‘Today marks the fifth week since storm ‘Rewan’ tore through the small town of Vikaring. Residents here have been searching day and night, across fields and hills for all of those who have been reported missing, of which there are still an estimated forty people. Both adults and children amongst them.’

As Leo listened to the morning news report from his bed, he tried as he did every waking second to think back to what had happened. All he could remember were the seconds that led up to blacking out, then it was straight into waking up in hospital the next day. There, the nursing staff were pushed to breaking point as they tended to all who had been injured. His mum had only managed to find him through sheer luck and tenacity, which should have been comforting, but her screams from finding only one of her children still haunted Leo.

Since then, every day had been dedicated to clearing up the debris, which Leo thought had been to help look for those missing. But with the debris gone, everyone had just returned to their daily routines. Commuters once again hurried their way to and from work as families endeavoured to return to their versions of normality, irrelevantly relevant issues like whose turn it was to take the bins out was a thing again. At least, that was the case for most families. Some were still broken. Every night going to bed and hoping they could wake up to find that it was all just a nightmare, only to wake and have to live their nightmare for yet another day.

‘You getting up, Leo?’ his mother said gently from the other side of his door, which was adorned with everything from movie posters to his very own amateur animal sketches.

‘Just getting out of bed.’

Today marked the first day that The Orchard reopened its gates. Something Leo and his mum had debated back and forth whilst trawling through the local fields.

‘Ok,’ she hesitated, ‘I’ve been thinking. I know we’ve gone over you going back to school … and I know how much you want to. And this isn’t me trying to stop you. I was just hoping that you’d let me take you in rather than, you know, you get the bus …’

‘That’ll be nice, mum,’ he said, ‘thank you.’

As Leo put on his slightly tattered school clothes for just the second time that year, he was taken back to the now seemingly trivial arguments he had listened to as he had put them on the first time. A twisted feeling hit his gut as he thought about how annoyed he had gotten at his brothers dawdling, and now he wished he had dawdled some more. Perhaps then he would still be here.

Absentmindedly, Leo made his way downstairs and into the kitchen where every surface was spotless, the fake marble worktops basking in their rare cleanliness. Only Leo’s homemade lunch sat on the side awaiting him in a little plastic tub, and he smiled at the sight of his sandwich and its ‘reduced to clear’ label. Even with one less mouth to feed, times were still hard.

‘It’ll have to do for now,’ Leo’s mother said, ‘you ready?’

‘I guess.’

 The smell of rain on dry concrete seeped through the air as Leo’s mum - after a few spluttering tries - managed to get their car to start. The ancient vehicle gurgled back to life, sounding like an elderly man who had been woken from his mid-afternoon nap.

Leo could see the toll the past few weeks had taken on his mum, and that toll was only increased by the fact that, even though she wanted to search for Sam, bills were still coming in – and from years of scraping to get by, Leo knew that a single mum working in retail could not afford to stay off work for long.

‘Everything looks the same,’ Leo observed, looking at the world outside of his window, ‘but it all seems so different.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

They drove down the same road Leo and his brother had to walk down towards the bus stop. It was still lined by the same old trees, only with fewer leaves as the seasons changed. Cars still drove their same route as the same people still made their same journeys.

‘Well, everyone is still doing the same thing they always have, but it just feels different somehow. I guess it’s like when everyone comes over at Christmas who we hardly ever see. They always look the same at first, but then you see more subtle changes the longer you look … I think anyway,’ Leo explained, as he looked out of the window at everyone they went past, able to read the stories of what they had gone through by the lines on their face.

‘I know what you mean. It feels weird going back to ‘normal’ so soon. Everyone’s signs are still up all around the village.’

Leo’s mum was referring to the signs that would normally show missing pets, but now showed the faces of missing children.

‘Looks like everyone else is getting a lift in as well,’ Leo said, seeing the bus shelter that was normally full of children, but instead stood barren.

Everything was the same, and yet nothing was.

‘Watch out!’ Leo shouted as a fox darted from a bush, forcing his mum to press the brakes.

Looking back at them, the fox tilted its head curiously as if wondering what all the fuss was about. Seemingly having come to its conclusion, the fox carried on crossing and then dived into the bushes on the other side.

‘Why don’t they just wait until there are no cars around?’

‘They don't know any better. You imagine being an animal for a second. Your instincts having evolved only to be faster than whatever’s trying to catch you, and then suddenly you’re faced with cars and lorries. We may know that they move …’

‘It was just a rhetorical question, mum,’ Leo interjected with a smile, and his heart lifted as she did the same for what seemed like the first time in weeks.

As well as the posters of missing people, graffiti was also appearing on walls and fences with children’s names and pleas for help.

PLEASE COME HOME BRENDAN

POLICE HAVE GIVEN UP BUT WE NEVER WILL!

BRING HOME OUR CHILDREN!

R.I.P THE CHILDREN LOST IN REWAN

The messages tended to overlap each other, but, as they went past an abandoned house, amongst all the graffiti was one message that stood out amongst the rest.

FIND LIBERO

Leo figured it must have been written by some kids who could not spell and payed it no more mind.

‘Unlike the fox, this lot don’t have evolution to blame,’ Leo’s mum grumbled, as she honked the horn at the children who stepped into the road as The Orchard’s familiar sign came into view. It had two poles decorated to look like tree stumps, and they held aloft a sign designed to look like a blossoming tree.

Leo’s mum pulled up next to the swarms of dark brown blazers that made their way up the winding paths between the thin trees towards the school.

‘Now, you give me a kiss goodbye.’

‘But my friends are just there,’ Leo whined, looking over at Kaira and Dorian who were waiting by the gates.

‘So? I’m sure they gave their parents a kiss goodbye too. There’s no need to be embarrassed,’ she said, pulling him in for a hug while he was distracted.

‘Get … off!’ Leo tried to stifle his laugh as he pushed her away.

‘You’re in year ten now, Leo. You shouldn’t be worrying about kissing your mum goodbye. You’ll have girlfriends soon enough. Speaking of which, Kaira must be jealous as she’s on her way over.’

Leo’s face flushed scarlet as he tried to pat his hair back down before looking around, only to see Kaira still standing in the same place.

‘Got you!’

‘Well, thanks for the lift.’

Leo tried to leave with some of his self-imagined bravado intact, but his mum stopped him as her giggling died down to be replaced with the same look of the past few weeks. Getting up from his seat, Leo leant over to give her a tight squeeze, and she rested her head against his.

‘Am I getting the bus home?’

‘I’ve got work. Stick with your friends and call me if you need anything!’

‘Don’t worry, mum. I’ll be fine,’ he said as he gave her one last hug, ‘love you.’

Fallen leaves crackled under Leo’s feet, as those remaining on their branches brushed against each other in the soft breeze.

‘How’s it going?’ Kaira asked as Leo joined them.

‘You know how it is,’ Leo replied, ‘did Bailey get the bus? No-one was there when we drove past.’

‘Yeah, her parents had to go to work,’ answered Dorian.

Just on cue, a brand-new number five swerved around the corner and into The Orchard. This bus had none of the creaks or squeals of the old one, and it proudly let out a soft hiss as it came to a smooth stop. Children immediately piled off and headed straight for their form rooms as Bailey followed on behind, taking a slight tumble as she jumped off the last step.

‘Anything happen on the ride in?’ Leo asked Bailey before she could speak, ‘did you see anything?’

‘Good to see you too, Leo! But no, it’s still the same roads we have been searching, just from higher up.’

‘Nothing out of the ordinary?’

Leo had not told anyone about what he had seen following his brother in the bushes, or even about what he had seen inside the tornado. He did not want them to think he was crazy. The more he thought about it, the more he questioned his own mind.

‘Nothing. I saw a guy setting up a camera to film some woman who was picking out the best missing child poster to stand by. But that’s about it.’

The press had come in almost as heavy as the storm itself. They had immediately started interviewing the public and harassing the families who had lost someone. But, as time went on and as nothing progressed, they had all started to lose interest and the best they got now was the morning report Leo had woken up to.

‘Well, I guess we’d better get this over with,’ Kaira said, taking a deep breath as she turned to face the school.

‘Take two,’ Leo added.

‘And – action,’ Dorian finished.

They headed up one of the leaf-covered paths to the right that took them to Blossom block, home to their form room.

‘At least we’ve got form with Mr Delph first thing back,’ Bailey noted, as they climbed their way up the cold stone steps towards the second-floor geography classrooms.

‘Imagine being stuck with Mrs Tiburtoro first-thing,’ said Leo.

Mr Delph was the happiest teacher you were likely to meet, a smile as much a part of his dress code as his clothes. Mrs Tiburtoro on the other hand, was the scariest teacher around. Her name alone was enough to strike fear into students’ hearts, and that was before you heard the steady sound of her high heels echoing around the maths department as she approached.

As Leo and his friends joined the rest of Autumn in their form room, Leo looked around for the familiar sight of Mr Delph’s beaming grin, the one he had seen every morning since his first day at school. Today however, was once again proving to be a little different, for Mr Delph did not greet each student as they came in but sat behind his desk staring blankly towards the closed blinds.

‘I guess these should really be open,’ Mr Delph said in his Greek accent, as he walked towards the windows and pulled the chord, ‘good morning, Autumn.’

‘Good morning, Mr Delph,’ came the reply of the few pupils who were not looking at him. Those who were watching him stayed silent, unsure whether he was talking to the class or to the world outside.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Kaira whispered to Leo, as they watched him return to his seat and look back out of the window.

‘I don’t know. His eyes are bloodshot,’ Dorian answered for Leo – his impressive hearing made it almost impossible for anyone to whisper without him listening in.

Leo stared at Mr Delph and saw only remnants of their favourite teacher. His grey hair had long been receding, but what was left had become thin and unkempt. Those famously thick eyebrows of his, which would usually weave up and down like two caterpillars playing tag on his forehead, now rested gravely above his eyes. He just sat silently, spinning the ring on his ring finger before turning to his form.

‘A big, warm welcome back to you all,’ Mr Delph said, forcing what was meant to be a smile but ended up as more of a grimace, ‘I’m sorry about the delay in getting this year started …’

He held tightly onto his ring finger.

‘But it's time we start getting back to a new normal. This will hopefully be a great year for all of you. Year ten is when we start making all of your young dreams become reality. By a show of hands, who’s nervous about this year?’

No-one raised their hand until a girl called Melanie tentatively lifted hers into the air, and her hand was then slowly joined by the rest of the class.

‘I thought as much. Let me tell you, year ten, you have no reason to be. Life’s too short for worrying. Life's about taking the opportunities handed to us and doing all we can to make a success of them, and thus ourselves. The future bears the gifts we work for in the present, meaning with dedication and hard work mixed with a little play, just a little, this will be your year. Your year to take a step forward into the unknown that is your future. Though this will be a significant, and perhaps daunting step, it’s a step that takes you closer to being whatever you want to be.’

Mr Delph sat back in his chair for a moment, allowing whispers to gain momentum in his silence.

‘Anyway, I thought we’d do a little quiz on our first day back to help us get our thinking caps back on. The quiz is of course geographical in its nature.’

‘Finally, an actual smile,’ Bailey whispered, as Mr Delph gave his first near smile.

‘While I’m doing this, Tommy, would you mind handing out the timetables for me please?’

Tommy, a small but outgoing boy, proudly bounded up to Mr Delph’s desk and took hold of the timetables, just as light from the projector rebounded off their teacher's head as he faced the board. His light blue shirt and navy trousers were projected upon by the presentation meant for the board behind him.

Mr Delph’s Natural Phenomenons

‘I know it's early. So, to help get you motivated, whoever gets a question right will win themselves a sweet.’

Leo and his friends sat up immediately, each of them as competitive as the other. Especially when food was involved.

Question one flashed up on the screen:

What are the goats in Morocco famous for?

Silence.

‘Perhaps I should've warned you that I don’t give sweets away lightly. It will involve you engaging those brains of yours.’

Silence.

‘Fine. A clue to help get the ball rolling. It involves a tree. The Argan tree, to be precise. Would anyone like to hazard a guess?’

Melanie was once again the first to raise a tentative hand above her long brown hair, looking around to see if anyone else had raised theirs.

‘Um, I’m not sure if this is right ...’ she began, pulling her hair across her face, ‘but are they the goats that climb trees?’

‘Fantastic! Well done Melanie! The first sweet is yours!’ Mr Delph exclaimed, throwing a purple sweet in her direction.

As the next slide flashed up and showed eleven goats standing on the branches of a tree, Leo received his timetable and he quickly scanned its contents.