Fragments Read Online Free

it’s the world we live in. Even kids know it’s best just to shut up sometimes. They know that people, teachers even, are there some days and then gone the next. And it’s wise not to ask what happened to them.
    Ariella goes to take the raisins and then draws her hand back again, looking at me through lowered lids. I don’t know what to say. I have an image of her suddenly yelling for her parents. I need to keep her sweet. Maybe she can get me some clothes and once I’m cleaned up I can get on my way.
    ‘Your hair’s all tangly,’ she says. ‘Shall I make it nice for you?’
    I smile. ‘That would be lovely. But can I clean up my sore face first?’
    Ten minutes later, I’m gritting my teeth as she claws the brush through my tangled hair. I’ve used the baby wipes to clean up my cheek and slathered on some of her mum’s cream. It smells horrible but as soon as it’s on my face, the pain eases up. I endure a few more minutes of her tugging and try to explain that my hair is different from hers because I’m mixed race, and then she’s shoving in the various butterfly clips all around my face.
    She sits back and surveys her work, giving a deep sigh. ‘You’re pretty,’ she says. ‘Even with a sore, poorly face.’
    I smile at her. ‘So are you,’ I say. ‘Even with cherryade all round your chops.’
    Her belly laugh at this is infectious. I don’t know what I’ve got to laugh about, though. I still have nowhere to go and everyone is . . . everyone is dead.
    I feel myself freefalling inside and for a second I’m scared I’m going to start howling at the pain threatening to engulf me. Ariella puts a chubby hand on mine. I look down and notice that a couple of my nails still have faint traces of the purple sparkly polish I put on a lifetime ago. Glancing up I see that Ariella has her finger to her lips. And that’s when I realise someone is calling her. A woman, sounding irritable.
    ‘Where are you? Ari-e-llaaaaa!’
    She leans over and whispers in my ear, her breath hot and fierce. ‘I’ll come back in the morning. I’ll bring some of Mummy’s clothes and some breakfast.’
    I nod gratefully and she opens the door of the stall with surprising care. I hear the shushy sound of her wellies in the straw as she leaves the stables.
    ‘There you are! What have you got all over your face?’ says the woman, who I presume to be her mother. ‘It’s bath-time! I’ve been calling for ages.’
    ‘Sorry, Mummy,’ Ariella replies in a sing-song way and I hear the voices recede.
    The light is fading now and when I look at my watch I see it’s after eight in the evening. I still don’t know whether I should try to get away but I have nowhere to go. I can’t seem to think straight. Maybe a night here will help sort out my head a bit?
    And I am really tired. Cold now, too.
    Plus, and this is the worst bit . . . I need to pee. I go into the stall next door, where the big old horse now stands with its head drooping and eyes closed and pee in the corner of the stall.
    ‘Sorry, horse,’ I say under my breath. I wash my hands in the water box and feel guilty about that too.
    Back in the empty stall and feeling relieved, I open the feather-light sleeping bag and wriggle inside it. I pull the hood part over my head and try to bunch some straw underneath to make a pillow. Then I close my eyes.
    My dreams aren’t of death and violence this time.
    They’re much crueller.
    I dream about Mum, stirring something at the cooker, her big hips swaying as she hums along to a song on the radio. She turns and gives me a look of love that’s like being wrapped in layers of silk. Then I’m sitting with Jax on the sofa at Zander’s place. We’re playing a game of Insurgent Cell on the X Station and although I’m not really fussed about video games, I’m beating his ass as usual. I tease him and he laughs, because he’s like that, Jax. Never bears a grudge. His face changes into Cal’s and he’s leaning over me for