C. Daugherty: Fracture

She turned in the direction the map in her head pointed her. The one-lane road was bordered by tall hedgerows, bare and bristling at this time of year. Beyond them, muddy pastures and fields were quickly disappearing in the fading light.

But the road was smooth and, if she was right, the town was a couple of miles down this road. She pulled her hat back on.

All I have to do is keep moving and not have a nervous breakdown on the way .

To pass the time, she went over her escape in her mind.

It had been so easy, in the end. Almost as if they’d wanted her to go.

After grabbing Isabelle’s phone from her desk, she’d hurtled up the stairs. In her pocket, the small device had seemed as heavy as a block of concrete; as hot as fire. She was certain people would somehow see it through the thick blue fabric of her skirt.

On the landing, she’d shoved through the crowds of students chatting and laughing to reach a narrower staircase to the girls’ dorm. She’d kept her eyes on the floor in case her guilty expression should betray her.

‘Psycho,’ somebody said behind her, low and mocking. The cut-glass accent was unpleasantly familiar.

Allie didn’t look up. She didn’t need to – she’d know Katie Gilmore’s voice anywhere.

‘Get out of her way or you die next,’ somebody else said and they all laughed.

Fighting the urge to punch Katie in the face, Allie kept her eyes on the floor, counting each step under her breath. The numbers soothed her as they grew.

… fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-n…

‘Allie.’

She jerked to a halt, eyes fixed on the pair of soft, cream-coloured sheepskin boots in her path.

Slowly, she raised her gaze.

Jules, the girls’ prefect, stood in front of her, razor-straight white-blonde hair just brushing the tops of her shoulders, arms crossed disapprovingly. ‘Isabelle sent me to look for you.’

Allie’s heart skipped a beat. Unconsciously her hand drifted to her skirt pocket, where it clutched the stolen phone.

How had she already found out?

Somehow though, despite the adrenaline racing through her veins, her voice was steady. ‘What does she want?’

Jules gave her a strange look, as if she hadn’t expected that question. ‘I don’t know. She just said she was looking for you, and if I saw you to send you to her office.’

Relief washed over Allie like cool water. Isabelle doesn’t know about the phone. Yet.

The realisation made her bolder. ‘Right. Well, you’ve delivered your message, Jules, so your job is done.’ She took a step towards the prefect. ‘Isn’t your boyfriend waiting for you or something? Shouldn’t you be with him?’

Jules didn’t flinch but a red flush stained her neck, creeping to her face.

Ever since the winter ball, Jules and Allie’s ex-boyfriend, Carter, had been an item – the Cimmeria power couple. Allie had got used to seeing them walking down the hall with Carter’s arm draped loosely across her shoulders; his dark hair juxtaposed strikingly against her blonde head. Like chess pieces – the black king with the white queen.

It still made her stomach churn each time she saw them.

‘I don’t want to fight with you, Allie,’ Jules said evenly.

‘Oh good. Well, I’m going to my room for a second then I’ll run right downstairs to talk to Isabelle, like a good little girl.’ Allie knew it was petty to be bitchy to Jules but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She wanted a rise out of her – she longed for a screaming match. Or a fist-fight.

But Jules refused to engage and, shoving past her, Allie hurried on to her room, closing the door with a bang. She didn’t have much time. Isabelle was bound to notice her phone was missing and it wouldn’t take long for her to figure out who’d taken it.

The room was in chaos. Dirty clothes lay strewn on the floor, along with papers, bedding and rubbish. When she’d got out of the infirmary Allie had told Isabelle she didn’t want the cleaners in her room and the headmistress had reluctantly agreed. Now the place was a tip.

Just the way Allie wanted it.

Kicking off her skirt and sensible, school-issued shoes, she yanked on a pair of black skinny jeans. She’d lost weight after Jo’s death and they hung a bit loose on her but they’d do. Hastily lacing her red Doc Martens up to her knees, she grabbed a dark coat from the wardrobe and rummaged through the clutter on the floor for her hat and scarf. She was still shrugging on her coat as she dialled a familiar number.

‘What?’ The voice that answered her call was aggressive. But to Allie the thick London accent sounded like home.

‘Mark.’ Her voice was urgent but low. ‘It’s me.’

‘ Allie? ’ His tone changed. ‘Holy… How the hell are you?’

‘I’m in trouble.’

The pleasure left his voice. ‘Where are you? Are you at home? Is it your parents?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m at school. But something’s happened. Something bad.’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘What do you need?’

She looked out of the window where the daylight had begun to fade. ‘Want to run away with me?’

The road was quiet at this hour. Picking up a stick, Allie threw it hard into a darkening pasture, listening for the faint thud as it landed on the rich soil, out of her sight.

There were no streetlights, and the only houses were in the distance – she could just make out their lights twinkling across the fields. But she felt better out here, without trees blocking the ambient light. In fact, the further away from the school she got, the better she felt.

Her left knee was a bit numb but it was taking her weight. She thought it would hold out until she got into town.

Lost in thought, Allie tripped over a stone on the edge of the road and only just stopped herself from falling.

Focus, Allie, she chided herself. Break your leg now and you’ll end up back in that stupid infirmary.

In the distance, the rumble of a car engine disturbed the quiet country lane. She scrambled for a place to hide but the hedgerow was a solid wall on either side of the road. The car’s headlights brightened as it curved towards her.

Panicking, Allie dived into the hedge, ignoring the sharp branches digging into her sides. She pushed back until she could go no further and waited.

It could just be someone who lives around here, she told herself. It might not be a guard from Cimmeria.

But she still held her breath as the car growled past her, exhaling only when it sped on into the night.

They hadn’t seen her.

The darkness seemed heavier after that as she resumed her walk, plucking bits of dried twig from her hair.

Her whole body ached and the chill had permeated to her bones. To distract herself, she tried to imagine what Rachel was doing back at school right now.

Rachel was her best friend and an utter bookworm, so Allie was fairly certain she knew precisely what she’d be doing: her advanced chemistry homework. She’d be sitting in the library in a deep leather chair, her books spread around her in the glow of the desk lamp. Her glasses would be sliding down her nose and she’d be happily lost in complex formulas and diagrams.

At the image, Allie smiled to herself. But the smile faded quickly.

Will she forgive me for running away without telling her?

She shook her head to clear the thought away. It didn’t matter what anyone thought – even Rachel. This had to be done.

Jo’s killers had to be punished. And since nobody else was doing it, Allie would do it on her own.

In the end she was right about the directions but wrong about the distance – it was much more than two miles. She could hardly feel her feet by the time she arrived in the town two hours later.