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Chapter 1
Declan Red was obnoxious. it wasn't his snotty nose. it wasn't his piggy eyes. it wasn't even his tendency to take everyone else's lunch (although that could contribute.) no. Declan was obnoxious because of his attitude.
'Give that back!' Criss yelled. 'that's for my brother!'
'Nope!' grinned Declan, holding the large chocolate bar above Criss' head. He took a big slobbery bite.
‘You…’ Criss lunged for the Mars Bar. He hit it out of Declan’s hand, and it hit the ground, instantly starting to melt in a chocolaty puddle on the playground slide. Declan stopped, and stared down at the boy 3 Cm shorter than him.
‘Now you’ve done it!’ Declan charged at the smaller boy, and…
‘Now stop right there!’ yelled Mr Jenkins, the PE teacher. He flung his skipping rope expertly to catch the running Declan around the shins. Declan crashed down at a petrified Criss’ feet, who, awoken from his stupor, ran as fast as he could away.
‘Declan Red,’ Mr Jenkins said slowly. ‘Go to the principal’s office. Now.’
‘Inexcusable behaviour…wrong thing to do…poor Criss…suspension for three days.’ This was the string of unrelated words Declan heard as he sat in the uncomfortable chair in front of Miss Zahner, the principal.
‘Yes Miss Zahner,’ Declan droned. He had been in the principal’s office so many times he had broken a school record, at 1,000 visits this year.
‘Now get out!’ Miss Zahner said. Declan obediently got up, and walked out of the door. He shoved Freddy Zean out of the way, and stormed down the corridor, and out of the school.
‘Been suspended again?’ the matron for Declan’s dormitory, Miss Handers said in a bored voice. ‘Well, get to your dormitory.’ Declan trudged up the stairs. He flung himself onto his mattress, and stared up at the ceiling. It was tonight. He was going to run away, far away from this orphanage, this school, these people. Maybe to Queensland. That would be nice. Away from all those accusing stares. He gathered up all his things, which took approximately 2 minutes, as he had only a second set of clothes, a jumper, an action figure of Hulk, and the last thing his parents – father and half-mother, Declan reminded himself – had given him. A note, saying never come back. He sighed. Then, he waited. And waited. And waited. He knew his presence at the dinner table wouldn’t be missed. He waited until he heard the feet marching up the stairs, and Miss Handers calling, ‘Lights out! Lights out I tell you! Vincent, please stop attempting to shove the cat in the fire. It doesn’t like it!’ Then, he opened his window, and looked down at the ground below.
It was high up, seeing as he was three stories up, but Declan had made an escape plan. He took out his Hulk action figure, and threw his bag down. It landed safely below. He looked out, and reached for a pipe. It just held his weight. Declan slowly inched his way down, until he was close enough to the ground to jump. He landed uncomfortably on his bag, then picked it up, and ran. He ran down the road, and into the park. There, he started walking. PE had never been his strong spot. Declan walked onward, crickets chirping, the night air blowing on his face. It was almost peaceful. Then, he nearly ran into the door.
Declan stared at the strange door. It was just there. Nothing was behind it; nothing was in front of it. He could have sworn that it wasn't there before. Just standing. In the middle of a patch of grass with a sign saying, ‘do not place anything on this grass.’ At 7:00 in the evening. It was covered in swirls...and they seemed to be moving.
Declan scoffed. His mind must be playing tricks on him. He turned around…and there it was! In front of him. He looked behind him, but it wasn’t there. He turned again, and started running, only to nearly walk into it again. He grunted in anger. Was someone playing a trick on him? He punched the door. Declan knew instantly, that that was a very bad idea.
Declan Red was obnoxious. it wasn't his snotty nose. it wasn't his piggy eyes. it wasn't even his tendency to take everyone else's lunch (although that could contribute.) no. Declan was obnoxious because of his attitude.
'Give that back!' Criss yelled. 'that's for my brother!'
'Nope!' grinned Declan, holding the large chocolate bar above Criss' head. He took a big slobbery bite.
‘You…’ Criss lunged for the Mars Bar. He hit it out of Declan’s hand, and it hit the ground, instantly starting to melt in a chocolaty puddle on the playground slide. Declan stopped, and stared down at the boy 3 Cm shorter than him.
‘Now you’ve done it!’ Declan charged at the smaller boy, and…
‘Now stop right there!’ yelled Mr Jenkins, the PE teacher. He flung his skipping rope expertly to catch the running Declan around the shins. Declan crashed down at a petrified Criss’ feet, who, awoken from his stupor, ran as fast as he could away.
‘Declan Red,’ Mr Jenkins said slowly. ‘Go to the principal’s office. Now.’
‘Inexcusable behaviour…wrong thing to do…poor Criss…suspension for three days.’ This was the string of unrelated words Declan heard as he sat in the uncomfortable chair in front of Miss Zahner, the principal.
‘Yes Miss Zahner,’ Declan droned. He had been in the principal’s office so many times he had broken a school record, at 1,000 visits this year.
‘Now get out!’ Miss Zahner said. Declan obediently got up, and walked out of the door. He shoved Freddy Zean out of the way, and stormed down the corridor, and out of the school.
‘Been suspended again?’ the matron for Declan’s dormitory, Miss Handers said in a bored voice. ‘Well, get to your dormitory.’ Declan trudged up the stairs. He flung himself onto his mattress, and stared up at the ceiling. It was tonight. He was going to run away, far away from this orphanage, this school, these people. Maybe to Queensland. That would be nice. Away from all those accusing stares. He gathered up all his things, which took approximately 2 minutes, as he had only a second set of clothes, a jumper, an action figure of Hulk, and the last thing his parents – father and half-mother, Declan reminded himself – had given him. A note, saying never come back. He sighed. Then, he waited. And waited. And waited. He knew his presence at the dinner table wouldn’t be missed. He waited until he heard the feet marching up the stairs, and Miss Handers calling, ‘Lights out! Lights out I tell you! Vincent, please stop attempting to shove the cat in the fire. It doesn’t like it!’ Then, he opened his window, and looked down at the ground below.
It was high up, seeing as he was three stories up, but Declan had made an escape plan. He took out his Hulk action figure, and threw his bag down. It landed safely below. He looked out, and reached for a pipe. It just held his weight. Declan slowly inched his way down, until he was close enough to the ground to jump. He landed uncomfortably on his bag, then picked it up, and ran. He ran down the road, and into the park. There, he started walking. PE had never been his strong spot. Declan walked onward, crickets chirping, the night air blowing on his face. It was almost peaceful. Then, he nearly ran into the door.
Declan stared at the strange door. It was just there. Nothing was behind it; nothing was in front of it. He could have sworn that it wasn't there before. Just standing. In the middle of a patch of grass with a sign saying, ‘do not place anything on this grass.’ At 7:00 in the evening. It was covered in swirls...and they seemed to be moving.
Declan scoffed. His mind must be playing tricks on him. He turned around…and there it was! In front of him. He looked behind him, but it wasn’t there. He turned again, and started running, only to nearly walk into it again. He grunted in anger. Was someone playing a trick on him? He punched the door. Declan knew instantly, that that was a very bad idea.