Names of the dead

Chapter One

I slide my tongue across the lollipop's sugary surface.
"But I don't know why he did it? Like am I not good enough for him or-"
"Dump him Soph, if he cheated he ain't worth it" I don't get why girls do this, like why is it when someone cheats on someone they complain and don't just dump them. I will never get it. Strands of strawberry blonde hair cling to the sticky surface of the lollipop, I swipe them away in annoyance.
"I love your hair" Sophie says, staring longingly at the strands that encircle my face. I don't get why they call it strawberry blonde, it's not even blonde, it should be strawberry red.
"Yeah well, It's annoying" I am getting tired of her complaining.
"All I've got is dull, brown hair"
"Then dye it" I suggest, knowing her answer, but not really listening.
"You know I can't do that Willow!" I sigh, exasperated, as Sophie rambles on about the restrictions her parents put on her. I cut her off mid-sentence.
"I need to use the loo" I stride off before she can reply, after a while I look behind me just to be sure she's not following me, then I start to relax. I walk past the stalls of the fair, curiously glancing at the items for sale. I see a bin, brimming with unwanted food, drinks and wrappers, and I toss the sticky mess onto the top of the pile. Licking my fingers, I stride past more stalls and flinch when I hear a call sounding from behind me.
"Willow!" Crap, it's Sophie. I run along the stalls, desperate for an escape. An interesting looking stall catches my eye; 'Fortune telling' it reads in scrawled, purple cursive. Sophie won't find me in here, I think as I dart to what looks like the registration desk. I give a quick glance to the sign standing beside the desk which states that I need two tokens for one session. A young indian woman sits in a black desk chair behind the desk, in front of a draping plum coloured curtain. She is writing something down on a piece of paper, gnawing on the end of the pen, her dark hair is tied back into a tight bun and a pair of deep purple glasses rest on the bridge of her nose. She looks up from the paper she is writing on and brings her dark brown eyes up to meet my crystalline blue ones.
"Can I help you?" She asks in a very people-pleaser voice, she even adds a fake smile to her face.
"Umm, yes please, I'd like one session" I hand her the two tokens and she waves me in with a flick of her bony wrist. I carefully pull the plum coloured curtain back and scan the room. An old indian woman wearing a beautiful sari, glistening gold, blue and purple, sits behind a small circular table, she looks up with a smile that crinkles her face, and I can't help but smile back.
"Good afternoon honey." She says in a heavy accent.
"Hi, um I'm here to get my fortune told?" It's supposed to be a statement, but my voice rises at the end, making it more of a question.
"Yes honey, have a seat." She gestures to the little stool seated in front of the table. I slowly advance towards the tiny stool and sit. She pulls out a deck of cards from her pocket and splays them out on the table, face down.
"Pick a card." She says, gesturing to the cards splayed on the table. I try to hold back a snort, I paid two tokens for a magic trick? I think. The woman's eyebrows lift, I must have been thinking a while.
"Um, okay." I scan the cards and pick one at random. I pick it up and look at it. "The nine of spades" I state. The woman's eyes widen, the smile drops off her face and she looks at me gravely.
"Oh sweetie, the nine of spades symbolizes illness, accident and bad luck." I bite my lip. "This is not good, not good at all." She says almost to herself. She looks back up at me.
"You should go." The insistence in her eyes makes me stand and leave the tent almost without me knowing.
What was that?
I shake my head while walking past stalls, I have to get home. My thoughts are so occupied with getting home that I don't notice when a tall figure crashes into me.
"I'm so sorry, I-"
"It's all good." A tall, slender teenager about my age says. He has short, light brown hair with a little flick at the front. His eyes are a deep, warm, brown and his lips are turned up into a lopsided smile. He has a long nose and a small bit of stubble spread over his chin. I suddenly become aware of my imperfections, though there are few. To many people I am very pretty. I have a small nose, tiny, but full lips, butterfly long eyelashes and long, wavy strawberry blonde hair that frames my face. My eyes and hair however are my most prominent features, my eyes sparkle like light shining on shallow water, and they are a stunning blue. Although I am not without my imperfections, I have lots of freckles and I look very young, so no one takes me seriously.
"I-um-I-" I stutter, fumbling for words.
"I told you it's okay." His voice sounds so soft, like honey or silk. I open my mouth to say something back, but think better of it and give a small nod instead.
"Hey, what's your name by the way?" He asks me with his lopsided grin stretching farther, exposing glimmering white teeth.
"Willow, Willow Parks." I say and manage to keep my voice fairly steady.
"Isn't that a place?" He asks, grinning even wider.
"Yeah, you can blame my parents for that great idea." I roll my eyes and he gives a short laugh.
"I'm Jake, Jake Armstrong." We smile at each other a while before I clear my throat and speak.
"I should go." I look at the ground, avoiding his beautiful eyes.
"Well, I hope to see you later Willow." He says and salutes me before walking away. I stand there smiling to myself before I decide to continue my journey home.
The front door creaks open. From the outside my house looks huge, but in reality it is pretty small inside, there is a kitchen/dining room and lounge downstairs and three bedrooms upstairs, no extra rooms and we can barely fit me, my brother and my parents into the house. There was a time when moving was an option, but now we don't have enough money. I stride into the kitchen/dining room and pull open the fridge, I grab a pop-tart and shove it in the microwave. Then I run up the stairs to my room, with the intention of grabbing my favourite book, But my phone makes a pinging noise, signifying a text. I lift my phone to eye level, unknown number the screen tells me, I swipe the lock screen and messages comes up, the text is displayed there in clear arial font;
Ben Stredwick. <-this is supposed to be in italics
And another appears below it almost instantly.
You have one week.