Annalise’s brothers Niall and Connor have blue eyes with silver glints. They are also instantly recognizable as O’Brien brothers by their blond hair, long limbs, and handsome faces. I avoid Annalise at breaks and lunchtimes, as I know if her brothers see us together she will be in trouble. I hate it that they might think I’m afraid of them, but I really don’t want to cause trouble for Annalise, and in this huge school it’s easy to avoid people if you want to.

At the end of the first month it’s drizzling that fine misty rain that quickly covers your skin to let you wash yourself clean. I’m round the back of the sports hall, leaning against the wall and considering the alternatives to an afternoon of geography when Niall and Connor turn the corner. From their smiles it seems that they have found what they are looking for. I don’t move from the wall, but I return their smiles. This is going to be more interesting than the Mississippi delta.

Niall starts with, “We’ve seen you talking to our sister.”

I can’t understand when or where, but I’m not going to bother asking, and I give him one of my “so what” looks.

“Just keep away from her,” Connor says.

They both hang back looking uncertain what to do next.

I almost laugh, they are so inept, and I don’t say anything, wondering if that is it.

It may well have been but then Arran appears behind them and blusters in with, “What’s going on?”

As they turn to him they change. They’re not afraid of Arran, and they’re not about to let him see they have been a little cautious with me.

They say, “Piss off,” in unison.

When he doesn’t, Niall advances on Arran.

Arran holds his ground, saying, “I’m staying with my brother.”

The bell marking the end of lunchtime starts to ring, and Niall shoves Arran on the shoulder, saying, “Piss off back to class.”

Arran is forced to step back, but he then takes a step forward, saying, “I’m not going without my brother.”

Connor is looking at Arran and has half turned away from me, and it is just too tempting seeing the side of his face like that. I hit him hard with my version of a left hook. Before Connor’s body touches the tarmac I sink down low to the ground behind Niall and jab him hard in the back of his knee with my elbow. He falls too, and so dramatically that I only just get out of the way. I am still low, so I punch Niall twice in the face, but I know I have to be quick to go to cover Connor. I rise, kick Niall in the side as he rolls away from me, and get Connor with a boot to his shoulder as he is getting up. Niall, though, is more of a danger, being bigger and much the tougher of the two, and he knows enough to roll away again as I start a run at him. I don’t connect my kick, though, as Arran has grabbed my shoulders, surprisingly powerfully, and is dragging me away. I don’t resist much. I’ve done enough.

Arran’s arm is round me as we walk back to the school building. He is holding me tight, pulling me to him, but as we near the entrance he shoves me away. It’s an angry shove.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“Why are you laughing?”

Was I laughing? I hadn’t realized.

Arran carries on into school, his arms out as if he needs to fend me off. The door slams shut behind him.

I don’t go back into school that afternoon. I go to the woods and from there make my way home, timing my arrival to coincide with Arran’s and Deborah’s. I wait for Arran to say something, but he is giving me the silent treatment. It goes on all evening. I think he will relent when we go to bed, but he is already tucked up and switching the light off as I come into the room. I put the light back on and stand with my back to the door.

“I’ll tell Gran about the fight tomorrow.”

The lump under the bedclothes doesn’t respond.

“You know fighting’s normal, don’t you? Most boys do it. It would be weird if I didn’t do it.”

Still nothing.

“I laughed because we’d beaten them. I was relieved. Let’s face it, I had you on my side; we were at a disadvantage.”

He still doesn’t react.

“It doesn’t mean I’m the Devil.”

Finally he stirs and sits up to face me. “You know they’ll say you started it.”

Of course I know. I know that even if I don’t fight, even if I avoid Annalise, even if I get on my knees and lick Niall’s and Connor’s boots, it will make no difference; they will do what they like and say what they like, and what they say will be believed. Arran still hasn’t accepted that there is no hope for me. He looks miserable, though.

I sit on my bed and ask, “Do you get a lot of stick for being my half-brother?”

“I’m your brother.” And he gives me that look of his, the most-gentle-person-in-the-world look.

“Do you get much stick for being my brother, then?”

“Not much.”

He’s pretty hopeless at lying, but I love him more than ever for trying.

“Anyway,” he says, “I’ve lived with Jessica all my life. Those jokers are amateurs.”

I wonder when Niall and Connor will come back at me. My main concern is that they will go for Arran, but they don’t. Maybe they realize that is stupider than just getting their revenge on me.

After the fight I leave school at lunchtimes and hang out in the streets nearby, avoiding the O’Briens and everyone I can, but it’s a miserable existence and within two weeks I’ve had enough of hiding.

I’m leaning against the wall in the same spot as for the first fight when Niall and Connor round the corner. I know they’re going to be more prepared this time, but I think that if I get Niall down first I have a decent chance against them.

They run at me and I see that they are more prepared; Niall is holding a brick.

The best form of defense is attack. I’ve heard that somewhere. So I run at them, shouting as loud as I can—bad stuff, swear words.

Niall is surprised enough to hesitate and I push him away, swerve past him and land a poor punch on Connor, who is a pace behind. But somehow Niall reaches back and grabs my blazer. I pull away from him, but Connor gets his arms round me, pinning my left arm to my body. I try to punch him with my right, but it’s all over.

Niall catches me on the side of the head with the brick and Connor is clinging on to me.

Then I get rammed in my back, which must be with the brick again. But still I’m okay.

Then

T

H

U

D

It reverberates down my spine and stops me dead.

I’ve been hammered into the tarmac like a nail.

Connor’s hands push him away from me.

He’s staring at me. He looks pale, mouth open. Afraid.

Then he isn’t there.

And slowly, slowly the tarmac rises up to my face and I have time to think that I’ve never seen tarmac do that before and wonder how . . .

My body is cold . . . and lying on something hard. My cheek is squashed into something hard. I taste blood.

But I feel okay. Strange but okay.

When I open my eyes everything is gray and fuzzy.

I focus. Oh, right the playground . . . I remember . . .

I don’t move. The brick is there, lying on the tarmac. It doesn’t move either. The brick looks like it has had a bad day as well.

I close my eyes again.

I’m in the woods near home. I vaguely remember walking here. I’m lying on my back looking at the sky and aching everywhere. I don’t sit up but feel my face with my fingers, millimeter by millimeter, slowly daring to work my way to the bits I know are bad.

I have a fat lip that is numb and a loose tooth, my tongue is sore for some reason, I have a bloody nose, my right eye is swollen, and a cut above my left ear is oozing blood and a sort of sticky mucus. A dome has grown on the top of my head.