Chapter One - Pilgrim's Howe - Morning

Morning

Robby awoke to find a Dragon, Darth Vader and Michael Jackson staring down at him. He rubbed his eyes and swung his legs out from under the blankets before turning his alarm clock off. Sufficiently awake, he began the ritual of getting ready for school.

In the room next door, Sarah was already half-way through her morning ritual. She was enthroned on plush stool, facing her own reflection in the mirror of an antique dressing table. Her hair was pulled back in a towel turban and her blemishless skin was undergoing the early stages of its daily transformation.

On the drive of the house next door, Frank dropped his bike unevenly at the door of the garage and walked into the kitchen. The morning paper run was done and now he had to make breakfast and get ready before his father got up and his mother came home from work.

One street over Dione stepped out of the car and walked up the drive with her father and into the house. She gave her sports bag to her mother and alighted the stairs to her room and a hot shower. Her muscles throbbed with energy from her swim and she moved with graceful precision. She closed the door of her bedroom firmly behind her.

An entire estate away Cole was waxing his sleek, red Porsche 912 on his parent's drive in full view of the neighbours. He was wearing his letterman jacket too with deliberate pride, shrugging the colar every now and then to make sure everybody knew. Satisfied that he was seen, he retreated to the house where his mother had prepared pancakes.

On the other side of town Peter snuck out of the house early in an endeavour to escape his brothers and sisters. Guiltily he rifled through the pennies he'd lifted from his sister's coat, ignoring the long hours she worked in the constant fight for necessities. Ducking under the fence to the wasteland, he decided to skip the bus that morning and walk the ten blocks to school.


Robby sat on the steps of the porch wringing his hands, on his right sat his sister Sarah who was stoutly ignoring him. He was angry with her, intensely so, and not for any reason he was willing to admit to out loud. To begin with there was the constant warring with their parents that she maintained she did nothing to exacerbate. He hated the fact that when they weren't fighting with each other, each party ranted about the other incessantly. He hated the fact that she'd started an argument this morning quite deliberately in order to incense them into buying her a car. But, most of all, above and beyond everything else, Robby loathed, despised and detested the creature she was dating.

The second he heard the squealing of tyres around the corner, Robby looked up in time to see her eyes brighten. He's coming! He could almost hear her squeak.

The polished red Porsche ground to a halt in front of the drive and Cole Steadman, Varsity champion and warlord of idiots leaned across the sixties leather seats and waved at Sarah. Instantly both siblings got to their feet, but whereas Sarah bounded across the lawn to meet her beau, Robby hung back and lumbered deliberately down the lawn in reserve.

"Yo girl," Cole greeted her inanely. Sarah giggled and Robby nearly flinched at how offensive he really was. He was so wrapped up in his assessment of the lummox that Cole actually noticed. "What are you looking at, turd? What's he looking at me like that for, babe? He looks like he's shit his pants."

Sarah didn't even look at him, she just squeezed Cole's arm and snuggled up against the vibrant purple and yellow jacket he was wearing. The letter C was emblazoned across his chest.

"He probably has, sweetie," she muttered, just low enough for it to sound like she was trying not to be heard, but not low enough for Robby to not hear. Cole burst into peals of raucous laughter and gunned his engine, growling into Sarah's neck, making her giggle even more. She could obviously feel Robby's uncomfortable stare boring into her head as she faked a smile and tried to persuade him to drive off. Cole had other ideas.

"Frank!" He boomed as their next door neighbour appeared at the bottom of his drive. Frank seemed to flinch at the sound of Cole's voice. "When are you going to pluck up the courage and try out, buddy?"

Frank shrugged.

"We could use your legs on the football team. You'd have to bulk out a bit and make an effort to care, but you could be a work in progress." Cole nodded to himself up, sizing Frank up.

"I'll think about it Steadman," Frank replied stoically.

Cole snorted, gunned the engine and screamed off down the road.


Peter rifled through the cards quickly, sizing up which ones were useful and which ones he could swap. Arcturus the Bold – a bit lame, he could potentially be useful as canon fodder. An imp – eeshk, get rid, get rid, get rid. A Mage – valuable, level three too, he mused.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see his sneakers padding softly on the sidewalk. He didn't notice the shadow fall in front of him until he nearly walked into its source.

"Excuse me," he stammered, dropping the cards to the floor. The man stooped down to help him and smirked at the cards. Peter felt his ears begin to burn.

"Role-playing, eh?" the man muttered softly. Peter found his eyes drawn to the man's red leather shoes. Looking up he found the man was strangely dressed throughout. Pin-stripe suit, dark glasses, an umbrella and a portable telephone.

"Sorry," Peter muttered again as he walked away, but the man caught his arm.

"My friend and I were just talking about it. Are there many who enjoy it?"

Peter wrapped his head around the question, "Sorry – I don't quite –"

"Role-playing."

Peter shook his head and grimaced, pushing his glasses up on his nose irritably. The man was making fun of him. "No. It's pretty niche, dude."

The man looked down, disappointed. It was at this point that Peter noticed the portable phone – the receiver seemed to be emitting music, strange lyrical sounds.

The man caught Peter's eye and looked down, "I'm on hold." He said with a shrug. Peter shook his arm loose and the man released him.

"Shame." The man continued, "Role-playing is a dynamic skill." He stopped and examined Peter closer. "Aren't we all playing out our own lives? Don't we act when we lie, hide our feelings? Don't we try and be who we are not?"

Peter took a step back and the man seemed to realise how freaked out he was and let go. Swiftly, Peter turned on his heel and walked away. He tried looking over the cards again but was distracted by what the man had said. He wasn't stupid, he understood what he was trying to get at; the loose Shakespeare reference, the garbled philosophy. Uncomfortably he shrugged off the allusions he seemed to be making about Peter – hiding his family life from his friends, consciously building up a world in which he could escape into.


Dione stepped out of the car a block away from the school. Her father ran neatly around to the trunk, from which he removed her sports bag and handed it to her. She looked at her watch irritably and realised she probably wouldn't have time to run before class.

"Be sure to call us tonight." Her father said earnestly, passing her a portable phone. The thing weighed a ton and she put it into a side compartment before walking off. She looked down at the short, balding man and thanked him in her own way before walking off.

She strode with assured invisibility through the crowds of kids hanging around outside in their little groups. There was the girl going to the Olympics, they thought, assuming her social group was as large as her training timetable. The truth was, she didn't have time for socialising and she liked it that way. Bitchy girls left her alone, broody admirers kept their distance and the teachers doted over her almost as much as her parents. Her life, she liked to think, was like clockwork – an oiled, precise machine with rhythm and value. Dione was happy.


Frank and Robby turned the corner and started walking towards the school, which loomed in the distance. they both naturally understood that if they were seen together in anything other than a neighbourly sense then a rumour would start. Not that there was anything to start a rumour about anyway, but school was a strange beast and friendship interchanged with acquaintancy depending on which sides of its walls you stood.

"My parents can't afford another car." Frank was saying, trying to taper Robby's rant with cooling comments. It didn't work, they just seemed to make him more incensed about Sarah.

Sure, she'd changed. She was moving in a wider circle, she was beautiful and popular, but Robby was talking about her as if she'd changed. He wasn't sure he liked it.

"She started the conversation though. She knew it was going to piss them off and she did it anyway. You can see it in the way she smirks and twirls her hair." Robby kicked a coke can down the sidewalk and into the gutter. Frank coolly leaned down, picked it up and put it in the trash. "I just wish she could see herself – she thinks she's such a princess."

Frank remembered fondly a time when he and Sarah had acted out Snow White in her back yard. Robby had taken it in turns to play the Seven Dwarves but had got bored before the all important final scene. The kiss and the riding off into the sunset.

In this case it had been a peck on the cheek and them riding off down the street on his bike to buy ice-cream, but those moments still glowed within him. The wind in his hair, the dappled sunshine through the trees, her arms around his waist as his legs burned with the effort of pedalling for two.

" – I wish there was a way for her to see herself."

Frank suddenly felt cold and didn't want to talk about Sarah anymore. Robby never seemed to stop, he was so angry and bitter. Sure – Cole Steadman was an ass; sure, Sarah could be a bit of a prima dona – but she was still his sister. Where did all the anger come from?

"Dude – I'll speak to you later yeah? We'll go to the arcade." Frank said kindly before loping off to meet his friends, who were still about fifty yards away. Behind him Robby kicked up some dust and stayed absorbed in his own little world.


Sarah stretched and yawned as the man onstage droned on. She was sitting in assembly – around her the entire year was sitting in the auditorium. On everyone's faces she could see their boredom. It was fairly obvious to her that whoever-he-was was talking to a room full of zombies.

"When my son went missing, it changed my life." He continued, standing on the podium and reaching out with his voice. He was rich and powerful, at least within the city of Pilgrim's Howe and the state limits. "A young man, fresh out of college. His entire life ahead of him. Top of his year in chemistry and physics. An ivy-league man tipped for greatness. I couldn't have been more proud. I grew up in a local neighbourhood, I was never particularly academic and I just worked hard to open my own business. But Richard was going places.

"I was devastated." Eeshk Grandpa, Sarah thought – lay it on thick, why don't you? Although, she thought fleetingly, he was a bit of a silver fox. Tanned, smart, powerful features, if a bit rounded. Who did he remind her of – something from one of Robby's comics… Iron Man? The guy with the goatee and the eyes. Internally embarrassed, she looked around to see if anyone had seen her geek out. "What could have lured him away? For years I thought it was drugs, something scandalous. Maybe he was trying to protect me – I thought, assuming his reasons were noble. At other times I was convinced he'd done something and was too cowardly to face up to it. The truth is – it could have been anything.

"But, I'm not here to talk about Richard. I'm here to talk about the value of education and why these years are so vitally important to you – " And with those words Sarah could feel herself switching off and slipping into a world of plans in her head. She'd planned a speech she was going to give to Tracey Dawkins at recess. The bitch had it coming. Briefly, Sarah envisioned the scene in her head, the hurt way she'd look when it was over, how she'd flinch at every double-layered insult. Then she went over the evening game plan – what she'd say to her parents to make sure they didn't check in on her until it was safe. Then, she'd sneak out and meet up with Cole and his drongo buddies and sneak off to the Carnivale.

It was all perfect, how could it go wrong?


Cole looked down at his watch – it was nearing dinner time and he felt like he'd worked up a decent appetite. Coolly, he pulled off his sweaty shirt and dropped it on the bench in the changing room and pulled his towel from his locker. In the shower room he could hear the water and steam starting, the sound of laughing and cheering. Coach was grinding someone down in the corner for not making an effort.

It was Peter. Cole wasn't surprised, the boy was a weed and a complete waste of space.

After showering he dried himself with the rest of the guys – the ones worth a damn. The dweebs kept to themselves in the corner with their pale, underdeveloped bodies and sickening little habits. Braces, glasses and inhalers made Cole feel physically ill. He found it disturbing that infections and diseases and deviations existed at all. He never got ill – he ate well, worked out, looked after himself. He found it insulting that others didn't.

He scanned around the guys he loosely considered friends. They all had tanned, ripped bodies, white teeth – good hair-cuts. They looked after their god-damned skin, for crying out loud.

Standing off to one side he noticed Frank. A quiet guy. Probably gay or some shit. Cole shuddered at the very thought as he watched the guy dress. Nodding to himself, he stood by his earlier appraisal and thought to ask Coach about getting the guy a try-out. Frank was a fast runner, very good with a javelin – he just never competed, he never tried.

Behind him he heard a cough and the sound sent shivers up his back, making his hair stand on end. Suddenly incensed he spun around to find Peter's skinny, rank little form worming its way under the bench behind him. Before he knew what was happening Cole had gripped him by the towel and yanked it away making Peter bang his head against the bench.

Cole barely heard the laughter that erupted in the changing room. He was furious and he didn't quite understand why. With ease he tore Peter from under the bench by the hair and slammed him into the lockers, his hand gripped tightly around his neck.

He heard himself making a game of it, asking all the token questions. What do you think you're doing, queer? And all that. It all rolled off his tongue with natural confidence. But Cole was looking at the fear in Peter's eyes and found himself disgusted. What followed next was a textbook humiliation that Cole took great satisfaction from enacting.

Naked and sobbing, the Varsity Football Team and their righteous leader left Peter on the cold floor of the changing room while they went in search of lunch.