Knife's Edge

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I honestly hadn't realised how much Bailey had changed over the past few weeks, since she started hanging out with Alex, until she stopped hanging out with Alex. Gone is the almost tolerable teenager who sometimes, on the odd occasion, would crack a smile. Back is the introverted devil spawn who likes to pick fights and make people miserable – at least, that's when she's not holed up in her room, ignoring the piles of homework that keep stacking up.

Stella and George are at a complete loss with her, not understanding the sudden shift in her behaviour, or how she's somehow gotten worse. Whenever they try and broach the subject with her, she yells at them. Actually, she yells a lot – at everyone. It's exhausting.

It's only been a week since I caught her and Alex in the park, barely seven days into what she thinks is only a two-month hiatus from the Coleman's, and already she's unbearable. I'm doing my best to find every excuse under the sun to get out of the house when she's at home – like now, for example.

I walk the aisles of our local bookshop – Books 'n' Stuff – to kill an hour before my evening shift at work. Surprisingly, I've found quite a few books that could come in handy for some pre-study for the Psychology course I want to apply for, so at least it's not a wasted trip. By the time I've got my hands on them all, I can barely see over the top of the pile as I lug them over to the counter to pay.

The cashier offers me a 10p carrier bag but I think of the turtles and politely decline. The walk to Wilson's isn't that far; I can manage. As soon as I get there, I'll dump the books in the staff room until Stella or George can next pick me up with the car. Paul and Ellie won't mind being used for storage.

However, barely five minutes after I've left the shop, I'm already starting to regret the decision severely. Carrying the stack of books is a bit of a faff, restricting my vision to my feet as I stumble along the uneven cobbles. I step on something crunchy that sounds suspiciously like glass, and try not to listen to the protest of my arms as their strength starts to falter. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the smartest decision I've ever made, tiring out my arms with a bunch of heavy textbooks, right before the start of a six hour shift.

I try to reassure myself that the purchase is worth the struggle, looking down at the book resting on the top of the stack – 'Psychology: A Complete Introduction'. I let my mind wander as I walk, imagining the freedom of finally moving away to university, the girl I once was soon to be fully reborn into the life I choose.

It has been a dream of mine for years and soon – after one more year, three (hopefully, fingers crossed) passed A-levels, and a lot of praying – I'll be free to go.

Away from Greencliff, away from the memories of what was – just away.

I can't wait.

"You really should start watching where you walk," a familiar voice says, deep and rich, if not slightly gruff. There are textures to the voice that I'm ashamed to recognise, layers that I shouldn't know well enough to recognise – but I do.

I glance up just in time, jolting my legs to a halt before I smack straight into Lucas. The sudden pause in movement causes the top textbook to slide away from its friends, landing with a graceless thud only an inch or so away from Lucas's boot-clad foot. I wince.

"Sorry," I mumble awkwardly, bending to retrieve the deserter. Of course, that only results in two more crashing to the floor. I wince again.

Why am I always such a klutz in front of this guy?

Lucas seems to be thinking something similar as I hear his quiet chuckle – a rare phenomenon, I'm sure.

Much to my surprise, he crouches down to collect the books off the floor, carefully placing them back atop the others. His fingers accidentally brush against the back of my hand as he retreats a step and I am horrified to feel my cheeks flush.