Everlong: (Book One of the Everlong Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF Page B

colour was vibrant, like blood when it first oozes from a fresh wound. Words formed in my head, a poem made like magic. I grabbed my moleskin notebook out of my bag - a birthday present to myself - and began to write:
     
    Knife.
    Cold, sharp.
    Running across skin,
    Makes me feel alive.
    Red.
     
    I shoved the notebook and make-up back into my bag and made my way to Registration.
    When I eventually got there, the rest of the class were already filing out, their faces sullen and grey as the reality of cold January mornings and A-levels bit deep.
    Mr Kirkwood looked up from his computer, and over his thick black glasses perched at the end of his nose. ‘You okay now?’ he asked, his eyebrows knitted together.
    ‘Er?’
    ‘Sam said you were feeling sick.’
    ‘Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just feeling a bit rough after Christmas.’
    ‘Not too much partying I hope?’
    I smiled weakly.
    ‘Well, if it gets worse just go and see the nurse. We need you fit.’
    I nodded back.
    ‘Go on then, off you go to your first class before you get a late mark,’ said Mr Kirkwood shooing me out of the room as though I were a fly.
    I was the last to arrive in English so I slunk to the back of the room and sat at a spare table at the back, under the great arch window. Mrs Jones stumbled in, hidden under a tower of paper and books. ‘Okay. Good morning class,’ she said, letting everything tumble out from her arms and onto the table, ‘we’re going to be looking at the stories of Angela Carter this term. If you’d like to pass the books around.’ She grabbed small piles of the books and began feeding them around the class.
    ‘Today we're going to read Bloody Chambers, the first story of the collection, before we do an initial discussion on gender roles, sexuality and the objectification of women in preparation for a presentation, due the first Monday back after half-term. For that, I thought it would be a good idea to put you in mixed pairs-'
    A collective groan rumbled around the classroom.
    'Okay, okay, settle down,' said Mrs Jones, fanning her hands in the air. 'Mike, sit by Suzy, Taylor by Sarah, Sam by Grace, Dexter, you can go over to Evelyn-'
    What?! I looked up, my heart stilled for a moment. I couldn't breathe.
    ‘Evelyn?' asked Dexter, his voice sulky and defiant.
    ‘That’s what I said Mr Sullivan,' said Mrs Jones, one hand firmly on her hip, the other pointing at the seat next to me. I felt the warmth of humiliation as it crawled up my neck and onto my face. I stared at her finger still pointing at the chair next to me.
    I tuned out, deafened by the blood rushing to my head, a strange mixture of horror and delight pulsing through me as Dexter flopped into the chair and tossed his bag noisily onto the table.
    My heart rolled over in my chest. My mouth had dried up like a pool of water in the Sahara. I realised I was kneading my sweaty hands together under the table. How the hell was I supposed to work with him? I Couldn't even speak to him properly. I fixed my eyes on the table in front of me, too afraid to look up in case I looked at him, or, even worse, Amber.
    Without even searching her out, I knew she was looking, I felt her blazing fury scorching my skin.
    Dexter snatched the book up from the table and opened it to the first page, his body leaning as far away from me as possible.
    Was I really that bad?
    I cast a furtive glance out of the corner of my eye; his hate for me was written all over his face like the words in a text book. Not that I couldn't blame him. I hated myself more.
    But why had he saved me then? Why wasn't I rotting at the bottom of the river?
    I took my book off the table, opened it and began to read the first sentence.
    And then I read it again.
    And again.
    But the words didn't make any sense. My head was pounding, my heart quivering in my chest as it struggled to beat.
    An image of the Old Bridge flashed before my eyes, I couldn't get it out of my head, it was so clean and crisp, the dank smell of