Disappearing Act

My step-brother stared blankly back at me, his forehead creasing in shock before running off. I could hear his feet thunder down the stairs, eager to tell Lisa what I’d done this time. Collapsing back into my chair, I stared down at the AS coursework that awaited me, and what I’d been trying to concentrated on before Jamie burst like an unwanted puppy into the room. It was impossible, as all the words moved round like spiders whenever I tried to read them. Giving up way too quickly, I leant back in the chair, and listened to the door below slam open.

Through the carpet I could hear the muffled, but piercing voice of my darling step-mummy Lisa inquiring why Jamie was so ‘upset’. His voice, shaking and upset told her the pack of lies that he could muster up in a minute.

I began to countdown silently: Five, four, three, two- “Rebecca! Get down here now!” Lisa’s high pitched whine shattered the peaceful bubble that surrounded my room

Almost perfect, I thought, and picking up my iPod and converse from where they lay scattered on the floor beside my desk, began to drag my feet slowly down the stairs. From in the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans being thrown around made me sigh with the thought of the oncoming slanging match that was to follow. Before the she-devil could notice I was down, I unlocked the front door with a click, and slipped out into the night time.

It’s not that I didn’t like my step-brother; it was that I absolutely hated him. Hate is a strong word, but sometimes there’s justification to use it, and Jamie was that expectation. We constantly argued, and I always got in trouble for swearing at him. And today he’d spilt orange squash all over my art project and I flipped.

Shivering as the wind bit into my exposed legs, I hurriedly pulled on the zipped jumper that I’d grabbed on my way out. January wasn’t really the best time of the year to be wearing shorts, but I’d had to find some way to get away from the sauna heat that Lisa insisted on having the heating on to, so I wore these, as I wasn’t planning to nip out for anything.

Pushing one ear bud in, I turned up the volume and crossed over the quiet suburban street as the song began to play. The only sound was the slick tyres against the wet main road, as I began the short walk to my friends Max’s house. She only lived about twenty minutes away, but tonight, I decided to talk the shortcut into town through the alleys.

The sleeting rain trickling down from the angry sky, and I pulled up my jumper until it covered my ears. Taking shelter under the unruly bushes that lined one side of the pavement, I gave a comradely nod to the figure huddled in the corner of the bus stop. The vicious wind had picked up now, and my brown hair buffeted my face, as I tried to scrape it back.

It was a strange night, so peaceful, yet so stormy. As the music in my ear calmed me, I was aware of the predatory hum of a car cruising along behind me. It wasn’t far to Max’s now, I thought, you’ve been this way hundreds of times and nothing’s ever happened, why would tonight be any different? But my over-active imagination wouldn’t stop considering the endless possibilities. In the near distance, I could see the back ends of the shops, and the bright light that pierced through that thin alley in between the bookies and the dentist. All I had to do now was walk down past the deserted street to main road.

Colmore Street was the kind of street which parents warned small children about, and as teenagers we were banned from ever stepping foot in it. Which we duly ignored, of course, and we used to spend many evenings sitting in the musky deserted houses until the sun set. When I was about fourteen though, that all stopped. A girl that went to my school, Gemma in the year above, disappeared one summer’s evening. They found her eventually, tied up and unconscious in one of the oldest house at the end of Colmore, but by then the appetite for danger that sneaking in and out of the boarded residencies gave had gone.