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Later that night when A from where I hid it under the others

‘Amy, this--’ I hold up my afternoon’s work, ‘--is Dr Lysander Why were you surprised I know her?’

Amy takes the sheet fro ‘She can be But soht’

‘I’d love to ith her when I’’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t you know? She started it all: Slating She invented it We learnt about it in science at school’

I look at the picture in my hands, at her hooded eyes that stare back at mine I didn’t know that Or did I? Everyone always deferred to Dr Lysander; got out of her way in a hurry All Slateds have a ned to them at the hospital, and she was mine But now that I think about it, there was never anyone besidesroom No one else I kne her If she is so iht us the basics about Slating in the hospital school We were all cri our ain With the Levo in place to make sure it all works, until it is removed the year we turn twenty-one on the anniversary of our Slating So Slating is a second chance, for which we should be grateful: it kept us out of jail, or off the chair

But at least if you were in jail, you’d knoho you are Not for long on the chair, though, if you’d done soh to warrant that

I bite my lip ‘Don’t you ever want to know?’

‘What?’

‘Why you were Slated’

‘No If the past is unbearable, why choose to bear it?’

I shrug Because it is mine

‘Anyhow, that solves the s’

‘It does?’

‘Security must have taken them before you left the hospital They wouldn’t want anyone to knohat Dr Lysander or anyone else orks there looks like, or where things are in the hospital It’s too dangerous’

Whispers overheard ether in ht Guards and towers Burnt out buildings

‘Terrorists?’

‘Exactly’

A says she sleeps Sebastian curls along my side

So Dr Lysander is is to keep her face hidden froain Maybe, I should hide it better? This likeness of her is the best I’ve ever done

Even though I used the wrong hand

I am in a small space, alone Wood surrounds ht hand

Cross-legged on the floor, I’s are stiff and there is no rooes lie across my knees, kept flat by a piece of wood underneath The pencil flies across the paper, a dance of inary place so far fro to be

So absorbed, that at first, I don’t hear the footsteps, co down the stairs over my head I turn off the torch and hold my breath

They stop at the botto closer and closer to s, anything, but I aHe can see it all; the drawings, the pencil The hand that holds it

‘Get up!’ he snaps

I scra my eyes

‘You know the reasons; you kno important this is Yet still you disobey’

‘I’h of your proret; sadness, even

‘Give rabs it

‘You have to learn I’m sorry’

And I alers, one by one, with a brick

CHAPTER EIGHT

Agony stabslike the blade of a knife

There is a h

‘She’s co around’

A male voice Who?

I try to open my eyes, but they burn as if the sun has fallen froroan

‘Kyla?’ A hand touches ht drops, and I squint between my lids

‘There you are,’ she says, and smiles

I’m on the floor I try to sit up

‘Don’t ain, and I turn my eyes to the source A paramedic? And another Mum, white-faced, stands in the doorway

They liftOne of the into it and warmth slides into my veins, starts to take the pain away My eyes close

Voices htmare did that? Disbelief

She could have died…

Keep in bed for a day or two…

Pain ement…

If Amy hadn’t woken when she hit the floor, she would have died…

Last Chance