Chapters (88)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dear Reader …
- Also by Robert Muchamore
- PART ONE
- Walter J Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- PART TWO
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART THREE
- Walter J. Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- PART FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- EPILOGUE
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- Have you read KILLER T?
- 1 SLASHED RUBBER
- 2 NOT HARRY POTTER
Georgia made a thoughtful-pause gesture, before reeling off an answer she’d used several times before. ‘I was a star pupil. I got A grades in everything. But look where the pressure to be the best at everything led my sister. Sophie spent years working so hard. When it went wrong, she felt like it was the end of the world and that life wasn’t worth living.
‘I’m not saying everyone should flunk school and become a bum. But life isn’t a video game, where the only goal is to reach the next level. Think about what makes you happy and do that, instead of trudging on doing things because everyone else does them.’
‘I think I have what I need,’ the journalist said, as she grabbed her iPhone and stopped the voice recorder app.
‘You did great,’ Wendy told Georgia after the journalist had exited the meeting room.
Georgia sighed and shook her head. ‘I’ve never spoken such crap in my life.’
‘D’Anger are paying you enough to cover three years at uni,’ Wendy reminded her. ‘If we head straight to my car, we’ll beat the worst of the rush-hour traffic.’
Georgia yawned as Wendy drove her home. She found the clumps of kids in barely different uniforms depressing. The spirit of youth, crushed by dark polyester, petty rules and pointless facts. Pawns of the capitalist system, as Zac would say.
But if Sophie hadn’t died, I’d still be one of them …
‘Drop me at the Texaco station, please,’ Georgia said, when they got near her house.
‘You want me to wait?’
‘Nah,’ Georgia said. ‘If I cut through the park, it’s two minutes to home.’
‘I’ll be in touch,’ Wendy said, blowing an air kiss as Georgia got out of the Audi.
She got an I-know-you-from-somewhere look from a couple of hoodies, unravelling a pack of cigarettes as they walked back to a tatty Peugeot.
Georgia put her card in the cash machine and felt proud that her balance was £21,000 as she drew out four hundred.
Inside the shop, she grabbed bread, eggs, microwave curries, chocolate bars, a chicken-mayo sandwich and a bunch of bananas, because she felt there should be at least one healthy item in the house.
Kids from her old school ignored her as she cut through the park, relishing outdoor air after stuffy buildings and cars.
‘I’m home, Daddy,’ Georgia sang as she pulled her key out of the front door.
She’d had a battle getting it open because a padded envelope snagged under the draught excluder. The TV in the living room showed horse racing, but John sat in the kitchen. He had food down his I have the body of a god, it just happens to be The Buddha T-shirt and wore the Adidas shorts he’d had on all week.
‘I got your curries,’ Georgia said, and she started putting food in the fridge.