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Chapters (61)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. Books by Emily Barr
  4. DEDICATION
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgements
  59. Read on for an extract from …
  60. 12 December
  61. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

I kept thinking about Dad punching my bed and then the wall. He’d wanted to punch me. I knew he had. I’d faced him down for the first time ever, and it had worked. I shivered at the memory of the violence that had shimmered around him.

I took a Sharpie out of my bag and wrote on the wall:

I HATE YOU ALEXANDER BROWN

I looked at it. It was vandalism, and yet it lifted something away from me. I smiled at the words. Yes. You are Alexander Brown and I hate you. I wrote it again.

You’ve gone. I faced you down and I won.

Penguin walking logo

4

The one time I want a school day to go slowly, it speeds up. Typical. I actually enjoy today because it’s normal. I can’t imagine where I’ll be tomorrow. I mean, I’ll wake up on a boat, and by night-time I’ll be at Enzo’s house in St Etienne, like the band. It’s a good name for a city. I like the band. So does Enzo. One thing in common! Maybe we can talk about other bands we like. For a week?

Every single part of me wants to stay at home.

I sit in registration and look at the photo Enzo sent me, of him and his family. He has thick black hair and dark skin. His brother looks like him, but taller, and his sister is small, hanging off his arm in the picture. His mother is white, his dad black. J’ai un frère et une soeur, I say under my breath, even though I don’t have a sister. They have a mother and a father like regular people. I’d better figure out how to say ‘my mum doesn’t live with us’ because that’s the kind of thing you have to get out of the way before it becomes too awkward.

I guess she must have been frustrated living a suburban life with a husband who was a circus performer when they met, but who has since channelled all that energy into looking after sticky toddlers. Dad can be annoying, and I guess Gus and I were too boring or irritating to keep her here.

I look at the photo of Enzo’s house. It’s big, and it has a garden with tall trees in it, and a tree house.

  1. Talk about music.
  2. Hang out in the tree house.

‘Hey,’ says Troy. ‘Wake up.’

I look around, blinking. It’s registration. You can tell at a glance who’s going on the trip tonight and who isn’t. The ones who aren’t are looking relaxed. Everyone else is tense. Or maybe that’s just me. Why am I jittery?

What’s happening to me?

I don’t feel like myself, so I try to be more me. What would Joe Simpson do?

I turn to Troy and flash a big stupid grin.