The next chapter is uncomfortably autobiographical. And yes, before anybody says so, it would be fair to call Anja a Mary Sue, albeit a pretty lazy one. A more interesting Mary Sue would have gone around solving the mystery with her secret detective powers instead of just sitting there like a lemon.

I never told any of the others that I thought that, especially not Mr Daly. If I’d told Mark, Estelle, Gary or Joe they’d have probably thought I was just suffering from concussion or something. But Mr Daly would have launched into another stupid speech about how ignorant and irresponsible the youth of today are, getting excited when they should be miserable about never seeing their family and friends again.

Yes… “Stupid speech.”

(Seriously, this could all have been solved by establishing that Anja’s parents didn’t like her much and were secretly relieved to be rid of her. Yeah, it would have been a bit Roald Dahl, but it would have been better than this.)

But before I give you a live example of one of these pathetic rants (as well as a bit of conversation from Mark, Estelle, etc), let me explain why I thought it.

My life is a lot better than a lot of other people’s lives. I’m sure there’s people who’d want to kill me for complaining, so I’ll just say that my life has been pretty good. But the thing is, right up to the bus disaster it was boring. I had quite a few friends at school, but all they seemed to want to do was whinge about their boyfriends (I whinged because I didn’t have one). We mostly seemed settled into talking about what a disgusting blob our form tutor was (hey, there’s a thought- I hope he didn’t turn up on one of those dumb memorial programmes. That would be unbearable).

She gets more sympathetic by the second, doesn’t she?

And, in my humble opinion, the boys in our area weren’t much better. Pustule-covered maggots, every last one of them. I always felt a bit separate from everyone, even my friends and relatives, as if I was the narrator and they were the actors. In school, everyone was talking about plans for the future, but I had a sneaking feeling that greatness was about to be thrust upon me.

Said every serial killer ever.

The trouble is, I’d had that feeling since I was about six, so it was beginning to wear a bit thin. It was beginning to be overtaken by a nasty suspicion that I’d end up an unfulfilled old spinster, doing whatever unfulfilled old spinsters get up to. OK, both thoughts were a little unrealistic, but they seemed very real to me. And one of them came true, remember? That’s why I thought it was cool.

Young-me really needed to learn how paragraphs worked. And “unfulfilled old spinster”? Are we living in the 1950s?

(This story ends with two women getting married to the loves of their lives in their teens or very early twenties, with little or no mention of any career plans. So maybe we are.)

But the most I thought would happen was us forming a group and suing the bus company, getting much media attention and people admiring our bravery and falling in love with us.

What bravery? And who falls in love with somebody just because they’ve sued a bus company?

And I don’t know why Anja is talking like a doge. Especially since the doge meme wouldn’t exist until ten or eleven years after I wrote this.

I didn’t imagine in my wildest dreams that we’d be involved in a murder plot. Well, actually I did imagine that sort of thing, but not realistically.

“I didn’t imagine it, except that I did.”

“You’re a perfect example of the nation’s youth! The dregs always float to the top in this backward society, getting what they don’t deserve! In my day, that never happened! You had to work for even the most basic things, let me tell you! Your aunt sounds like a respectable woman, and if she is she should have disinherited you a long time ago! You’re nothing but a wastrel!”

This was all directed at Joe, who hadn’t moved from his slouching position on the sofa since Mr Daly started.   While Gary, sitting nearby, was trembling so much that you’d think it was him getting yelled at, Joe seemed indifferent to the shouts. At some point during the rant, a knowing smirk had settled on his face.

Good to see Anja’s not the only unbearably smug one. And Mr Daly is a Daily-Mail-reader-strawman, in case you couldn’t tell.

Joe kept his gaze on Mr Daly until he’d shut up, then swivelled his brown eyes towards me. “Anja,” he said in a patronising-sounding way, “do you know what ‘narcissistic’ means?”

“Um…”

Mr Daly took my hesitation as a no. “Well, I should have guessed she wouldn’t know! She’s the same as you, always taking and never putting anything back! You’re…”

I gave him a venomous look. “I think it means ‘vain’, Joe,” I interrupted. Mr Daly was going to snap something, but then he realised I was right. He ended up in a sulk.

I’m not sure what “always taking and never putting anything back” has to do with not knowing the definition of words. I think I was just playing Daily Mail mad-libs at this point.

Joe’s smile widened. “So what’s vain about wanting to watch the news?”

“Because the news is about yourself!” Mr Daly replied, getting worked up again, “You only want to watch the television tributes to you!”

I could see why Mr Daly got so annoyed at Joe. I didn’t like it, but I could see why.

SPOILERS- Considering that Anja later develops a grudge against Joe completely at random, you’d think she’d be more understanding.

Joe had a whole aura of laziness, and his smirk suggested that everyone else was just about to walk into traps he’d set. Most annoyingly of all (to someone like Mr Daly, at least) Joe managed to make fun of people while being really, really polite to them, so he couldn’t be criticised for being rude and uncouth like other “young people” as Mr Daly put it.

We will see none of this politeness in the story.

There was something about Joe that made me feel uncomfortable, probably because I’m a girl. I didn’t like the looks he was giving me one bit.

And this plot point will go absolutely nowhere. That was a worthwhile paragraph, wasn’t it?

“They’ve barely mentioned me,” Joe laughed, “They’re too hung up on their golden girl.” I already knew he meant me, but he gave me a look that would have spelled it out to any idiot.

Mark had known Joe for ages, so he wasn’t really bothered by the slippery factor. “Got that right,” he sniggered, “You’re a celebrity, Anj. We’ve been fed so much information about you, we’ll probably know you inside out by the time this is over. Mind you, you’re more interesting than some celebs I could mention.”

“It’s probably not all true, though,” Estelle countered, not noticing her hoop earrings catching on her hair, “If any girl was as sugary-sweet as they’ve made Anja out to be, they’d probably have been out healing the sick all day.”

“Tell you what, we’ll test it,” Mark replied, “Anja, what’s your favourite flower?”

“Venus fly traps, I guess.”

Because Anja is QUIRKY and UNIQUE, got it?

“Really? Only they said in the paper it was tulips. Looks like you’re right, love.” Mark gave Estelle an amorous look as he said this. Within an hour of my meeting Estelle, Mark had told me he had absolutely no idea why she agreed to marry him, but he wasn’t complaining. As well as inheriting the mysterious look, glittering eyes and midnight black hair that had helped to make her mother a film star (I don’t know about the acting talent), Estelle had a brilliant personality, a really sharp brain and, to be honest, tonnes of money. Mark said he would have been over the moon even if she only had 10p in the bank, because he’d always thought girls like her were way out of his league. I think Mark really underestimated how likeable he was. But that’s not important.

It’s probably a bad idea to describe a character as having a “brilliant personality” in their first appearance. Even if you’ve worked out exactly how you’re going to show it, some of your readers might disagree with you about what having a “brilliant personality” actually entails. It’s risky even at the best of times.

And, of course, if you have no idea how to show it, and said character completely disappears from the narrative about halfway through because you can’t think of anything to do with her, then you’re really in trouble.

“Why did they say my favourite flower?” I asked. Estelle gave me a worried look, but I could see she was going to tell me. “Well, you see honey, they were describing your memorial service.” She could see that this was a morbid thought, but I think we’d all inwardly decided that morbid thoughts were going to be a big feature of my life now that I was meant to be dead.

Not for the first time, Joe gave me a creepy smile. “Looks like you’ll have to change your name now. You can’t have a name that’s written on a monument.” I couldn’t help imagining what my gravestone would look like. For a moment, I had a terrible desire to go and look. Then I realised what a stupid idea this would be. Not to mention the fact that I’d already been feeling strange enough recently.

Yes, Anja’s been feeling strange. Anja is clearly the person who’s suffering most in this situation.

“There’s a thought,” Mark said quickly, to distract from his friend’s bad taste, “You can use my surname if you want, but Anja isn’t exactly a common name, is it?”

I thought for a bit. “Well, I could spell it A-N-Y-A. It wouldn’t change the way you pronounce it. Or I could just drop the J and leave it like that. Um, that would. Oh, I know, I could use my middle name.”

“Didn’t think of that. So, what is it?” Estelle asked.

“Maureen.”

And this is clearly the most pressing issue at hand- which fake names to use.

In the flurry that followed (Joe grinning mockingly, Mr Daly looking sniffy, Mark pretending to be sick and Estelle giving him daggers with her cool eyes) Gary, who’d been mainly silent and doodling in his pad so far, looked up and smiled. “That’s a great name,” he whispered, “It really suits you.” He paused. “I just can’t see why anyone would want to hurt someone like you. Not unless they were jealous.”

“Well…” I ran through a list of people who hated me. There weren’t many. OK, Lydia and her dumb mates always made a point of calling me a geek, but they did that to a lot of people. My Geography teacher thought I was wasting oxygen by continuing to breathe, but again, he… Wait a minute, why had Gary said something as random as that?

Because expressing love for you and weeping are his only two character traits, Anja. Weren’t you paying attention?

And, yes. Jealousy is the only reason anyone could have to dislike Anja.  The girl’s a saint.

“There’s a point. Good on ya, short arse,” said Mark, “It sounds creepy, but we should go through the reasons why someone would want to kill us.”

Pfft, why do something as boring as that? We’ve got fake names to sort out!

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” You can probably guess who said that. Mark replied, in an irritatingly reasonable tone, “No it’s not. We’ve got to work out if someone’s plotting against us, haven’t we? You never know, more innocent- or not so innocent- lives could be at stake. I mean, we survived alright, but others might not be so lucky.” Mr Daly seemed grudgingly satisfied with this explanation, so Mark continued. “Let’s take me for a start.”

“As usual,” Estelle teased.

“True, I’m brilliant. So brilliant I can only think of one reason for people wanting to kill me. Go on,” he grinned at Gary and Mr Daly, as Estelle rolled her eyes, “Guess.”

I answered instead. “Because they were in love with Estelle?”

“Precisely.”

“Mark, I’m not the only reason for people to want to kill you!” Estelle laughed, pushing Mark gently, “I can think of others. Your jokes for a start.”

Did I mention that fifteen-year-old me had no idea where to put the comic relief?

“It’s true. I can’t think of anything else I’ve got going for me enough for people to want to bump me off to get it. My jokes aren’t really that bad.” Estelle gave him a look that told me she didn’t agree. “Look, scandalously untrue comments about my sense of humour aside,” Mark continued, “It’s pretty obvious why someone would want to kill Joe, too.”

I was pleased that someone was finally bringing this up. “Yeah. Who’s next in line for your aunt’s cash, Joe?”

Joe looked pensive, then turned his gaze right back to me. Oh man, I hope he doesn’t think I fancy him, I thought, glad when he finally started speaking.

Because, again, that’s clearly the thing you should be worried about right now!

And, again, this whole “Joe might fancy Anja” plotline goes absolutely nowhere. Because it’s stupid.

“I’m not sure,” Joe said, “My aunt told me most of it was going to me, but she didn’t say what would happen if anything happened to me. And before you say anything, yes, a lot of my family liked Estelle, but I’m not sure which ones liked her enough to want to kill her husband. Maybe all of them.”

“Maybe all of them.”

“Joe, that’s not true and you know it!” Estelle blushed. She was lying. I could tell that she knew pretty much all the men (and probably some of the women) she knew had a mad crush on her, but didn’t want to admit it in case she sounded conceited. That was the main difference between her personality and Mark’s. Mark honestly didn’t have a clue why Estelle found him attractive.

I’m glad Estelle’s so pleased to hear that Joe’s family is made up entirely of murderers.

“We’ll come back to that later,” said Mark, clearly a bit worried. I don’t think he’d realised before that being married to someone like Estelle meant that a lot of people wanted you to split up- or worse. He grabbed a cookery book from off the table, and wrote in the inside front cover.

Me- Estelle

Joe- cash

Keith-

Anja Maureen Cleary (heh heh heh)-

Gary-

“OK, Mr Daly,” Mark said to a man who clearly didn’t like being referred to as Keith, “Can you think of any reason that someone would want to kill you?” Mark’s grin subliminally added “Apart from the obvious.”

“No I can’t,” snapped the man who knew he was being insulted by a grin, “And if you’re going to ask the girl I’m afraid I shall have to leave.”

“I have a name, you know,” I snarled, but instead everyone listened to Joe, who was asking Mr Daly where he’d go if he left.

…His house?

Mr Daly gave him the look of pure hatred that people reserve for people who point out that they’ve just made an idle threat.

But… His house…

I decided to start talking, if only to stop them killing each other.

“I can’t think of anyone who hated me enough to kill me. There were some people who thought I was a pain in the butt, sure, but I thought the same of them and I didn’t blow up any buses.”

Estelle grabbed the pencil from Mark, and wrote Prob. innocent bystanders next to my name and Mr Daly’s. Mark took it back and added Research into pain-in-the-butt theory with a mischievous grin.

It is a theory worth researching, I’ll give him that.

“What did you just write, young man?” Mr Daly asked, but Mark had turned hastily towards Gary. “How about you, oh silent one?”

As Mr Daly muttered on about knowing when he wasn’t wanted and suspecting Mark to be ageist, Gary said something quietly. “You what?” Mark asked, and I think there was possibly someone in a coma in New Zealand who didn’t hear him. Gary spoke quickly and didn’t look any of us in the eye. “Nothing important. Just something dumb at school. Sorry I bothered you.” We could tell by the tone of his voice that it would be a really, really bad idea to ask him any more questions.

So they don’t bother. Hey, who needs to follow up promising leads when you can bicker with Mr Daly?

Gary looked about as stable as a 50-year-old atom bomb that nobody had bothered to deconstruct, and even a complete moron (i.e.-Mr Daly) could pick up on his fear. We needed to be careful with him, I realised, or we wouldn’t like the results.

I think we were all relieved when Estelle closed the book and suggested we order a pizza. But ten eyes were fixed on Gary to see if he did anything. I knew the thoughts in our heads were, for once, as one.

What do you know, Gary Wolf? Why are you so scared?

But they didn’t bother to ask out loud. Asking out loud is for losers.

As it turned out, when I found out what it was I could understand why Gary didn’t want to tell. In his position, I would have wanted to take a secret like that to the grave. In his position, I’d probably have blocked out the memory in the first place.

In his position, I wouldn’t have been able to live with the thoughts.

And so, at the end of the chapter, we come to Gary’s second personality trait. Next time, Gary weeps a lot, Anja completely ignores her family’s suffering, and Mr Daly is bullied for no reason. See you then!