A fresh start is exactly what London McLaren needs in order to forget the demons of her past. A new last name, a new town and a new school.
She's about to start her final year of high school, ready to obey her parent's orders to keep her head down a...
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Sunday evening, March 22nd, 2020
I'm upstairs doing my homework when the argument starts.
When Nix was alive my parents rarely argued about anything.
Sure, they had the occasional bicker over who forgot to put the bins out and who left the toilet seat up, but I'd never seen them have a screaming match with each other until after the funeral.
I always thought it was because they were just really in love but I soon realised that just because you loved someone, didn't mean you weren't going to argue.
I tentatively pad out of my room and peer into the kitchen. They're both facing each other. My father's back is to me whilst my mother stands with her hands on her hips.
"Why would you bring this into our house?" my mother shouts, her finger pointed towards something sitting flat against the bench.
"I just wanted to see what they had to say!" my father answers, his voice booming. "It should be a crime that they can still report on this!"
"Would you keep your voice down? The last thing we need if for—"
"For me to hear you?" I deadpan, walking into the kitchen, one eyebrow raised. "If you didn't want me to know you were fighting, you should probably learn how to whisper."
Before my mother can protest, I walk over to the bench and lean over to see what has them so worked up. My heart instantly sinks.
The Bakley Telegraph Sunday edition newspaper is the first thing that sends off alarm bells in my head. The second is the front-page headline.
THE DARK PHOENIX MASSACRE: NEARLY FIVE MONTHS ON.
"Shit," I mumble, picking up the paper with shaky hands.
I quickly scan the front-page, noticing words like the tragedy of the year and top-ten worst teen killers of all time. The last thing I notice, written neatly at the bottom, is the author's name.
Laurel Bishop. Kennedy's mother.
It was weird to think that I had only met Laurel last night. She was a kind enough person but unbeknownst to her, she was reporting on a story that had completely ruined my family.
"Oh god," I breathe, dropping the paper back onto the bench. I take a step back until I hit the bench behind me.
"We didn't want you to see it," my mother whispers, her voice grave.
"It's a bit late for that, don't you think?" I snap, my voice harsh.
"Don't get angry at your mother," my father says sternly. "It isn't anyone's fault here that they've decided to continue to run this outdated story."
