It was the first day of the winter term, and the sky was grey and blustery as Misty made her way towards the school gates. Her pace quickened as she approached, the anticipation of seeing her two closest friends after what had felt like, to her, a never-ending break, building with every step that she took.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t wait to tell them about all the exciting things she had done with her time off, it was in fact the exact opposite, she couldn’t wait to forget about it entirely. The holiday had dragged. Misty had spent most of it curled up on the sofa, scrolling mindlessly through channels on the TV. Her father had tried his best to fill the void left in her life since her mother had died the summer before Misty started secondary school, but his idea of a Christmas dinner consisted of a plate of sausage rolls and readymade roast potatoes that were on offer in ALDI.

When Misty’s mum was still alive, Christmases had bristled with excitement. A few weeks before the big day, her dad would bring home a real, six-foot-tall fir tree, which Misty and her mum would decorate carefully with the baubles they had collected; one for each year since Misty was born. Her dad would be in charge of the music, Slade and Paul McCartney’s cheesy festive tunes blasting out of the antiquated CD player that perched in the corner of the living room like a relic from a previous life. Misty hadn’t minded her dad’s retro music taste so much back then. Back when there were still three of them and everything was generally much easier to tolerate.

Misty could barely remember her first Christmas without her mother. That year had passed by in a numbing blur; there were no forced celebrations, just an empty space where the tree would normally be, an aching reminder of all they had lost. She wasn’t sure which had been worse, the complete absence of the past two years, forgetting about it altogether, or the fake festivities of this most recent Christmas. Either way, she couldn’t wait to see her friends and go back to the safety and security of the regular school routine.

As usual, despite living the nearest to school, Misty was the last of her friends to arrive. Ruby’s mum was a successful lawyer who always dropped off Ruby well before school started and Jasmine, Misty’s other best friend, just didn’t like being late for anything. Misty was by far the most disorganised of the trio, always joining them at the last minute, her fiery red hair streaming out behind her, papers escaping from the top of her rucksack where she had hastily stuffed them before leaving the house.

It hadn’t always been this way but without her mother to remind her to pack her school bag the night before, handing her a lunchbox on her way out the door and asking if she had her PE kit, it wasn’t so easy. Her dad was too busy trying to hold down a job, run the house and pay for everything on one salary, so Misty tried her best not to bother him with anything she considered too trivial. Secondary school had offered Misty a fresh start. It was a chance to make new friends in a place where she wasn’t defined by or reminded of her loss.

As she passed through the gates and entered the playground, Misty made her way over to her friends. She was relieved to find that they weren’t talking about the Christmas break at all. Ruby was clutching an A5 piece of paper tightly to her chest and gesturing animatedly in Jasmine’s direction, barely pausing to acknowledge Misty as she approached them. Ruby was the confident one, which meant the other Year Nine girls were secretly a little bit afraid of her. She had wild curly black hair and olive-toned skin.

‘Auditions start this week,’ Ruby exclaimed in excitement, without giving any additional context. ‘The first round are at lunchtime.’

‘Auditions for what?’ Misty asked, her brain struggling to click into gear.

‘For the school play, silly,’ Ruby replied, as if this was the densest question she had ever had the misfortune to answer. ‘It’s Romeo and Juliet this year and I’m going to play Juliet.’

‘If you get the part,’ Jasmine suggested timidly. She stood literally head and shoulders above all of the other girls in their year and spent most of her time trying and failing to blend into the background. Her white-blonde hair and elvish pale skin didn’t help much.

‘Of course I will. Look, I’ve been practising.’ Ruby mimed drawing a dagger over her throat in a very dramatic fashion.

‘I thought she poisoned herself?’ Misty asked distractedly.

‘She did but it didn’t work. That was Romeo,’ Ruby continued. ‘Then Juliet wakes up, finds him dead and stabs herself. It’s all very complicated, you see. And very romantic. Can you imagine wanting to kill yourself over Shaun in Year Eleven?’

‘I think she stabs herself in the side.’ Jasmine blushed as she tried to steer the conversation away from the mention of her crush. The girls had been studying the Shakespeare play in their English class the previous term.

‘I know,’ Ruby confirmed. ‘I just decided that doing it this way would have more impact. You could call it artistic license, I suppose.’

‘I’m sure you’ll get the part,’ Misty said firmly.

The sound of the bell cut through Ruby’s reply and the three girls headed off towards their form groups for registration. Misty and Jasmine were both in the same form, 9C, but Ruby was in 9E, much to her annoyance. Even Ruby couldn’t persuade the teachers to move her to the same form as her friends.

‘Good luck!’ Misty called as Ruby turned and marched off in the opposite direction, practising her lines as she went. ‘See you later.’

But Ruby didn’t reply for she was already busy, lost in her own world of plays and poetry, imagining what it would feel like to lose her imaginary lover to his own fatal hand.

‘How were the auditions?’ Misty asked when she met Ruby in the playground after school. Jasmine had already left for her after-school swimming lesson, but Misty had stayed behind knowing that Ruby would be raring to give her a full, blow-by-blow account of the proceedings.

‘Fine,’ Ruby replied hesitantly. ‘At least, I think I did enough to impress them.’

‘I’m sure you did.’

‘They told me I got through to the next round anyway, though I was kind of hoping they’d be so blown away by my performance they would offer me the part of Juliet on the spot.’

‘When is the next round?’ Usually, the main part in the school play went to one of the older pupils in the school but Misty was used to Ruby’s outlandish imaginings and knew it was usually best to go along with them. Besides, if anyone could defeat the Year Eleven girls, Ruby would be the one to do it.

‘Wednesday and we’ll find out who got what part on Friday. They’re going to put a list up on the noticeboard outside the Year Eleven common room.’

The girls turned at the sound of a roaring engine as a sleek four-by-four drew up alongside them. Ruby’s younger brother, Jason, was hanging out of the back window pulling faces at them as her mum shouted for Ruby to get in the car.

‘I’d better go,’ Ruby said glumly. ‘See you tomorrow.’

As Ruby opened the door on the front passenger side, Misty could see that her mum was busy taking a call on her hands-free and already indicating, impatient to be off as she tried to pull out into the busy after-school traffic.

‘Sorry, Misty,’ Ruby’s mum called out of the window. ‘I’d give you a lift home, but I’ve got to get back for a meeting.’

‘That’s ok, Sheila. Bye, Ruby. See you tomorrow,’ she called as the car edged its way slowly forward. She smiled wistfully as the vehicle retreated, missing the hustle and bustle of her friend’s family already.

As Misty walked up the hill towards home, she could see that all of the lights were on in the living room even though it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. The house glowed ominously in the cold, winter darkness like a lighthouse warning her to stay away from the door. From the top of the hill, you could almost make out the hidden blackness of the sea in the distance, and a sudden chill made her pause for a moment, before pushing on through the downward gusts of wind and upwards to where the house was waiting to greet her.

Misty pushed open the cast-iron gate and it squeaked in protest as she dislodged droplets of frozen water from its hinges. The path was overgrown with weeds, but the lawn was as immaculate as ever and there didn’t seem to be any other sign of a disturbance. The door stood closed before her, its bright red paint a cheerful contrast to the surrounding gloom. The windows were tightly shut to keep the cool evening air at bay. From the front garden, the living room looked undisturbed.

Misty opened...