I’d known starting at a new school wasn’t going to be much fun, but at break-time on my first day I realised just how bad things were going to be.
They were ok to begin with. I’d sat on a low wall at the edge of the playground next to the three girls who I’d been grouped with for the morning long geography lesson.
There was Gemma, a tall skinny girl with frizzy blonde hair and freckles. She’d been told by our form teacher, Mr Greene, to look after me during my first week and make sure I got to all my classes ok. She seemed alright, though wasn’t overly chatty. She’d asked how I was getting on and I don’t think she minded having to show me round everywhere.
Laura was a shorter, plumper girl with braces and mousey brown hair. She wasn’t so friendly towards me and, though I may have been imaging it, at times I felt like she was trying to ignore me and didn’t really want me around.
Abigail was a stunningly beautiful black girl. She looked like could’ve been a model or something with her perfect teeth and styled long hair. Everyone, including the teachers it seemed, called her Abi. She laughed and joked a lot and, unlike Laura, was making a bit of an effort to involve me in things.
The three of them seemed to be best friends and I felt a little uncomfortable sitting there with them. Like I didn’t really belong.
None of them asked me personal stuff about my family or where I lived, but then they were probably trying to play it safe. Mr Greene must’ve told them about me and warned them to be careful what they said.
There was definitely an unspoken something in the air and I knew it was what had happened to me and the fact that I’d only been back a few weeks.
So it was awkward. They were chatting about nothing in particular, and I was mainly keeping quiet. I didn’t know anyone well enough to really talk to them yet, and I guess my head wasn’t in a good place anyway.
My support worker, Diane, had told me that going back to school after only three weeks was way too soon.
And I knew she was right. I wasn’t ready for school, and I wasn’t over the loss of my Mum and Dad and little brother. But I was sick of the estate, the counselling sessions, and all the “talk about how you’re feeling” crap. I just wanted to get away from it all. So I’d argued and argued with her, and eventually she’d given up and let me do what I’d wanted.
But as I sat there in the August sunshine, watching the younger kids running round making lots of noise yelling and shouting at each other, I wasn’t sure coming to school had been such a good idea after all.
I wasn’t settled enough to really start chatting to anyone, and instead of helping me stop thinking about everything, being at school meant the same thoughts kept running through my head, over and over. I had to keep acting like everything was ok, even though part of me just wanted to scream.
The estate was on the other side of the city from where I’d lived before, so I’d hadn’t been able to go back to my old school. Maybe things would’ve been easier if I’d gone back there, to the old bricked building with the corridors and classrooms I knew so well.
I knew none of my friends would be there any longer, but I’d feel more at home than I did at this modern concrete box of a school where every classroom looked the same.
Oh god, why couldn’t everything just go back to how it had been before?
I stifled a sob, and clenched my hands as I tried to concentrate on the game of football some boys were playing with a tennis ball.
Everything had gone so horribly wrong. And now I was stuck at a school where I didn’t know anyone and where I didn’t fit in.
My clothes were all cheap and nasty ones, provided by the support workers and bought at one of the shops on the estate. The skirt was plain, the white blouse itched and had a collar that looked much too big, the shoes looked like they’d been found in a skip, and the bra was cutting into me. I’d never felt so self conscious in my life.
Gemma, Laura and Abi were showing each other something on their phones, and from what I could see it looked like they all had the latest models.
Diane had given me my phone and it was as stylish as the clothes I wore. It only did calls and texts, like something out of the dark ages. So I left it sitting in my bag, rather than embarrassing myself.
I sighed. I was seven years old when these girls were born. I didn’t belong here. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend none of it was real.
That was when a nearby shout of ‘Oi, rezzer!’ snapped me out of my thoughts.
I opened my eyes to see a stocky girl with dark curly hair standing a few metres away, hands on hips and looking at me as if I’d done something wrong. Another six or seven girls stood just behind her.
‘Julie, don’t,’ said Abi next to me in a hushed voice.
‘Why not,’ responded the dark haired girl, who I assumed was Julie, ‘That’s what she is, a rezzer. Aren’t you?’
I turned to the girls next to me for support, but Gemma just shrugged, Abi was looking down at the ground now, and Laura just giggled as she met my gaze.
It looked like I was on my own.
‘Sorry,’ I said, in bewilderment, ‘I don’t know what you mean...?’
‘I mean you’re a rezzer. You know? A resurrected? Not very bright are you. Head still hurting from the crash?’
‘Crash?’ asked Gemma.
‘Yeah,’ replied Julie with a proud smile, as she announced what the teacher had obviously never told them, ‘New girl here died in a car crash.’
There was a collective sound of “oooh’s” at this, and I found myself blushing. I could feel my face heating up as everyone started looking at me in a funny way.
‘Isn’t that right?’ Julie taunted.
‘Yeah.’ I admitted, not sure what else I could say.
‘How did it feel, eh? Do you remember anything about the crash?’
‘No, not really.’ I lied, not wanting to talk about it.
‘What about afterwards? Do you remember going to heaven?’
‘No...’ I managed weakly. Everyone was spellbound as they watched Julie interrogate me. I had no idea how to get out of this.
She was clearly playing to the audience, and more girls were coming over to see what’s going on. I was getting hot and bothered. I felt trapped and wanted to run off, but I knew I couldn’t.
‘So, are you a living dead? A zombie, like out of one of those horror films?’ Julie continued, getting a lot of laughs from the growing crowd.
‘No, I’m not,’ I said defensively, ‘I’m not a “living dead”... I’m a “living again” ’. It was a quote from one of the pamphlets I’d been given by Diane. It sounded stupid but it was all I could think to say.
‘Oh yeah, silly me. Living again. Off the state you mean. In one of those horrible tower blocks near Haymarket with all the other rezzers. We’ve already got a few here at the school and you’re just like them, thinking that because you’ve died you’re something special. Well, you’re not. Just look at the horrible clothes you’re wearing. You look like a homeless person.’
There were more laughs and I felt myself get even hotter and red-faced. I looked around for some sort of assistance, hoping that maybe a teacher would wonder what was going on and come and break things up, but there was no sign of anyone coming to my rescue.
Julie was in her element now and just carried on. ‘It was your dad’s fault that your family died wasn’t it? He was drink-driving when you crashed into that tree.’
I felt sick, like someone had just punched me in the stomach. ‘What?’
‘He was,’ she said with relish, ‘He was drink-driving.’
‘That’s not true. The brakes failed.’ I was getting upset now. Why was she being so horrible?
‘A drink-driving policeman.’
‘Shut up!’
‘It was his fault you all died. Thank goodness he didn’t kill any other people.’ She paused for effect, ‘It’s probably better if he doesn’t come back.’
As she was saying this I could feel my anger rising within me like some sort of wild beast. My shaking hands felt clammy and my mouth was dry. There was a pounding in my ears and everything suddenly sounded distant.
Julie turned away from me; towards the crowd of girls behind her, lapping up their praise.
Something inside me snapped. I stopped thinking and just acted. I jumped up from where I’d been sitting, and Julie turned back towards me, grinning, just as my fist connected with her face.
There was a sickening crunch as her nose exploded in a shower of blood, and she dropped to the ground, her hands clutching her face. There were screams and some of the girls looked at me in horror.
I didn’t care. I glared back at them, daring someone, anyone, to come and have a go. I was angry and full of rage for what had just happened, for the terrible new life I’d been given, and for the old life I’d lost. I wanted to take them all on, and I stood there revelling in the power of the moment.
Then a couple of teachers came running over and, easily resisting my attempts to take them on too, overpowered me and marched me back towards the school.