Wonderland in Turmoil

Heartbreaking News

I stepped into my History class, fully aware that Mrs Young, with her gnarled, bloated facial features, thin lipstick slathered mouth and small accusing eyes wouldn't yet be there. I made my way to my seat at the front of the class, sliding into it and pulling textbooks out of my full bag.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Mrs Young arrived. As she strode in, her old-fashioned heels clacking intimidatingly on the lino, the class fell silent and practically fell into their seats. I think that pretty much explains how terrifying they find Mrs Young. I smiled. At least someone knew how to shut them up. Mrs Young halted at the front of the room and ordered us to open our textbooks. We all obeyed. She began lecturing us on some old empire that had met its downfall with a long and ruthless war. I think I saw the girl across from me fall asleep. As the lesson wore on, Mrs Young lectured and instructed us to take notes when she saw people staring blankly at the walls. When there was only around ten minutes of the lesson left, everyone sat up quickly when a messenger from the office burst in through the door. She looked breathless, and was so pale we wouldn't have been surprised if she'd told us there was a ghost in the corridor. But she didn't scream and tell us there was a supernatural creature lurking around outside the classroom, instead she said something much worse.

"Rebecca Lewis? You're required to come to the office immediately." she announced.

I threw my things into my bag and stood up, as if in a trance. I trudged over to her and we left the classroom, setting off on the short walk to the office. It was silent and slightly awkward, she marching onwards like a soldier, me dawdling behind, uncertain as to what was going on. We trudged onwards and I looked down at my feet, wondering what was going on. The minute we arrived at the office, I knew something was very wrong. We pushed open the heavy door and were met with a very strange sight. The social worker that tried to help Blake and I was sitting on a chair, her head in her hands and I could hear her weeping softly. Standing near the chair was my father, looking slightly disoriented. The clothes he was wearing were wrinkled, but someone had managed to persuade him to change them, as he was wearing a large hoodie and jeans, not the same clothes he'd fallen asleep in last night. I thought that maybe he wasn't as drunk as he usually was, but my hope was crushed when I spied a small whiskey flask poking out of the pocket on his hoodie. I sighed. Standing stiffly beside my father was a policeman, a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. He seemed to be asking some questions. I was beginning to wonder what had happened that could be so serious as to have the police involved. My question was soon answered. The policeman noticed that I had arrived, and turned towards me, a look of sympathy plastered over his face.

"Rebecca, we have some very bad news." he said, pausing to make sure I understood. He noticed that I obviously did understand him, so he continued. "As he was walking to school, your brother Blake was hit by a car and killed."

My hand flew up to my mouth. I was shocked. How could this be? This town was so quiet it's hard to tell whether it's even inhabited at all sometimes. No one drives dangerously here! But the more I thought about what had happened, the more tears I could feel prickling at the back of my eyes. So I turned to the police officer and croaked out the only words I could.

"But... How?" I reached out my hands, pleading. My brother couldn't leave us! Not now, not like this. I collapsed on to the nearest chair and put my head in my hands. I heard someone shuffle over to me, but I didn't look up to see who it was. The person put a hand on my shoulder, patting it awkwardly in an unsuccessful attempt to console me. I looked up to see who it was, curious as to who would touch my shoulder like that. To my complete and utter surprise, it was my father. He was still patting my shoulder, but he wasn't looking at me. His gaze was instead focused on the back wall.

"I think it'd be best if you walked on home now, Becka." he advised. "I've got a few more things to sort out here." he finished, his words slurring a bit. This earned him a chorus of complaints from everyone else in the room. It sounded like they didn't want me walking anywhere alone, considering my 'current emotional state'. Well, what would their emotional state be like if the one person they were living for was stolen from them?

They argued for several minutes, finally coming to the conclusion that I was fine to walk home by myself. I groaned inwardly. Standing up, I shouldered my bag and plodded away, head bowed as the clouds unleashed their heavy load of rain on us. I exited the school and began the short walk back home. Rain dripped down my face and with every step I took I could hear discomfiting squishing noises coming from my shoes. I ignored all this, my mind trying to wrap itself around what had happened. I just couldn't process it, it was too horrible a thing to have happen. I trudged on, tears beginning to roll down my cheeks in a time with the raindrops.