. They were awful, the entire beautiful country atmosphere outside, ruined by silly mucky windows. I hated how such a beautiful sight could be ruined by such a minor thing like that.
The burden on my soul weighed deep, pressing down on my weak heart with each passing breath. The biggest thought on my mind came and slipped into the foreground: Tommy.
Chapter two of my school novel. Please comment and be as harsh as you can, it's the only way I'm going to learn.
