Текст книги "The Weight of Souls"
Автор книги: Bryony Pearce
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
That did it.
I flew out of the sandpit, shedding fine grains like a rattlesnake. I covered the ground in seconds and threw myself at Justin, wrapping my hands around his throat.
I still had sand in my mouth, so I spat it at him while cursing and trying to throttle the superior look off his face.
Distantly I heard Tamsin shrieking and hands closed around my upper arms, pulling me free.
“You think this is funny?” I yelled. “You still think it’s funny?”
Everything had gone red. I kicked and fought against whoever had me in his grip.
“Calm down, Tay.” It was Pete’s voice in my ear with the name he hadn’t used in years. Where had he come from? I drooped in his hold and looked around. The whole school had to be watching.
My scratched skin started to throb and my cheeks burned.
“Can’t control herself.” Tamsin’s delighted voice blowtorched through my daze. “Typical foreigner. Just attacked us for no reason.”
I was about to blow sky high when I heard Miss Carroll. “No reason, Tamsin? Then why are her things all over the sandpit? Justin, obviously she blames you and I’m sure she has good cause. I’m getting sick of having to do this, but both of you come with me to see Mr Barnes. Again.”
5
A LOT OF OPPORTUNITIES
The corridor outside Mr Barnes’ office smelled of Dettol and vomit. I hunched on the hard chair with my bag between my legs. A trail of sand had followed me in and now poured from the flap and pooled at my feet. I’d shaken out as much as I could before coming inside, but it was everywhere. My bra itched like crazy.
Way more annoyingly, Justin wasn’t the slightest bit rumpled. I hadn’t even managed to mess up his tie. It remained in its usual loosened knot, an inch below his top button. Along with everything about Justin it was a little too relaxed, but remained just the right side of messy. Everywhere Justin went he looked at home.
I ground my teeth. His legs were stretched out in front of him, his ankles crossed just as they had been on the bus. His arms were loosely folded and he was leaning his head against the artwork behind his chair. His hair too, was just the right side of messy, a touch too long, it was starting to curl at the ends and he had to push it aside to glance over at me, brown eyes sparkling with amusement.
“So, what’re you going to say?” He smirked. “That I was watching some year nine stuff you in the sandpit, so you decided I needed a beat down?”
“Don’t even!” My fists had curled already and he’d only needed a single sentence. “I know you put him up to it. I heard you all.”
“You saw us talking to Alan, but that was it.” He checked his fingernails as if he was about to go for a manicure.
“Then why did he apologise before he pushed me over? I’m not stupid. I don’t know what hold you have over him, but there must be something.”
Justin shrugged. “When Mr Barnes brings him in, I’m sure he’ll mention it if I, as you say, ‘have something’ on him.” His fingers made air quotes and I wanted to break them off and stuff them down his throat.
I sat on my hands.
“You’re a dick,” I muttered.
“Yeah?” Justin actually looked away, flicking a grain of sand from his blazer. “I didn’t do anything to you, Taylor.”
“You don’t have to,” I snarled. “You just point the dogs in the right direction. It’s always been that way. Why me? That’s what I want to know. Are you a racist? Is that what I should tell Mr Barnes?”
Justin’s cool eyes widened for a moment and he snorted. Then he leaned back in his chair. “You really don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what?”
“My first day in this dump. You don’t remember what you did.”
“What Idid?”
His first day at school was the day I met the clown; the end of my normal life. I thought I remembered everything about those terrifying hours, but my memories of Justin were vague. On that day he was just the new boy.
With a bitter little smile Justin shook his head. He resumed leaning on the mural and ignored me.
“Come on then, what did I do to you?”
He shrugged. “It obviously isn’t that important, not if you don’t even remember.”
“It obviously isthat important.”
“Leave it, Oh.”
I was groping about for a way to make him tell me what I’d done when the memory clarified.
I headed for my usual seat but someone was already there – a new boy. He sat with his back to the room, looking out of my window, so all I could see was his neatly clipped hair, almost as dark as mine, and his thin brown fingers playing restlessly with a pencil.
“Hey.” The boy turned and our eyes met. My first feeling was disappointment. He wasn’t black like Pete, or even half-and-half, like me; he was just a boy with a deep tan. His eyes were brown, like mine, but they flickered nervously, taking in my clenched fists and the sight of Pete and Hannah standing behind me. I narrowed my eyes. “That’s my seat.”
He bit his lip and said nothing. I glanced at the teacher. Mr Barnes wasn’t looking at us so I squared my shoulders.
“You’re new, so you don’t know. But that’s my seat. Harley’s not here today, why don’t you go and sit next to James?”
In his place across the classroom James heard his name, and leaned back to study us until my hackles rose. Finally he used one toe to push the empty seat back: a silent invitation to the new boy.
But the new boy gripped the table. He wasn’t going anywhere.
I pressed my lips together. “Look, today’s my birthday and I’d really like to sit in my own seat near my mates.” I tried a smile.
The boy licked his lips. “It’s your birthday?”
“I’m ten.”
He looked out the window a final time then sighed and raised his voice loud enough for the rest of the class to hear. “Well seeing as it’s your birthday.” When he moved past the three of us he looked as if he really was doing me a favour.
At the end of the lesson I was right behind Pete when the necklace Hannah had given me slithered into my vest.
I fixed the loose clasp as the classroom emptied around me.
When I had it refastened I stood, then paused with the strangest feeling that someone was watching me. My eyes went to the corner of the playground.
I leaned closer to the window and saw something bright moving in the shadows. As I stared, a single crimson balloon appeared from the back of the building. It hung for a moment in a breath of still air then danced across the playground. No one looked up to watch it fly. Not one single child.
I walked quickly down the corridor. This was the third balloon I’d seen since the clown had appeared at the end of my street. I assumed he was some sort of naff birthday treat from Mum and Dad but his eerie silence had creeped me out and I had been grateful to jump on the bus and leave him behind. Now I was beginning to loathe the sight of balloons. Did it mean he had followed me to school?
I flung the double doors open and almost crashed into the new boy. James had him half pinned against the wall.
“Come on – truth or dare? You’ve got to choose.”
Justin’s face was pale under his tan and he was clutching his bag like a lifebelt.
“Just go with dare,” I muttered. “How bad can it be?”
Justin looked grateful as I sped past but I wasn’t thinking about him any more, I was thinking about the balloons I had been seeing all day. Balloons the colour of blood.
Was that what he was upset about? That I hadn’t helped him when James had him pinned.
I lowered my brows, trying to place him more firmly in my recollection of that day.
Mrs Pickard cleared her throat meaningfully and I glowered at the paper in front of me. We were meant to be writing a poem calledMyself . I picked up my pen.
“Today is my birthday,” I wrote. “I am ten.”
Something made me look up. Justin was sitting bolt upright, pen clenched in his fist. “What’s up with the new boy?” I whispered.
Pete shrugged and Hannah turned in her chair.
Justin stood slowly. He looked anxiously at James who nodded.
“What’s the matter, Justin?” Mrs Pickard looked concerned.
Justin swallowed audibly. “I-I want to change seats, please.”
“Change seats? What on earth for?” Mrs Pickard peered at his chair.
Justin shuffled his feet. “I-it’s the smell,” he muttered.
“Smell?” Mrs Pickard wrinkled her nose. “I can’t smell anything.”
“It’s your smell.” Despite his harsh words, Justin looked miserable. “I can’t stand the stink and I need to move.” He swallowed again. “Have you tried deodorant?”
Mrs Pickard’s mouth fell open and she immediately gathered her cardigan around herself.
“Shut up, Pete.” I hissed as the class began to snigger. James was laughing so hard he could barely keep his seat.
Justin looked wretched as Mrs Pickard fled from the room with tears in her eyes.
“Nice one!” James called. “You win.”
Justin turned and glared at me but I ignored him; there was a red balloon sliding along the window.
It was true that I had told Justin to take the dare, which probably got him in a great deal of trouble, but James was the one who had forced him to do it. Why was he mad at me? I opened my mouth to ask him and the office door opened.
“Miss Oh and Mr Hargreaves. Do come in. Again.”
“This is getting old, Miss Oh.” Mr Barnes shuffled papers on his desk and glared at me over his glasses. Did he think that made him look intelligent, intimidating? It just made me think he needed bifocals. The twit.
“I know that you have suffered a significantloss.” He paused respectfully. “But that was three years ago now and you have been given enough leeway.” He dropped the papers and slapped the desk with his palms. “ Enough, do you understand?”
“Wait a minute,” I gasped as if the air in the room was thin. “How is this myfault? I was attacked. Look at me.” I gave a little kick and sand spattered the carpet.
“That’s as may be, Miss Oh, and I will be talking to the perpetrator afterwards. However, Mr Hargreaves was notyour attacker, was he? I have witnesses who say you launched yourself at him with no provocation whatsoever.”
“He put him up to it. I heard.”
Mr Barnes raised his bushy eyebrows. “You specifically heard Mr Hargreaves tell Mr Fisher to steal your bag and push you in the sandpit?”
“I…”
“I didn’t think so.”
Mr Barnes shook his head. “Now, I don’t know what’s gone on between you two. A lovers’ spat, perhaps?” I choked, coughing sand out of my throat that I hadn't even realised was there. Justin remained in his semi-slouch, only a twitch of his fingertips showing his own reaction. Mr Barnes ignored me and continued. “I won’t have this bullying behaviour in my school.” Unbelievably he was looking at me.
“I–”
“I know you were also attacked, Miss Oh, but not by Mr Hargreaves. Apologise to him. Mr Fisher will be doing the same to you later on.”
Air huffed in and out of my nose, as if it was too offended to enter the lips that would have to betray me. I pressed my mouth closed and shook my head. “Miss Oh, for every three seconds you do not apologise, you will receive one day of detention.”
Justin looked at me and tilted his head, insolently waiting for my apology.
“One… two… three.”
I said nothing.
Mr Barnes shook his head and made a mark on his notebook. “One day of detention, Miss Oh. And again, one... two…”
I couldn’t risk it, the more time I spent in school, the more time the ghosts had to find me. My eyes traced movement on the courtyard, a man in a suit. Was he meant to be there?
Only my house was safe.
Then there was Hannah. She’d go spare if she had to sit on her own at break and lunch.
“I’m sorry,” I spat. The words were like poison on my tongue.
“Sorry for what?” Mr Barnes prompted.
My cheeks burned as if someone was holding a brand to my face. “I’m sorry that I attacked you, Justin.”
“That’s right.” Mr Barnes sat back with his hands across his stomach. “You know, I feel privileged to be at the helm of this school. Can you guess why?”
I shook my head, still burning and itching and hating him with every heartbeat. “This school has opportunities, Miss Oh. It isn’t like other institutions, where there is a single popular ‘gang’ in each year with everyone else excluded. I’ve seen people from different year groups ‘run together’, I’ve seen the unpopular suddenly become accepted, even admired. There are opportunities, Miss Oh, for the daring. For those brave enough to grasp them with both hands.”
Justin made his first noise, a cross between a hiccup and a gasp and I frowned at him. Mr Barnes was off on one of his aimless rants. Why was Justin bothered?
Mr Barnes removed his glasses and stared off into space. “This school has history, Miss Oh.” He leaned forward one more time, his eyes suddenly sharp. This time he was looking at Justin. “ Qui audet vincit. Who dares wins. Isn’t that right, Mr Hargreaves?”
Justin swallowed, audibly. “That’s right, Mr Barnes.”
Mr Barnes nodded and put his glasses back on. “And there is nothing new under the sun, Miss Oh.” He tapped his paper. “Another detention for you. I’ll also be writing a letter to your father. I’ll expect his reply by return.”
“Taylor, I–” Justin’s voice contained some sort of apology and I wasn’t having that from him, no way.
“Leave me alone.” I slumped back on the sandy chair to wait for the letter that Mr Barnes was emailing to his secretary.
“Fine.” He strode past me without another look.
The chair next to me was occupied by Derek from the year below and I looked across, seeking an empathetic eye-roll. Even I had to admit that the boy was good looking: blemish-free skin, short dreadlocks and a jaw line so firm he could rock a mask and cape if he wanted to.
Today though, he was so pale he looked green and his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap endlessly, like creatures independent of the rest of him. He was hunched over his bag, his whole body tense: a jack-in-the-box ready to spring.
Unable to make any sort of eye contact I turned away. What had happened to him? Until a couple of weeks ago he was the Justin of his year group then suddenly he was even less popular than I was. Hannah told me that if he tried to speak to someone they turned their back on him. If he sat at a lunch table, everyone else got up and left. He had become a ghost in his own classroom.
“Hey.” I couldn’t not speak. “Are you OK?”
There was no reply and I was leaning back in my seat when suddenly he spoke. “How do you stand it?”
“Stand what?” I frowned.
“Being what you are. So ‘out’ with everyone.”
I inhaled sharply. “I have Hannah.”
“So you do.” His fingers twined in and out of themselves, the knuckles red raw. “I…”
“Yes?” I couldn’t help noticing how sunken his eyes were. It looked as if he hadn’t slept for weeks.
“I want to apologise. I was a dick to you. Just like everyone else. I know how it feels now.” He cleared his throat. “You’re stronger than I am, Oh.”
“Derek Anderson, Mr Barnes will see you now.”
“Listen,” I caught his arm. “You should eat lunch with me and Hannah.”
Derek snorted. “That’s nice of you, Oh. Especially considering, you know, everything. But it’s too late. I’m leaving.”
“In the middle of term?”
“I’ve got a transfer, I’m collecting my papers now. I’m out of here. This place is effed up! ”He gave a smile as fake as plastic fruit. “Don’t let the bastards get you down, Oh.”
I dropped my hand and watched him go.
Hannah stood in the courtyard waiting for me and she wasn’t alone.
“Look who’s keeping me company,” she half sang.
“Pete.” My eyes widened, but still I nodded at him as I went to her side. He grunted wordlessly and moved away, disassociating himself.
I sighed and turned to Hannah. “You didn’t have to wait.” I shook more sand out of my waistband. Would I ever get rid of it all?
“Last period’s over. I’ll get the bus with you.”
Gratefully I stuck my arm through hers. Then I stopped and turned to our one-time friend. “You know, you could get the bus with us.”
Pete just looked at me.
“Like old times.”
“Right,” he sneered. “Those times you pretended to like me, or the ones you refused to talk to me?”
“That’s not fair.” Hannah leaped to my defence. “We were friends.”
Pete turned to Hannah. “Does she ever tell you what’s going on with her?”
Hannah blushed and avoided looking at me.
“I don’t know how you stand it, Han.” He rubbed his palm over the darker mahogany of his head. “How can you think she’s your friend if she won’t talk to you?”
“We talk,” Hannah snapped.
“Yeah sure. Look she’s zoned out on us already. Obviously not that interested.”
Pete's words had become a distant buzz, my focus shifted to the suited man striding across the flagstones. Was he living or dead?
The sun had moved and now the whole courtyard was in the shade so the first item on my mental checklist, to look for a shadow, was out. Pete and Hannah had their backs to him, so I couldn’t tell if they were able to see him or not. I had to assume he was a ghost.
I prepared to run, slipping my arm free of Hannah’s.
Pete caught my other elbow. “You think you’re better than us.”
“That’s not true.” I was forced to take my eyes off the approaching suit. “Let go, will you?”
Hannah still clung to one arm and Pete had the other. I was trapped.
The suit saw my predicament. His pace increased and he raised his head to look directly at me.
It was possible he needed to ask directions or something.
And it was about to rain kittens.
I had to get out of there. I tugged ineffectually at Pete, but he didn’t move. “Did you ever like me the way I liked you?” he suddenly asked.
“I… I…” I blinked up at him. “It was complicated. And this isn’t a good time.”
The businessman reached us and smiled. I grit my teeth and tensed, but he didn’t hesitate. He reached past Pete’s arm and grabbed my hand, pressing his palm on to my knuckles. My skin froze as if I’d held my hand to a block of ice and an almost electric shock shivered up my arm. Then a familiar black Mark spread across my tendons like spilled ink.
“Crap.” Immediately I yanked my hand free, terrified that I might accidentally touch my friend’s skin.
“You’re a cold bitch.” Pete swung around and strode away.
The words to stop him caught in my throat. Pete had been wavering, maybe even considering leaving Justin’s clique. Hannah and I could have had our friend back. Now he was gone again, utterly out of reach.
Venomously I glared at the ghost who had cost us our chance. Then I pulled away from Hannah who was staring after Pete with surprise.
“Did he just say he liked you?”
“It was a long time ago, when Mum was still around. I couldn’t go out with him.”
“I remember you had a lot going on.”
“Yeah.” The ghost drifted closer, wanting to speak to me. I pulled the white glove from my bag and tugged it over my hand.
“Hey, your eczema got bad fast!” Hannah caught at my wrist trying to see and I leaped back. I didn’t dare let her touch me in case she was accidentally branded. The thought of the Darkness coming for my best friend made me sick to my stomach.
“It’s OK, Han. Listen, I’ve got to be somewhere. I’ll call you later.”
Hannah nodded, but her face had fallen. She had waited for me, now she would have to go home alone.
Pete was right, Hannah put up with a lot from me and I wondered once more, with a shiver, how much longer she’d stick around.
6
A TWINGE OF SYMPATHY
I followed the suit away from Ken High Street leaving behind the shoppers, street hawkers and laughing groups of workmates heading for bars.
In this more sedate area shops were open by appointment only and metal grilles obscured half-glimpsed chandeliers and antiques. None of the retailers here were open past five but a few were still shutting up as I walked past. The rattle of descending shutters kept breaking the deathly quiet and making me jump.
The only other person on the road was a woman with a shopping bag from Whole Foods Market. She was obviously heading for home but she turned off before I reached the Crescent where tall white houses loomed like ribs in an elephants’ graveyard, turned purple by twilight.
A glowing taxi passed the end of the road and disappeared.
I rubbed my hands on my skirt. “You’re sure this is the place?”
The suit nodded. “This is it. It’s been five years since she left the house. You’ll have to go in.”
My throat closed up as silence blanketed the street. But there was no way the Darkness was coming for me, not this soon; I’d only been Marked a couple of hours ago. The usual London noise was simply unable to penetrate the labyrinth of high white houses.
“Let’s get this over with.”
The gentle creaking of a tree seemed frighteningly loud and I jumped as a pigeon flapped almost apologetically to roost in its branches.
The murderer’s home was dark and still. “Maybe she’s out.”
The suit shook his head. “No chance. After she had me killed and he left her anyway she lost it. My so-called wife is in there, trust me.”
“And you’re sure she won’t answer the door?” I flexed my hands, hoping he’d say no and that I could simply ring the bell and shake her hand when she answered.
“Not if there’s no delivery expected.”
I sighed and checked out the house opposite. It had high walls, but lights glowed in the upstairs windows. I couldn’t see anyone, but I still opened the gate to number three and walked down the path as if I had a right to be there. The first lesson of breaking and entering that Mum had taught me was that skulking draws attention.
The suit preceded me down the side of the house. I risked one furtive look over my shoulder and when I saw that the street remained quiet I followed and breathed a sigh of relief as the road disappeared from view behind the hedge.
At the back of the house large windows overlooked a decked garden. A few plants in urns provided glimmers of green, but mostly the space was decorated with stone sculptures and mirrored water features.
I turned my back on the centrepiece of a jagged, rippling mirror and regarded the house.
The windows were all shut fast. The double doors that opened on to the decking were locked and a security alarm blinked above them.
“There’s an alarm.”
The suit shrugged. “Can you do this, or not?”
I glared at him and removed the glove from my stained hand. “Thanks to you I don’t have a choice.”
I looked closely at the lock. It was a pretty standard deadbolt. Nothing I couldn’t handle with a tension wrench.
Which was at home. I’d come straight from school. I opened my bag with a sigh and pulled out my History homework amidst yet another small sandstorm. The papers were connected with a metal paperclip and it was the work of a moment to create a makeshift pick.
I tapped my teeth with it and fixed my eyes on the alarm. It was a home security system from Everest. I sucked air in through my teeth, knowing perfectly well that Everest used pre-entry detection.
“I can’t get in while that alarm’s on.”
I was glaring at the blue logo when the light on the box blinked.
“She’s switched it off.” I frowned. “Why?”
The dead guy shrugged. “Maybe she’s letting the cat out.”
“Jeez.” I threw myself behind the water feature as a dumpy figure appeared in the darkness and cracked the door. A soft yowl told me a cat had just joined me in the garden. Briefly I considered rushing the killer. Then I shook my head. She might get back inside before I could reach her, then I’d lose my chance to transfer the Mark. I had to stay hidden.
After a slow count of one hundred I peered around the side of the mirror. The rear of the house remained dark and the figure had vanished.
I ran across the decking on my toes and stood outside the French doors. In the growing darkness my reflection appeared in the window. It was as if my own ghost had come to warn me to stay out. I put my nose closer to the glass and peered past my pale face to the room beyond. Before my breath fogged the window I saw a sitting room; uninhabited, cold and dark.
I flexed my fingers, shook my head and inserted the paperclip into the lock. Quick as I could I turned it, then I found my little metal nail file, slid the tool into the key hole and began.
Sweat made my grip uncertain and the roaring blood in my ears almost stopped me from hearing the pins fall into the housing. The hair on my arms rose and my back prickled. I was certain I was being watched.
Despite my mother’s rule to appear as if I belonged, I had to look over my shoulder. Movement caught my eye and my breath caught. Frantically I pulled my tools free, and tried to look like as much like an ordinary visitor as possible.
I heard no challenge. When my heart stopped hammering I realised that I’d reacted to my own movement reflected in the mirrored sculpture. The only audience I had was the cat who was peeing loudly in the gravel. Nice.
I rolled my shoulders, inhaled and pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead; then I started again.
The final pin clicked into position. I took a deep breath and turned the file. The plug rotated, the lock snicked open and I pulled my tools free.
My hand shook on the handle. I added enough weight to push it downwards. The patio door swung open on thankfully silent hinges and I stepped into the house.
My shoes squeaked on the tiled floor and I froze. I pulled the door closed behind me, tucked my tools away and rubbed my arms. The house was cold. Very little light followed me in from the garden and the room was grey with shadow and shade. A piano stood in one corner and two large, overstuffed sofas faced a well-stocked drinks cabinet. A crystal decanter distilled the dim light and turned it into a tiny constellation.
Carefully I tiptoed to the doorway and peered around. There was an alcove opposite me displaying an empty vase almost as tall as I was and to my left was a carpeted dining room. It too was quiet. I sped past the large rectangular table and ornate chairs and cracked the door open.
Voices made me hold my breath. Then I recognised a familiar theme tune. She was watching EastEnders.
I poked my head around the door and faced a long hallway. Doors flanked black and white tiles that led all the way to the front entrance. Light came from beneath only one, the farthest away from me.
I retreated back into the alcove and glowered at dead guy. “I’m going to wait here. Tell me when she falls asleep and I’ll Mark her.”
“You’re not going to confront her? I need her to know who’s doing this to her. That bitch ruined my life.”
I ground my teeth. “She endedyour life. I’m here to get justice, not to let you go on a rant. If you want a medium, go find one.”
The suit opened his mouth.
“Just forget it. I’m not risking myself so you can go on a power trip. You’ll get your revenge. So go. Get the alarm code so I can get out of here later, and don’t come back till she’s asleep.”
The stairs were carpeted and the carpet was thick; my shoes only whispered on the pile and the stairs supported my weight uncomplainingly. At the top I swung around the nearest wall and leaned against it. All the doors up here were closed, as if the house had been shut up for a holiday.
The suit was standing outside the only one that was slightly ajar.
“She’s in there?” I mouthed.
He nodded resentfully.
“You’re sure she’s asleep?”
He nodded again.
I slipped into the room and found the middle-aged woman passed out on the bed. She was snoring and her eye-mask had slipped so that only one eye was covered. A bottle of pills lay on the nightstand next to her. I edged closer. By the look of what she’d taken I could start playing the trumpet and she’d sleep on.
One arm lay on top of the covers, fingers twitching in sleep. She snuffled as if she could sense me, but did not move.
A twinge of sympathy wormed in my chest as I held my hand above hers. She hadn’t gained much from her dark deed. But I’d been Marked and it was her or me. I pressed my hand to her palm as if we were holding hands. She mumbled again, pulled away and rolled over. Her eye-mask slipped all the way off and her blackened hand flopped over her face in its place.
“Sorry.” I couldn’t prevent the apology from slipping out.
The suit opened his mouth but I ignored him and slipped out of the room. He’d have his revenge and if she was as reclusive as he said, no one would even know.
