War Bird

13. All of it Thrilling.

I'm being shaken, a female voice is calling my name. It doesn't sound like Mum, or Bev, this is someone younger. She’s not from London either.

"Marla! Breakfast! Now!" 

I open my eyes to see a thin pale face with long hair pulled back. Who the hell is that in my bedroom? I lurch forward, arm raised, but then stop as her face comes into focus. It’s Grace. Yesterday’s events scream into my memory and I slump back down.

"Marla's not here right now," I slur, tugging the pillow over my face. Eugh, bad idea, it stinks. I just want to go home. I definitely don’t want to go back to sleep though. The dream is fading from my mind already, but it was about Dad. My mum was screaming at him as he tore our home down brick by brick, his face dissolving under silent tears, whilst I ran around in my nightie trying to stack the bricks back up again. I am so not in the mood to get up and deal with people or breakfast. But Grace has other ideas and practically pulls me onto the floor.

"Nrrgh!" I pull my hair over my eyes.

"Come on! Or you won't get any food." Grace hands me a towel and a fresh set of black clothes. "You have two minutes to get cleaned up."

One speedy and humiliating public shower later, I am following Grace and the other girls down the steps and through the tunnel towards the main lobby. Just before we reach it, we peel off down another corridor and into a large dining area. To the left is a large serving hatch where two unsmiling women in aprons wait, hovering over steaming trays of food. The rest of the room is taken up with long tables and benches, most of which are currently occupied by Nightingales and boys dressed in khaki like Jenks and Turnbull.  

"The food isn’t exactly the best," Grace says to me over her shoulder. “But it’s sufficient to get us through the day.”  We're given thin porridge with titchy pots of jam and watery tea and we take our seats with a few of the girls. "So, this is Esme, Annabel and Susan," Grace says. "Girls, this is Marla True." She gives me a gentle nudge as I tuck into my porridge and a little bit slops down my front. I glare at them all as I dab at the splodge, daring them to laugh. They don’t but they deffo look like they will when my back is turned. “Sorry!” Grace looks mortified. “I just wanted you to make friends.” She starts to eat her breakfast, cheeks flaming.

"Hello," I say. I can't bring myself to smile. The girls stare back at me. The one called Susan sits between the other two and she’s just gorgeous. Esme and Annabel draw closer to her, arranging their faces in matching sour expressions. So that’s how it is. Susan sniffs and strokes an eyebrow. She’s like something off the telly, all long arms and legs and expensive perfume. If she smiled she’d be stunning. But she’s not smiling; she’s giving me the iciest bitch-face I ever saw. I swallow a lump of porridge and meet her startling blue eyes. I don’t know why she has a problem with me, but I’m not going to back away from it.

"Marla is going to be staying with us at the compound for a while," Grace says, eyes nervously darting between the two of us.

"But why?" The girl called Esme snits. She's small and round with dark eyes. A tiny wart by her nose has been caked over with some thick make-up, making it even more noticeable. "I mean, she's not even initiated."

"Exceptional circumstances," Grace replies. 

"I heard she got sent here by a Sorcerer from the future." Susan smirks at me over her teacup. "And that she didn't even deflect or counter-cast. I mean really Grace, what use will she be?"

“Yeah,” Annabel agrees, so lamely no one hears her. She’s a funny looking one, pale, yellowy skin and long drooping eyes that look wet and sad. She swallows hard when she catches my gaze and she turns her head away quickly.