Iris Giorgianni is no ordinary girl. She's living a double life: a neglected daughter at home, but a fighter on the streets. As the leader of The Sangue - one of the most wanted and well-known gangs in London - Iris has a reputation to uphold. Only...
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"I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn't taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers' sword and made me feel powerful and godlike."
- Sylvia Plath
IRIS WOKE the next day with a lump in her throat. After searching for Hunter for around half an hour, they'd all decided to go back to bed and wait for him to return in the morning; mostly because the boys were so drunk that they were more of a hindrance than a help.
Part of her was sure Hunter would return – where could he go? Aside for some trees and pockets of villages, Camp Juvy was mostly isolated from any nearby towns or cities and therefore access to travel elsewhere. So, realistically, the only option for him was to return back from wherever he had gone.
Whatever Levi had said – Iris couldn't exactly remember what it was – surely it wasn't bad enough to drive him completely away?
Nevertheless, something about the way in which Hunter had looked at his brother caused a feeling of fear to settle in Iris' stomach. It was an expression she hadn't seen before – a mix between complete despair and fury, but forming, ultimately, a childish look about him. He was vulnerable; that's what she had realised. All of them were, in their own ways, but Hunter was more so at that moment. Not because he was younger, or smaller, or thinner. Because in a way, he wanted a certain separation from adulthood. A distance from the change that was inevitably doomed upon them all.
Ember was gone from her bed when Iris looked to her side. This was surprising; normally Ember would be the last of the two awake. Her blanket was flung to the bottom of her bed, and her black scrunchie normally placed on the bedside table was taken.
Shrugging it off, Iris stood up, stretched out her arms; yawned loudly, and walked out – slipping her feet into her shoes as she left the tent.
Because it was Sunday, there was once again no bell, so the Campmates were free to roam around until breakfast, which everyone was required to attend. Some stood chatting outside their tents, others walked freely, slow like zombies, but eyes wide with an attentive gaze.
On her way towards the boys' tents, Iris noticed a large gathering of students, all grouped together like bees, buzzing off some kind of excitement nearby. The noise was loud, meaning there were even more people than Iris could see.
What could possibly be causing such a commotion at nine in the morning?
As she walked closer, curiosity driving her legs forward, a sudden dread hit her chest.
It was Levi and Chase's tent.
"Move." Iris snapped to the gossiping girls at the back of the group. "Can I get through, for Gods' sake?"
The sea of juveniles parted to let her past, and, after some aggression from Iris, finally her eyes were able to zero in on the mess:
Levi, who was on the floor, lay next to a pile of vomit, while Chase was blowing chunks elsewhere, getting pat on the back by a very irritated looking Ember.
