In The Closet

12. So, What's Your Story Then?

The man and Hayden both remain about ten paces ahead, hurrying forward. I'm somewhere between running and jogging, trying to catch up, but for some reason, they're constantly ahead of me. Finally, they reach the room that we've been heading to, and I manage to slip in the door just before it shuts.

It looks sort of like a community hall. Tiles on the ceiling, a light in between them at not quite regular intervals, most of them flickering or quite dim. Dirty lino on the floor, ugly peach on the wall. And it's quite cold. But it's big, and chock full of kids, ages ranging from around nine to seventeen. There's a line of about ten plastic chairs at the side of the door I just came through, six of them taken by kids in their late teens. I decide to sit on the one on the end. They're all staring straight ahead. There's a quiet murmur of conversation going on, but not much.

A woman with dark hair enters through a door about a quarter of the way down one of the long walls, wearing a suit and holding a clipboard. Official-looking. She adjusts her skirt a little, clears her throat, and the talking in the room quiets.

"Hello there!" she says, loudly, her voice echoing off the walls off the room. Maybe she's expecting a response, because there's a pause before she says the next bit. "We're sorting you into three smaller groups based on age. Group One is nine to eleven, Group Two twelve to fourteen, Group Three fifteen to seventeen. I will read out the registers for the groups – they're alphabetical, by the way." She clears her throat a second time. "Group One, move towards the left of the room. Riley Andrews, Melanie Ashcroft, George Bailey, Michael Bradley..."

The woman continues down the list, naming the people in the group. They all seem to blur into one.

"Hayden Sutcliffe." I sit up. Hayden walks to the edge of the room to join the other kids, about fifteen of them already stood there. The woman names a couple more, and moves onto Group Two.

"Now, you move over to the right of the room. Okay, Willow Aubrey, Shannon Baldwin..."

When the woman says Willow, I notice a second person I recognize move away from the group. Willow from the Gay Club. She looks as nervous as she did when I first met her, still hiding behind masses of hair. Maybe it's just her natural look.

There are considerably less people in this group, and the woman's soon moved on.

"Okay, so everyone in the Group Three should be left in the middle. I'll go through the register to check. Raise your hand when I say your name."

She begins to list people, and I soon switch off, but something grabs me back.

"Jemima Stone." A slender, pale arm raises in the air, and I want to curl up in a ball and scream. She's everywhere. I've never met her once in my timeline – if she exists over there – yet this is the third time I've met her elsewhere. Assuming the Jemima Stone in the Inter Dimension is the Jemima Stone I know.

The woman finishes her list, and clears her throat again.

"So, Group One, you'll be training with Martin here" – she gestures to a tall man of about thirty, who waves at his group – "Group Two with Samantha" – she gestures to a blonde-haired woman – "and Group Three with me. Citizens who came with them" – at this point, she turns to me and the people I'm sat with – "will follow the group containing the person they came here with. Okay?" I nod, and get up to walk over to Group One. Or at least, that's my initial idea; when I pass Group Three, I stand with them. My conscience argues, saying I should go to Hayden. After all, as far as he's concerned, I'm his cousin. But soon, Group One are soon being led off, and I'm stuck here.

***

The woman leads Group Three off last. Partway down a dark, yellowish corridor, someone grabs my upper arm. I yelp.