Follow Me Back by Nicci Cloke

sword,
    Th’expectancy and rose of the fair state,
    The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
    Th’observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
    And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
    That sucked the honey of his music vows,
    Now see that noble and most sovereign reason
    Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
    Thatunmatched form and feature of blown youth
    Blasted with ecstasy. Oh, woe is me,
    T’have seen what I have seen, see what I see!
    Her Ophelia speech. It seems like so long ago that I saw her say it. That I first
saw
her. So much has happened since then.
    I glance at the clock in the corner of the screen and realise I’ve missed the start of registration. I shove my phone in my bag and headfor my form room.
    Dr Radclyffe is my form tutor as well as my history teacher, and he’s just the same in both lessons; soft-spoken, quiet, but alert – his eyes always darting around, always watching, always listening, like really listening, when you’re speaking to him. He’s a nice guy, and funny, too, although a lot of his jokes are obscure history ones we don’t get.
    He looks up as I walkin and makes a mark against my name on the register without saying anything about me being late. He waits for me to sit, adjusting his little wire glasses on his long nose before he starts speaking again.
    ‘The police are setting up an interview room in Mr Maclaren’s office, and they’ll be calling some of you from your lessons throughout the day. They’ve been given a comprehensive list of yourtimetables by Mr Selby and they’ll try to schedule interviews during your free periods. So please do not leave school grounds during those times.’
    He taps his pencil against his desk, long fingers crooked around it. ‘It’s really nothing to worry about. They’re just trying to get a wider picture about Lizzie Summersall’s life here, and anything that might shed light on her disappearance.’
    Scobie catches my eye from across the room where he’s perched on the windowsill. Radclyffe has a pretty slack policy on us sitting at our desks in form room.
    There’s a couple of groans from people who aren’t too happy about being kept on site when such glamorous places as the Rec or the chippy downtown await.
    ‘It’s like she’s a little kid,’ Darnell Hudson, the goalie on our Aggers team, says.‘Get
over
it.’
    ‘Errr, sensitive much?’ Jorgie Mitchell, a pretty blonde girl from my English class, says, turning to glare at Darnell. ‘Her poor family.’
    ‘Oh what, cos she wanted to get away from her moron sister? No wonder she ditched them,’ Darnell says, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall.
    I ignore the fact that Scobie is still trying very hard to catch my eye.
    ‘You’resuch a dick, Darnell,’ Jorgie says, and the girls around her tut in agreement.
    ‘Just to be clear,’ Radclyffe says, in his usual level, diplomatic voice. ‘Lizzie’s disappearance is being treated as suspicious. I don’t know what the police know, but if they’re asking for our help, that’s because they want to make sure she’s safe. And I’m sure that’s something you’ll all be more than happy to helpwith.’
    Scobie’s eyes are practically boring holes in me by this point. Everyone gets up to head to lessons and I push my way out, not wanting to hang around and listen to all the muttered conversations about Lizzie. I walk slowly so that Scobie can catch up with me as I leave the Keep.
    ‘We have to tell them, Aiden.’ He takes off his glasses and polishes them on the bottom of his jumper aswe walk, something he always does when he’s distracted.
    ‘I know,’ I say, the thought of being interviewed about Lizzie again making my stomach turn.
    ‘I mean, you’d hope they’d be able to figure it out for themselves,’ he says, pushing his glasses back up his nose. ‘It’s hardly advanced stuff.’
    We push through the double doors of the Keep and onto the playground. We’re in maths