Conscience does make cowards of us all.

They said I couldn’t. They told me so, laughed in my face. Sneering. They were sure, so damn sure it’d be impossible, especially for someone like me. Well, I did it. I proved them wrong. I proved them wrong in the end.1

It all began at the beginning of term, first day back and all that. I walked in; everything was average, same as usual. Normal morning. Up, 7am, earlier than I was used to, yawned, washed. Mum had made me breakfast. Cornflakes. Nice of her I suppose. Then on went the uniform, Navy. Nice. Pleated skirt too. These schools are really down with the kids. Exit the house in a rush. Bus, on time, surprisingly. Shuffle into classroom, straight to the back, throw off bag and sit, right in the chair I had last year. All normal.2

There was a group of girls in front, you wouldn’t know them but I’m sure you know the type. Made-up, bleached, loud. Anyway, they were giggling away about something, heads together, raised whispers, raucous laughter. That’s when they noticed me. One glanced up, smirked, “Yeah, unlike her”. The rest of the heads snapped up, laughter intensified. Ha. Uncomfortable. Their attention made me shift awkwardly in my seat. Made me squirm. How could I know how to react when I didn’t even know what they were talking about? I hate these sorts of situations. Trying to avert my eyes, but only so they wouldn’t notice. If they noticed I was uncomfortable well, more ammunition really. So I sat there.3

Another snort, “Yeah, anyone but her”, collapsed into giggles. Again. Brilliant.4

Well, I thought, I’ll just sit here. That’s fine. Just carry on. No need to include me. Ac like I’, not even here. Brilliant.5

Then I hear someone, probably the ringleader, shush them. They fall silent. Obedient. She looks at me pensively, considering and for a moment I’m terrified she’ll lean towards me, grasp my chin and manoeuvre my face for a more thorough inspection. She doesn’t but a smirk begins to curl at the edges of her mouth. The eyes slant and cool with malevolence before her expression shifts into one of saccharine sincerity. I don’t know why people let their emotions play over their faces like this, I know I certainly don’t. It makes you far too easy to read and I prefer to think myself an enigma, but then again that might just be pretension.6

“Oh babe”, false endearments, enhancing the mockery under a veil of affection, “do you want to be famous?” The group are holding their breath now, almost collectively, fighting the instinct to bite down on their knuckles to disguise the laughter threatening to escape. I don’t know how to react. I don’t get the joke; I don’t know how to take it. I’ve got nothing to say. 7

“I,i..Well”. Blush. Stammer. Wonderful, that’s a much better alternative. Trail off. Eyes darting, searching for an escape, but I can’t, their eyes, her eyes are pinning me down, pinned like a butterfly to a cork board.8

“Oh, look! She’s even considering it! Bless.” Affecting a mock pout with eyes that patronise and scorn in equal measure. There’s that twist of the lips again, an unattractive grimace which skews her face hideous and a snarl of, “Ha! As if!”9

Peals of laughter break out again.10

It wasn’t a nice experience, believe me, but it was an interesting one. I know, I know it was suppose to be a moment intended purely to belittle me, intimidate me, I don’t know why though. My mum always says that they ac this way because their jealous. It’s a nice theory; one fuelled by the omnipotent maternal belief that one’s child is perfect and can do no wrong. Yes, it’s a nice belief, but not a true one. They have no reason to be jealous, but anyway, I’m not too interested in their motivations, I’m well aware that some people are, for lack of a more appropriate term, just bloody horrible.11

But what did interest me was their desire for fame. I have no doubt that they were interested in the type of vacuous attention that comes from exposing yourself in a national publication. Just vanity. A desire for money, praise of your beauty, that sort of thing. That sort of thing that’s ultimately ephemeral, it’ll last until your first wrinkle, until that first hair starts to starts to grey. No, I wasn’t interested in their type of fame. Not at all. They’d just say that this was because I wasn’t attractive enough to do it anyway. Whatever.12

What did interest me, though, was the concept of fame in general and did I want to be famous? Thinking about it, fame is sort of like existing after death, it’s the only achievable immortality. You’re name will live on, generations decades down the line will know who you are. And immortality? Yes please. Now this could have been just a fanciful daydream to me, I’d always been so insignificant to the people immediately surrounding me that I had no reason to consider that I would be able to affect any influence in the wider world. But now. But now I had been issued a challenge, a challenge to become famous, a challenge to become immortal and immortalised in history... And I’ve never been able to back down from a challenge.13

Well I first began thinking about what it could be. What ways I could actually become famous. I immediately discarded the page 3 idea favoured by the girls who had sparked this train of thought. Getting your tits out wasn’t fame, who would even remember you? Apart from possibly a few pervy old men, who had leered at your picture for a few minutes before discarding you with all the other trash... No thank you. Not really for me, I didn’t want to degrade myself, I didn’t want people to remember me as some cheap tart. It was immortality I was after not notoriety.14

Then I thought about talents, my talents. What could I use? I can’t sing, dance or act. I was clever but in an average way, an ordinary way, not enough to be really acknowledged. What could I do that no one else I knew could? And then it came to me. Obvious. And sure it had done before, but this time, my time, it would be spectacular.15

I started preparation when I got home that evening. I’d been bored for a while, now I’d found something to motivate me, something to actually focus on. Opened the laptop. Research. I was going to be thorough. I only had one chance; I could not afford to make a mistake.16

For weeks after I’d rush home from school. To get prepared, to be ready, for perfection. Those girls never mentioned fame to me again but every so often one would catch my eye with a sly look and a slight smirk. But they were like that anyway. Hell, they probably didn’t even remember anymore, odd isn’t it? How something can affect your life so deeply and profoundly, send it reeling off its axis and on to an entirely different course while to someone else the same event will mean nothing, it will just fade into the periphery of memory. Curious really.17

Research paled my skin with lack of sleep and burnt my eyes with the harsh glare of the computer screen on delicate irises. I thought of nothing else, at school I often had to bend my head to cover the sneer that bit at my features when I thought of how I would prove them wrong. Prove them all wrong and prove that I wasn’t insignificant, that I could be recognised for something. That I could do something. 18

Everything was easy enough to acquire, delve enough, drop a few hints, use a bit of charm and the world’s yours. People are easy enough to manipulate and once you learn this you become omnipotent. Well. The details would bore you I’m sure.19

Soon enough it was the night before. Time is ever so capricious isn’t she? She speeds and slows according to her whim. I wouldn’t have minded if she had taken her time while I put my thoughts into action, then I could have savoured each second and it slipped past like treacle. But no. She was fast this time, not that I particularly minded that either, I was eager too. 20

I took some tablets to help me sleep. My mum always said I should, I don’t sleep well normally either. Usually I don’t believe in that shit, probably just sugar or something but stick on a fancy label and a few faux scientific statistics and people will be ripping your fucking hand off for it. But on this occasion I thought well why not? Even if it’s just a placebo, fuck it I need all the medicated calm I can get.21

I took a bath as well, nice and relaxing. A real change of pace from frantic research. Nice to luxuriate in the anticipation although I do admit that I had to quell some flutters of apprehension. But nerves y’know? Can’t let them stop you or you’d never get anything done. “And thus conscience doth make cowards of us all” and all that. I needed to do this. Needed to prove I could do this, to myself, to them, to the world.22

Shaved legs, plucked eyebrows. Needed to look my best, can’t enter immortality looking scruffy, oh no. That wouldn’t do, not for me. An early night too, beauty sleep. And needed to be well rested and lucid. Yesyes.23

To my disappointment the day passed in a bit of a blur, time was playing one of her tricks again. The memories blur together now, a smudge of blacks, greys and reds.24

I remember I got up. Normal. 7Am. Yawned, washed. Cornflakes. Changed. Bus. Classroom. That’s when the routine changed.25

At first there was stillness, complete and utter still. Just, paused. Like some kind of twisted game of musical statues, it was quite funny really and quite unexpected. Then again, I don’t know what I thought would happen, something...more I guess. Something more than nothing. Then again I guess people are a little unpredictable when faced with a sub-machine gun.26

Someone screamed.27

Then there was chaos.28

Just a flurry of movement, a cacophony of despair and I didn’t think. Just. Pressed. Down.29

The rest, the rest I can’t remember but my immortality was echoed in their cries and documented in the blood the spilt from gaping wounds.30

But for my immortality to be sealed there needed to be a demonstration of my mortality, 31

my turn.32

And then, then there was nothing.33

It was all over the news. All over. What a tragedy. Such a shame. What could drive a person, a young girl at that, to do such a thing?34

Big news.35

Everyone heard, everyone knew.36

Funny really, that although the event was remembered and commemorated for years to come, no one could ever quite remember the girl’s name.37