Edenham Comprehensive

Crossing the road, Reuben approaches the school, hitching his bag higher up on his shoulder. He notices the girl called Casey sitting on the wall opposite the school, earphones trailing from her ears, and waves at her, but she only smiles vaguely at him before glancing back at her lap. Shrugging, he continues into school, only to be accosted by a group of boys not two steps in.

“Hi,” he says uncertainly, glancing between them, trying to work out if they're friends or foes.

“Hi,” one of them, a shortish boy with unruly brown hair, replies. “Reuben, right?” He nods. “I’m Marty. This is Raj, Dean and Sam.”

He recognises them vaguely; some are in a few of his classes, and Raj is in his form. Reuben sat next to him yesterday. He distinctly remembers that the other boy was reluctant to talk to him. So what’s changed?

He nods again. “Right. Nice to meet you.”

“Want to hang out with us until registration?” Marty suggests.

Reuben shrugs noncommittally. “Why not?”

With unspoken unanimous agreement, they walk through the gates, all five of them, shoulder to shoulder. Safety in numbers, Reuben can’t help but think, as scuffs the toe of his trainers on the concrete pavement, his hands deep in his pockets. They stop at a spot on the playground that he assumes is ‘theirs’ and lean against the wall casually.

“So, where’d you move from?” Marty asks. Reuben guesses he’s the chatty, talkative one. None of the others have spoken a word yet.

“Harbourne,” he replies, unwilling to stray from monosyllabic sentences.

“Why?”

None of your damn business. “Parents, you know?”

“Yeah.” Marty grins. “It’s not so bad here, though. Not for us.”

Reuben doesn’t like the way he says ‘us’. What about ‘them’? “I guess. What’s with his Lord and Majesty?” he says critically.

The four of them turn to look at him blankly.

“Tyler,” he prompts, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “The arrogant one with the superiority complex.”

Marty’s eyes widen, wild with something that looks suspiciously like panic. “Shut up, will you?” he hisses, glancing around him manically. “You got a death wish or something?”

Reuben looks at him weirdly. “No, I was just wondering why Tyler’s such a-”

Sam, the boy standing closest to him, clamps a hand over his mouth, muffling Reuben’s words. The same panic is reflected in his eyes.

“He must be stupid,” Dean mutters. He glances at Reuben, his eyes narrowed. “You did get the rules, right?”

Reuben shakes off Sam’s hand, glaring at the other boy. “Yup. But I didn't read them.”

They gasp collectively, giving Reuben the impression that this is somehow a bad thing. He can't help but feel they're overreacting just a tad.

“Read them,” Marty orders. “Learn them. Live by them. They’re your Bible, mate.”

Reuben arches an eyebrow. “Really? And what does that make Tyler, God?”

“Close enough,” Marty replies in a hushed whisper. “Close enough.”

Reuben doesn't even bother telling him he was joking. “What happens if you break the rules?” Do we get sent to hell?

Marty’s as evasive as Tyler was yesterday. “It’s better that you don’t know. But trust me, it’s awful. The worst thing you could possibly imagine.”

Well, Reuben thinks to himself, it can’t be that bad, because I’ve already lived through that. But he neglects to mention this to his newfound ‘friends’.

A bell shrills suddenly, and it’s like a switch has been flipped. People all over the playground start milling inside, a cue for them to start moving too.

“We’d best be going to registration,” Marty says. “See you later.”

They split up into their different form groups, and Reuben follows Raj to theirs. It takes some time, considering the build up of people all going in simultaneously, and on the way, they swap casual information: favourite sports, favourite computer games, stuff like that. Safe stuff.

Most people are already in the form room when they get there. Raj pulls his chair over to another table to talk to a group of people and Reuben, feeling a little left out, sits where he sat yesterday. Almost absentmindedly, he fishes out the little card of rules he got yesterday, which he has yet to give a second glance to. He may as well read it now. I mean, he thinks, how bad could it be?

He glances at them quickly, the sceptical look on his face only increasing as he gets further down the page.

Rule #1: You must not speak to Grade 1s without permission, or associate with them unless they sought you out first.

Rule #2: You must not speak to Grade 3s unless absolutely necessary.

Rule #3: You must buy all your food from the tuck shop or, failing that, the canteen; food that has not been bought on the premises cannot be consumed on the premises.

Rule #4: You must attend all school productions and student-organised events.

Rule #5: You must not discuss Tyler Westwood or his institution in any way.

Rule #6: Tyler Westwood is king. Treat him as such.

Reuben stares at the deceptively simple piece of card with open-mouthed disbelief. He cannot believe what he's just read. Is this serious?

Evidently so, he muses. And what’s with the Grades? Tyler said he was a Grade 2. The card mentioned Grade 1s and Grade 3s. From the sound of it, Grade 1s have it the best. But what about Grade 3s?

The whole thing is perplexing. Frowning, Reuben leans over and taps Raj on the shoulder.

“Hey mate, mind explaining to me how the whole Grade system works?” he asks. “And the rest of it, actually.”

A look of unabridged alarm crosses Raj’s face and he glances round warily. “Don’t talk to me about it again, okay?” he hisses. “Or any of the others. We don’t talk about it, got it?”

Reuben frowns. “Okay. Relax mate, I was only asking.”

“Well, don’t,” Raj mutters, turning back to the others, who give Reuben strange looks before returning to their conversation.

Sighing, he massages his forehead. The lack of information is really starting to irritate him. He glances up, and can’t help but notice that Casey’s chair is conspicuously empty. He wants to ask Raj about it, but he figures that probably comes under the very long list of things ‘we don’t talk about’.

A few minutes later, she shuffles into the classroom just in front of Mr. Roland, and takes her seat as unobtrusively as she can manage, clearly hoping no one will notice her. Reuben does, though. She glances up, frowning, but he looks away before they can make eye contact.

For want of something to do, he reaches into his bag and pulls out an old exercise book he keeps handy, along with a ballpoint black biro. He flips to a clean page, past the myriad of sketches and doodles, and smoothes out the paper before starting to draw.

Reuben’s hand traces lightly over the page at first, merely sketching out an outline, but it slowly takes shape, becoming more and more distinct. A petite, pixie-like figure appears, complete with small, delicate features, flowing dark hair and elegant, veined wings that protrude from her back like grey, lifeless leaves. Her hands are clasped as if in prayer, and her head is lowered demurely to the ground, but the look on her face is anything but innocent. She’s wearing a playful grin that stretches to her eyes, and almost seems to wink back at him as he continues his creation.

He’s been drawing fairies a lot lately. Hardly the most normal drawing subject for a teenage boy, but he doesn’t seem to make a conscious decision to do it. The people he draws inevitably grow wings, almost of their own accord. They look about ready to start beating and lift their owners off the page, into the freedom of the big, wide world.

But this fairy is different from the other fairies. It’s not hugely noticeable. At first, Reuben can hardly see it. Then, he thinks it’s a coincidence. But, as he looks closer, it becomes more and more apparent.

The fairy he’s drawn is Casey.

***

Casey winces as she makes her way outside at lunch time. It’s just started raining; not proper torrential rain, just a mizzly, depressing drizzle that hardly constitutes a downpour. Nevertheless, she can feel her hair starting to frizz, tangling into messy clumps. Suddenly, she regrets choosing to leave it down this morning.

As she passes the tuck shop, her stomach rumbles, crying out for nourishment. But she can’t buy anything. She’s skint, and the little money she does have she needs for much more important things. So she merely passes by, comforting herself with the promise of a chocolate bar on the way home, at a much cheaper price than what Tyler’s offering.

Squeezing into her usual spot, she unwinds her earphones and sticks them in her ears. As she presses play, the music starts blaring and she breathes a sigh. Her eyes close and she starts singing softly, lost in her own world. It’s almost better than a book – almost. But she daren’t read at school. Just in case.

A hand taps her gently on the shoulder and her eyes fly open with shock. Scrambling to her feet, she glares at the boy standing sheepishly in front of her.

“Hi,” Reuben greets her. “Mind if I sit with you?”

Casey opens her mouth to say yes, actually, she does mind, but then remembers she can’t. She merely stares back at him.

“Um, hello?” he says, clearly confused. He waves a hand in front of her face, frowning. “I’m talking to you.”

“I know,” she whispers fiercely, her voice barely audible. “But I can’t talk to you.” She pulls out her card and points to the large ‘3’.

Realisation dawns on Reuben’s face. So he’s not as stupid as he seems. “Ah. Right. Um, you have permission to speak?” he says uncertainly.

Casey sighs with relief. “Finally. And yes, actually, I do mind. So if you could just leave me alone, I’d be very grateful.”

She sits down again, much to Reuben’s bemusement.

“Um, why?” he asks, his forehead furrowed.

“Because I like being on my own, that’s why,” she replies, irked. “Now, if you don’t mind…”

“Well, actually, I do mind,” he mimics, grinning good-naturedly as he sits down beside her. “Blimey, there isn’t much space here, is there?”

Casey glares at him. “Clearly.”

“Shuffle up a bit, would you?”

She gapes at him, taken aback. Out of sheer shock, she moves over slightly, allowing him enough room to squeeze in out of sight. It’s a little bit of a tight fit, considering that his legs are considerably longer than hers, but somehow he manages, looking more than a tad uncomfortable.

“It’s cosy in here,” Reuben comments. “Like a little hideout.”

“So what do you want?” Casey says bluntly, hoping that she can just get this over with.

“Why do I have to want something?” He sounds genuinely confused as he meets her hard stare with his own perplexed one.

Casey frowns. It’s her turn to be confused. “Right.”

An awkward silence settles upon them. She starts playing with her earphones, for want of something to do. Reuben notices and smiles.

“What are you listening to?” he asks curiously.

“Nothing you’d like,” is her automatic reply.

He arches an eyebrow. “Try me.”

She names her favourite band, a local indie rock group she doubts he’s even heard of.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “They’re quite good, actually. Mind if I have an ear?”

Casey just nods, still staring at him as he plucks the earphone from her ear and sticks it in his own. “I’d have thought you were more into rap and R&B.”

Reuben smiles. “Well, I have an eclectic taste in music. I’ll listen to anything, but nothing beats rock music.”

She looks away, embarrassed. “I didn't mean to assume.”

“Yeah well, I’d never have pegged you for the alternative type,” he remarks. “You look more like the innocent, country music girl to me.”

She snorts. “Right. That’s a laugh and a half.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Just goes to show, you can’t go judging people by appearances. People are so much deeper than that.”

Casey looks at him. “Have you any idea how cheesy and cliché you just sounded?”

“It’s the truth,” he says mock-seriously.

Her lips twitch. She’s in danger of actually smiling. God forbid.

But then she remembers. He’s Grade 2. She isn’t. The almost smile disappears as soon as it came and her scowl returns.

“You should go,” she says abruptly. “Your friends will be wondering where you are.”

“Friends?” For a second, he hasn’t got a clue what she’s on about. But then it hits him and he sighs. “Right. Them. I guess so.” Slowly, he gets to his feet, returning her earphone. “It was nice talking to you, Casey. See you around?”

“Yeah,” she lies, glancing away from him as he walks away. She can’t afford to mess up, not again. Getting friendly with a Grade 2 is one way to get there.

Reuben tries to hide his disappointment as he makes his way over to where he can see the guys standing around. Casey seems pretty interesting, despite her prickly exterior. Whereas the guys… He sighs. He’s probably just being silly. He's not really in a position to be picky when it comes to friends.

“Hi,” he greets them, joining their little group.

“Reuben!” Marty exclaims. “Where were you? We were looking everywhere for you!”

Well, clearly you didn't look hard enough. “Just around,” he lies, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Marty nods. “Hey, fancy a game of football? We’ll have enough for five aside with you here.”

Reuben shrugs. “Why not?”