Chapter 3

Mike tried to do his homework. He really did. But the urge to scroll through his social media was too strong. He smiled at the pictures of Bernie in mittens photoshopped in increasingly unlikely places and groaned at all the snow-day pictures.

"Yeah, it's snowing, get over it," he muttered to himself.

As he scrolled further, he saw one of his friends had commented on a picture of the new kid.

'Who is that guy?' Mike thought, leaning toward the screen and squinting at the white-haired boy.

"If you get any closer, you'll be in the picture with them," his brother scathed, observing him from across the room.

Mike made a scoffing sound and quickly scrolled away from the picture before his brother noticed it was a couple of guys.

"I heard about this new app today," his brother said, leaning over him. "It shows you how you die."

"Yeah, right." Mike tutted. "That sounds like the start of a bad horror movie."

His brother plonked himself onto the sofa beside him, making the pillows dip drastically, and pulled the laptop from his hands.

"Hey, I'm doing my homework!" Mike cried, hoping his mother would overhear and rescue him.

She didn't.

"Come on, just put your name and birthday in here," Chris prompted.

'I'm not going to get rid of him until I do it,' Mike realised. He input his name and birthday, details his brother should have known well enough to input for him.

"Okay, now watch," Chris said, getting up and tapping him on the back as he returned to his own screen. Mike figured it was one of those tricks where a scary face jumps out at you when you least expect it. He was determined not to fall for it.

He watched with steely resolve as the static on the screen dissipated, slowly becoming an off-grey image of a bedroom. A wardrobe spilling a red jumper, a door with a band poster and a green carpet that clashed with the flowery wallpaper.

As Mike squinted a figure entered through the door and closed it behind himself. He was hard to make out, the image being so fuzzy—a ghost in greyscale.

The figure stood for a moment before reaching for a baseball bat. He raised the bat, pulling it up out of the line of sight.

A second later the bat fell, making Mike jump despite his steadfast posture.

The screen cracked, dripping blood.

He watched as the bat fell over and over, filling the screen with red until it faded back to the static.

"So what was yours?" Chris asked.

"I'm going to get beaten to death with a baseball bat," Mike told him.

"Cool, mine was car crash," Chris said.

Mike made a non-committal sounding, "Meh." It did seem possible, after all. Chris was a terrible driver. He'd already been done for speeding twice and had to take a speed awareness course.

"All I have to do is never get in a car again—" Chris started.

"And what?" Mike frowned. "You'll never ever die?"

"Hmm, you have a point," Chris conceded. Mike wasn’t exactly what his teachers would describe as a ‘bright spark’ but at least he had his brothers to make him feel a little less dumb.

Mike went to bed without finishing his homework, giving up on the entire situation when his oldest brother Stu got home and started wrestling with Chris. He wanted no part of it.

###

Mike was vaguely aware he was dreaming because he couldn't see properly. Everything was blurred like an old black and white television, and on top of that, his teeth kept falling out. That almost never happened when he was awake.

Also, he couldn't seem to raise his head and look up.

Staring down at his hands, planted flat on the green carpet, he saw a pair of feet appear, but couldn't see up past the legs.

A baseball bat hung by the left leg, tapping it in a gentle, threatening rhythm.

"No, no, don't," Mike muttered. He knew what was coming.

He heard the batsman take a sharp, rage-fuelled breath as he raised the bat.

Thud!

Mike pushed away sweat-soaked sheets and span in his bed. He turned on the light, feeling like a five-year-old but unable to quell the terror.

'It's just a stupid app,' he told himself over and over. In the dream, it had felt so real. The rage emanating from his attacker had imprinted on his mind. It was all he could think about.

Every time he tried to fall back to sleep, he would wake with a start.

'I might as well get up early,' he decided, looking at the clock.

He finally found the motivation to finish his homework, though it probably wasn't going to be up to Miss Day's insanely high standards. The English teacher was hot, but she was a hardass. He'd rather have rickety old Mrs White and her borderline neglectful teaching skills.

When he finally got to school, he felt too tired he wished he could go back to bed. In retrospect, and in the cold light of day, the whole thing seemed utterly ludicrous—the last remnant of his childhood behaviours.

Looking about, everywhere was white as far as the eye could see.

A small layer of snow blanketed the tops of cars and rooftops but unfortunately wasn't deep enough for the school to close for the day. It was just beginning to form the horrid grey-brown sludge as the morning commuters drove through it. Luckily, there was still just enough remaining to make a few good snowballs.

He packed the snow tight in his freezing hand and threw one at his best friend Eddy, catching him square on the chin.

"Oh my days, man," Eddy squealed. He suddenly stopped and grabbed Mike by the coat. "Look at Sammy's new hair."

"What?" Grace joined in. "Who does he think he is?"

‘He’s the white-haired boy from the picture?’ Mike gaped.

Sammy had gone from looking like a male version of the girl in the grudge to looking... well...

'He looks hot,' his inner voice chimed up. 'You are allowed to think it. Just don't ever say it.'

Feeling cheered up, he sauntered over to Sammy, who for once, wasn't alone. The new kid, the Asian kid, the goth, and some loser girl stood at his side. They formed a sort of protective guard as Mike approached. In unison and without words they moved to shield him, almost like spartan soldiers.

The new kid stepped forward and looked him dead in the eyes. Something about his intense, unwavering stare was almost scary.

"A word," he said, pulling Mike away from both groups.

He led Mike around the back of the science labs. The snow was untouched by footprints, except for a cat print and what could have been a pigeons.

"Being bisexual and generally pretty queer all round, my gaydar is pretty en pointe, Mike," the new kid explained once they were out of earshot. "Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to out you, because that is a scummy move. However, it is also pretty scummy to bully a boy simply because you can't face up to your own feelings, comprende?"

"I—I'm not," Mike started to protest his innocence as if being gay was the worst crime you could commit.

'In my family it is.'

"Oh please, don't do that," the new kid scoffed. "I'm never wrong. Never."

The look in his eyes told Mike it was pointless to lie.

"Please," Mike muttered weakly.

"You owe somebody an apology, and it had best be a good one," the new kid warned.

Mike nodded. He tried to look the guy in the eyes and found he couldn't. He ended up looking at his feet instead.

'He doesn't look big or strong or scary, so why does he make me feel so afraid?'

It was hard to put his finger on. There was something different about this guy. The way he spoke, the way he walked, even the way he stood perfectly still. He was… odd.

'Stop obsessing over him, you freak' he told himself as he ambled back, looking down at the fresh track of footprints as he created them.

The others asked him about it on the way to English, keen to lap up any interesting gossip. Mike told them it was nothing and changed the subject, asking about the homework.

"Aww, damn it, I forgot." Eddy tutted and punched the wall in frustration. He was probably a little scared of Miss Day too.

Mike placed his sloppy homework on the top of the pile and took his seat, trying not to stare at either the new kid or Sammy, as hard as it was. Sammy looked so different.

'So hot,' his brain corrected.

"Okay." Miss Day interrupted his thoughts. "Can someone give me an example of a synonym?"

The class responded with a chorus of silence and quiet coughs.

"Racist and stupid?" Kiaan spoke up.

Miss Day surprised the class by laughing. It was probably the first time one of them had made her crack a smile.

"Nice one," she said. "I like this new look too. Contacts?"

Kiaan smiled shyly and nodded at her. He did look better without his glasses. You could see his eyes were an oddly bright shade of amber.

"Destroy, nullify, demolish, obliterate, eliminate, extirpate," the new guy interrupted, offering what Mike guessed was a correct answer to the question. He figured synonyms were words that meant the same thing.

The new guy turned to him and gave him a pointed look, as though his choice of words were a warning.

'Obliterate,' Mike thought. 'He's going to obliterate my life if I don't do what he wants.'