The Treatment: the gripping twist-filled YA thriller from the million copy Sunday Times bestselling author of The Escape. C.L. Taylor

Chapter Nine

      ‘We came as soon as we could,’ Mum bursts into the headmaster’s office with Tony close beside her.

      ‘Drew! Oh my God.’ She skirts across the room and drops to her knees beside me. ‘Drew!’ She gathers me into her arms and repeatedly strokes the back of my head. ‘Oh my God, Drew. What happened?’ She holds me at arm’s length and stares into my face. ‘Please tell me it’s not true. Please tell me you didn’t hit Lacey Mitchell.’

      ‘Jane.’ Tony touches her arm and nods his head towards Mr Mooney, sitting across the desk from us. ‘Let Layton deal with this.’

      ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Mum runs her fingers through her hair as she sits down in the plastic chair between me and Tony. Her forehead is damp with sweat and her eye make-up is smudged. I feel sick, knowing how much this must be upsetting her and I wish there was something I could do to make her feel better but there’s nothing I can say, not with Tony and Mr Mooney sitting so close.

      ‘Mr and Mrs Coleman.’ Mr Mooney gives them a sharp nod. ‘Thank you so much for getting here so quickly. I know how busy you both are, particularly you, Mr Coleman.’

      He gives Tony a deferential smile that makes me cringe. Big suck up. He’s got the National Head of Academies in his office and he’s not going to put a foot wrong. We all know Tony could get him sacked in a heartbeat if he wanted to.

      ‘No problem, George,’ Tony says, giving him a condescending smile. ‘We are as concerned as you are about Drew’s behaviour.’

      ‘Indeed.’ Mr Mooney puts his elbows on the desk and fixes me with an intense stare. ‘Fortunately Lacey is going to be OK. She was only unconscious for a couple of seconds and I’ve heard back from Ms Wilson who accompanied her to A & E that her cheekbone isn’t fractured, although she is still in quite a lot of pain.’

      Good. I clench my hands so my fingernails dig into my palms. I’m glad she’s in pain. People can say what they like about me but no one gets to talk about my dad like that.

      ‘Now the thing is,’ Mr Mooney continues, ‘there’s obviously been a few issues between Lacey and Drew over the last couple of months and we’ve done everything we can to try and resolve them.’

      ‘Obviously not enough,’ Mum says, ‘or my daughter wouldn’t have done what she did.’

      I shoot her a grateful look. She meets my gaze but her eyes are steely.

      ‘That’s not to say I condone her behaviour,’ Mum says, looking back at Mr Mooney. ‘But something needs to be done.’

      ‘Well, obviously Drew will be excluded for several days as …’

      Several days? He can’t mean that. Surely I should be permanently excluded for punching another student in the face! I didn’t plan on hitting Lacey. I was going to shove a load of PE kits down the toilets and flush the chains to cause a flood, then hit the fire alarm button. And if that wasn’t enough to get me permanently excluded I would have done something worse.

      ‘… obviously there are extenuating circumstances here,’ Mr Mooney drones on. ‘Then, when both girls are back in school we will restart mediation and –’

      ‘I’m not going to any more mediation sessions,’ I say.

      ‘Drew!’ Mum clutches my arm. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

      ‘Don’t pander to her, Jane,’ Tony says. ‘It’s what she wants. I’ve never seen such blatant attention-seeking behaviour.’

      My stepdad’s knuckles are white from gripping the arms of his chair so tightly. He wants to have a massive go at me but he won’t do it here, in front of Mum and Mr Mooney. If there’s one thing he can’t stand it’s being embarrassed in public. That’s why he packed Mason off to Norton House because his behaviour didn’t reflect well on him.

      Mr Mooney takes a sip of water from the glass on his desk, then sets it back down again. He’s waiting for them to stop bickering.

      ‘I’m not pandering to her, Tony,’ Mum says. ‘I’m trying to make her see sense.’

      ‘Look.’ Mr Mooney splays his hands wide on the desk. The tip of his little finger nudges the glass of water ever so slightly closer to me. ‘No one’s going to force you to go to mediation, Drew. Once you and Lacey are back at school we will ensure that any teachers you have for the same lessons are aware of the situation. We will also make sure you’re separated at break and lunchtimes. Once you feel ready to start mediation again we can –’

      ‘I told you.’ I launch myself out of my chair and stand up. ‘I’m NOT GOING TO MEDIATION!’

      ‘Drew!’ Tony grips my wrist, his face puce. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’

      ‘Drew!’ Mum says. ‘Sit down.’

      ‘Drew Finch.’ Mr Mooney stands up too. He glares at me from across the desk. ‘You need to calm down.’

      ‘No.’ I yank my wrist out of Tony’s grip and, before anyone can stop me, I grab hold of the glass on the desk and hurl the water straight into my headmaster’s shocked face.

Chapter Ten

      The train guard reaches for the tickets in Mum’s hand, scribbles on them and then hands them back. Mum sighs as she tucks them back into her purse then hugs her handbag to her chest as she stares out of the window. She’s barely said a word to me all day and it’s breaking my heart, seeing her so upset, but what can I do? I can’t tell her that I deliberately threw the water in Mr Mooney’s face because I knew it would make Tony go off the deep end. Or explain why I refused to apologize (because I knew it would deepen my stepdad’s embarrassment) and didn’t put up a fight when he announced that ‘maybe a stay at the Residential Reform Academy would teach her how to behave appropriately’. When we got home Mum came into my room and begged me to talk to Tony.

      ‘You have to explain to him, Drew. You need to let him know how much the bullying and Mason being sent away has upset you. I’m sure he will listen once he’s calmed down. Mr Mooney was only going to exclude you for three days. You can still put this right, Drew. Please, sweetheart. If you won’t do this for me, do it for your dad. He was always so proud of you. It would break his heart to see you like this.’

      I started to cry then. Partly because she was talking about my dad in the past tense (he’s not dead, he didn’t abandon his car at Beachy Head and walk off the cliff. He’s alive and he’s missing. Why doesn’t anyone else believe that?). And partly because I knew it was her heart that was breaking.

      ‘I know,’ she said as she put her arms around me, ‘that this hard girl stuff is all an act. You’re still my baby, Drew. You’re still my sweet, sensitive little girl. Let’s go down and talk to Tony together. He’s not a monster. He just wants what’s best for you, what’s best for all of us.’

      I stopped crying when she said that. Is that why he sent my brother away to be brainwashed, because it was the best for all of us? No. It was best for him.

      ‘Please, darling,’ Mum begged as she tried and failed to take hold my hand. ‘Please.’

      After half an hour pleading and cajoling she eventually gave up.

      ‘You’d better pack your bags then,’ she said as she hovered at my bedroom door. ‘You’re going tomorrow. Tony’s been on the phone to the RRA. They’ve found you a bed.’

      I barely slept last night. I stayed up until 1 a.m. reading my psychology books and studying the printout I printed off the Internet. My hands shook as I turned the pages. I had – have – no idea what I’m letting myself in for. What if I’m locked up the second I get there and I’m shackled to a bed and wheeled into some