GCSEs are now OVER!!!! I have more free time than I know what to do with – mostly, I sleep.

I'm Rory...Short For Liam

When Aunt Tilly showed the nice policewoman and her partner out of the house, Amy made a break for freedom out of the back door. She hadn't even closed the door before she saw movement from amongst the quiet tombstones: Tom, who had been sitting atop a thirty-nine-years-dead Alice Crewherst, leapt to his feet as he saw the girl exit the house. They stood on opposite ends of the graveyard to each other, staring with equal apprehension, like two strangers meeting for the very first time. Then Amy ran to him, flinging her arms around his neck before breaking down into great sobs of tears.

"Hey," Tom soothed, hugging her tightly to him while she cried. "C'mon, Amy, it's all right. It can'ah been that bad like."

"You have no idea!" Amy whispered against the warmth of his shirt. She bit her lip, trembling. "Liam's run. The police have no idea where he's gone, and..." She swallowed, hard. "Andrew, my stepfather...he wants to come here and talk to me."

Tom felt his heart turn numb within his chest. "The one who beat you?"

"Who else?"

His eyes lifted. There, at the window of his house, Tom saw a corner of the curtain twitch. Old Will's face peered round the corner, but disappeared after a fearsome glare from his grandson. Tom knew what had happened to his grandfather when he was a boy: he had been forced to return to London, where he was locked in a cupboard by his crazed mother and forced to try and keep his little sister, Trudy, alive. It had failed miserably. At least if Andrew came here to Little Weirwold, Tom reasoned to himself, there would be plenty of people present to protect Amy. He hesitated as he felt Amy's arms tighten around him slightly – he liked hugs, of course, but not when they threatened to crush the life from him.

"Look, would you like to try 'n take your mind off this trouble like?" Tom suggested quietly, making Amy look up at him. "One of the girls in my class is havin' a party, down on Midhope Farm. Her folks is out, 'n she was wonderin' if I'd like to bring someone alone like, so there's more of a crowd."

The girl in his arms blanched, pulling out of his hold. "So you're inviting me?"

He couldn't help laughing outright, tweaking the girl's nose fondly. "Aye, you're my lass, ent you? 'Course I'm going to invite you!"

Amy gaped at Tom in amazement. "Me? But I'm a townie---"

"You've nothin' to worry about – Ian and his motley crew is grounded 'cos of what they said to you." Tom pulled a mock-pleading face, falling to his knees before her. "Please come? Please? I'll be eternally in your debt."

The girl looked at him. For a moment, it looked to Tom that she was about to shake her head, but then a wave of relief washed over him as Amy sniffed, wiping back the last of her tears, and nodded vigorously. "Do I need to bring anything?"

"A sleeping bag," Tom said cheerfully, leaping to his feet once more. "And your own pretty self. I'll talk to Father Mayne for you, if you want, and Aunt Tilly. I'm sure they'll let you go if I'm there with you."

Laughing, Amy shoved him indignantly. "Careful, Thomas Oakley, or someone might believe you think I need to be watched like some little child."

The older boy winked. "You're the one whose always complainin' about how she's never done normal teenage stuff before like. Pick you up about eight, right?"

"If you insist," Amy replied airily, and before Tom could reply she was walking back down towards the vicar's house. Not even he could ignore the spring that was in her step.

The warden on the train had his job cut out. Running back and forth along the length of the eight carriages, he was calling for the blinds at the window to be removed. But as he reached the furthest carriage, he saw that the only occupant within was curled up on the seats, using his rolled-up hoody as a pillow. The warden blinked back the beginnings of rage: he was not in the mood for throwing some teenage-trap from the train again, not after the last one tried to knife him! Instead, the man slid the door opened, and tapped the boy smartly on the shoulder with a gloved hand.

"Wake up, sonny," the man snapped in his ear, making the youth wake with a strangled cry of alarm. "The sun's up, and it's time for you to show me your ticket."

The boy blinked stupidly, half-yawning, half-swearing. "Wha...? Ouch!" More curses filled the tiny carriage as the warden yanked open the blind and let burning sunlight spill into the carriage. "Jesus, mate! Can't a guy get decent shut eye round here?"

"Watch your language," the warden growled, as the youth rubbed the backs of his hands over smarting eyes. "Now, where's the ticket? Chop, chop, lad. Wait a minute, you're the kid who nearly missed the train this morning, weren't you? The one who decided to take a kip on the bench?"

"And? Not everyone had the pleasure of coming from picture-perfect homes, you know?"

The youth fished a severely-crumpled ticket from the depths of his jean's pockets, and waved it towards the man. He seized the hand irritably, saw the ticket was valid, and shoved the youth's hand back down to his lap. Then his eyes wandered to the lad's commando-green t-shirt and scowled as he read the inscription.

I Love Having Nothing To Lose

"Take your shoes off the seat!" the warden snapped angrily, as the youth made to lie back down again. "What kind of messed up kid are you?"

The boy's eyes flashed darkly. "The kind the likes of you only encounter in their nightmares."

A snap of paper and pen announced the warden was about to make some kind of official report. The boy heaved a great sigh of boredom, and began to fish his iPod out of his rucksack. As the warden continued muttering and threatening him, the boy flicked through to his favourite band, Sum 41, and soon their lyrics where thudding into his ears:

Everybody's got their problems (problems).
Everbody says the same thing to you.
It's just a matter of how you solve them (solve them),
And knowing how to change the things you've been through.
I feel I've come to realize
How fast life can be compromised.
Step back to see what's going on.
I can't believe this happened to you...
This happened to you...

The warden's hand rapped against his shoulder again, making the youth flinch and flick the iPod onto 'pause'. "What is it now?"

"Name, laddy," the man growled. "And make it snappy!"

The youth hesitated. He wasn't an idiot: he knew Barrings Estate would have notified the police all ready about his disappearance. He couldn't give his real name, that would be asking for trouble; he'd all ready gone through the humiliation of bleaching his Emo-black hair white, before making it a sickly shade of ginger-brown. He smiled up at the man innocently – he hadn't ditched his skinny fits and turned grunge just to be lobbed into the back of a waiting police car at the next station.

"I'm Rory Tamplin." Damn! That was his girl friend's surname! Oh well, too late now... "Why, is there a problem, sir?"

"Yes," the warden snapped back. "You're attitude."

The youth smiled broadly. "And yours is peachy clean too, mate."

The man turned and slammed out of the carriage. Smiling to himself, Liam let himself lean sideways in the seat, resting his head against the dirty pane of the window. He wondered how long it would take for this wheezing sack of old nuts and bolts to reach Little Weirwold. And when he did, how on earth was he supposed to find that stuck-up of a Tom anyway?

The hostess, a cheerful girl by the name of Melissa, wasn't in the least bit annoyed to find that Tom's guest for that evening with a townie. "We've got red bull in the kitchen, alcohol in the living room, and George brought his over amps so we can have extra loud music!" the girl literally screamed at Tom over an already booming beat from within the depths of the house. "And if you value your life, for crying out loud don't let anyone open the blinds! I'll be in trouble enough when my folks found out about this party – they'll kill me if we ruin the blackout!"

Tom pushed her forwards into the sitting room, and immediately a sea of faces turned to them...and then looked away. One boy hollered and lobbed a can of Strongbow at Tom, who caught the drink with an expert's ease. The next second, the can had opened, and the boy took a deep, generous swig.

"Here." He pushed the drink into Amy's hands. "It's good."

Music shook the house. Amy felt herself relax as she realised that she recognised Hadouken blaring through the amps and sterio combined, and punched Tom's arm lightly. He glanced at her, only to grin as he saw Amy mouthing the words, trying to get him to join in.

"Sorry, love, you're on your own for this one," Tom laughed, shaking his head. "I don't know them."

"You're mad!" Amy accused him, only to jump as Melissa appeared at her arm. The girl flung her arms round the girl's neck, screaming something like, "You know them! At last! Please tell George I didn't make them up! Come on, Amy, dance with me!"

Amy looked at Tom, who rolled his eyes at Melissa's demanded and mimed someone downing a drink. Taking his advice, the girl put the rim of the can to her lip and threw back her head. Laughter rang through the room as she coughed, while the bitter-sweet taste of the alcohol seeped luxuriously down her throat. Greedily, she took another swig. The boy took the can back and pushed Amy toward his friend.

"Don't worry, she don't bite."

"Yeah, like I believed you when you told me that!" Melissa replied tartly, then began to dance. All ready Amy's head was feeling a little light, and her ears hummed happily – how much had she drunk? No, she couldn't be getting tipsy all ready...could she?

Then she just gave up worrying – who cared any more? While Tom settled in to a bantering session with one of his class mates, Amy let herself be dragged away to dance by Tom's terribly energetic ex.

A knock on the door made Melissa glance up from her seat on George's lap. Growling, she pushed herself out of her seat and away from her friends, stumbling awkwardly towards the front door. Behind her, she could hear her chums scrambling to hide the booze and turn down the music. Straightening her t-shirt, the girl put on her best smile and wrenched open the door. A young man stood there, buckled up beneath a thick hoody.

"You seen Tom anywhere?" he asked her, then grinned. "Say, what's this? A party that he didn't invite me to?"

"And you're a friend of Tom's?" Melissa asked. Then she grinned and grabbed the boy's shoulder. "Which Tom – we have many Tom's in here tonight. I take it you're one of the rugby mates that don't go to our school?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Oooh!" Melissa glared at her boyfriend as George stuck his head round the doorway. "And what a terribly poosh accent, sonny."

Every bit the performer, Liam graced the attendants of the party with his most devilish of smiles, stooping into a dramatic bow. "I would have been offended if you'd missed it." He turned to Melissa as she shut the door on his back. "So, where's my Tom?"

The girl grinned sluggishly. "Tom Patterson's through there, stuck in the fireplace; Tom Oakley's gone upstairs to hunt for his girlfriend; Tom Dickinson's talking to the porcelain toilet ---"

The youth gave her a cheeky thumbs-up. "Thanks, I've got him."

"Wait!" the girl shouted, as the youth headed towards the staircase before him, face suddenly set. "D'ya want some pizza?"

"Thanks, I ate before I came."

Taking the steps two at a time, Liam clenched his fists determinedly. It had been a fantastic gamble to knock on the door of this farm – he'd heard the blaring music before he'd even rounded the corner, while walking up to the village proper. And if Tom was any inch like Liam, parties would be a great way to relieve the stress of the week from your back. Now he could see that it had paid off spectacularly. He reached the first door on the landing, seized the handle by both hands...then took a deep breath. If Tom was any inch like Liam, the youth guessed he was not going to like what he found when he found the two teenagers.

Amy's fifteen, Liam snarled to himself, then paused. Or is she older?

The brother scowled, furious that he had been so troubled by his own woes and pains that he had even forgotten how old his sister was. Never mind: she still my baby sister, and I'll do for that sicko if I find he's even laid one finger on her.

It was now or never. Liam turned the handle, panicked, then slammed his way into the room...

...only to discover that it was completely deserted. He turned and stalked back out again, letting the door bang shut behind him. Downstairs, the music was blaring again – no one would hear a pair of courting teens, that was for sure; neither would they hear Liam when he introduced Tom to his childhood friend: Pain.

Thanks so much to all my reviewers so far! BTW, the songs I've listed here are "The Hell Song" by Sum 41 and "That Boy That Girl" by Hadouken. Please Read and Enjoy!