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CHAPTER TWO

1993

Dominica's already sick of this stupid dress and these stupid shoes. Everything is uncomfortable: the shoes feel stiff, the dress feels scratchy, the headband that her auntie made her wear feels like it's squishing her brain from the sides. She already hates school and she's only been here for an hour and a half. She sits herself on the little bench at the corner of the playground, picking out a stone that's trying to sneak between the rigid leather of the T-bar on her shoe and her white, holey patterned sock. She refuses to suffer any more discomfort today.

Across the playground she sees two girls playing hopscotch. One of them has blonde hair so bright the sunlight's bouncing off it, and she remembers from the register that she was called Tansy. Her name stood out because it seemed a little silly, like Pansy but Tansy isn't even a flower. The other girl's got long mousy brown hair and big green eyes, and Dominica remembers her name too, it's Lauren. Everyone else here already knows each other because they went to nursery together. She's the only one who's new. The only odd one out, despite her auntie saying that everyone starts a new school at this age. In fact, everyone else sorted it out aged three and now, at the tender age of four, it's already far too late for Dominica to make friends. She liked her old school, her old life. She hates this one.

She watches as two more girls join the game of hopscotch, one of them with long dark hair, the other ginger with a smattering of freckles across her nose. She doesn't know who they are; they must be from the other reception class.

 

She looks back down at her foot, focusing on doing her shoe back up. The stiffness of the new leather makes it quite the task, and her tongue pokes out the side of her mouth, deep in concentration, as she passes the leather tab through the shiny buckle. Suddenly screams fill the playground. Dominica looks up to see a boy running in circles around the girls, waving his hand in the air. It takes her a while to work out what's happened, but it looks like he's stolen a hair clip from the one with the mousy hair. She's trying to get it back, but he's just laughing at her, his mates in hysterics while the girl starts to cry. Dominica watches for a second before deciding that the stone in her shoe was her first victim and this boy will be her second. She remembers him from the register too. He's called Greg; he had a snot bubble as he answered yes to his name.

She stands up and marches over to the group. Without thinking, she grabs Greg's head and pops it under her arm, the way her big brother used to do to her sometimes, before...She starts rubbing at his scalp aggressively with her knuckles, channeling all her anger into it.

"OI! GET OFF ME!" he shouts. His mates freeze around him in silent, scared shock.

"Give her clip back," Dominica replies calmly. She stops rubbing his head but keeps him in the headlock, her chubby little fists clenched and ready for a fight.

Dominica's got a lot of anger bottled up. Anger about missing her brother, and the way her parents have barely looked at her since he died. Anger that they've had to move here where she doesn't know anyone because her parents couldn't even bear to be in their house anymore, constantly surrounded by memories of him. She'd be happy to take it all out on this kid.

"FINE!" Greg shouts frantically. He holds out the hand with the clip in it, and the ginger girl takes it from him, a wide, gappy smile spreading across her face. She gives it to her friend, Lauren with the mousy hair, who replaces it on her head straightaway, as if afraid that someone might steal it from her again any minute. But that definitely won't be happening on Dominica's watch.

 

"Thank you," the red-haired girl says, putting her hands on the hips of her red-and-white checked school dress. "That'll learn you, Greg Thomas!"

Greg squirms, still under Dominica's arm, and she decides she should probably let him go, even though he doesn't deserve it.

"Jesus! No reason to strangulate me!" he says, his voice nasal and snotty as he rubs at his neck.

The boys walk away, Greg muttering petulantly. They look as scared of Dominica as she hoped they would be. She turns back to her bench. Maybe she'll take off these stupid shoes for a bit. So what if her socks get dirty? Her parents will never notice anyway.

"Hey!" the ginger girl calls after her. "Do you want to play? We're doing hopscotch!"