Read The Radleys for Free Online Page B

front of her when she needs more than anything for no one to be there. No one except her mum and dad.
    And he looks suddenly dangerous, his drunken face revealing its potential for human evil. She wonders if this is how dogs and monkeys feel in the laboratory when they suddenly realize the scientists aren’t there to be nice to them.
    “Please,” she manages, “just leave me alone.”
    He is cross at this, as if she is deliberately trying to hurt him. “I know you fancy me. Just stop pretending.”
    Pretending.
    The word swirls in her mind, becomes a meaningless sound. She is sure she can detect the earth spinning around on its axis.
    She tries to focus.
    There is an empty road at the end of the field.
    A road that leads to Bishopthorpe.
    To her parents.
    To home.
    And away from him.
    She must cal them. She must, she must, she must . . .
    “Fuckin’ ’el !”
    She has thrown up on his shoes.
    “They’re new!” he says.
    She wipes her mouth, feeling slightly more normal.
    “Sorry,” she says. She is now able to realize how vulnerable she is, this far from the party and not close enough to the road.
    She walks past him with a new urgency, keeps heading down the sloping ground toward the road. But stil he fol ows her.
    “It’s al right though. I forgive you.”
    She ignores him and starts to dial her parents’ number, but in her nervousness she gets it wrong and goes into her settings instead of her contacts.
    He catches up. “I said it’s al right.” His voice has changed. He’s sounding angry, even when he dresses the words with a laugh.
    “I’m il . Just leave me.”
    She clicks on address book. It’s there, the number, glowing at her from the screen with comforting accuracy. She presses dial.
    “I’l make you better. Come on, I know you like me.”
    She has the phone to her ear. It starts to ring. They wil be eating. They won’t be near the phone.
    Clara prays on each mechanical bleat that her parents wil pick up. But three or four rings in and the mobile is out of her hands. He has grabbed it roughly from her. He is switching it off.
    She can sense, even though she is very il , that the joke is becoming darker. She is a girl, and he is a boy twice her size who could do anything to her. Three miles away, she thinks, her mum and dad are having a friendly conversation with the Felts over dinner. Three miles have never felt so far.
    “What are you doing?”
    She watches her mobile slide into his jeans pocket.
    “I’ve got your phone. Samsung piece of shit.” He is a child. He is a three-year-old blown up into a monster.
    “Please, give it to me. I need to cal my mum.”
    “Come and get it.”

    “Please, just give it back.”
    He comes closer. Puts his arm around her. She tries to resist, but he is using more strength, tightening his grip. She catches the alcohol on his breath.
    “I know you fancy me,” he says. “Eve told Toby you fancy me.”
    Clara’s heart trips and speeds toward panic. “Please,” she says, one last time.
    “Shit, what’s the matter? You’re the one who was sick on me. You’re as weird as your brother.”
    He tries to kiss her. She turns her head away.
    His voice comes at her, hard as stone. “What, you think you’re too good for me? You’re not too good for me.”
    She shouts for help now, with his arm across her, his hand pressing onto the body he wants to enjoy.
    “Help!” she shouts again, her head turning toward the way she came. The words only reach cows, who are watching her with a fear she shares. Harper too is now in a panic. She can see it on his face, his desperate smile and frightened eyes. Unable to work out a better solution, he places his hand over her mouth. Her eyes scan the road. No cars. No sign of anyone. She screams through his hand, but only a desperate muffle escapes. The sound causes him to press harder, hurting her jaw.
    He presses at the back of her legs, behind her knees, and pul s her down to the ground.
    “You’re not better than