Short Stories by Claire Fitzgerald   Click on any underlined title below to access that short story: “Tegerhook Hill” (part one) “The Institute” “Summertime and the Living Is Easy”   “Tegerhook Hill” (part one) On the island of Ireland, in a county called Kildare, was a very small town named Hilltown. It was named, rather appropriately, due to the many hills, steps, and bumpy paths that made it. Hilltown was old and historic, with high buildings and very narrow streets. There were cobbles on the paths and an original cathedral, castle and school, dating back hundreds of years. Hilltown was beautiful in its own charming way, although didn’t ever succumb to the tourism boom it so rightly deserved. This was due to the huge, dominating and ugly town house perched neatly on Hilltown’s most prominent hill. The Tegerhook Mansion, as it was known by locals, suggested fear and the unknown in the town. Its residents, hardly ever seen by Hilltown folk, were scary and mysterious. The information known of them was very little; their names, their relationship, and their appearance, seen only from a distance. Lin Hook, the female, looked as though she had been very beautiful years ago. She, like her husband, had only ever been seen from the base of Tegerhook hill, through the Iron Gate surrounding it, and through the feeble gaps in a large laurel bush surrounding the house itself. It seemed that Lin walked with her husband to a dead willow tree in the back yard, almost at the same time every day. The male, and Lin Hook’s husband, was called Daniel Teger. The most of him that Hilltown’s residents ever saw was his greying mane of hair and large black overcoat. There was no denying that the Tegerhooks were a burden, denying any tourism to the charming town of Hilltown, and living in what could only be described as an eyesore against the back drop of Celtic architecture and historic remains, however, no one in the town was prepared to do anything about it. Letters had never been written, doors had never been knocked on, and conversation had never been shared. The Tegerhooks may have been a burden, but the people of Hilltown, though ashamed to admit it, were absolutely fascinated by them. “Quiet down please”, Ms. Andrews addressed her 6th year class. She was the senior English teacher at Hilltown’s oldest secondary school, the Holy trinity. “Lads, I won’t say it again, be quiet”! The class began to take their seats, though echoes of laughter and chatter remained. Ms. Andrews sat casually in her usual spot on a spare desk in the corner of the class, smiling widely at her students. “I have a wee project for you all to start, as a well earned break from Leaving cert studies”, she almost whispered. The class whooped and high fived mockingly, to the laughter of Ms. Andrews. “Joke all you want”, she smiled, “but I actually think you’re going to enjoy it. I want a well researched and backed- up essay on the joys of living in Hilltown”. Chatter broke out yet again in the class. Some of it was exciting murmuring, some of it was bored moaning and some students sat silently, probably already planning and outlining their essay ideas. Ms. Andrews continued. “No two students can have the same topic, but as long as you somehow pin the topic to our charming town... Well, then there are no boundaries, she smiled”. Ms. Andrews caught the eye of a student sitting at the back of the classroom, right by the window. The girl was smiling calmly and nodding ever so slightly. “Penelope”? The girl looked around the classroom proudly. “I’m doing the Tegerhooks”, she said. It was clear from the grin on her face, that she had been expecting the jealous sighs and moans that followed this announcement. Penelope sat upright, head held high, maintaining her confident smile. Sweeping her long dark hair out of her face and behind an ear, she looked at Ms. Andrews, who too, was smiling. “Pen, I’m proud”, she whispered. “I just hope you can do it justice”. Penelope Chaddick had lived in Hilltown for all of her life. She lived with her father in the family friendly Hill Manor estate on the edge of the town. Pen was undeniably fascinated by the Tegerhooks. Like most of her fellow peers, she grew up playing “who can get closest to the Tegerhook hill without getting caught” and “I wonder what the Tegerhooks are doing today”, although all she ever wanted was to go beyond the wrought iron gates. All through the rest of the day, her mind was flooding with ideas for her Tegerhook project. She could interview the few people who’ve gotten glimpses of the Tegerhooks, she could draw diagrams of the house and grounds, but most importantly, she now had a fantastic excuse to get as up close and personal with the Tegerhooks as she possibly could. And Pen Chaddick was prepared to go all the way. CHAPTER ONE- PAPERWORK Pen’s head was flooding with ideas as she walked home alone on the crisp October evening. Her first plan of action would be to visit the Iron Gate and really get a good look at the mansion. She would go the next morning, roughly at ten o’clock, because rumour has it, that’s when Lin and Dan walk to the large and ugly dead willow tree just about visible from the base of the hill. Pen was sure that her father would help her out a bit, too. Marcus Chaddick was as equally obsessed with the Tegerhooks as his seventeen year old daughter, perhaps even more so, as he often went for his morning walk clutching a pair of binoculars. He was a science teacher in the St. Paul’s primary school at the top of Hilltown road. Pen had a tremendous relationship with her father, and was very much looking forward to telling him about her latest adventure. As she walked along the bridge toward Hill manor estate, she tried to imagine what the other students in her English class would pick as their topic. She was sure that John Baltimore would choose something important and intelligent. He was the class goody two shoes, and proud of it. Though he was also one of Pen’s oldest friends, he didn’t quite understand her, and everyone else’s fascination with “those damn witchcraft practitioners”. As she thought it, John’s pompous and country voice came flooding into her head, which made her smile widely. At that moment, a car horn beeped as it came around the bridge, and Pen saw her father driving his small and battered old brown Nissan towards her. He slowed to a halt as the passenger window came down. “Hi Hun, going to Dunne’s for some bits of shopping”, he practically shouted. “Do you want to come or will I meet you at home”. Pen hesitated, knowing she’d love to go home and get started on brainstorming her project ideas, however seeing a line of 3 or 4 angry drivers behind her father’s car made her panic, fling her bag in the back seat and hop into the front as her father chugged back towards the town. “So”, pondered Marcus Chaddick, his face erupting into a grin as he turned the corner on to the main street. “How was school, Hun”? “Em...” replied Pen, wondering if this was the right time to tell her father about the project. She hesitated for a millisecond, eventually deciding that she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I have to do an English project”, she said slowly. “Oh yeah?” replied Mr. Chaddick. “Shakespeare’s plays, Yeats’ poems, or grammar?” he snorted, apparently thinking he had just made a joke. “Er... none of the above, actually”. It has to be on something got to do with Hilltown”, Pen smiled. Her father turned his head to stare at her, and Pen found herself thanking God that the traffic light had turned red, because she was sure that her father would have done this no matter what. “Oh Penny”, he sighed, as he chugged into the car park of Dunne’s stores. “This is going to be fun”. Pen chuckled as her father stopped the car neatly at the entrance to the shopping centre. “You are doing the Tegerhooks, I take it”, he said, with an air of scepticism. “Of course”, said Pen. “How do we go about it”? They walked together through the massive automatic doors at the front of the building, where Mr. Chaddick stopped to place coins in the cardboard cup of a charity volunteer. It seemed he was concentrating very hard. “Right”, he announced, matter-of-factly. “We go to the hill tomorrow at ten o clock. We take notes and make observations. With any luck- “We’ll see them”, finished Pen, excited. “Exactly”, said her father, with a soft touch of pen’s shoulder. “Grab a basket Hun, I’ll get the pumpkin”. Shopping in Dunne’s stores was an enjoyable hour that afternoon. Pen and her father talked animatedly about her homework assignment, as well as what else they would do that weekend. After picking up sweets and crisps for the trick or treaters, who would be knocking at the door later that month, Pen ran into a fellow Holy trinity class mate, Rebecca. “Oh sorry- Oh PEN!” she smiled after bumping into her unexpectedly. “I didn’t see you there”. “Rebecca, how are you?” Pen smiled, beginning to walk away. “I chose my topic”, Rebecca said suddenly, in a tone that gave Pen a bad feeling. She turned to see Rebecca sneering at her. Her long dark hair hung loosely around her face, one hand running through it, the other holding a bag of marshmallows. “You aren’t the only one with a good idea”, she laughed. “What’s your topic?” asked Pen, interested. “And to be clear, I didn’t actually think my topic was the only good idea. You understand that don’t you”? Her question was ignored. “See you Monday”, whispered Rebecca, wandering off to the left, and leaving Pen puzzled in the sweet aisle. As far as friends went, Pen knew she wasn’t the most popular girl in her year, by any means. She had friendly acquaintances who she sat with in class, and a few close friends, including John Baltimore who she’d been friends with as long as she could remember, and Heather Gregory, who lived a few doors down. Rebecca Mayfair was almost the opposite. As pleasantly as the two got on in classes for the many years they were in school together, they were very different. Rebecca craved attention, and surrounded herself by people all the time. Although not at all appreciating the scene by the chocolate section, Pen refused to fume, instead promising herself to get an A on her assignment, even if it killed her. After paying for their groceries, Pen and Mr. Chaddick wandered back to their car, in mild conversation about the Halloween decorations they’d be putting up later that day. Pen paid particular attention to how cheerful her father was, reminding her of an excited school child. “Ah the scenic route”, Mr. Chaddick announced as he took the wrong turn purposely, sideways glancing at Pen. She smiled, knowing why he had randomly chosen this long way home. After passing St. Paul’s parish and school, the Tegerhook hill came bursting into fantastic view to their right. Mr. Chaddick slowed right down as they drove by, gigantic grins etched across their faces. The dominating and gothic mansion looked overwhelming against the crisp cold blue sky. Pen longed to get beyond the wrought iron gate, to meet the people known as the Tegerhooks; The most famous and unknown family in Hilltown. The unknown didn’t scare her half as much as the thought of never knowing who they really were. She was fascinated by the Tegerhooks, a fascination she wanted to pursue more than anything. As her father made a lasagne that evening, sending wafts of mince meat and roast tomatoes through the house, much to the upset of the rumbling stomach of Pen herself, she put up the paper ghosts, witches and fake spiders web throughout the house. After a fantastic meal, Pen made a pot of tea and they sat together on the sitting room floor, drawing up plans for Pen’s project. “See, these are the reasons why I miss school so much”, said Mr. Chaddick, as he hastily scribbled down a to-do note. “The class projects, the excitement, the exams”. “Dad, don’t exaggerate”, replied Pen, more bossily than she intended. She started her next sentence with a smile in order to undo this unnecessary snap. “I hate almost everything academic about school. Oh don’t make that face, it’s hardly a surprise to you”, she snapped again as her father rolled his eyes. “I mean, I like bits and bobs about each subject, but suggesting that exams are almost an excitement is a bit of an exaggeration”! Her father chuckled as he straightened the paper in his hands by tapping it gently on the wooden floor beneath them. Clearing his throat, he began to read. “Research, that’s priority”, he announced. “Check”, replied Pen, nodding. “Of course, presentation is important”. “Check; A display folder, illustration etcetera”. “And great fun!” he father finished with a smile. Pen rolled her eyes, but smiled widely. “I guess so. Dad you’re such a nerd”. “I’m the best nerd” he replied, gathering the sheets of paper around him. Pen laughed, though admittedly probably more at him than with him. Early the next morning, the loud alarm ringing on her phone woke Pen up while it was still dark outside. After showering for what was a short half an hour, she changed back into her pyjamas and knelt at the long mirror in her room with her make-up bag perched neatly on her lap. She stared at her reflection, skin still damp. Her dark hair, which hung down to her shoulders, although soaking wet was already starting to curl in large ringlets. Her eyes were big and almond shaped, framed with long curly eyelashes. She had some light freckles across her long nose and high forehead, and her lips, plump and pink were chapped. Pen made a mental note to stop biting her lower lip every time she needed to concentrate, and the painful cracks soothed slightly as she dabbed them with Vaseline. After applying a small amount of make-up, mainly around her eyes, Pen brushed her hair, and pulled it up high into a ponytail. Selecting jeans and a purple shirt from her wardrobe, she stared half heartedly at her reflection once more, before trotting down the stairs where the smell of toast and sausages was meeting her nose. “Morning Hun”, said Mr. Chaddick, fresh faced and standing by the frying pan. “Hi Dad”, she muttered in reply, hastily gathering plates from the cupboard behind him and stacking them neatly on the table in the centre of the kitchen/dining room. “Well, what’s the plan of action Hun? Mr. Chaddick said, wincing slightly as hot oil splashed on to his finger. “We eat”, Pen replied hastily, “And then we see how it goes”. Over breakfast, Pen thought again of Rebecca Mayfair and her unnecessary rude manner in the Shopping centre. Pondering, she imagined what topic Rebecca could be doing. Although delighted she got the Tegerhooks as quickly as she did, she was also fascinated by the architecture of Hilltown. Pen loved taking autumn walks by Hill manor, over the bridge and into town. The narrow cobbled streets lined with tall old fashioned buildings were a remarkable sight, in her opinion. Yes, she thought to herself, and she tucked into a sausage sandwich, the architecture would have been her next choice. Though nothing, no matter how confident Rebecca Mayfair was, could beat the Tegerhooks. As Pen washed the dirty plates, the rain started. Her father issued a faint groan as they both stared out the window into the now grey and groggy back garden. “Well”, Mr. Chaddick sighed. “I’ll hang my coat back up”. “Dad”, started Pen, “it’s a bit of rain, we can still go. I have to take photos. I hate to- “Penelope”, her father interrupted. “We won’t go in the rain. I have photos on the computer already”. “But dad, this is MY project!” “We can wait till it stops raining”. “Oh for goodness sakes, you just don’t want to go in the rain because you don’t think you’ll get to see them when it’s raining”. “Besides the point Hun, besides the point”. Pen slammed one of the soaking wet plates down on the counter a little harder than she intended. Mr. Chaddick blinked. “Go in the rain”, he said softly. “But if you want my help, you can wait until the sun comes out”. Fuming, Pen walked past her father furiously, and headed straight for the stairs. Her intention was indeed to walk out the door in the rain and begin the project alone. However, a small brown envelope poking out of the letter box in front of her stopped her in her tracks, her heart suddenly beating very fast. It was almost as though she knew what it was before she reached out and grabbed the Manila paper envelope. “Dad”, Pen called down the hall. “I got a letter from someone”. “What’s that?” she heard her father mutter through his cheerful humming. “Dad!” she repeated. “Come here please!” Pen’s heart was beating hard against her ribcage. The neat and large curly writing on the front of the envelope was friendly, yet something about this letter made Pen feel uneasy. Slowly, she read Ms Penelope Chaddick... 24 hill manor, Hilltown, Kildare, Eire. Her father’s footsteps became louder and as she opened the envelope with her trembling hands she could feel his eyes on her. “Read it out, Penny”. Pen cleared her throat, and slowly, began to read. “Ms. Penelope Chaddick, You are cordially invited to Tegerhook manor for some afternoon tea and a spot of lunch. You are welcome at precisely 4pm on Friday, October the 31st. Please oblige, you were handpicked. Until then, Dan Teger + Lin Hook.”   “The institute” I grew up without the luxury of friends. I learned to make time for myself, and only myself. It would have to take a lot to change that. I didn’t have time for love or pity. I hated my mother, I hated my father, and I hated my school. Three times I’ve been violent in the past; once to my mother, once to my father, and once to myself. Other people irritated me, and I frightened other people. My parents decided I needed help. Last year, they sent me to a private boarding school. Apparently, it placed great emphasis on discipline. Apparently, it was located over the far side of the country. I agreed to go, without hesitation, much to my parent’s relief. The morning of the 1st September came in no hurry. I got up early to get ready. I never get up early. I wore jeans and a t-shirt, and my greasy hair was tied back. When my mother saw me, she frowned. “Will I iron your navy pleated skirt, Heather?” she smiled. Her smile was as fake as her breasts. I shook my head. “Im fine”, I explained. She frowned again. When she left the room I grinned. I loved that my parents were ashamed of me. A taxi came at 8.30 am to drop me and my belongings to the train station. My new school was in Scotland, quite far from my home, in London. My mother kissed me on the forehead, and my father shook my hand. “See you at Christmas, love”, he said gently. I scowled. The taxi man tried to make small talk with me on the way to the train station. He talked about the weather, the news, and his newborn son James. I didn’t care about James, the news or the weather. I didn’t say anything. I just forced a smile every time we made eye contact through the little mirror. I think he got the message. When we arrived at the train station, I paid him my father’s money and left the car without a word or a second thought. The train journey was awful. I was sitting beside an old, snoring woman who had fallen asleep on my shoulder, and I was sitting opposite a young couple, who showed no hesitation to express their love. I started biting my nails loudly, which irritated them. I smiled as they threw me dirty looks. They didn’t smile back. I laughed. The train journey seemed to go on for too long and I wondered where my school was. We had passed fields and even the sea. I fell asleep twice and even read an old newspaper from cover to cover. It was dark, and the train was empty by the time we got there, just as I was getting anxious. As I got off the train, I gasped. I was standing on very high ground. The tracks had led the train up to the mountains. I thought this was a very odd place to have a school, but I was too tired to care. I didn’t feel very safe looking at my new home, but I didn’t complain. I walked through the dark oak doors that read “Danna’s institute of Educational discipline”. I could barely make out the gold letters on the damp rotting wood, but that’s what I read. So the school did place an emphasis on discipline then. I entered a small, dark, candlelit room filled with boys and girls my age. One or two looked friendly. The rest, like me looked bored and annoyed. A few looked on the verge of tears. I stood near the door, looking around. It wasn’t long before I was approached by a boy of about eighteen. “Hi,” he said, excitedly, holding out a hand. “Im Lee.” I shook his hand loosely, without making eye contact. It was very warm. “Heather.” I said, coldly. Lee was at least six foot tall. He had wavy brown hair, and very white teeth. He had a very distinguished jaw, and broad shoulders. He was exactly the type of person I usually hate. “Where are you coming from?” Lee asked me, still smiling. “London.” I replied. “Me too,”! He gasped. “Yeah, well it’s a big place,” I said sarcastically. Lee’s smile faded, and he walked away. I noticed that a lot of girls were looking at him as he walked. I rolled my eyes. The chatter of the excited and anxious teenagers suddenly died when a wooden door at the far side of the room opened. A small man and a tall woman entered, both at least in their sixties. “Welcome to Danna’s Institute,” the man squeaked suddenly. “I am Sir Paddington. I answer to that name, and that name only.” A few people laughed. I didn’t. I knew this man wasn’t joking. He spoke again. “This is Headmistress Danna. You may call her Headmistress ONLY. Is that understood?” A few people nodded. I didn’t. Danna spoke with a stern, unfeminine voice. “You have been sent to my school for a purpose. This school wont teach you your ABC’s or your times tables. It will be a hard year for you all, but we don’t want anyone to come crying to us. We simply wont listen”, she said, with a slight smirk. I liked my Headmistress already. When we were taken to our dormitories, I discovered that we all slept in one big room. Looking around, I noticed that others were surprised at this too. Most of the guys were very excited about this. Most of the girls weren’t. I didn’t care. ‘Heather Gregory’ was written above one of the corner beds. They were all on wheels, and looked like they belonged in a hospital. When climbing into my cold, damp bed, so unlike my own, I smiled. Soon, everyone was silent and falling asleep. The girl in the bed next to mine spoke to me. “My name is Jane”, she whispered in an Irish accent. I turned over onto my right side to face her. She was beautiful. She had long blonde hair and big blue eyes. I couldn’t help but stare at her. “Heather”, I whispered, still staring. She smiled at me. I smiled back. “What do you make of this place”? She asked me. “I don’t really know.” “Me either.” We laughed. She spoke again. “How old are you, Heather?” “17”. “Me too”. She laughed again. “Im going to get some sleep now. God knows we have a busy day ahead of us”, she said. “Goodnight Heather.” I smiled again, and turned onto my left side. I didn’t know what to make of that experience. I was left lost for words. The next morning, Jane was gone by the time I woke up. I sat up in my bed, and looked around the room, now that it was in daylight. It was larger than I thought, filled with about 30 beds. It had no windows, and little artificial light. Every bed looked the same, hospital-like with a little bed-side locker to the right. The floor tiles matched the ceiling tiles, and the every corner was filled with spider webs. It wasn’t a very nice room. Breakfast was to be served in the dining room. I went down there at about 25 past 8 in the morning. There were still some students in bed, but about 15 were awake. I spotted Jane straight away, standing alone. I approached her as she saw me. She smiled and waved. “Hi Heather!” she grinned. “Do you want to get some breakfast?” I hesitated, and said nothing. “Of course you do”, she laughed, grabbing me by the hand, and pulling me towards a table. I smiled.  We sat at a small table in the corner of the light, but run-down room. As Jane ate silently, I felt a strange sensation. The more I looked at Jane, the more I wanted her to notice me. Finally, she did. “Why did you move to this school, Heather?” she said, in her soft voice. I shrugged. “My parents said I have a discipline problem.” I expected her to be surprised, or perhaps a little frightened at this statement, but she merely nodded. “Me too”, she said. Seeing my surprised face, she added, “I think that’s why everyone’s here”. I looked around the room, and understood what she meant. It seemed that Jane and I were the only two people who managed to speak to someone else. Everyone was looking scared or dangerous, not many of them eating. “I have ‘issues’ apparently,” she laughed. “I have a bad temper. It was my choice to come to Danna’s, though. And I don’t regret It.” she said. I shrugged. “I was never popular or anything. I didn’t have many friends in my lifetime. I got a bit aggressive.” I told her. She smiled. “See?” she said. “I know you better already.” After breakfast, Sir Paddington came to speak to us in the dining room. I was still sitting next to Jane. I noticed a few people looking at her, as she plaited her hair. My face began to blush. I cleared my throat, and looked at the teacher. “You all range from ages 16 to 19. That won’t matter here. We teach you discipline, and nothing else.” This statement surprised everyone. I think we all knew about this, but we all thought we’d be learning normal subjects too. There was an immediate uproar of confusion. Lee, the boy I met the previous night put his hand up to ask a question. It was ignored. I grinned. “You will be taught as one group. Tears and tantrums are not welcome. Rules must be obeyed. That’s the rule.” He smiled. He wasn’t friendly. “You are all new to the school. Our old pupils have gone on to greater things. You will learn to respect your teachers, and that’s final. Your first hour will be spent with Headmistress Danna. Good afternoon”. He left without another word. The school’s size was deceiving. Castle-like, and practically engraved in a mountain, I thought it’d be bigger. There was the dormitory, the dining hall, and two classrooms. There were two corridors, either end of the dining hall, and the only teachers I’d seen were Sir Paddington, and Headmistress Danna. Every room except the dining hall was extremely dark, all day long. This school really wasn’t what I expected. Our first class was held in one of the classrooms. The room was dark and gloomy. I sat beside Jane, at the front of the room. The door swung open, and Headmistress Danna entered, without looking around. The chatter died. “Roll”, she said suddenly. “Jane Boland”. I looked to my right. “Eh...here!” said Jane, with a grin. I laughed. “Edward Clarke”. I looked around the room. In the corner, a tall surly boy sat alone, eyes on the table in front of him. He had a shaved head, dirty, ripped jeans, and heavy black boots. “Yeah”, he said. “Jenny Davis”. Jenny sat at the back of the room. She too had made a friend. She was sitting and talking to Lee. She had dirty blonde hair that looked purposely messy, and a pink ribbon tied around it. She was wearing a lot of make up, and a very short skirt. I looked at Jane, and rolled my eyes. She nodded, silently. “Present” said Jenny. “Heather Gregory”. I could feel many eyes staring at me. I looked around, staring angrily. Everyone turned away. I grinned. “Yep” After roll call, Danna stood in front of the class, breathing heavily, staring at us all. She looked like she never smiled once in her life. She had black hair speckled with grey, tied back in a neat bun. She was wearing a dark grey dress and black shoes. She had heavy eyebrows and a large mole on her cheek. She had an appearance that even I could laugh at. “I hate un-disciplined children.” she said, smirking. “And I’m never afraid to say, or do, what I feel is a necessary punishment in a particular situation.” Jane and I looked at each other, in disbelief. The rest of the class consisted of us listening to Danna talk about the rules. Everyone must have their own belongings, everyone must be neatly dressed, respect and loyalty, the usual crap forced upon students anywhere. I hated stupid rules like that. At break time, Jane suggested we introduce ourselves to the others in school. I stared at her. “No way, Jane. They’re all freaks, look at them.” I said. We looked around the dining hall. “That fella looks nice”, she replied, pointing at Lee. I rolled my eyes. “You do that too much,” she said, laughing. “Come on”. She pulled me by the hand over to Lee, who was sitting with Jenny, and in deep conversation. They stared at us. Jenny spoke. “Can we help you?” she said. I looked at her, frowning. “We just came to say hello to you both!” said Jane. It amazed me how cheerful she always sounded. “Oh” replied Jenny, smiling. “Take a seat then!”  “I’ll go first.” Lee started. “I’m Lee. I’m 18, and I’m from London.” I looked at Jane and yawned. Lee saw me. “I don’t know what your problem is!” he said. “I tried to be friendly to you, but you just threw it back in my face!” I blinked. “Sorry”, I muttered. Jenny laughed. “Im Jen”, she said. “I’m 17, from Liverpool.” Jane shook her hand, formally, both of them laughing. “Im Jane”, said Jane. “I’m 17 too, from Dublin”. This felt like an alcoholic’s anonymous meeting. I did not like these people. They all looked at me. “I’m Heather.” I moaned. “I’m 17, and Im tired.” Lee, Jen and Jane laughed. I looked at them. I smiled. After break, we had the rest of the day to do what we liked. Sir Paddington came in and mentioned something about socialising. Basically this meant we could get to know other people, sleep, read or do nothing. Lee, Jane, Jenny and I stayed at the same table, talking. Well, I listened mostly, purely in disbelief. I grew up with no one to talk to. These people were my age. These people actually liked me. “I used to be mad into drugs”, said Lee. “Really?” asked Jen. He nodded. “I quit like, cold turkey. But I got frustrated and attacked my Mum one night. She panicked and sent me here. I didn’t have a say in the matter.” he shrugged. “I don’t mind though. I was close to being expelled from my other school anyway.” he laughed. “My Mum died last year,” said Jen. “I’m sorry”, said Jane, rubbing Jen’s arm. “Ah, it’s cool.” she said. “My Dad remarried, and his wife sent me here. She hates me.” “That’s terrible!” said Lee. “Nah,” she replied, smiling. “It’s not all bad.” “What do you make of the teachers?” asked Jane. “I think they’re psychos.” I laughed. “Yeah, they are. Your one’s a nutcase.” said Jenny. “I overheard her giving out to that Edward guy. You know the guy that was in our class. The dirty guy.” I laughed again. “What was it over?” asked Lee. “Didn’t hear”, she replied. “She was going mad though.” Lee laughed. “Unlucky”, he said. The rest of the ‘socialising’ was spent with us talking. At first, I thought I hated Lee and Jenny, but soon after I realised that they were just like me. I needed them more than they needed me, so I was lucky we all connected. That night, Jane and I were talking in bed. “Do you like Lee?” she asked me, grinning. “Well yeah”, I replied. “He’s a nice guy”. I said. She giggled. “No”, she said. “Do you like him like him? You know what I mean…” “Im afraid I don’t.” “I think he likes you.” she said. “Like, he fancies you.” I stared at her. She laughed. “Really?” I asked. She nodded. I smiled. “Goodnight Jane”.  A few hours later, Jane woke me up. “What the hell?!” I whispered. When I saw her face I sat up straight away. “What is it?” I asked, anxiously. She merely bit her lip. “Jane for gods sake, tell me!” I said. I looked around the room, trying to see through the dark. I could hear much talking and crying. It seemed I was the only one asleep. Jane grabbed me by the hand and slowly walked me to the other end of the room. There I saw Lee with his arm around Jenny. We joined them. “Thank god”, said Lee. I looked at him. “Lee, what’s going on, Jane won’t tell me anything.” I said to him. He nodded towards a bed in the corner, where many people were crowded. I walked over slowly and peered over the shoulder of whoever was standing in front of me. What I saw I’ll never forget. Edward Clarke’s face was covered in blood. He was clearly dead. I felt my legs go numb as I stared. My throat was swelling and my eyes were watering. I was in complete shock. The more I looked at his mangled face, the more frightened I became. So many questions were going through my head. Who did this? Why now? Why here? Why him? I had to close my eyes in disbelief. I jumped as I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around, shaking, and looked into Lee’s blue eyes. He put his long, strong arms around me. I sniffed, and rested my face on his chest. His body was warm. I stopped trembling. That was the first hug I ever received. No one slept that night. Edward Clarke’s body was removed from the dormitory moments after I saw him. Me, Lee, Jane and Jenny sat up on Jenny’s bed all night. We were too shocked to say anything to each other. Finally, after about 10 minutes, Lee spoke. “I don’t know what just happened, but we all have to stick together.” I would normally cringe and roll my eyes at such a statement, but it’s all I wanted to hear then. For the first time in my life I had friends. For the first time in my life, I needed people, and I was very thankful that I had someone. We had the next morning for socialising again. A few people were moaning about this at breakfast. I over heard a conversation between two people who’s names I didn’t know. “…Yeah, but don’t you think its weird how we haven’t actually been taught any discipline yet?” “No. Someone just DIED. Im sure they have a lot to think about, right now.” This conversation made me think. It was my third day at Danna’s. I wasn’t any better disciplined and a boy just died. This wasn’t a normal school at all. I sat at a table with Lee and Jane. “Where’s Jen?” I asked. “Toilet”, said Lee. I nodded. Lee was doodling on a sketchpad. “Hey”, I said. “You’re really good!” He blushed. I grabbed the sketch pad and looked through it. I paused when I saw a picture of a young girl. I looked at him. “Lee,” I said. “Who is this?” He looked at the sketchpad. His eyes opened wide and he grabbed it off me. “No one,” he muttered. He turned the page and started writing. Jane was trying to tie a bracelet on to her wrist. I held my hand out to help her. She smiled at me, and I probably blushed. I was tying it on tight for her, when I heard her speak. “Lee, what’s wrong with you? She said. I looked at Lee. He was pale and looked frightened. He wasn’t moving. “Lee?” I said. He turned his sketch pad upside down so we could see it. It was full of doodles of his name, and little stick figures. I stared at him. Jane giggled. He pointed to the corner.  “Danna’s   Institute   Educational   Discipline” I looked at him, smiling. I didn’t know what was going on. He grabbed the sketch pad and started scribbling, before giving it back to us. Jane looked worried. This time, it said “Danna’s Institute for Educational Discipline, D.I.E.D.” I blinked. “Coincidence”, I said, smiling. Clearly Lee thought different. “Get Jenny,” he said, standing up. “We’re going.” © Claire Fitzgerald   “Summertime and the Living Is Easy” Do you believe in Ghosts? The previously deceased walking around us like they never actually left? The spirits of the dead gliding around graveyards and "old Indian burial grounds"? I never much cared for ghosts myself. My name is Michael Tyler. July 8th, 2004. That’s one date Ill never forget. It was a very, very hot day. I remember, because despite wearing factor 60 all over my body, I was still burned by midday. My two friends, Dean and Bruce had decided previously that we were going to the beach. I hated beaches though, I can't swim, and can't take the heat of the direct sun. But I agreed to go anyway. There was quite a breeze on the beach. I was quite grateful for this, it meant that the wind would cool me down, so I didn’t have to go near the sea. I was very happy sitting there, on a red fold out chair. You know the ones with a space in the arm for a drink. Heavy to carry up the scolding wooden walkway, but very effective once we found our spot. And, it meant I had somewhere to keep my Pepsi. With Dean and Bruce both in deep, swimming, I was very grateful that I had Harry Potter there to keep me company. I was just on the first quidditch match when I noticed some disturbance coming from the sea. "Michael! Michael! Get some help, QUICK! I can't find Dean ANYWHERE!" The normal thing to do here would've been to face the little red lifeguard hut and wave my arms to catch their attention. But when a certain amount of panic is plunged upon you, its natural to do the first thing that enters your mind. I could hear screaming from somewhere, and so I knew something was seriously wrong. Throwing Harry Potter on the ground, I actually noticed how nice a noise dropping the book made. A soft "pfft" on the sand. Why did I even register that thought in my mind while my friend was apparently missing?! I ran so fast from my chair to the edge of the sea. It was probably the fastest I'd ever ran, yet it took me what seemed like about an hour. I waddled into the water, just up to my chest, and searched before me frantically, looking for Dean, Bruce, anyone. Eventually, I saw a small black dot, about a hundred meters diagonal to where I stood. Without the time or energy to remind myself of the fact that I couldn’t swim, I took a deep breath, and plunged forward into the icy, salty ocean. What a mistake that was. The temperature of that water was the coldest it could possibly be. Each sudden movement I took was like a sword weaving through my ribs. You know the feeling you get when you eat ice cream too fast? It was just like that, but all over my body, plus multiplied by about a million. No words can describe that pain. Of course, I didn’t even have the time to moan about this. In fact, I barely even noticed it after a few seconds. My newest worry was either that I knew my eyes were open, yet I couldn’t see a thing, or else that my horrible impression of "swimming" was me kicking  and panting and waving my arms. I was going no where. Struggling to catch my breath, and now unable to stand up on the sand, I went into a complete state of panic. I began thrashing as hard as I could around the water and screaming every time I got the chance. What was I even doing in the sea this deep? I knew I couldn’t swim! A couple of times I felt myself sink way below the surface of the water, swallowing great big gulps of the salt water. This made me cough and choke, which made me sink even lower in the sea. I was helpless. I was probably crying too, I can't remember. But I was definitely helpless. Why couldn’t anyone see me? I could kick myself now for trying to swim that day. I was always known as Michael Tyler, the careful boy. I was the worry-er of all my friends. I was the sensible one. It would've been nice to emerge from that ocean as "super Michael", the non-swimmer who managed to save his best friend's life. I had completely forgotten about both Dean and Bruce once the panic kicked in. I didn’t know their fate, and I didn’t know mine. I died that day. The water killed me, but I drowned by my own fault. And of course I regret it. I know things now that I never knew before. I consider my death two years ago to be the epiphany of horror. I suppose any death is though. My death became a map, and heaven is my destination. X marks the spot of my fate, but I haven’t yet found it. that’s quite a scary thought. My name is Michael Tyler. Zombie, spirit, ghost… whatever I am, I really don’t want to be. I never feared death, but I didn’t want it. Summertime and the living is easy, so please, take advantage of that. © Claire Fitzgerald Claire’s Poetry Page Website Home Page