ARRAN WHITE
Flopping down at the computer desk, Arran logged into her account on the old, second-hand E-Mac, flicking over to her email and receiving ten new emails from her brother since yesterday, totaling in almost fifty unread emails from him. Slumping down in her chair, she logged out and stared at the login page, not really seeing it, thinking about the day; worse than usual, but in the scale of things not too disastrous, just not so good. The hoodie; that was something Arran couldn’t fathom, why had she been given the hoodie, and surely the girl hadn’t just forgotten the drug; it didn’t seem to be the sort of thing you just forgot was in the sleeve of your hoodie when handing it over to a stranger. After getting home she had looked herself in the bathroom as soon as she could, and worked the syringe out of the sleeve from the inside, pulling it out and looking for markings, finding none, but considering the poor lighting in the bathroom, that wasn’t surprising. Now it was tucked safely back in the sleeve of the hoodie, which in turn was tucked in one of her two draws in the boy’s room, somewhere the others were forbidden to access; a rule that was reinforced by an old padlock to which only she had the key. Arran hadn’t told Kyle about the drug, that wasn’t the sort of thing she just told people about, especially Kyle, who couldn’t keep silent if he thought others needed to know, and that ment telling Aunt Cass, the last person in the world Arran wanted to upset. No it was better she didn’t mention it to anybody.