Winner of the Everything with Words’ YA Competition 2019 judged by Patrice Lawrence, The Sound of Everything is a heart-felt coming of age story for all those who struggle to feel like they deserve love. Intrigued? Well read on to discover an excerpt from the first chapter of Rebecca Henry’s The Sound of Everything, which is available to buy from all good bookshops including Blackwells.
SYNOPSIS
Betrayal, rejection, violence Kadie has known it all. She’s tough and prepared for everything. Everything except love.
Kadie has has just arrived in yet another foster home. She trusts no one and lives by the rules: don’t count on anyone, always act, be prepared to lose everything. She’s lost everything more times than she can count but then she meets Lips and learns that some things are even more important than survival. But she has secrets of which she must let go if she is to make a stab at friendship and love.
EXCERPT
I can tell from the get-go when I’m not wanted. When you’re just another foster kid, sometimes it seems like eventually everyone stops caring – except to get chatty patty about you before you’ve even walked in the door.
I’m one of those girls. People know about me before they meet me.
I’d like to think that Mr Tucker sat me at the front of his history class to make sure I’m doing okay. It’s probably more like he was given a folder labelled Kadie Hunte which advised him to sit me under his nose where he could keep one eye trained on me.
At the moment I’m actually supposed to be a Lucas, but I’ve always kept my real name. I rock back in my chair and test it in my head. Kadie Lucas. It has a good ring. I could fit in. I’ve got standings. Aside from the whole rapper/singer thing, my fashion sense is on point and I live in the same house as Miss Popularity.
‘Kadie!’ An explosion on the desk in front of me jolts me back into perspective. I start, dropping my chair back into place, and ball my hands into tight fists. Mr Tucker has a thing with whacking wooden board rubbers on the desks to get people’s attention. I’m pretty sure I felt some reverb in my bones.
‘Remind me when the Suffragette movement was.’ He taps the board rubber insistently on the desk. I’ve only been at this school three weeks but I know he won’t stop until I’ve given him my attention.
I grit my teeth. ‘Stop banging that stupid piece of wood!’
Mr Tucker’s eyebrows shoot up. He stops banging the board rubber. ‘Lose the earphones and pay attention. Next time I see them you’re staying after school – and that’s me being ridiculously lenient. Open your ears and listen to me.’
I manage to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Listening is effort, and for the most part, I don’t do effort.
‘Look at me when I’m talking to you!’ Mr Tucker leans closer. ‘Do I need to repeat myself?’
I reluctantly pull the ear bud out of my left ear. Background noise leaks into my brain, squeezing my thoughts into the corners of my head. Feet shuffling; a whirring somewhere; the road outside the open window. I can push the noise out if I want, but it’s less effort to slouch here and listen to the bits of the world that nobody else seems to hear. Instead, my free hand spins my pen around my thumb repeatedly without stopping. It’s the only adept thing I can do with my fingers.
‘So. The Suffragette movement?’ Mr Tucker prompts. His voice still dominates the battlefield of noises, but it could easily get lost like a generic face in a crowd.
I shrug. ‘Beats me.’
‘Think about it.’
‘I’m thinking hard.’
‘Think harder.’
I suck my teeth. ‘Aren’t there twenty other kids you can ask?’ I twist around in my seat. ‘Does anyone else know when the Suffragette movement was?’
There’s a shifting of bodies, a few snickers, and some murmurs. I catch a glimpse of Shadavia – the totally snazzy, straight-A-grades, head of the school council, Miss Popularity. I’m kinda honoured to be her foster sister. I mean, if it weren’t for her I’d already have dropped to the negatives on the social scale. She’s right there acting like some goody-two-shoes but she’s trying to keep a straight face. A row forward from her, her mate Eisha is hiding a smirk behind the ends of her cane rows.
I smile sweetly at Mr Tucker. ‘Let’s take that as a yes. You can carry on now. Ask someone else.’
He’s red in the face. ‘Excuse me? Who’s the teacher here?’
I curl my lip at him. ‘You are. So teach.’
His eye twitches. ‘Go and stand outside. You’re obviously not mature enough to be in here.’
‘Let’s not talk about maturity,’ I sigh, rolling my eyes – but really I’m proper glad for a reason to get out. Usually I’d just leave when I feel like it, go for a walk (this has been a major cause for trouble in my behaviour history), but the way the desks are oriented, I can’t get out without shoving past four other people.
I grab my bag and drop my pen in it. I never take out my whole pencil case, because I know I’ll just spill everything everywhere.
Mr Tucker folds his arms. ‘Kadie, if you walk out that’s an automatic hour detention.’
‘So? It’s nearly the end of the lesson anyway and I’ve read this chapter of the text book.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘Believe it. I’ll quote you if you don’t give me detention.’ I shove my way out of the aisle, tripping over chair legs as I go. Smooth.
‘An hour detention or fifteen minutes of lesson?’ he asks, almost nicely.
I wish. But my hand’s already on the door. ‘How about a complete recital of chapter five instead of the detention?’
‘It doesn’t work that way.’
‘Obviously.’ I slam the door behind me.
