Ruby pulled the duvet over her head, balled her body up tight as a fist. Screw everyone. Screw everything. She didn’t care.

Sometimes, when she shouted at her parents, she absolutely didn’t really feel the complete opposite, and want a hug more than anything else in the world. Definitely not. Of course she wasn’t rejecting love rather than risking being rejected herself. That would be ridiculous.

She wiped a tear from her face and told herself once again that she absolutely did not care. She would fight fire with war. She was tougher and stronger than her bullies, and in her boyfriend she had the only ally she would ever need.

But her lying heart pounded. Traitorous tears leaked from the sides of her eyes. Her mobile buzzed again, and she gave an involuntary shiver. It was ten p.m., but the hounding was oblivious to the time of day or night.

Punching Jayne had made things ten times worse. The texts and social media abuse had become a storm over the last few days.

Ruby’s trembling hand reached from beneath the Hades of her duvet, and wrapped reluctantly around her mobile. Once unlocked, the light from the phone was bright as a torch in the darkness of her hiding place. It made her think momentarily of Mouse, of when they had shared a room, and her heart gave a funny stutter of affection: little weirdo. Just as well they didn’t share a room now, though. Ruby barely slept. When she did, she had nightmares: the fear of being beaten up again; the misery of her everyday life and her isolation from the rest of the world chasing her even in her dreams.

She should delete this new text. Not bother reading it. Reading it was stupid.

But she needed to know what was being said about her, what people were thinking. She had to attempt to understand. Why didn’t people like her? She had tried and tried. There was nothing more she could have done and yet every single advance had been rejected and mocked.

Almost of its own volition, her thumb pressed on the message icon.

Ruby let the anger burn away her tears.

Her whole body seemed to pound with her pulse as she waited for a reply. Minutes passed. Perhaps replying, confronting Jayne or whoever it was with words instead of fists, had done the trick. Scared her off. Made her realise things had gone too far.

Ruby unclenched her toes, allowed herself to relax, just the tiniest bit.

A vibration. The phone lit up. Ruby reached out a finger, let it hover for a heartbeat, then opened up the message.

A single word blazed up at her.

Pushing the phone away as if it were on fire, she curled in on herself again. Bit on her fist to muffle her terrified yelps. Her bullies wanted her dead.

Outside, she heard her father’s car pull up. Listened to the sounds of him coming inside then going into his study, which was immediately below her room. She threw the duvet back, wanting to run to him and feel protected like she had when she was little. When he had taught her to play rugby. She had loved that, had only stopped because the girls at school had found out about it.

They made all kinds of comments about her being butch, accusing her of being a lesbian. The girls had hidden themselves from her in mock horror when in the changing rooms getting ready for PE, sneering and sniggering that she was leering at them because she fancied them, when in reality she hadn’t even dared cast a glance their way. So what if she had been a lesbian, anyway, it was nothing to be ashamed of. The comments were pathetic, but it had been enough for her to stop the rugby sessions with her dad in the park. When she had lost those, she felt as though part of her had been lost with it. She had only been eleven at the time, but she had somehow known even then that she would never get back her childhood happiness.

Since then, she and her father had grown increasingly distant. Would things have been different had she explained to him why she had stopped playing? Almost certainly not, she decided. He was a complete wanker these days. No, she wouldn’t show weakness by telling him what she was going through. Instead, she forced herself to pick up her phone again and dial.

It rang four times before a sleepy voice answered.

‘Harry, it’s me. Can you come over, please? I’ve had some more texts. They’re horrible… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you, but you said to tell you.’

‘Hey, hey. I’ll be right over.’

‘Don’t come to the front door. Climb up to my window.’

‘No worries. See you soon.’

Ruby sat up, wrapped her thin arms around her knees and waited, rocking slightly. Eyes closed, trying to calm herself down. She heard murmuring coming from Mouse’s room, and slipped from her own bed to see if something was wrong. When she opened her little sister’s door, a sliver of gentle light from the landing sliced through the darkness and cut dark shadows onto Mouse’s peaceful face.

The kid must have been talking in her sleep. She giggled, turned without opening her eyes, face snuggled into Ted.

Ruby remembered one time when Mouse was about three and hadn’t been able to sleep, so she had made up a story for her little sister. Each of her cuddly toys had had a part, and Ruby had never felt so content as she had watching Mouse’s rapt attention sliding into yawns and heavy sighs and finally sleep.

Now, she took a step towards her, envious of the peace. Furious that she couldn’t find some herself. Another step. Another.

She bent down. Felt her sister’s breath warming her chilled cheek.

Ruby glanced over her shoulder. There was no one around to witness what she was about to do.

Closer she leaned. Kissed her on the forehead.

‘Sleep tight.’

She stole back into her bedroom, in time to hear a gentle tap on her window.

---

Once inside, Harry held her tight, listened to her fears, checked the messages and looked so angry that, for a moment, Ruby was afraid. She thanked her lucky stars he was on her side. When he dialled the number, there was no answer. There never had been when she had tried, either.

‘Come here,’ he said, lying down and pulling her down beside him. ‘I’ll stay with you until you go to sleep. You’re safe with me.’

She put her head on his chest. This time when she curled up, it was in pleasure. Harry smelled of chicken in batter and chips, and the sharp, clean deodorant he always used, and the distinctive smell of cold air that still clung to him. Comforting things. She snuggled in closer, gave a deep sigh of contentment, as he talked gently about playing Xbox games, arguing with his little brothers, and getting shopping in because his mum was too out of it to do it. A lullaby of grit that soon had her drifting to sleep.