Fury by Shirley Marr Read Free Book Online Page B

the white room. This could be anothertrick. Maybe there’s a two-way mirror and they’re watching me right now … but this room is solid brick and I don’t think the government has enough money for mirror-that-looks-like- ugly-seventies-brick- wall-spy-technology. Maybe he just trusts me.
    Sucker.
    I lean over the desk and grab the notebook. I wonder who gave it to him. It looks expensive, and it smells earthy, like the Tom Ford cologne my father used to wear. I quickly draw back when I realise I’m pressing my nose against the cover. Three female faces stare at me with empty eyes and snakes for hair. What the hell? I almost drop the notebook in horror.
    I try to flip it open, but I realise my wrist doesn’t work.
    Wow. I sigh and drop the notebook back down on the table. I can’t do it. I don’t want to know what he has written about me. What he thinks about me. Right now even I don’t want to think about myself. Later I’ll just say I felt bad about invading his privacy.
    No one said anything about the manila folder though. It is just some ordinary, beat-up bit of cream card. Nothing that says don’t go there.
    I take out the photo of Lexi from before. Behind it is a photo of Ella.
    She looks shocking. I perk up. Maybe I can make copies and plaster it all over school with a speech bubble. Hi, I’m Ella and I finally got arrested by the fashion police for looking this bad. That would serve her right.
    But what am I thinking? School is over. Come next year everyone will be going to uni. Many will go to prestigious colleges in the UK and the States and be living away from home for the first time.
    Where will I be?
    There’s a photo of me too. So this is how I look as a criminal. Like an arrested hooker. There’s more mascara than face. When they made me line up against the wall for a photo I wanted to stand there and pull faces, but I ended up standing very still holding the placard because I was so scared. The strands of hair that fall across my face look like bleeding cuts.
    Then there is Marianne. To my surprise Marianne doesn’t look too bad in her mug shot. She has flaky lips and her hair is limp, but she looks calm. Almost angelic. Almost innocent.
    Even though the words that still echo in my head are the ones I am sick of him, just finish the bastard off.
    A deep breath wells inside me. Without Marianne, I find myself weak all of a sudden. I miss her. I spent so much time trying to put her down that I never stopped to think how lonely I would be when I finally found myself alone.
    My stomach makes the hugest growl. I’m starving. I realise I can’t remember the last time I ate.
    ***
    “Anorexics make it seem so easy, but it’s actually a bitch trying to stay slim,” said Lexi, scoffing down a white bread sandwich, even though today was Wednesday and her nonlunch day.
    It was sunny and I was in a good mood. We’d decided to sit on the grass by the lake. There were swallows everywhere. Black crescents in the sky, skimming the grass almost on their bellies. Lexi says the swallows are shaped like blades and are bad luck. I don’t blame the swallows.
    “I am so sorry for your suffering,” said Marianne, eyeing Lexi as she pushed a stray piece of cheese into her mouth. Lexi shot her a dirty look and continued eating.
    “I bet Jane Ayres is anorexic,” I said. “I have never seen her eat anything except salad. No, hang on … I saw Jane Ayres eat a Maccas salad once. She must have been off her diet that day.”
    “But just look at her,” said Lexi. “I would kill to be that skinny. Do you know what I hate? People who go, ‘oh, you’re so lucky to be so slim’. On the inside I’m thinking, ‘honey, luck has nothing to do with it. Do you know how much I have to starve and exercise to make it look this easy?’”
    “Precisely,” replied Marianne. “Just the two things you are doing right now, starving yourself on that sandwich and exercising flat on your bum.”
    “Oh, shut up why don’t