Fractured by Teri Terry

And meeting with Nico at the end of the day: we have to do something .
    Crossing the grounds, we spot an empty bench, one of two. When boys sitting on the other one see us heading over, they quickly split up and spread their stuff over both of them.
    ‘Nice,’ Cam says.
    ‘I’m used to it. Are you sure you want to risk being seen with me?’
    ‘Are you kidding? You’re a babe.’
    I laugh. ‘A Slated babe, don’t forget.’
    ‘Was that their problem?’ He looks back. ‘Want me to go rough them up for you?’ And he drops into a boxing stance, fists up.
    ‘All three of them? What would you do if I said yes?’
    He looks both ways. ‘Hide. But I have my ways of getting back at people, y’know. When they least expect it.’ And he laughs in a mwahahaha villain sort of way.
    ‘Sure you do.’
    ‘Doesn’t what they did bother you?’
    ‘It used to. But…’ And I stop.
    ‘But what?’
    ‘People around me have a way of disappearing. That might be their reason, and, if so, I can’t really argue.’
    ‘Disappearing?’ His face forms into a serious expression. So he does have one. ‘That happens everywhere,’ he says, with such bitterness that I wonder what lies behind it.
    ‘Look, there’s one.’ I point at an empty bench on its own, behind the admin building. ‘If you dare.’
    ‘Well, let me think. Have you got a portable Bermuda triangle that follows you about?’
    I look side to side. ‘I must have left it at home today.’
    ‘Are you going to put invisibility potion in my sandwiches when I’m not looking?’
    ‘No!’
    ‘Then I’ll risk it.’
    And I don’t tell him the other reason why it doesn’t bother me so much any more. The list of things bothering me has been well and truly taken over; high school boys being stupid seems low priority.
    We munch our sandwiches in silence, and he pulls out the cake.
    ‘There are two pieces here,’ I say. ‘Were you planning this?’
    ‘Who, me? No. I’m a growing boy. I always take two pieces of cake. But I don’t mind sharing.’ He hands one across and I take a big bite.
    Light, sweet. Yummy! ‘I wish my mum liked to bake.’
    ‘How long have you lived there?’
    I look at him sideways. ‘Not long. Almost two months.’
    ‘Do you ever wonder about your other parents?’
    ‘My other parents?’ I stall, though I know what he means. This conversation is venturing into no-go territory, the sort of stuff I’m not supposed to think about, let alone talk about. Slateds have no past; they start over. Looking back is not allowed.
    ‘You know. Before you were Slated.’
    ‘Sometimes,’ I admit.
    ‘Would you track them down if you could?’
    Uncomfortable with where this is going, I busy my mouth with eating cake. Tracking down my past life would be well and truly illegal. Just being overheard having this conversation could be dangerous for us, and who knows who listens, or how? I wouldn’t put it past the Lorders to bug every bench in the school – they and their spies like Mrs Ali are everywhere.
    ‘What about you?’ I ask when all that is left of the cake is crumbs.
    ‘What?’
    ‘You said your dad took off. Do you still see him?’
    The serious look is back, and the pause is long.
    ‘Kyla, listen.’ His voice drops a notch lower. ‘You know what I said before, about people disappearing everywhere?’
    I nod.
    ‘My dad didn’t split. Lorders took him. They broke into our house in the middle of the night, and hauled him away. Haven’t seen or heard from him since.’
    ‘Oh, Cam.’ I stare at him, shocked. He seems so carefree, so uncomplicated. Yet he knows what it is like to have someone he cares for go missing. Like Ben.
    ‘Yeah. He was involved in some things they didn’t like. Something to do with finding missing people. Illegal websites and stuff.’
    MIA?
    I look nervously side to side. No one I can see is close enough to hear, yet some part of me doesn’t trust this conversation. But I can’t stop myself. ‘And your