Roadkill by Daisy White

Author:Daisy White [White, Daisy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781479333561
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2012-09-27T00:00:00+00:00

‘Dead Hour is between 0200 and 0300. Statistically this is when most natural deaths occur. It is said to be an hour when life and death merge, creating a bridge to another place. Senses are heightened, your mind and body are electric, and you can do things you never dreamed of…’

Yeah right, common sense tells me. Especially that crap about most people dying….bet they made that up. Still it feels….peaceful, and as I judder towards the coast, the smell of petrol and the taste of salty air calm me.

Suddenly I remember Matt’s text about the bloke who started LiveWire. I totally forgot to ask him which newspaper so I could check the archives online. I make a note to myself to Google it after the dare. Who needs sleep? Even when I arrive and stash the scooter under a bush, mingling with other shadowy figures, I am calm. I have a mission.

“Name?” snaps a tall willowy girl, wild blonde curls loose in the sea breeze and surf shorts clinging to her skinny body. And goose bumps. I can’t exactly ask her if she’s Deathwitch, so I smile uncertainly.

“Farlan.” I stick with the plan and watch her closely, but she doesn’t react, just checks off my name and waves towards to beach. Come to think of it she’s probably too cold to care. I am so glad of my jumper now.

“So you nervous?” Jumping like a scared rabbit I turn to a couple of boys trudging next to me.

“Can’t be as bad as Si. He puked on the way here!”

“Hey, gimme a break. It’s my first time. You freaks have been doing this for years!” His shorter, tubbier mate defends himself.

I give them a slightly forced smile, then remember they probably can’t see me in the darkness. Although I quiz the more confident of the two, he clearly has never heard of Rose, or Farlan, and his arrogance is irritating so I slide into a crowd of four girls, marvelling that my usual shyness has taken a back seat. Tonight I am Rose; tough, athletic and confident, and about to collect my seventh star.

“Here you go, Farlan!” My new best friend Frankie, hands me a shot glass, and I remember the bottle crashing to the ground in the high wire video at the cement works. A premonition of unease, but I ignore it.

Frankie is babbling in her nervousness, and in no time I learn she is eighteen like me, has no idea what to do after college and is currently working as a till girl at her local supermarket. I warm to her. She is petite, and curvy, and as we knock back the alcohol and strip down for the swim, I see she has mistakenly donned a cute O’Neill bikini.

We follow the peeved looking Deathwitch down the beach, scrunching stones, and seaweed on the tide line. Next to the old lifeboat station a small blue and white motor boat bobs gently on the waves. Although a couple of lads (there

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