White Manor School, London, England.

Luisa was yanked by the sleeve of her school uniform as Stacey wrenched her towards the shouts of, "Fight! Fight!"

"Ow! Stacey don't," Luisa tried to tug her sleeve back.

"Don't be a loser Luisa! It's Terry vs. Oliver. I dunno who deserves a bigger beating, that psycho Terry or that dirty pervert Oliver, so come on!" Stacey twisted the sleeve of Luisa's black sweatshirt and the material bit into Luisa's wrist. She dragged Luisa forward with a sharp snap. "Let's go!"

I hate fights. Luisa thought as she stumbled forward, following her outstretched arm, failing to keep up with Stacey's long strides.

I suppose it was only a matter of time until they butted heads. Terry holds the official title of 'Hardest Boy in the Year' beating the crap out of anyone that crosses him. Oliver tends to enjoy the long-term humiliation of his victims. The last place I want to be is near either of them.

They joined more of students charging through White Manor School's tatty playground towards the dusty knoll known as the Mound. Cresting the Mound Luisa could see the two fighters lit like shadow-puppets in the summer sun. Beyond the mound a thirty foot chain-link fence was all that separated them from a roaring motorway that pumped thousands of commuters into the heart of London.

Why are there never any bloody teachers? Luisa chanced a quick scan of the playground as she was towed along, hoping a teacher might be coming to break it up the fight before it got going. None. In all directions White Manor students in black school uniforms charged towards the Mound like a troop of baboons, leaping up, whooping and screaming, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" One lone character loped away from the tide of students.

Matthew.

With a quick look over his shoulder, Matthew leapt at the school gates and rolled over the barbed-wire that crowned the top, dropping down to his freedom.

Using the fight to escape school, clever. Luisa's small smile was wiped as she had to scramble to avoid clattering into students running past. They love it when Terry fights. Her stomach began to knot in on itself, tied up with dread. I've been in this school for nearly three years and I still can't bear to watch.

But Stacey continued to drag Luisa deep into the jostling crowd of students that formed a living boxing-ring around the two boys. Luisa was shunted back and forth in the throng, then Stacey's grip snapped away. Luisa floundered, twisting around, looking for her friend when a girl behind her grunted, "Move out the way dick-head!" and shoved Luisa in the back. Luisa lost her balance, her hands meeting the dusty ground. The crowd surged and a black shoe punted Luisa's hand and a shin cracked into her face.

"Ow! Shit!" She tucked away her hand and struggled forward. Get up Luisa! She had seen people get randomly beat-up like this before, just for being in a vulnerable position at the wrong place and at the very wrong time. Like now. She pulled herself back to her feet. "I said move, you prick!" Luisa felt another thump in her back and she fell forward once again through the crowd, righting herself at the front of the ring.

The two fighters stood in the centre, squared up, faces close. Terry stood a foot-shorter than Oliver, but was twice as wide. His shaved head looked like it had been shaped from the smacks of a spade and his face was set in a snarl; wrinkled up nose and lips pulled back, baring crossed-up teeth.

Through his clenched bite, Luisa could hear Terry's words, "What you 'fink you're a badman now Oliver? Fink you wanna face me? I'm gonna end you right now bruv. Look at all dese people come watch me brock you up!"

Oliver's face was a mask of bravery, his chin was tipped up, looking down his nose at Terry, but Luisa could see his eyes flinch at Terry's words. He knows he's going to lose, no-one in our year has ever beaten Terry in a fight.

There must be over a hundred students, pulled together in a circle around the fighters. Luisa was jostled from side to side, but her place at the front of the ring was set. Faces on all sides, alight with the promise of a spectacle, were screaming encouragement at the fighters. "Smash him in Terry!" "Come on Oliver bruv, let's see what you got!" Hands held phones high, capturing video. The fight, like all, would live on for eternity, slipped to fellow youths from phone to phone.

Terry continued psyching himself up. "I'm gonna smash your face in!"

From each S-sound spittle flew through his teeth.

The chant of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" grew louder. Luisa saw Stacey on the other side of the ring, jumping up and down with the beat of the chant, swept up in the blood-lust, screaming at the fighters, veins protruding from her delicate neck as the words reached a crescendo.

The feeling of fear stuck Luisa's side like a stab from a knife.

I need to get away from this. She tried to turn and push her way back into the crowd, but the circle, packed tight, pushed back. No escape.

She turned back to see spit fly into Oliver's face. Oliver shoved Terry away.

Terry let his fist fly, and landed a thundering punch to the side of Oliver's head. The crowd erupted. Oliver was knocked to the dust and scrambled in the dirt to get back up, but a kick from Terry snapped his head back.

Terry threw his hands up to a roar of the crowd, like a bare-knuckle prize-fighter. He grabbed a fistful of Oliver's hair and punched him repeatedly in the face with a smack-smack-smack. Oliver's face whipped back and forth from the blows, blood splattering from his nose and out his mouth. Terry's knuckles glistened a blackish-red. Terry had no off-switch. He is going to kill him.

Luisa was frozen, her hands pressed tight to her mouth, as if trying to keep in a scream of horror while the crowd around her went berserk.

Three of Terry's friends finally leapt in, ripping Terry off Oliver and ending the violence. Terry was hoisted to their shoulders and as he was being paraded away, Luisa saw him lift a tuft of Oliver's hair to his lips, blowing them away like they were the spores of a dandelion.

Luisa stood by helplessly as Oliver struggled to stand. His movements confused, like a pigeon hit by a car. Blood dripped from his mouth and mixed with the clay-like dust of the Mound.

Walking home with Stacey, Luisa listened to her friend's analysis of the fight. "I don't give a toss about neither of 'em, best thing that could 'appen is that they both ended up dead. Terry's sick in the head, y'know he brocked up Joe Parker's dad outside the front of his own house? Knocked 'im out cold girl. Like blatt! Sparko."

Stacey continued, tipping her head from side to side, pontificating with a gently cupped hand and talking out the side of her mouth in the typical White Manor style. "So listen yeah, Terry's dad is like a proper pikee, 'is mum is an alcoholic, that's why 'ee 'is a psycho. An' anyway Oliver had it comin', he is a proper perv ya know..."

Luisa's mind wandered as Stacey went into a long diatribe on how each of the fighters had wronged her over the past two years. They reached the point in their journey home at which they went their separate ways. Stacey reached in and gave Luisa a hug, as had recently became a custom. Luisa hugged back a little awkwardly, inhaling the full power of Stacey's rich flowers-on-steroids body spray.

"Oi gal, y'know what?" Stacey had a playful smile. "Just a few more days of this shi' 'til summer 'oliday, then we getta go 'n have some fun! Boys, parties, sleepovers in da week, everyfin'. Den we gonna be year ten's, gurl! Year tens!"

Luisa bit her lip. She hadn't quite plucked up the courage to tell Stacey, but she wouldn't be around this summer. Her summer was going to be the pits.

"Actually, Stacey, I'm..."

Before Luisa could finish Stacey had turned and was sauntering off to her part of the council estate. She stopped just before disappearing round a corner and called back. "Oi Luisa! Don't forget to do my maff'matics!"

Great.

Luisa wasn't even good at maths, but she was better than Stacey. What had started as an offer of help had quickly elevated into Luisa doing Stacey's maths homework every week.

She won't learn a thing if I keep doing it for her.

But Luisa knew she shouldn't complain. Stacey had shown a sort of kindness to Luisa in White Manor. No, maybe that was too strong a word; an absence of dislike that could be mistaken, occasionally, for kindness. After some reflection Luisa realised that Stacey was probably the best friend that she had.

Luisa blew into her cheeks and pushed her key into the lock.

She thought back to her time in primary school, before White Manor. It seemed so idyllic now, prim to the point of cartoonish; milk and biscuits at break-time and reading in the snug with Mrs. Cornick, who performed all the character's voices. She had been very, very lucky to get in to that school.

Luck's pendulum had swung and smashed into her life. She had been the only one from her primary school to be sent to White Manor School. Their little house was square in the catchment net for the school – no escape. Now it was up to her to survive the experience and make the most of it.

Luisa and Stacey lived in the same council estate; it was made up of rows and rows of small, simple, government-funded houses that went on for a mile in each direction. They were lucky, their area was safe... well, safe-ish. The estates close to theirs, like the Flower Bridge Estate where Terry lived, were a different ball game. Luisa wasn't allowed to go near the Flower Bridge Estate. High-rise complexes with high crime rates, filled with gangs of hooded youths who were herded into White Manor like animals, to be hot-branded with a no-frills state education before being unleashed on society.

Her mum called it an area of "social decay".

When Luisa thought what it must be like there, she knew she had it a lot better than most.

Turning the key, she entered her home.

Home safe. Now I just have to survive four more days until the end of term.

She could hear her little brother Max making the sounds of explosions and machine gun fire. He was locked in a magical world of heroes and villains. He wore his mucky t-shirt and he had his back to her, standing atop the backrest of the sofa, applying his full concentration to Action Man. Apparently Professor X and Action Man were going to fight to the death but decided to get married instead.

Her mother entered the room and welcomed her home with a big hug. Her mum had a lovely motherly smell, a blend of vegetable soup and incense, which Luisa had always acquainted with security and calm. Stacey said her mum was a 'posh hippy', with her love of the arts, charity work and her penchant for wearing slightly oversized patchy fabrics. But Luisa loved her Mum's un-straightened, untreated tousled almond hair, twinkling blue eyes and soft face made for supportive expressions.

I suppose Stacey could be a bit right though.

Luisa had noticed her mum becoming more sombre than usual in the last few weeks. She would sometimes see her mum in the middle of chopping a carrot, or with both hands in the sink, just standing still, staring out the window. When Luisa would interrupt her or ask if she was okay, her mum would sigh, give her a weak smile, say everything was just fine.

It must have something to do with our strange summer plans.

"Hello darling," her mum said, planting a kiss on her forehead and holding Luisa's face gently in her hands. Her eyes seemed filled with more emotion than the occasion called for. "Did you have a nice day at school?"

"Yes, Mum," Luisa lied automatically, but looked up, searching her mum's face for a clue to what was going on behind her bluey-green eyes.

"I hope you've started packing for the summer?"

Oops. I haven't even got my suitcase yet.

After dinner Luisa scaled the ladder to her attic, the metal of the rungs cold on her palm. At the top she reached up for the light-cord that hung suspended in the dark. With a tug the plain bulb in the attic popped on. Despite it being her own house and not believing in ghosts Luisa still felt a little frightened. The pool of light didn't reach every crevice.

Seriously, I'm fourteen years-old. There is nothing to be scared of in my own attic.

But she had to fight away the notion that there was something in the shadows watching her.

With a grunt she pulled herself up into their low attic space packed with boxes and junk. She squinted into the dark recesses of the attic.

Where is my suitcase? Oh great. She saw its pink-striped pattern. It would be in the furthest corner.

In a crouch she moved forward, working through piles of boxes, vintage suitcases, old lamps and Luisa's recently shed collection of toys, all stacked up higgledy-piggledy. She edged past a tower of boxes and bumped one; it fell and showered its contents onto the floor.

Oh well done Luisa.

She got to her knees and her little hands worked quickly, packing the items back in as best she could. It was stuff from her mum's university days; letters, funky coloured make-up and old photos of her mum, smiling and looking happy. She found a heavy steel brooch. She held it to the light. This looks ancient. The brooch was circular with a carving of a cat-like paw print on the front, and a lion's paw holding a sword as the clasp. Around the edge framed with carved laurels were thirteen small black gems.

Wow, this is pretty cool.

She wrapped it carefully into some tissue-paper and back into the box. She continued until something else caught her eye; a title from an old newspaper clipping. It was yellowing and frail in her fingers. But the headline stopped her dead in her tracks.

Missing Wynn Girl Still Not Found.

Wynn? That's my last name. But I've never heard of anyone from my family going missing.

She began to read the article.

A massive land and water search for a 16-year-old missing from her home in Wales is still underway–

"Luisa?" her Mum called out.

Luisa jumped up, startled.

"Mum I–"

"Darling, I heard a crash, are you alright?" her mum's head was poking through the hatch. "Luisa, those are my university things," she smiled at Luisa, pulling herself up into the attic. "Quite a few things in there I definitely don't want you to see quite yet, thank you very much young lady. I am sure you don't want to see embarrassing pictures of your mum in a crop top and flares, with my millions of boyfriends."

"I umm..."

Luisa still had the newspaper clipping in her hand. Her Mum caught sight of it and her face turned a little more firm. She reached over taking the clipping and folded it in half before shoving it into the box.

"Luisa, I'll tidy this up. Just pull out your suitcase darling. I'm giving you some cash to fill it with all nice new clothes, you are going shopping with Stacey tomorrow right?"

Luisa nodded and turned back to fetch her case. With some help from her mum she managed to negotiate it out without destroying any other stacks of stuff.

But the title stayed in her mind; Missing Wynn girl.

Did they ever find her? How old was that newspaper clipping? Is she related to me? How come mum never told me, or was it Mum, did she run away or something? Her Mum was one for discussion, in sometimes a really embarrassingly liberal way.

Luisa turned to her mum before going down the ladder, "Mum, that newspaper clipping in your stuff–"

Mum's face had changed to the extent it made Luisa stop speaking. Her eyes were shining like they could burst into tears any moment. Luisa felt like the question she was about to ask was the tip of a knife on her Mum's skin. Going ahead and asking would be like shoving it in. Luisa found herself forcing her face into a smile despite her mind reeling. "Actually, nothing Mum. Don't worry. I'll get packing yeah?"

Her Mum managed a nod, looking back solemnly into the box Luisa had disturbed.

What the heck could have happened to that girl in Wales and how is all this connected to Mum?

Later that night, Luisa stood at the bathroom sink, brushing her teeth. The image of Terry pounding Oliver's face played over in her imagination. She thought back to Stacey too, loving the fight, her face contorted with the rest of the crowd, her frizzy hair rocking from side to side and caramel skin going red, veins popping as she screamed at the boys.

She can always get into whatever is happening. I just felt horrible.

Stacey was born of a mix of races, with clear hazel eyes, almost clear skin and a heavily stuffed bra. She had also developed the knack of making all her clothes look, well, inviting. Boys loved Stacey, and the feeling was mutual; she had many boyfriends in rotation, with the occasional overlap.

Luisa pushed the quills of the toothbrush with her finger. She had about as much experience with boys as her toothbrush did. She looked up and her pale reflection stared back at her from the mirror: flecked blue eyes a little too big for her face, dark chestnut hair, and a smattering of light freckles across her nose—so different from Stacey.

Stacey's stories, boyfriends, and drama might as well have taken place in a different land. Luisa lived a life of dry and safe routine, punctuated by the occasional social event—if people remembered to invite her. Her primary school friends had withered up and floated away like autumn leaves from a tree.

She looked at herself haughtily, pretending it didn't matter. She arched an eyebrow at her reflection before slowly trying a duck-faced pout like the girls did in their profile pages.

Maybe I could be a bit pretty? But being pretty isn't necessarily a good thing! Being pretty at White Manor was not in her interest, not at all. She had seen the attention pretty girls got. She had seen what boys like Oliver did to pretty girls.

It was best to stay under their radar.

She was perfectly happy being plain.

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