Free Blood Entwines by Caroline Healy Page B

dagger-glares at her.
    Shifting her books from one arm to the other, she hurried out of the classroom and down the corridor. Passing through the hallway, she noticed the janitor screwing a fresh hinge on to her locker.
    That’s why Ben was late for class
.
    Kara couldn’t hide her smile.
    Volleyball, a sport that involved effort and sweat. Her shoulders drooped as she entered the gym from the changing room.
    Normally Ashleigh would have made up some excuse for them both, feigning a tummy ache, headache or period pain, so they could get out of class. Sometimes they would pair up in teams and play so badly that the PE teacher would shout at them till she was red in the face, eventually sending them to sit on the sideline. Kara was out of the loop today for definite and would probably have to play through an entire class. She sniffed the air, the smell of body odour assaulting her nostrils.
    Eww
.
    The PE teacher blew the whistle.
    â€˜Team up, people. We only have thirty minutes and I want to see you sweat in this half hour or I’ll make you do circuits.’
    The class groaned together at the prospect. Kara looked around the sports hall. On the opposite side of the volleyball net, gathered together in a huddle, were Ashleigh, Jenny, Lisa and Thomas. There were two other boys who she didn’t recognise. Ashleigh was the self-designated team leader.
    Kara turned round to see who she had been lumbered with. She cringed. Kevin, the guy who sat near her in English, he had the reflexes of a snail on tranquillisers. Then there were two girls from her history class. They smiled at her before continuing their hushed conversation. Kara could hear it clearly: they were planning a house party for the weekend. Then Steve, Ashleigh’s ex-boyfriend, he gave her a sheepish wave before taking his position in their half of the court.
    Kara noticed the final member of her team nervously biting her nails. It was that girl, Heather or Hester or something, the same girl who had dropped her folder yesterday in class. She was staring at Kara. Her eyes were a piercing light grey. When the girl noticed Kara looking, she lowered her gaze, stubbing the toe of her trainer on the rubber of the court.
    A memory snapped to attention.
    Ashleigh, a year ago, at the front steps of the school: ‘What do you mean, you don’t have notes?’
    The other girl, the one with the grey eyes, staring at the floor, her books hugged to her chest like armour.
    â€˜Are you deaf?’ Ashleigh right up in her space, towering over her, blonde hair framing her perfect face. ‘I said –’
    â€˜I heard you.’ The girl hadn’t spoken loudly, but her voice was hard, like fire-struck flint.
    Then Ashleigh pushed, sending the girl back against the pebble-dashed wall. ‘I want those notes, you epileptic freak. I can make your life very difficult . . .’
    Kara had just stood there, with Jenny, both of them looking on. They had seen Ashleigh angry before, but never like this. It was as if she couldn’t bear a person like the girl with the grey eyes defying her.
    â€˜Bailey!’ The teacher was shouting at her, bringing her out of her memory. ‘Front and centre!’
    Kara shuffled forward. She hadn’t played sport in ages. The physio sessions over the last few months were her only form of activity and they could hardly be called fun. She remembered the pain in her leg and stumbled, her feet sticking to the rubber of the court. Someone from the other side of the net laughed.
    The teacher blew the whistle.
    Kara straightened up, her vision acute, her hearing precise. Sod the advice from the physio about taking it easy. She was going to kick the crap out of the other team, figuratively speaking. Bending her knees, she waited in anticipation of the game. Her body was tight, the muscles bunched together, zinging with energy. This might actually be fun.
    The game was evenly matched. Kara quickly realised that