Shattered

By: Abellen

Chapter Seven: Fragile

I kept my eyes fixed on the front of the classroom, an attentive expression fixed on my face. I had perfected this technique in kindergarten, and it had never failed me yet. Teachers thought I was paying attention, so they didn't ask me any questions. That left me free to sort out my own thoughts as the lesson went on around me.

The morning had dragged on for an age, and now the minute hand of the clock was finally creeping towards noon. As soon as the bell rang I would head towards the library. I opened my textbook and scanned my eyes down the short list of potential suspects. Within a second an image of the list was imprinted on my memory, and I began to think over each name with care.

Competition for the top ten positions on the grade lists was fierce. I held first with ease, but beneath me was a constant battle. The ranks were always shifting, and people didn't seem to stay in the same position for very long. They either clawed their way further up, or were overthrown by someone lowed down than they were.

Antony Flint was sixth, just behind Tony. If the motive was to gain more money he was the prime suspect for intimidating the top five, but I'd taken Fillmore's point to heart. People within the top ten could fight among themselves for more money without getting into trouble. It was more likely to be someone further down the scale. Tanja Rossi had been in eleventh place for several months, but hadn't been able to break past her nearest rival.

The teacher cleared her throat and shuffled some paper, bringing my attention back to the classroom. Miss Cross was a timid, shy looking woman. She was pleasant and sisterly to all her students, until one of them put a toe out of line. Then she was quietly furious. She whispered and hissed her disappointment. It was far worse than being shouted at, because you felt she'd really taken the misdeed to heart.

'Class, before you leave for lunch I wanted to let you know that there is a test day next week. On Thursday next week you will sit three exams, each an hour long. One will be English, and the other two are math and science. Now don't worry.' She raised her voice to be heard above the nervous chatter that filled the room. 'You needn't study for these tests. They are simply a measurement for the school to see if government targets are being met. Just do your best!'

The nervous chatter subsided, but I could feel the tension thickening the air. There was nothing like the mention of a large scale exam to throw the students into disarray. I sneaked a glance at Fillmore, but he looked calm. There was no reason for a test to bother him anyway, especially if the teachers were telling us not to study.

'All you have to do is turn up in the gym hall at nine in the morning. As a reward you'll be allowed to go home at midday.' She grinned and put the papers down as the bell rang. 'Remember, don't worry! This test result won't be entered into your permanent record.'

The classroom emptied swiftly and I saw Fillmore slip through the crowd, intent on his own business. Butterflies thrashed around my stomach when I realised he was hunting down Harris. I knew he was doing it for his own peace of mind, as well as mine, but I felt uneasy about approaching the bully. When I had known him he had been a large, blustery boy. Now he could very well be a big, brutal young man. I just hoped Fillmore had the sense not to antagonise him too much.

I dropped my bag off at the office before making my way towards the library. The corridors of X emptied out at lunch-time. Even on a cold day like this people preferred the taste of fresh air and freedom to the stuffy school atmosphere. There were some people who would hide themselves in the library though, and that was where I was hoping to find Flint and Rossi.

I walked into the book-lined room and felt the muscles in my back relax. There was something strange about libraries and book shops. I always felt as though I was coming home. The librarian smiled at me in recognition before bending her head back to repairing a textbook. It seemed such an idyllic job, but I couldn't imagine it holding my interest for long. I walked along one of the aisles, trailing my fingertips along the shelf like a blind girl trying to find her way. The covers of each book felt rough beneath my skin.

I looked up when I heard someone speaking, their voice pompous and arrogant. 'It's a simple quadratic dynamic. I fail to see how it can be confusing.'

That sounded like Flint. He was a mathematical genius, but sadly lacking in any basic social skills. He was very adept at rubbing people up the wrong way, myself included.

I rounded the corner and stood with my arms crossed, waiting for him to stop harassing the young student nearby. The girl noticed me and gave me a weak smile. Johanna Monaco was Tony's little sister, and was a charming girl. She'd only just started at X and was already making her mark. A fact that Flint was obviously taking personally.

'Johanna,' I called out quietly, trying not to disturb the students working around me. 'Your brother's looking for you.' I didn't think she'd mind the lie if it got her away from Flint's acerbic tongue.

She gave me a grateful smile and hurried away, leaving Flint to turn to me with a sneer on his face.

'Ms Third. I'd say it was a pleasure, but that would be a lie.'

'The feeling is mutual. I just want to ask you a couple of questions.'

'Need help with your homework?' His lips curved into a smug smile, but I ignored his bait and carried on regardless.

'Has anyone been threatening you lately, or leaving you flowers?'

Flint frowned at me and tapped his pencil against the desk. 'I don't have time for admirers.' He cleared his throat and sighed. 'You would, of course, be referring to the threatening calls the top five have received. I can understand your suspicion Ms Third, but I am disappointed in you for going for the most obvious suspect.'

'I'm just covering all the bases, Flint. So you haven't received anything?'

'No.'

'Thank you, that's helpful. When you get a spare moment in your schedule can you drop by the safety patrol office and let me know where you were on Monday between three and six pm., and Wednesday between ten and twelve.'

'Advanced Calculus group and Science class I believe.'

I nodded, expecting as much. Flint was the kind who filled every minute of his day. I took his pencil from his hand and scribbled a minor correction on his work. 'Thank you for your help, Flint. Let me know if you get any threatening phone calls.'

Flint didn't reply as I walked away, a small smile on my lips. Flint may be arrogant, but he was too intelligent for a blackmailing scheme. He liked nothing more than to rub his superiority in people's faces. If he ever had a master plan it would be convoluted genius. I'd check his alibi anyway, but I wasn't holding my breath for a confession.

Tanja Rossi would be in the fashion section of the library. She was an intelligent beauty, and as vain as the day was long. She was always sporting the latest highlights, lip gloss and accessories. It helped that Daddy had a big bank account, and gave her a very generous allowance.

She was just where I expected her to be, flicking through a copy of Vogue. Her nails were perfectly manicured, and gleamed in the dull library light. She threw me a look of annoyance when I approached and checked the time on her cell phone. 'Can you make this quick? I have places to be.'

'I just need a couple of minutes. Have you received any phone calls or flowers in the past few days?'

'Hundreds. I get roses in my locker every morning, and in case you hadn't realised I am quite popular.' She pouted and fluttered her eyelashes slightly. 'I'm just so busy these days.'

'So nothing out of the usual, then?' I demanded through gritted teeth. There was something about Rossi that made me want to claw her eyes out.

'No, Officer.'

'Did you miss any classes on Wednesday?'

'No, if I skip class Daddy takes my allowance away.'

'And where were you on Monday between about three and six pm?'

'Cheer leading try-outs.'

'Excuse me?' I blinked in confusion, despite myself. I knew cheerleaders were very respected and mostly quite intelligent, but they were often not taken seriously. That didn't seem to be what Rossi wanted out of life.

She shot me a venomous look. 'I am one of the best, Third. I am beautiful, and intelligent, and I shall not leave this school unknown. Since I have been unable to take your place in the grades, I'll just have to be the most popular girl in class.' She sniggered and glanced at her fingernails. 'Frankly, when the competition is people like you, that shouldn't be hard.' She stood up and swung her bag onto her back before flicking her long hair over her shoulder.

Her face morphed into an expression of sympathy when she saw the stitches on my forehead. 'Oh, that is going to scar. You should see about plastic surgery, and maybe get something done about your nose while you're there.'

I smiled vaguely and tried to keep my temper in check as she walked away, swinging her hips and catching the eye of every man in the room, including some of the teachers.

'It's a pity they don't do surgery for personalities.' I muttered to myself, folding the notebook away. There was something on the desk beneath the Vogue magazine, and I picked it up carefully. It was a library copy of the school policies. None of the pages were marked, and a quick scan of the contents didn't bring up anything obvious.

I put it down in disgust and walked away. I was too riled up by Rossi's comments to concentrate. I just wanted to get something to eat and clear my head. Her words about not leaving the school unknown struck me as a bit false. Nobody wanted to be a ghost, but in my mind Tanja was a girl most people would remember. It could have just been her seeking attention, but I filed it away in my mind, just in case.

I walked out of the library and headed towards my locker in the science corridor. The labs were always silent at this time of day, since students weren't allowed in unsupervised. I stopped outside my locker and twiddled the combination lock until it snicked open. A small mirror hung on the inside of the door and I scowled at my reflection. There was nothing wrong with my nose!

A movement in the mirror caught my eye and I spun around, slamming my locker shut behind me. Mike Harris stood barely a foot away, his face slicked with sweat and his skin flushed. He was still in his football gear and I realised he must have run from the football field to get to me. It couldn't have been much more than five minutes since he'd spoken to Fillmore. I swallowed as a cold sweat broke out across my forehead and between my shoulder blades. My hands instinctively curled into fists and I pressed my back against the locker, trying to get as much distance between him and me as possible.

'You bitch,' he snarled moving towards me with the slow, deliberate pace of a predator. 'You can't do this to me again. You can't set your safety officer friends on me!'

I drew in a breath to deny it, but his fist smacked into the locker door beside my ear, and I flinched away. It was a sign of weakness I shouldn't have shown, and I saw his lips curve in delight.

'Harris, don't do this.'

'I'm not doing anything,' he whispered, his voice taking on a husky tone as his breath tickled my cheek. 'Just thinking you've got prettier since the last time I saw you. You're still asking for it with those eyes of yours.'

I wanted to scream, or run, or kick him in the crotch, but I was frozen like a deer in the headlights of a car. Before he had been a bully, but now everything from his tone to the expression on his face was criminal. He reached out a hand and brushed it across the stitches on my forehead. I was trying to get away from him, but could only push myself harder against the locker door. I bit my lip and prayed in the silence of my mind that someone would find us. Fillmore, or Tony, or anyone.

As if in answer to my thoughts the radio in my bag, which rested at my feet, crackled to life and I heard Vallejo's tinny voice say, 'Officer in trouble. Everyone to the hallway outside the science rooms, now!'

Harris withdrew his hand quickly, and his fingernail snagged on one of the stitches, pulling it loose. I cried out in pain as the blood welled up, trickling down my face.

Harris froze for a moment, his expression torn between fear and exultation. He lashed out with his foot at my bag, sending the radio spinning across the floor. It shattered into bits against the wall. 'You tell anyone this was me, and it'll be you who's broken.'

By the time I'd dragged my gaze from the wreckage his footsteps were echoing away down the hall, and he was gone. His threat had barely registered in my mind, but now I groaned at the implication. I pressed my hand to my head and drew in a deep, shuddering breath. For a moment I thought I'd had it. I thought he was going to punch me in the face or force himself on me. Scenarios raced like a horror movie across my mind, but it seemed to me that they were just realities, delayed. He'd find me, if that's what he wanted, and today had proved that I was powerless to stop him.

I picked up the battered remains of the radio and my bag. A drop of blood splattered onto the floor and I forced the dizziness away. This was not going to be easy to explain, but despite the fact that Harris had threatened me, and touched me, the injury had honestly been an accident.

I hurried to the bathroom, knowing that Fillmore and the others would be here soon. The least I could do was try and stem the bleeding. The toilets were empty and I abandoned my bag by the sinks before reaching for some paper towels. Head wounds always bled so much, and the abrupt break of the stitches had reopened the gash on my head slightly. A track of brilliant red wound across my pale cheek and dripped from my chin. Furiously I pressed a pad of tissue against it and counted, slowly, to thirty.

My eyes fell on the remains of my radio again and I winced, trying to come up with an explanation for what had happened. Harris had cornered me, and warned me to keep the Safety Patrol away from him. His hand had been on the cut on my forehead, and the radio went off, and he jumped, and snagged the stitches...

Even the abridged version of the truth sounded bad, and that was leaving out his chilling voice and his hungry eyes. I shuddered and took the tissue away from my head. The wound oozed sluggishly, but the blood flow was a bit lighter. I walked back into the cubicle to get some toilet paper and had just pressed it to my head when I heard to door swing open.

'Ingrid?'

I smiled despite myself. 'I'm here, Fillmore.' I walked back to the sink and ran a basin full of water, not meeting his eyes until he grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.

He looked furious, and I couldn't help but flinch. He saw it and let me go immediately as though I had physically pushed him away. 'We'll tell Folsom and he'll be out of this place by the end of the day,' he said, his voice low and full of unidentifiable emotion.

'It was an accident, Fillmore. I'm not going to tell Folsom.' The silence was thick and I drew in a breath. 'You do know this is a girl's bathroom, don't you?' I asked, trying to lighten his mood as I splashed water over my face, removing blood and makeup.

He didn't answer, but I saw him give a shrug in the mirror. He was leaning back against the bank of sinks, and I could see that he was trembling slightly.

'Fillmore, are you ok?'

'Was breaking your ribs an accident too?' His voice sounded bitter, and I drew back slightly. I would have scowled if my forehead didn't hurt so much.

'You read my file? What about my privacy, Fillmore?' I grabbed another tissue and wiped what remained of my lipstick off roughly.

'You weren't telling any of us, and I needed to know how bad it was!' He spun around, and I could see his disappointment and anger clearly. 'When you start keeping secrets you may as well just tell us that you don't trust us. We're all your friends, Ingrid. We all came running today, and now you're saying it was an accident?'

'Yes!' I winced as my head thudded in time with my heartbeat. 'Look, if Vallejo had called on the radio a few minutes later he might have done me deliberate harm, but he busted one stitch by accident.'

'How was he close enough?' Fillmore's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

'I – I just froze. I should have run away, but I couldn't.'

'So he was touching you?'

'Well, sort of.' Ingrid grimaced. This explanation wasn't going very well, and she could see Fillmore drawing his own conclusions. 'Look, Fillmore. I'm sorry for scaring you and the others, but this time Harris didn't do anything more than threaten, and that's not enough to get him kicked out of school for. At most it would get him into detention, and then it's his word against mine.'

I pressed my hand against my head again. 'I'm going to the school nurse. I might have to leave early if this needs restitching. If I'm not in class I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Fine.' Fillmore's voice was still curt and angry, and I felt my heart sink. My eyes stung with tears, but I blinked them away.

'It's not a matter of not trusting you, Fillmore. It's about not showing how weak I can be.' I let the door swing shut behind me, but Fillmore's quiet curse still reached my ears. I wasn't sure if it was at Harris, me, or himself. All I knew was that I'd let him down, and that made me feel so much worse than I already did.

I sat through the nurse's ministrations, answering her gentle questions with care. I kept my face carefully emotionless until she asked when my parents funeral was. I felt my heart thump against my ribs, and guilt pour into my mind. I'd almost forgotten.

'Tomorrow,' I whispered hoarsely, 'after school.'

'Well, dear. If you want to take the day off I will let your teachers know.' The middle-aged woman handed me a tissue and waited for me to dab my eyes. 'If you ever need someone to talk to, then my door is always open, okay Ingrid?'

'Thank you Miss Prince.'

'It's Elena, dear,' the nurse murmured. 'Well, the rest of the stitches should hold, and the steri-strips will do the job. If there is any pus, or you feel feverish, go straight to hospital.'

I murmured my thanks again and walked sightlessly out of the door. Lunch had ended ages ago, and I didn't want to interrupt the afternoon's classes. Instead I made my way to the office and sat behind my desk. I felt so – full. It felt as though so much was happening in my life that I couldn't get my head around it. Nothing should have been able to block my parents' death from my mind, but it had, and I felt as though I was robbing them of my grief.

It took only a few moments for me to make up my mind, and once I had I surged to my feet. I scribbled a note and left it on Fillmore's desk before checking that I had everything I needed. I locked the office behind me and strode back to the nurse's officer. She smiled in understanding when I informed her that I wouldn't be in school until Monday, and said she'd tell the Principal and my teachers where I was. I squared my shoulders as I walked out of the school and breathed in the cool air. People could help you with bullies and homework, but no one could help you find your strength, or ease your grief. I was saying goodbye to my parents for the last time tomorrow, and I wouldn't let anything or anyone get in the way of that. Not mysterious phone calls, not Fillmore, and certainly not Harris.

I knew I had to be strong, even though I couldn't recall a time when I had felt more powerless in my life.

End of Chapter 7

A/N: Ok, so Harris didn't deliberately hurt Ingrid this time, but who knows how long he'll leave her alone. How will Ingrid cope with her parents funeral, and whose shoulder will she lean on when it gets too much?

As always thanks to reviewers and my apologies for missing an update on Thursday. I had a cold, as you can probably tell from the strangeness of this chapter!