picking up the diamond finished version draft 7

8/8/2019 Picking Up the Diamond FINISHED VERSION Draft 7

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Picking up the Diamond

Amelia was bullied. She didn't know why they picked her, but they did. And after

another day of paper balls being thrown at her head and unseen fingers pinching her arms

she was finally heading home. Or so she thought.

³I want to show you something.´

Amelia stopped her hurrying. She turned round to see her new English teacher

standing behind her. He'd only been here a few weeks, and she still struggled to remember

his name. But beyond the realms of these classes she'd never imagine d being talked to by

him, nor did she understand why he may be now.

³You want to show me something?´ she asked raising her eyebrows. ³What exactly

do you mean by that?´

³Only that I have something that could help the bullying is all...´ he replied, ³Sorr y, I

didn't mean anything-´

Amelia felt a sharp tap at the bottom of her neck and she turned round before her

English teacher could finish his sentence. At the entrance to the school gates was Greg

Hanson, the bully. He was leaning against the red bricked wall, tossing a pebble into the

air from the palm of his hand and watching her with a smirk on his face. Amelia jumped as

she felt a nip at the bottom of her neck. She tensed as one of Greg's allies ran past her,

sneering and laughing as he did so. She'd b een victimised and tormented again, but this

time, in front of her English teacher.³Oi! Leave her alone!´ he shouted before heading off to have 'words' with Greg.

Her eyes prickled. She knew she'd burst into tears and that would only lead to more

mocking.

³Are you okay Amelia?´ her English teacher asked when he returned.



She nodded quietly.

³Greg is being talked to.´ He smiled. ³Come on, this will help stop them doing things

like that to you I promise.´

He led her to a shabby looking green pavilion a t the edge of the school field . He

walked up the metal grated ramp to the door and Amelia followed quietly.

³Before we go in Amelia,´ he said as he fumbled with some jangly keys in the lock

that he'd brought out of his grey satchel bag a moment before, ³y ou need to promise that

everything I tell you in here is kept a secret. Do you think you can do that?´

She didn't know whether to be offended by this patronising tone or to run away now.

The pavilions were a place that every student was banned from going to, and to her all of

this seemed a little suspicious. But there was something about this teacher that had

always seemed mysterious to her. He wasn't like the others, who'd shout and whine at

their students to get on with the work. He acted calmer, and was more approachable. What

harm could he really do?

³I promise.´ she answered.

It became apparent the moment they stepped inside why the Pavilions had always

been off limits, but instead of it being an 'art studio' as the students rumoured, it was

instead what looked like a control room.

It smelt like oil and metal. Blackened paper and scraps of old torn material shielded

the windows, barricading any light that may stream through. Underneath the windows were

tables, their surfaces covered in odd devices and parts that looked as though theybelonged on the inside of a clock. The tables led up to the back of the room where a

substantial television shaped switchboard was placed. T here was a screen in the middle of

it, surrounded by dials, buttons and flickerin g coloured lights that looked like they belonged

on a disco ball.



³Seem odd?´ her English teacher asked, standing in the middle of the room as he

glanced over his shoulder at her, ³suddenly seeing all this?´

³I thought...´

³There's a very good reason why the students aren't allowed in here, and by telling

you what this is would be violating every single protocol I've promised to keep to my

people.´ he interrupted. ³But never mind that. Amelia, do you believe in magic?´

³What?´ Amelia asked, but he ignored her question and continued.

³Because, I do.´

She watched in silence as he walked to the switch board. He started pressing buttons

and turning dials. Moments later a metallic whirr echoed from inside the object. Dials

began twisting automatically, and a perfectly straight line appeared down the centre of the

screen. Slowly the glass began to part like the opening on an lift door. Each side parted,

and moved behind the columns of buttons and dials that revealed a hollow interior. In the

middle of which there was a copper chain and on the end of it there was a meta l jewel

sized hand. Her English teacher grabbed hold of the chain, the metal chinking as he

tugged the hand away from its chain.

³This is filled with a power.´

He turned back to her face her, his arm stretching out to show her the metal hand

enclosed within his own. The metal hand grasped at a diamond protectively. Inside the

diamond was a blue coloured power that looked like gas. It shimmered white occasionally

as the power swirled inside. It reflected onto the ceiling, it reminded Amelia of ripples in astream.

³This power can change everything for you here Amelia.´

Her English teacher pointed to a red button positioned on the knuckle of the middle

finger.



³One press of this button and this h and's power will be released. Then you can

rewind the misery those boys puts you through. All you have to do is think whilst you press

the button...´ he gave her a warm smile, ³you don't have to be bullied anymore.´

Amelia blinked, unsure of what to beli eve.

³You're trying to tell me that this,´ she signalled to the metal hand and diamond, ³can

change the past? Mr...´ Amelia trailed off as she tried to remember his name. ³Sir, are you

trying to mock me?´

³No of course I'm not,´ he answered quickly ³I'm trying to help you, and don't call me

sir, it's far too formal.´

He placed the hand on one of the tables before walking over to the door they'd come

through, muttering to himself about the formalised ways of schools on earth as he

disappeared. He was holding a red leather bound book when he returned. He sat down at

one of the object filled tables and opened its ancient, yellowing pages.

³My people have a pact...´ he said as he flicked on through it's pages ³actually no,

they're more rules. There's not very many of them but...´

He trailed off and looked up at her. He smiled again, his hand patting the wooden top

of the stool next to him.

³Don't look so scared. I won't hurt you, sit down.´

Amelia crossed her arms defensively and didn't move any closer to him.

³If I believe you, and leave with that hand diamond thing. Will you answer me

something?´³Yes.´

Amelia paused for a moment before she said it. She knew that whatever his answer

was would either make her believe him, and take the metal hand or make h er run.

³Why did you say 'my people'?´



#

She'd run away of course. The moment her English teacher had started babbling

about how he was an alien with a mission to help people. He'd told her to keep it all a

secret, but was that some way of keeping himself out of a psychiatric ward?

Amelia had attempted to tell her Mum when she got home. But she'd paid no

attention to Amelia. Like usual. The only conversation heard in the room was the one

between her Mums fingers and the keyboard.

Then she'd wondered about calling the school. But she'd deciphered that not only

would the story sound mad, they hadn't done anything for her before. So why would they

now?

Now Amelia lay in her bed, cocooned in its warmth and security from the imminent

dawn. Tomorrow was Thursday, she had art in the morning, a lesson that she shared with

Greg Hanson to her dismay. Then she had English in the afternoon, she didn't know which

lesson was going to be worse. She'd never had a good day at school before. Why would

tomorrow be different?

#

She'd walked into the art room, sat down and waited for Greg Hanson and his friends

to arrive. She eyed the multicoloured paint splashed door (it was meant to be 'artful

according to her teacher) timidly for the first half an hour. But none of them walked in.³Absent...´ the Art teacher said.

Amelia didn't know, nor cared why.

She ate her lunch in silence, watching the other groups of girls chatter and giggle

away as they always did. Usually she longed for a friend. A girl, boy, anyone, she didn't



care who. But today she was too preoccupied with what her English teacher had said the

night before. And that made her more nervous than she'd ever been before, so much so

her stomach felt as though it was so tight she could throw up. What if her English Teacher

said something and mocked her in front of everyone else?

But when he appeared, and called her name out for the register, he barely even

made eye contact with her. He acted normal, the only alien presence about him being that

he was slightly younger than the rest of the teachers in the school and a ridiculous red

knitted tie he always wore. The lesson was normal, and by the end of it Amelia had

relaxed. It seemed like it had been the best day at school she'd ever had.

She walked home calmly unlike the day before. She didn't have to hide a face coated

in tears from anyone she may meet.

She came to the main road. Usually she'd stand for ages as cars zoomed past her,

but the traffic was halved today. Which made the route through the cobbled streets of the

town centre peaceful from the constant beeping of road raged drivers.

She turned onto her street. The pathways were always littered with glass from

smashed bottles where drunks had stumbled in the night. And after years of walking

through it, Amelia had decided to walk on the road. She only joined the pavement again at

the bottom of the road and disappear behind the large oak tree that concealed her house

from view.

Amelia smiled at the little girl who ate her lolly pop whilst swinging her legs. She s at

on top of a grimy slide in her garden and was always there when Amelia passed by. Insidethe girl's garden, the plants were over grown, wilting, brown and decayed from lack of

water or care. Next to the dying plants the girls Grandma always sat in a roc king chair, it's

aged dark oak creaking as the Old Lady rocked. An old radio sat on the grass next to her,

always blasting out the latest news headlines.



The Grandma spotted Amelia as she walked past and as always waved her over.

³No tears today then?´ the Old Lady asked in her croaky soft voice. ³You look

happier.´

Amelia's cheeks reddened, she couldn't help but be slightly embarrassed by the old

lady's words. But she smiled anyway, not wanting to be rude and show her annoyance.

³I am thank you.´ Amelia replied. ³It's-´

The news blared from the radio, interrupting Amelia. The Grandma smiled and

pressed her finger to her lips as she gestured to be quiet.

³...r ecent rock c once r t is having t roub le keeping unde r age teenage r s ou t f rom the

g rou nds, afte r hor des atte m pted t o gain ent ry. P olice managed t o settle the sit uati on, bu t

the r e has been mor e r ep or ts of the sa me g rou p of teenage r s stealing ca r s f rom

d r ivewa y s ...´

³Oh terrible, terrible...´ the grandma started.

Amelia didn't listen to what the grandma said next. She was about to walk off again

when she felt a sticky hand clutch onto her wrist. The little girl had jumped down from the

slide, scampered out of the gate and grabbed hold of Amelia's hand.

³You shouldn't walk on the road! Granny always tells me it's really dangerous!´ the

little girl exclaimed.

Amelia smiled gently at the little girl, trying to ignore the sickly scent of sweets that

wafted from her. If it had been anyone else, Amelia may have come up with an excuse. But

she didn't think it would be good if the grandma tearfully came knocking, to explain aboutan accident that Amelia had influenced.

³You're right. I won't do it again.´ Amelia lied.

Amelia pulled her arm from the girls sticky grasp and trudged through the remaining

glassy road.



#

Harsh splatters on the window pane awoke Amelia from her dream and brought her

to the cold morning. The rain shower had stopped by the time she left for school, but dark

thunderous clouds still dominated the sky.

Greg Hanson was absent again, and the class more receptive because of it. She had

another English lesson, and her English Teacher still hadn't said anything to her.

Sometimes her life felt like she was lost in a labyrinth full of monsters, ghouls, or just Greg

Hanson. But if it carried on the way it was, she didn't think that she'd need to change time

anyway. Something good always came out of something bad. Didn't it?

The main roads and streets were quiet again on the way home. But unlike anyone

else, Amelia didn't dwell on this nor found the whole situation uncanny. She was an

intelligent girl, mostly. But what she didn't realise now was that later on, it would be these

actions that she questioned.

Parked in her driveway was a grey Volvo. The branches of the trees on Amelia's drive

hid it away from a person walking down the street. It waited, lurking behind the leaves like

a lion waiting for the right moment to pounce. It had been stolen by Greg Hanson and his

group of drunken allies. They'd then decided, in their intoxicated state that i t'd be funny to

sneak into their school, hack into the computer systems and get the addresses of

everyone they loathed. Some of the less besotted friends had proclaimed it to be a badidea, but they were hushed down and sent inside to gather the informatio n.

Most mothers would notice if a Volvo had been parked in their garden. But not

Amelia's mother, she'd been too busy looking at her laptop and answering phone calls to

notice. If she had done, she'd have realised her daughters fate.



The girl and her granny were disappearing into their house when Amelia walked

past. Amelia found out why when blue electric light illuminated the sky, its dangerous boom

clattering through the skies moments after. Rain drops poured down, stinging Amelia's

skin. She ran for the cover of her house only metres away from home. But she tumbled to

the floor as her shoe tripped over a discarded pizza box. Cursing under her breath she

shoved the soggy cardboard object to the side and got up. Thunder boomed through the

skies again like an orchestra of bin lids being struck together. She ran for her house, but

the yellow gleaming lights blinded her. The cold metal bonnet of the car rammed into her

propelling her to the ground. She didn't feel the impact of the cement, not hear the

cracking of her bones as they splintered like twigs. The only thing Amelia was aware of

before the darkness took her over was the image of Greg Hanson's gleeful face and the

sound of the Old Ladies radio...

³Mor e teenage d runken ca r robb e r s have ..´

#

Her mouth was dry when she awoke, the smell of chemicals infected her nose and

she tried to cough. Her head was sore but she was too sleepy to care too much and she

couldn't move her arm.

There were beeps from machines she didn't recognise. The covers of the blan kets

felt too crisp against her skin to be her own.

Her eyesight was fuzzy at first, she squinted and blinked focusing her eyed on whiteceiling. She stared at it for a moment, trying to understand why her roof looked strange.

Where was she? She was sure there was something she was meant to remember.

³Amelia?´

Silky warm fingers looped through hers own and her Mum gazed down at her, smiling



softly. But her eyes were bloodshot, cheeks glossy from tears. Amelia hadn't seen her

mother cry since she was three years old. So she pulled her hand from her mothers and

attempted to sit up. But pain shot through her arm, it was dull but excruciating enough to

stall her from moving further.

³It's okay...´ her mum spoke gently, ³Try and keep still sweetheart. Can y ou

remember what happened?´

Amelia tried to talk but her dry throat prevented her from doing so. She cleared her

throat so coughed, but the movement caused her arm to ache more.

She wanted to talk, she wanted to know where she was and why she was hurting .

Her Mum disappeared from view, causing Amelia to panic. She didn't want to be left in this

strange smelling place, it was unfamiliar to her. How did she know that Greg Hanson

wasn't just outside the door?

³I was just calling the nurse, she'll get you more comfortable sweetheart.´

Her mother appeared again by her side, her soft silky fingers wiping away Amelia's

tears.

Minutes later hinges creaked, footprints padded along what Amelia presumed was a

tiled floor. And kind face looked down at Amelia from th e side of the bed. She was saying

something in a soft voice but Amelia wasn't listening.

The nurse went again after helping to give Amelia a drink and ease her dry throat.

³That boy will be gone when you go back to school love.´ Amelia's Mum said softly,

³He won't hurt you anymore.´ Amelia wanted to ask more questions, she wanted to know who 'that boy' was. But

her eyes began to droop, more so every second. She didn't want to sleep, she wanted to

remember and find out what had happened to her. Slowly as she listened to her mother

talking, things started coming back to her. She remembered tripping on the pizza box and



falling down into the gravel.

She remembered turning seconds before the impact of the car hit her. She

remembered her stomach dropping as she realised what was going to happen and Greg

Hanson's face through the glass of the wind guard. She looked to her mother, now sitting

nearer the head of the bed, understanding why she'd been crying. Amelia squeezed her

hand gently, it was all she had ener gy for. Her eyes closed after that and she quickly

drifted to sleep.

#

She had broken her left arm and would be plastered in it's cast for at least six weeks.

Cuts and bruises blemished her body, which although were better after the days she'd

been inside this claustrophobic room, still restricted her from moving away from her bed

much.

The door creaked, as always, and her mother walked in. She was dressed in one of

her suits, ready for another day at work, and carried a plastic bag from a local

supermarket.

³I have to work today I'm afraid.´ she said. ³But I know you needed some more fruit,

so I'm making a quick visit.´

The bags rustled as they were placed on top of the bedside table. The sweet smell of

oranges made Amelia's stomach grumble. She wa s so hungry she could almost taste their citrus flavour in her mouth.

³You won't be all by yourself though.´ her mother said, turning to her. ³Someone from

the school has come to see you. I think you're class are sending a card or something... I

don't really know if I'm honest love. But they're just outside...´



A classical ring tone rang from inside her Mum's bag, signalling her mothers

departure. Her mothers hands fumbled with the bag and brought the phone out. She

smiled apologetically to Amelia, kissed her head and ran out of the room the phone

already stuck to her ear.

³This'll have to be quick Jack, I'm not meant to have my phone on in the hospital...´

Amelia immediately reached for the bag of fruit her mother had left on the side. She

cursed under her breath at the twinges from her arm and injuries as she moved to get

them. But then she heard a soft chuckle echo through the room, she moved backwards as

a hairy hand replaced her own in the bag, bringing out one of the oranges for her.

Here English Teacher was here.

³I heard your Mum saying that I brought a card from the class,´ he said gently ³which

is true. But I've also got something else for you...´ he placed the card next to the bag of

fruit, reached inside his long black military coat and broug ht out the hand.

³The last time I told you about this it didn't go that brilliantly.´

He pushed the plastic bag to the side of the counter and placed the hand next to it.

³Can that really change my past?´ Amelia whispered.

³Yes,´ he replied softly, ³but it's only to be used if you really want to change it.

Sometimes bad things, they happen for the...´

³Better.´ Amelia finished. ³Yeah, I know.´

He smiled at her.

³Then just think about it.´ he nodded to her arm, ³It can get you out of a few painfulsituations...´

He didn't stay long enough for Amelia to say or ask anything else, but perhaps that

was better. He walked over to the door, creaked it open and slowly turned back to face her

one last time.



³By the way Amelia, my name is Mr Dilaram."

The door closed behind him, their conversation echoing through her mind as though

it was on a loop. If she chose to turn back time, she could stop Greg Hanson from hurting

her. But she also knew that if it wasn't her, then it could be someone else. And she wasn' t

sure if she was strong enough to live with that. She reached over slowly, picking up the

metal hand. It was only now, in a better light that she realised it had intricate markings

engraved across it. They reminded her of Egyptian hieroglyphics but they w ere definitely

a lien markings. She slowly turned it over in her hand, tracing each marking with her finger

before finally, stilling over the red button.

picking up the diamond finished version draft 7

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