Something Wicked
Sixteen-year-old Anna is an unremarkable schoolgirl. She does her homework, and keeps out of trouble. At home she emotionally supports her depressive mother and occasionally goes out with friends, but she allows no one to get close. Then Craig Ritchie storms into her life, and nothing is the same again.Nothing much happens in Anna’s life. She gets on with her school work, helps her mum and keeps her fellow students at arm’s length. That is until Craig Ritchie arrives, a new boy at school. For reasons she’s not really sure about, Anna tries to befriend him, but finds him reticent.Then one night Anna is mugged. She tackles her assailant and is horrified to see it is Craig. In the dark, he hadn't recognised her. They begin talking, and from here their strange friendship develops.Craig, or Ritchie, as he prefers, has been involved in petty crime. He has a gang of friends from his old school who he still knocks around with and, gradually, Anna gets pulled into his world. But Ritchie isn't really the bad boy he first appears. Between them, he and Anna decide to use crime to try and redistribute wealth, rather than just steal for themselves. Anna thinks of them as latterday Robin Hoods. Their first few jobs work like a dream and Anna is excited and stimulated by her new life on the edge. She also realises that she and Ritchie are falling in love.But then things start to go sour. Anna wants to stop the scams but Ritchie insists on just one final job, to get his own back on the father who abandoned him and his mother before he was even born. But there's something he's not telling her. They set up the job to steal from Ritchie’s dad’s house, but when his father discovers them, it transpires that Ritchie is really there for a completely different reason – to kill him. And to Anna's horror, he pulls out a gun …
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HarperCollinsChildren’sBooks
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsChildren’sBooks 2004
Copyright © Sherry Ashworth 2004
Sherry Ashworth asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work
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Source ISBN: 9780007123353
Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2016 ISBN: 9780008208127
Version: 2016-10-20
Thanks to Andy, Dave, Dominic, Jenny, Michael and
all at Relaunch. And Robyn and Rachel, of course.
For Chris and Libby.
CONTENTS
Everything keeps going round and round in my head, so it’ll be a relief to tell you everything, just as it happened. Not because I want to claim I’m innocent – the opposite, in fact. I think I’m as much to blame as anyone – maybe even more than anyone.
But I trust you. You can decide.
So here’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
* * *
It all probably began before the day Craig Ritchie walked into our classroom, but I don’t want to bore you with all the facts about me, and what was wrong in my life. Because that falls into the category of feeling sorry for yourself, and I hate girls who do that. The drama queens. They come into school all red-eyed and you have to ask them once, twice, three times what’s wrong, and they won’t tell – they enjoy all that attention. Then finally they do and you pass the Kleenex and wait to hear all about how this boy never phoned or some similar crap.
So all you need to know is that my name is Anna Hanson and I was sixteen when it started. Just like most people, I was happy some of the time, pissed off some of the time, but bored most of the time.
I was bored that morning in English. Well, it would have been English if the English teacher was there, but she was absent. On some course. She’d set work. Making notes on the first few scenes of Macbeth. Like, who the characters are and the plot and that, who was Thane of what. As if anyone was going to bother. The teacher who was sitting with us brought in piles of marking, and as long as we were quiet, he didn’t give a toss what we did. So when I felt my phone vibrate in my blazer pocket, I took it out and read the text under the desk. It was from Karen, who was sitting at the back of the class – there was going to be this big night out on Saturday at the Ritz, I was invited. I replied by saying cheers, I’d think about it.
I didn’t want to seem too pleased, too much of a loser. I wasn’t one of the girls in the class who was always up for it, but I wasn’t a swot either. I was just me, to tell you the truth. I didn’t fit into any category. Which was why I wasn’t normally included on clubbing nights. So I began to think about whether I wanted to go or not and it was at that point the door opened and one of the deputies came in with this new boy. Everybody stopped what they were doing to have a look. I felt sorry for this lad, being stared at like that. The deputy went on about Craig Ritchie joining this English set and there was a fuss about the regular teacher not being there. The teacher sitting with us was making an empty-handed gesture, as if to say, what do you expect me to do, so the deputy grabbed a book off one of the shelves and gave it to the lad.
I watched all of that. The two teachers arguing and stressing each other out, and the boy standing there, head down, shoulders hunched. He was tall and looked more than sixteen. His head was shaved, which surprised me because at our school (St Thomas’s – Roman Catholic – very hot on morality and standards and that) boys aren’t allowed to have their heads shaved. This boy wasn’t in proper uniform either. We wear this awful shade of maroon, but he had a plain black jacket on, over a white shirt. His black trousers were a shade too short for him. He was wearing trainers too, which were also forbidden. In our school they reckon wearing trainers prevents the flow of knowledge to your brain. Only joking. But we do have to wear plain black shoes.
