FIVE

He just sighs. Later, he's saying.

"Hello," she says, holding out her hand for a handshake. "I'm Nevaeh N. Nevaeh."

Oh for Heaven's sake!

I turn back to her. "Please tell me the N doesn't stand for another Nevaeh?"

"No. It's just an N. It doesn't stand for anything."

How can that be?

Strange.

And I thought my parents need psychiatric help.

I frown. "That's unusual. Do you have a second name?"

"Alucard."

Even worse.

I scowled, stifling my laughter. "Sounds weird, especially if you spell it backward."

Alucard has a Lucifer tattoo on the back of her hand, which is kind of an odd place to have such a taboo marking. If I didn't know, better I'd think she's part of some cult.

"Yeah I know, right?" She chuckles.

There's black lipstick stuck on her teeth.

I shudder.

"I get that reaction all the time," she tells me.

I shake my head and try to smile. I'm sceptical to trust anyone named Dracula Heaven, no matter how it's spelled.

When I let out a sound that's meant to be a chuckle but comes off as a wheezing chicken, the girl says: "Even my grandmother has a better name than me. Call me Zoe."

"Zoe?" I say softly. It's a nice name. "Is there a meaning behind it?"

"It's my grandmother's name," she mumbles, her eyes amused. "Way better than mine, right?"

"That's right," I whisper. "Nice to meet you Zoe." I shake her hand. "I'm Clara Kadré Addas."

"Okay, then," my brother says. "I'll see you beautiful ladies, later?"

I frown at him.

"Don't worry, Zoe will show you to your class."

"Okay." I watch him leave until the impossible sea of students swallows him.

Zoe, like a faithful servant, walks close by my side and for a long time we are silent. She shows me the bathroom where I strip out of my religious attire and fold it into my backpack. I zip my backpack, sling the thick strap over my shoulder and step back into the hallway.

The bell rings just then. She walks me right to my homeroom and then pads backward just across the hall. She waves and disappears behind the door.

I swallow my heart, which has relocated to my throat.

Breathe, Kadre.

I pass the homeroom teacher hunched over in his desk.

I look at him. Really look at him. He looks familiar. Too familiar.

Naturally, my eyes want to scan the other students' faces. The room. But I just can't stop staring at the teacher. It takes my brain a second to make the connection. This is Zain Muhammad. He used to work for Papa's newspaper as an editor. He was fired four years ago.

From the corner of my eye, a boy with bad vision (he's wearing glasses) waves at me and beckons me to where he's sitting in the front.

The other kids laugh.

"What y'all laughing at, huh?" he asks. Spittle wets the papers in his desk.

Ew.

The laughter deepens.

Zain glares at me. "You tell anyone at this school about me and you'll see: a lot can happen to a pretty face like yours."

"They hired you without checking references?"

"You're a snitch."

"I told Papa the truth. You were stealing from him. The company is barely keeping afloat. You gambled millions."

"And I went to jail for that. Missed out on the birth of my son. You will pay for that."

"Is that a threat?"

"Kadre," he says, and circles the desk until he's standing with his back to it, he half-stands and half-sits on it, his arms are crossed over his chest. "A threat, dear? I don't do those."

I swallow, and as I speak, I force my eyes to the wall just above his head.

Maybe I shouldn't have snitched on him.

His voice sounds familiar.

Then it hits me.

"You're the stranger. The caller. You're—"

He takes a step towards me and sways back and forth. For a few scary moments, that certainly feel longer than they actually are, I am terrified he is about to topple over but a gangly boy, bless his Mickey Mouse socks, steadies Zain by throwing a firm arm around him.

It's Spittle Boy.

The bell sounds again before I am able to take my seat. I hurry through the hall but struggle to find my first class. With a groan I can't suppress, I bury my face in the school map.

It takes me fifteen minutes to find my next class.

I am late to Mrs. Parker's class, the Mathematics teacher who for some reason doesn't seem to like me. And I don't like her either because of her long nose that can probably smell trouble two miles away and even if she didn't have nostrils that allow me to see all the way to her smart brain, I still would've disliked her because of the subject she teaches. Maths and me are like fire and fuel. Every time we come in contact, my brain explodes.

The rest of my classes pass without special incident.

It is after two classes that I realise I'm thrown into class with most of the kids I've always known. Growing up in a small town like Margate makes it impossible to meet new people.

So when lunch hour rolls around, I am surprised to find Zoe waiting for me outside my classroom door. We barely know each other but she takes me to the cafeteria with her.

"So, you're quite a loner there Clara, huh?"

I frown. What a random question. That too, on day one of school?

"I guess."

A hot gush of air blows her hair into a mayhem and the strands brush against my arms. I shudder and take a step away from her.

Fear threatens to pierce me in two like a tree hit by lightning.

"Are you okay?" She looks worried.

I can't find my voice yet and so I nod.

She shakes her head. "Your brother was right, you're weird." She smiles to reassure me she means no offense. I don't know what to make of that. "Why is that?"

I almost tell her I don't know why I'm weird but then I realise she's asking why I'm a loner.

"Um..." I hesitate on my feet. C'mon Clara. Say something random. Something that won't make her relate to you. Something the socially awkward teen you're supposed to be would say. "Well... I don't relate well to people all the time ... Most of the time. People don't get me at all, not that I get them. I mean, not that I don't want to but just ... I don't know ... I just ... Can't."

I don't tell her the real reason I can't connect with people. Not unless I want to clear the whole cafeteria.

Zoe frowns at me over her shoulder and she gives me the weird-indeed look. She doesn't understand at all. Nonetheless, she takes pity on me. I can see it in her eyes.

When she speaks, again her voice is a soft breeze. "Clara ...?"

"Huh?"

I look at her and something on my face makes her eyes soften. I have this in the bag.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

I take a breath. "No."

She grumbles something inaudible under her breath and then much louder says, "C'mon. This way. Do you even have friends?"

Of course, I have them. No really, I do. I mean there's Daniel... And ... Ah, yes!

"I have a best friend, Bella."

Her eyebrows actually push to her hairline. Surprise. I'm offended. "Oh?"

I know what's causing her mistrust. If there was a Bella in Margate then she'd have heard of her. How do I tell her Bella was a Goldfish? And that I accidentally killed lost her. One day she was in her fish tank (the safest place in the world, you'd think) and the next she was ... Gone.

"Why haven't I heard of her?"

Because she's a fish for fuck' sake. "Because she's dead."

She's dead, right? I mean she must have jumped out of the tank (don't get me started on how unlikely that is) and died and maybe I stepped on her when I woke up and that explains why I didn't find her body.

"Oh my, God. I'm so sorry. Uh ... I didn't mean ..."

I suppress my smirk. "It's okay."

"What was her last name?"

I blurt the first thing on my mind. "Goldfish." Is this even a real last name?

I hate lying ... But this isn't a lie. She was Bella and she was a Goldfish. I roll my shoulders back. The wave of guilt washes away.

Zoe leads the conversation. I just make sure to hmm and uh-huh in all the right places. She pushes the cafeteria doors and I suck in a huge breath and let it out slowly.

Oh shit.