Peter’s alarm woke him the next morning and he dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom. His reflection stared back at him as he washed his hands, dark bags under his bloodshot eyes made him look like a zombie. His lips twisted into a wry smile as he wondered if there were zombies in The Age. He hoped not, the wight that Pham had talked about was bad enough. How far from Averton were they? A LONG way hopefully.

Dressing as quickly as his arm allowed, Peter wandered out into the kitchen for some breakfast. He stared blearily at the assorted cardboard boxes of sadness with a bowl in one hand. “I so don’t have the stomach for this.” He grabbed the first one on the left and filled the bowl. Enough milk to drown his sorrows poured in after it and he dropped it onto the table with a thunk.

“Gnuh. What?” A weird noise from the lounge made Peter spin around. His dad was lying half on the couch next to Peter’s dropped cup and a puddle of water. He was slowly stirring, scratching his back and rolling about.

Peter’s mother bustled in. “Come on dearest, time to get up. Oh, look at that, you dropped your drink.” She picked up the cup and assisted his dad into a sitting position on the couch. “How about I get you some breakfast? You too Peter, are you hungry?”

Peter gestured backwards to the bowl on the table. “I’m good. Is Dad ok?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” his mum took the cup to the sink, snagging the bowl on the way through. “He just had a very long night at the office. How’s about we leave him to have cereal and we grab breakfast burritos from the place on the corner that you like? Leave your dad to wake up in his own time?”

Peter started guiltily. “Uh. Sure. That sounds great.” He looked at his dad, whose head had tilted back over the back of the lounge as he breathed heavily, obviously gathering the strength to rise. “Uh, mum, tha… uh, actually, nevermind. Let’s get breakfast. Bye Dad!”

Peter was out the door and down towards the elevator, hoping his dad wouldn’t wake up enough to correct the assumptions about cups and spillages. He was already rapidly pressing the button on the panel when his mum called him back.

Ice water ran through his veins. He looked back to where she was standing by the door.

Holding his backpack.

“Oh. Right. Thanks Mum.” Peter dashed back, grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Elevator’s here, let’s go. I’m hungry.’

“Ok, ok, let’s go, hungry man.”

The drive to school wasn’t long, they were well ahead of the morning rush, and Peter tumbled out of the passenger door and onto the pavement, almost losing his burrito in the process.

“Gwby Mnm!” The mouthful of food muffled his farewell as he turned back to shut the door.

The window wound down. “Peter, finish your food before talking. Now, have a good day.” His mother smiled pensively, already shifting the car into gear as she spoke. “Remember, see the nurse first. If you need to go home, there’s medicine in the bathroom and food in the fridge. I won’t be home until after lunch.”

Peter swallowed hard. “Thanks Mum, see you tonight!” His farewell was delivered to the back of the vehicle as it peeled out of the car park. Suddenly alone despite the handful of other students making their way in the gate, Peter felt the now familiar chill of anticipation. He settled the straps of his backpack more comfortably on his shoulders and began the journey towards his homeroom.

A weird sense of jamais vu settled on him as he passed through the almost deserted school yard. It had only been a week since he had walked these paths, but so much had happened. So much had changed. Yet, somehow nothing had. Peter instinctively tried to pull his cape closer around him before remembering he wasn’t wearing one here. He found he was paying a lot more attention to where he put his feet, avoiding stepping on the random leaves that blew in though it had never bothered him before.

Ghosting between the buildings silently, Peter slipped around two early bird upperclassmen cradling coffees as though their sanity depended on it and kept moving towards his homeroom. He had been lucky so far, seeing neither hide nor hair of Tomlinson or his cronies but it was only a matter of time. The nurse’s office opened at eight thirty but was far enough from homeroom to make it iffy getting there and back without running into trouble. He opened the door to the classroom just enough to ease through if he flattened his wings against his back and close it again. “Damn it. No wings. Get it together Peter.”

The other students filed in soon after to find Peter with his head on his desk. Their excited chatter made him jerk up in surprise. A couple offered half-hearted welcomes and condolences on his injuries incurred in the fight, but at the same time he could hear the whispers behind hands about the bandage on his arm. Peter crossed his arms under the desk but the damage was done. He closed his eyes, put his head back on the faux-wooden surface and concentrated on ignoring everyone until after roll call.

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As soon as the homeroom was let go Peter was out the door. He took the most roundabout route he could think of, including at one stage a janitorial path between a garden and a shed where they kept the sports equipment. It was eerily reminscent of the path to the were-vixen. At any moment he half expected the bushes of the garden to erupt with claws and fangs.

It took nearly twenty minutes to cross the campus in this manner but it was satisfying to remain out of sight of the masses. Peter arrived at the nurse’s office having crossed paths with less than ten people, none of whom he knew. As the door to the consulting room was closed Peter sat on the leather seated bench in the waiting room. Muffled voices from beyond echoed about the room as he read the educational posters adorning the walls.

About three quarters of the way through an intriguing brochure on the dangers of accepting free recreational pharmaceuticals from strangers (Just say YES! Drugs are expensive!) a tiny, frail girl left looking exceptionally pale and unsteady. Her ravenwing dark hair hung in lank, limp strands, framing a plain face Peter would have found entirely unremarkable at any other time, except for the unhealthy pallor underlying her olivine skin tone. Sweat speckled her brow despite it being pleasantly cool and her pupils were clearly larger than normal. Peter raised one hesitant hand in greeting, but the moment the girl realised he was there she looked away and hurried out. There was something oddly familiar about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Peter Fuller? I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.” Nurse Happily stood in the doorway.

Grudgingly Peter hauled himself into the consulting office and hopped up onto the examination table. “Miss, I don’t feel so good.” He held out his arm for her to check. “I went home to rest like you said, but I had an accident and cut my arm pretty deep.”

The nurse gently unwrapped the wound. Her sharp intake of breath told him that something wasn’t right. “Oh honey. Who fixed this?” She quickly unlocked the supplies cabinet and began pulling out items. “You see that black line there? That’s necrotic flesh there. How did this happen?”

As Nurse Happily began to carefully scrub away the scab and hard black skin, Peter screwed up his eyes. “I dropped a plate in the sink and cut my arm,” he gritted out.

Using a cotton ball to swab away the flecks, the nurse shook her head. “No, I mean this butcher job on your arm.” She used a piece of gauze to coat the area in some sort of amber antiseptic liquid. “I’ve never seen a hack job this sloppy before. It looks like you did this yourself. Do your parents know about this?”

Unable to watch any longer, Peter stared fixedly out the window. “They know. Mum helped me… ah!” Peter’s head whipped around. “What the heck is that?”

“Careful, this is delicate.” Nurse Happily had laid a length of black tape-like material along the length of the cut. The outer edge was lined with small fingers. The whole thing looked like she had stuck a centipede to his arm. “Hold still, this will sting. On three, ready?

Peter nodded. “On three.”

“Ok, one… two…” She grasped a small node on the end of the tape and pulled sharply. A black strand pulled out of the end, leaving a translucent tube behind. The edges of the tape dug into the edges of the cut and curled under to close the wound neatly.

“Ouch.” Peter looked at his arm, turning it back and forth gingerly. “I thought you said on three?”

“Three. Happy? Now, that’s going to stay on for about two weeks. It’s a bio-suture, it’ll fall off itself when the time is right.” A couple of deft swipes and the surplus antiseptic was gone. “Only ouch? The last time I had to use this stuff was the footballer who had a bone protruding from his shin. He screamed for five minutes solid.”

Peter hopped down from the table still mesmerised with the repair job. “Yeah, you might say I’ve some experience with injuries recently. That and those guys on the team are big pansies.”

Nurse Happily sat down at her desk and pulled out a drawer. Inside was an ancient laptop, maybe ten years old with cables and USB ports and everything. She began tapping away at the keyboard, the keys making loud clicks with every button press. “Pansies? That’s a new one. First time I’ve heard anyone call our Mighty Wildcats pansies. If you’re going around insulting large boys who think with their muscles, I’m not surprised you’re used to severe injuries. Is that the only wound I’m going to need to patch today?”

“What? Oh, no. No, I’ve just been playing this new online game and it’s pretty brutal. I never expected that having your face eaten off would be fun, but it was even less fun than that. I’m not stupid enough to go toe to toe with a gorilla.”

A printout popped out of the desk and Nurse Happily handed it to him. “Really? Why was it that you ended up here a week ago?”

Reaching out, he took the proffered the sheet. “Touche. What’s this?”

“Your note for the office. I’m recommending another two days off, for the fresh injuries, but that’s the last of it. I can’t keep you off school forever. You’re going to have to find another way to deal with Tomlinson, and self-harm isn’t it.”

Peter’s expression soured instantly. “I’m not harming myself.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sure you believe that.” She stood and ushered him back out into the waiting room. “I’m certain your… accident… was entirely accidental. Just, be sure of that yourself. Make sure no more accidents happen, or I’m going to have to share them with someone higher up. You know what I mean?”

The sour expression fell. “I know what you mean. I’ll be careful. Thank you Nurse.” Peter took his leave and headed straight to the office. Everyone was in class by now and even the few delinquents who frequently cut class were nowhere to be seen. Eternally thankful for the absence of spectators, but feeling the emptiness of the schoolyard resonate with a little piece of emptiness in his core. It was incredibly eerie.

Entering the administration building dispelled the sensation, the office on the far side of the counter was a hive of activity. A saccharine sweet greeting met him as he came through the door, issued by a lady in a dress that was a riot of colours. The contrast from outside was jarring and only made the disconnect more prominent. With a fake smile plastered on his face, Peter handed over his note and the tablet, mumbled vague pleasantries and left for the bus stop.