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You would never know me anyway: It really starts in chapter 4. Hang on till then :) Thanks for the review.

anon: Yep. Jez is in Year 13 (the story starts right after the first half-term of the year). I decided to make her English so I didn't have to waste time researching the American schooling system, though San Francisco will be coming into it later. As for ages, Jez is 17 (she turns 18 later on in the story), Hugh is 20, Pierce is 23 and Val is 25. Raven is 24. Aha, I'm sorry. I'm keeping it to Tuesday, unless work keeps me late coz the horses have escaped or something... Thanks for the review :)

I don't own Night World.

Chapter 3

When I wake up late the next morning, I'm not sure whether to be relieved or annoyed that I don't have English on a Wednesday. I am just ever-so-slightly confused about whether I have a crush on Blackthorn, or whether I just have a very potent attraction to his, let's just say it, amazing looks, and therefore, which action I should take.

Claire went back home last night (and I actually said goodbye to her in a very polite manner) and I can't help but be relieved. I actually love walking when it isn't raining, snowing, hailing, or so windy that it's like battling through a snowstorm. I put in my iPod, call a quick goodbye to my parents and start walking.

It takes a good thirty minutes to get to school, and I am running slightly late, so I run the last half-kilometre or so. I don't want to be late for Maths because, to be honest, I'm kind of scared about being in the same room as Mr Randall alone for longer than about two seconds due to a detention. I make it just as registration ends, but the teacher just marks me as in anyway. He gave up weeks ago. I actually feel kind of sorry for the poor bloke sometimes.

As normal, I don't pay attention in Maths and watch the second clock tick away the 75 minutes I have to spend in each lesson. Sadly, I have nothing more to look forward to until Music last period; Chemistry, then Critical Thinking.

Thankfully, it's not another damned experiment in Chemistry, just written work, and due to that the lesson passes quickly. I don't mind written work so much. And in Critical Thinking, all that is needed is to pretend that you're listening. No-one bothers with that lesson. As soon as it comes to last period, I'm happy. Music is what relaxes me, and as well as that I have band practice after school.

So because of that, I am happy enough to work on my classical music project, which is performing a romantic period piece of music by either John Field or Chopin in front of the teacher and some examiners. Although most people protested against anything with the word 'classical' in it, I always enjoyed it. My mother had always played classical music around the house, so I was actually spoilt for choice. I'd settled on an Allegro Moderato by Field.

And it goes well, so I am in an even better mood, to the point that I'm whistling along to my iPod as I walk home from school. I suppose it was actually a good thing that I didn't have English on a Wednesday. Annoyingly, though, I have it tomorrow. My stomach squeezes at the thought, so I ignore that fact. My motto should be 'Bury your head in the sand!' I'm not kidding. It really should.

I call a quick hello to my parents, before shooting upstairs to change. Mum is at the bottom of the stairs when I, as usual, practically fall down. "Be home by six. Okay?"

"What? But, mum–"

"No excuses. I got a letter from the school today."

"Let me guess..." We say 'Mr Blackthorn' in unison, and, despite herself, my mother smirks a bit.

"It says that you were late again. And that is unacceptable. I've half a mind to not let you go to practice tonight." There's no joking in her voice as she says that.

"Mum! No, please. I won't do it again. I promise. We have a gig on Saturday, and they can't practice without me!"

She glares at me before sighing. "Fine. But this is your last chance. If you're late again, no practice for a week. I don't care if you're performing to the Queen! You cannot skip out on your lessons."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She lets me get past, and I'm trembling slightly as I wrestle my bike out of the shed. She's serious, and that scared me. I'd honestly considered just not going at all to my English lessons, seeing as I was so happy without them. Urgh, if only Blackthorn wasn't my English teacher! It would be so much easier if it was say... Mrs Crawford. She's about 180, and a woman. I wouldn't ever be attracted to her.

But thankfully, when I'm with my band, it's not difficult to forget everything. We only have two more practices after this one until the gig, so we're practicing until the last minute. Raven and Thistle aren't there this evening, so there are no distractions. Or so I'd thought.

We were packing up, and I was putting my microphone back into its case when Hugh comes over to see me. "Hey," he says, helping me out with the microphone stand.

I smile at him (kind of sarcastically, but whatever). "Hey."

"Did you hear that I've bought a motorbike?"

My mouth drops open and I suddenly feel very intensely jealous of this guy who happens to be like a brother to me. "You're kidding!" I feel a bit disconcerted, but he is two years and four months older than me. There's no reason why he can't own a motorbike before me.

"Picked her up yesterday," he smiles easily and leans against the workbench. The way he caught and held my eyes unnerved me just a little. "You can try her out if you want."

"Insurance?"

"Well then you can ride pillion. It'll be fun." He puts his hand on my arm. Oh man. Was he seriously...? "How about Saturday?"

"We have the gig Saturday," I remind him quickly.

He doesn't lose his smile. "So we do Sunday."

Might as well get it over with. "Uh... Sure." I try, almost in a blind panic, to see a way out of the inevitable change in our relationship that day would encourage. "Maybe we should invite the rest of the band. You know, it can be like a celebration."

He loses the smile. "Yeah. Sure."

I escaped pretty quickly after that, and that night I was plagued by nightmares than consisted of Hugh trying to kiss me, me evading him, and then him being so embarrassed that he quits the band, and then where would we be?

I awake with a deep sense of trepidation, and though it takes me a few seconds to remember everything, I realise that it's half to do with the fact that I have English today, and half that I have band practice tonight.

I'm actually early today, so I take my time getting ready, trying to savour the freedom. I even leave early, which allows me to walk slowly as I usually do, and take in the surroundings.

Not that there's anything particularly special about Ipswich, but there does seem to be a lot of birds.

Chemistry, Music and Maths pass with no particular hassle. I've actually (somehow) stayed on top of the workload, and even have some time at the end of Music to look over the notes Blackthorn wrote about my essay. Even though I bore myself to the absolute death by doing so.

I promise myself that I'll revise for English for all of lunchtime, but that quickly goes out the window. Instead I stay in the practice room and play about with the piano. And, much too quickly, the bell starts ringing for the end of lunchtime.

I actually feel a bit sick at this point. I still have no idea whether I have any real feelings, or whether it's just physical attraction, for Blackthorn, and he certainly doesn't help matters, as his hair is a bit messier than usual, which makes him look even younger. And he's only about 22 anyway. And again, my eyes keep shifting to his lips, and I'm almost positive that he notices, as he gives me strange looks sometimes.

Of course, that might be because I'm actually doing the work and not back-chatting to him in an effort to forget that he's even there.

I'm guessing that most likely it is the latter option, because at the end of the lesson he asks me to stay behind for a moment. I shift uncomfortably as the rest of the class file out.

"Are you feeling alright, Jez? You're acting a bit strange," he finally asks when we're alone.

I automatically bristle. "What, because I'm actually paying attention instead of back-chatting all the time? Isn't that what all you teachers want?"

He fixes me with an ice-cold look that almost makes me shiver. His eyes are glacial green at this point. "Is there something you particularly enjoy about detention? Because I have no qualms about giving you one right now."

Oh dammit. I should have known that one was going to backfire. "No!" I shout suddenly. He raises his eyebrows. "Not tonight," I say, calmer this time.

His jaw clenches, and I'm worried for a moment that he'll give me one anyway. "Any particular reason?" he says, slightly slower than usual.

"Band practice," I answer, watching his curious behaviour. I can't help but notice that he relaxes slightly at this. I clear my throat. "We have a gig on Saturday, and we only have two practices left."

He gives a slight smirk. "You're in a band?"

"Yes."

"What are you called?"

"Chaos." His smirk becomes more pronounced. "We set up the band before any of us knew how to play instruments well, and that was what we called ourselves then. We just kept it like that. Nostalgia, I suppose." I shrug.

"That's as good a reason as any. Well, go on. Just don't forget to do your homework."

"We had homework?" I say mock-innocently, and I'm surprised – pleasantly so – when he laughs. I can't help but smile at that laugh as I leave.