“Don’t worry about it,” she said as she closes the envelope, tucking the top flap into it so Olivia could open it easily. “She’ll love your gift, Ellie, it’ll be fine.”

When I came home crying about Rhys continually tearing my drawings during break and lunch, she whispered it into my hair, “Don’t worry about it.” And I listened, and Rhys was pulled out of the classroom a week later to get a lecture.

“Oh, El- uh, what do you want me to call you?”

“Lucas.”

“Well, don’t worry about it! You’ll always be the same kid I raised, whatever your name is!”

And my heart sang with hope.

For a week.

“Don’t worry about it, Lucas,” Mum said quietly, pulling her fingers through my too-long hair before picking up the scissors. “I’ll speak to the teachers. That’s unacceptable.”

“HE’S DEAD!” I found myself screaming, far too out of breath to say much else. She gave me a horrified look, not needing to know his name. James had vanished a week earlier, after all.

“Don’t worry about it, alright? You’ll be okay.”

“They’re targeting kids in Lucas’ form, Mum. All the worst transphobes,” Ash stirred their cereal almost absent-mindedly. “People in my classes suspect him of being behind these killings.”

I dropped my toast with a curse.

“Don’t say words like that, Lucas,” Mum said without looking at me. “And don’t worry about it. There’s no real evidence.”

“Mum, what’s happening?”

“Don’t worry about it.” There was a small, sad smile playing at her lip.

Ash took one look at the policemen and their handcuffs and stepped forward.

“I did it. I killed them. It wasn’t Lucas.”

What?

“Don’t worry about it, Lucas,” Ash mumbled, picking at a bit of rust on the bars of the holding cell. I’d begged and pleaded to be able to see them, and this was what they were saying.

“Are you joking? You — you didn’t do it!”

“I know that,” they sighed. “Oh, Lucas, you’re an idiot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said to her as I put the phone down. They’d be here soon, and then Ash would be released, and things would be… okay.