Excerpt: Just Another Cliché

As he strode, the alarm trilled at the card in his pocket, just for a moment.
The sensors either side of the shop door displayed a red message on their LEDs; “MALUS”. That was all they needed to say, and after attracting the attention of everyone in the shop, they jumped into silence as suddenly as they had flung themselves into the outcry.
Two young shop assistants were having a conversation of the world's current problems, one behind the counter and one leaning in from in front of it.
After stopping to allow the alarm, the blonder of the two women said, “Maybe it's just me, but these Malus folk are getting more regular.”
“Yeah, I hear they're convicting more people. That's what Jane said, anyway.” The less blond of the two changed the arm she was leaning on.
“Actually, I was told that it's about the areas. More Malus people have moved into this district, the bastards.” She kept an eye on the man as he walked briskly around the store. Well, he hadn't stolen anything yet, perhaps this one was good intentioned, thought the blonder shop assistant.
Another customer came up to the counter with a t-shirt on a coat hanger, and started getting out a purse from her red handbag.
“That'll be £22, please,” said the blonder assistant.
“Gee, that's a lot. Can I pay by cheque?”
“Not sure, I'd have to ask the manager. Um...” she trailed off, realising she would have to go into the back room to find her. “Annie, keep an eye on, you know, the store, for a second.”
The less blonde Annie glanced towards the Malus man, but he wasn't being particularly suspicious. “Alright. Be quick.”
The woman and Annie stood about a metre apart, with Annie still leaning heavily on the counter. The woman took the liberty of speaking.
“What I hate about the Malus people, you know, is how you can tell they've done something, but you don't know what it is.”
Annie nodded and hmmed in reply. The body language suggested the woman could continue, but she herself would not be adding to the discussion just yet.
“You know they're probably dangerous in some way or other, but most of the time they don't do anything. So you know you ought to be scared, but it just makes you paranoid while they're not doing nothing. Like, they're biding their time.”
“I had a friend who was convicted Malus,” said Annie levelly. “I haven't seen him for 6 months or so now. He'll be coming out of jail soon.”
“What did he do?”
“I don't know, he never told me. Some heinous crime or other. What are the possibilities again?”
The woman, obviously well informed, took delight in talking all about it. “Well, the main one is rape. But you'll also get the status if you're convicted of any violent or sexual crime, so that might be stabbing someone or bestiality.”
Annie paused for thought. “I hope my friend wasn't convicted for bestiality.” The woman laughed, though it had not been intended as a joke.
The Malus man in the background had decided not to buy anything. For a start, this shop was overpriced, and he had only been able to get minimum wage jobs since his jail sentence ended some twelve years prior. Beyond that, it was pretty rude for the women to be talking bad about a group of people when in the company of one, but that was just a manners issue. He began walking to the exit, where once again his ID card set off the alarm. “MALUS,” it cried.
But before he got out the door, the stupid blonde at the counter had called him over.
“Sorry Sir, but it's our company policy. We have to check Malus before they leave the store.”
The man knew he could not say anything in response. Sure, he could try, but it was roughly equivalent to insulting the prime minister in front of his face; technically it could be done but it was advisable like throwing stones at bulls. No, Malus resisting regular people was virtually a crime in itself.
“Just lift your arms up,” said the blonde. Well, at least she was pretty, he considered as she patted his flanks.
She continued down, inspecting his pockets for any lumps that weren't standard. The man couldn't help but find this top-down view of her parting where the hair was not blonde rather attractive, even though not long before she had been insulting his class.
“Okay,” she said, standing.
He looked into her blue eyes, shining as they were, and wanted to say something. Just a little compliment, as those eyes negated, but it didn't take any genius to work out it was futile. She would probably spit in his face, and no law officials would be stopping her.
“Thanks,” said his sarcasm, and he attempted to stride out of the door with some shreds of dignity.
When he had passed the shop front and on to the rest of his life, the little woman at the counter spoke again.
“He was definitely a sex-crime person. He had that glint in his eye.”
Annie curled a ringlet with her index finger. “No, that's just men,” she said, and they both laughed.

At this time exactly, Miriam and Dee were in a competitor shop, trying on hats.
“This one's cool,” said Miriam, pulling a beret over her brunette hair and down to her glasses. It was only just a snug fit, for she didn't have a big enough head to make the elastic too tense.
“I agree,” said Dee, her American voice piercing the air like a knife in this quiet shop. “However, you can definitely do better,” she continued, pulling a trilby down from high. Well, Miriam hadn't had that option, she couldn't reach the peg where that hat hung.
“So, are there any guys you're going to be looking for tonight?” said Dee, without confidentiality.
“I don't know. No-one I know impresses me. Frankly they're all a bit immature.”
“Well, yeah, but that's just our year. There's going to be older people there too.”
“I know. I don't really dig one night stands.”
“Loosen up a bit, it could be fun.”
“Maybe.” Miriam pulled down a dark red hat of some mysterious fashionable variety. “So, are you looking out for anyone?” she said, meaning it as a joke.
“Haha,” said Dee, without laughing. “You know I've got a boyfriend. That won't be changing in the next few days.”
Dee had moved into the country only 9 months before, but had been settling in better than most of the people who had lived in Westhampton since secondary school began. Tall, curvy, and with cropped blonde hair, she did not have much trouble making friends. Miriam felt like a supporting actor next to her, even though she was no ugly duckling.
Dee had been with her boyfriend for about 5 months now, since the end of May, though she had not been particularly innocent before that. Oh no, without any religious views holding her back, an attractive 15 year old doesn't mind losing a few useless things, like one's virginity.
Miriam was some 5 inches shorter, at about 5'4”, though she did not know this herself; it doesn't pay to measure one's height when one knows one is not a particularly vertical person.
She kept her hair long, running down her back to her shoulder blades, and was very petite. Surprisingly over the course of the last couple of years she had acquired breasts, but unlike Dee, she kept them to herself. The only other noteworthy bit of description about her is that she was blind without her glasses; beyond this she was very average in almost every way.
Dee paid for her trilby, while Miriam left the interesting red hat where it was. She didn't know how to wear it correctly, and didn't want to ask Dee for embarrassment's sake.
A man walking into the shop set off the alarm suddenly, which surprised the girls, but they soon enough saw it was just the alert for Malus. Avoiding the man, they walked out of the shop and into the street.

The party was to celebrate someone or other's birthday, possibly Alice's. Miriam didn't exactly know who's place this was, and daren't ask. She often had problems with not being willing to ask to find out important information.
Miriam, Dee, and a short Asian-skinned girl by the name of Jenny were sitting on a sofa chatting. Music was playing, terrible terrible music. All three girls refused to dance to something as obnoxious as whatever this was.
Dee called over the noise, “Have you seen Sam anywhere?” But neither of the others had.
Jenny, sitting in the middle, spoke of how unattractive all the men at this party were. Miriam couldn't agree more, which was why she had taken to sitting on the couch with an alcoholic beverage of some kind in her hand. She wasn't sure exactly what it was, but it tasted nice.
“Have you seen Grace?” Miriam said into Jenny's ear. Dee, sitting on the far side of Jenny, leaned in close to be able to hear the conversation.
“Yeah, right,” said Jenny, “She's acting like a total 'tard.” Here, a normal girl may have said 'slut', but Jenny had adapted her vocabulary to make it more unique, including the usage of the abbreviation of 'retard'.
It was true, Grace had been acting stupid. She had got drunk very early, and so by now she was slurring speech and getting taken advantage of. Well, for the most part she had been the inviting one, so the men of these matters would use that in their defence when the wheel of rage came around in the next few days.
“It's so freaking regular though,” said Miriam, avoiding swearing. “She does this at every party, then just gets angry when she goes back to school and is told all the people she made out with.”
Dee cursed this person by the name of Grace without minding she had only found out who it was perhaps a month before.
On cue, Grace ran past, dragging a faithful male by the hand. Short skirt that allowed occasional pant glimpses, low cut top to an extreme degree. “She looks like a hooker,” said Jenny accurately.
Grace ran out the door, presumably in the direction of the master bedroom.
At this point, a boy by the name of Sam sat down on the arm of the sofa, and slid his arms around Dee. She cuddled him back, and kissed his lips. Turning around, she bid the two remaining on the sofa farewell and went to make out with Sam in some unused corner or other.
The music was still deafening, being almost all Miriam could hear. “Should we turn this down?”
“Someone'll shoot us. Let's go outside.”
And with that they rose and went out to the roses. Whoever's house this was, they had good taste in gardening. A bench was well placed, so they sat on it, picking up the dew. Their shock was immediate, but by then Miriam's skirt and Jenny's shorts were wet through.
The music was muted through the walls. A strong lad stood as a bodyguard outside, earning money to pay back his parents for his new iPod.
The darkness barely mattered, for there were street lights on outside the house by 20 metres or so, lighting up the road. Cars with headlights went past every few seconds, so the darkness barely mattered at all. In fact, no stars were visible, which made Miriam slightly sad; the moon was the only body in the night sky tonight.
“I like Sam,” said Miriam conversationally.
“Damn, I don't,” said Jenny in reply.
“Oh?”
“Well, he's so confident all the time. Striding here and striding there. You know?”
“Go on,” said Miriam, not knowing.
“Well, he's never insecure at all. Never needs a bit of love. That's just not hot for me.”
“I think he's kinda cool. I don't like the guys who don't have the confidence to do anything.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“Pardon me?” said Miriam in shock, but Jenny wasn't elaborating. “Anyway, Dee needs someone like Sam. She'd just walk over anyone who doesn't stand up for themselves, and though she likes the novelty of that it wouldn't last.”
“You mean she needs someone to keep her in her place?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
Miriam leant back on the bench, getting the back of her top soaking, chilling her. It was already moist from sweat, so the loss was not as big as it would have been otherwise.
“It was so hot in there.”
“No kidding,” said Jenny cynically.
Pausing first, Miriam said, “I wonder what they're doing now.”
“Who, Dee and Sam?”
“The very same.”
“Don't wonder. It's pretty obvious, and Dee won't want to talk about it afterwards.”
“I meant it rhetorically.”
Jenny looked sidelong at her. “But there was an answer, so it's not rhetorical.”
“I don't know my grammar well enough to have this argument,” said Miriam, leaning forwards, unsticking her back from the wet bench. Her plastic glass was almost empty.
“I'm gonna have to fill this up again.”
“Get me something not alcoholic,” said Jenny, passing her glass to the standing Miriam.
“I don't think anything is, is it?”
“Dee was drinking some elderflower presse. That looked pretty cool. She hid it next to the table leg,” said Jenny.
“Well, aren't you observant,” said Miriam, walking off.
“Be quick!” called Jenny after her.
By the time Miriam returned, Jenny had accidentally leaned back and managed to soak her top as well. It was a trend now.
“What's the third glass for?” said Jenny.
“When I finish this.”
“That's a bit much, isn't it? I mean, you've had a good few glasses already.”
“Psh. It takes a lot to get me drunk. I'm like a guy.”
Miriam sat, and so together they looked out in silence. Miriam took the time to glance sidelong at her friend. She had known Jenny since late in primary school, and not even Dee had managed to usurp her from the 'best friend' position that she had claimed so quickly. It had been so long that the fact Jenny was both half-Asian and Christian had long since been totally unsurprising. Jenny was equally short and perhaps shorter than she was herself, meaning they could go around together as equals without vertical conflict. Miriam was always envious of how straight and dark Jenny's hair was, but she knew Jenny felt the same way about Miriam's glasses, thinking them a positively attractive accessory. If some biological switch was scientifically safe and possible, then they would certainly have traded these two features, even though Miriam was sure Jenny would be getting the worse deal. Having stylish glasses was no compromise for having bad eyes and occasionally having to go buy new glasses when the current ones broke or were otherwise damaged.
After a minute or two had elapsed, Jenny broke into conversation once more.
“I'm going to Derbyshire tomorrow.”
“Oh? You didn't say.”
“Yeah, well. It doesn't matter much, does it?”
“That's not what the school's going to say.”
“Psh. They're not going to do sod-all about it.”
“True that. So why are you going?”
“A wedding. My Aunt is finally marrying, after 45 years.”
“Well, that's good, right?”
Jenny threw back her head. “Pah!” She pretended to laugh. “No, she's marrying such a.. a..”
“Yeah, alright. Obscenity inserted.”
“Right. She's marrying such an obscenity, it's a bit of a joke. He's marrying her for money.”
“Okay,” said Miriam, slowly. She was trying to be sympathetic, and egging Jenny on in a subtle way. She wanted to hear all the interesting details, of course.
“He's an immigrant. I'm pretty sure he's marrying her for citizenship in the UK. Certainly he doesn't love her nearly as much as she loves him. It's kind of painful seeing them together, knowing the love is unreciprocated.”
“Kind of like Jesus' love of everybody, right?” said Miriam, as a little dig to the Christian side of Jenny. She received a sidelong glare in return, but it was followed by a smile and the continuing of the story.
“Anyway. He's probably going to split up with her after a couple of years, as soon as he can. Once he's a legal citizen.”
“I thought she'd have to go abroad to find someone who's not a citizen. Or just have a super-speedy relationship.”
“The latter. She's just a bit eager, you know, what with being single all this time.” Jenny shrugged.
“Wasn't your family an immigrant one? I mean, was your aunt born here?”
“Oh, that's on the other side. But yeah, you've got the generations right, my granddad did bring my mother and other auntie here.”
Miriam and Jenny's conversation had petered out rather suddenly. Neither of them intended it, so they both sought a way to continue. Miriam was fastest.
“So you're going up tomorrow?”
“Yeah. On the train. That's why I'm not going to be sleeping here, I'll be getting off home.”
“What are you wearing?”
“This,” said Jenny, gesturing to the white shorts, white tank top, and large black belt. “No, I'm kidding. I've got a pretty sweet dress lined up.”
“It that sweet as in, 'daww' or 'awesome'?” asked Miriam seriously.
“Both.” Jenny grinned.
Realising she hadn't taken any sips at all during the chat, Miriam downed her first glass.
“You really shouldn't do that,” said Jenny.
“You're probably right,” said Miriam, picking up the second glass.
At this point a figure appeared outside, and after a few seconds Miriam recognised it. It was Ross, of the rugby club. That was the limit of what Miriam knew about him, beyond that he was 17, medium height, and dark haired. She realised she didn't even know the colour of his eyes.
He walked over to the pair on the bench, looking notably non-drunk. Notably, that is, relative to the rest of the party goers.
“Do either of you know where Dee is?” he asked.
“Most likely,” said Jenny, prompting a laugh from Miriam.
“Care to tell?”
“She found Sam. Take a guess.”
A second to work out what they meant. He stood straighter. “You don't have much faith in her, do you?”
“Nup.”
“Well then,” said Ross. After a split second of hesitation, which Miriam expected she was the only one to notice, he sat down on the bench next to Jenny.
“Hai!” said Miriam, being mock-fanatic, waving a queen's wave at him.
The three sat still. Jenny had tensed up entirely, taking an immediate dislike to this person who would sit down without asking first. Ross knew he had to provide a good first impression, so he tried his best.
“Um. What was the last film you saw in the cinema?” he attempted.
“Oh, I'm leaving,” said Jenny smartly, standing up and walking away briskly, back into the house.
Ross looked slightly forlorn, out of his depth, but Miriam was pleased to note his eyes didn't follow Jenny's rear away. She also knew that Jenny would appreciate it if Miriam followed, but as equals, she was not compelled to if she didn't want. For the moment, Miriam stayed.
“ Um. The Dark Knight, I guess.”
“Did you like it?”
“It wasn't too bad.”
“Heath Ledger's Joker was amazing.”
“Right.”
They lapsed into silence again, but Ross persevered.
“Do you like music?”
“Good music.”
Ross took a gamble. “That stuff in there's pretty bad, right?”
“Yeah.” She paused. “It is.”
“What bands do you like?”
“Oh, I don't know. Of Montreal. The Goo Goo Dolls. 65daysofstatic. Et cetera.”
Ross was at a loss. “I haven't heard of them.”
“Wow. Sucks to be you.”
Ross was losing points fast in this game of trying to chat up a pretty girl. “How about They Might Be Giants?”
“I know of them. They're a bit of a joke.”
“Basshunter?”
Miriam gave up. “I'm going.” She stood, but hadn't taken two steps before Ross called after her.
“Have you ever read Twilight?”
Miriam paused mid-step. Slowly she turned and went back to the bench, remaining standing. “Tell me more.”
“I love that series. She's such a good writer.”
“You don't know the author's name?”
“It's not that important, is it?”
“Heh,” said Miriam unhumorously. “Yes it is.”
“I really have read it. You don't believe me, do you?”
“No. No I don't.” Miriam didn't feel like being anything less blunt than a sledgehammer. “Anyway, like a tenth of the Twilight audience is male, odds are you haven't.”
“I love Edward. From the depths of my heart.” He grinned. “How about now?”
Miriam sat down once more. He had earned another minute, perhaps. If he was still boring, then that would be the end of it.
He continued. “You know, conversations are supposed to be two-way things. I ask you a couple of questions, you ask me a couple.”
“Yeah, maybe. But then I'd have to think.”
“You can do that, I'm sure. I know you, you're a smart girl.”
“Woman.”
“Eh?”
“Not a smart girl, a smart woman. It's what you call us if you want us to respect you.”
“Alright, whatever.”
“I can still leave, if you want.”
“No, no. Stay.”
With one hand, Miriam texted Jenny. An apology for being held back, and a cry for backup.
“Have you ever read Pride and Prejudice?” Ross said.
“You're really into feminine literature, aren't you?”
“I'm not the only guy to have ever read it!”
“Whatever.” Miriam was counting down now. He had two strikes remaining, and that was being generous. Her pocket buzzed, so she unsubtly drew her mobile out and read the text. It was a reply from Jenny, simply reading, 'Haha. Im not bailing you out this time.'
“Alright. Something more manly. How about Nineteen Eighty-Four?”
“Never read it.”
“Animal Farm?”
“Nopes.”
“Shame on you!”
“What?” said Miriam, now on the defensive.
“It's like a hundred pages. You can read it in a few hours.”
“So?”
“So you really should. It's a classic. You need to get your Orwell knowledge up a bit.”
“Alright. You need to listen to some better music,” countered Miriam.
“You don't know what I listen to,” parried Ross.
“Beyond Basshunter, no. But that's not a good place to start.”
“Regina Spektor?” he said, drawing his best card.
Miriam bit her lip and shook her head in pleased despair. “Damn, you got me.” She was smiling now, and for the first time looked him straight in the eyes. His eyes were deep brown.
She pulled up her legs onto the bench so she could face him straight. He held her gaze for as long as he could. She sipped her drink without breaking the eye contact, looking up through her black rims at him.

There were screams and cries. Windows broke, glass firing inwards. The grass rushed past until the carriage bedded into it, destroying the turf as the turf destroyed it. Hands clenched tables, though as horizontal became vertical people were thrown out of their seats onto more people below. The ticket collector's box became a cannonball down the aisle. As he clenched the arm rests to the point of his knuckles turning white, a man saw his daughter in the next seat ejected past him into the window pillar that no longer held any more than fragments of glass.
For several seconds after the train stopped moving, there was total silence. His daughter lay, head split open, motionless. Then a baby began to cry, bringing the tide of surprised screams and injured moans. But this man's daughter rested like a wet cloth.

That was the last time Jenny was seen alive. That was the first time Jenny was seen dead.