Текст книги "Finding Sky"

Автор книги: Joss Stirling

Соавторы: Joss Stirling
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Chopin melted into something more funky, with the Mission Impossible theme tune interlaced.

The door banged and I spun round in anticipation, pulse leaping, but it was only Nelson.

‘Hey, Sky. Yves and Zed aren’t in school.’ Elasto-man bounded in and got his instrument out of its case.

I felt a huge wave of disappointment which I told myself to put down to being denied the chance to play, not because I was missing out on seeing the object of my secret obsession.

‘Do you want to try out a few things together anyway?’

I ran my fingers over the keys.

Nelson’s mouth twitched. ‘What kind of things you have in mind, sweet thing?’

‘Um … I’m sure there are a few songs here we could take for a test drive.’ I got up and leafed through the stack of music on the table.

He laughed. ‘Aw, shucks: you’re brushing me off!’

‘Am I? I am?’ I could feel my blush getting to the top of the embarrassing scale. ‘How about this?’ I shoved a random piece of music towards him.

He looked down. ‘Show tunes? I mean, Oklahoma has some good ones but—’

‘Oh.’ I snatched it back, getting more flustered by the knowledge that I was amusing him.

‘Take it easy, Sky. Better idea: why not let me pick?’

Relieved, I abandoned the scores and retreated to my piano stool where I felt more in control of things.

‘I make you nervous?’ Nelson asked seriously, shooting me a curious look. ‘You shouldn’t mind me

–I was just fooling around.’

I tugged my long plait over my shoulder and wrapped it around my fist. It had to be kept plaited or it got out of control. ‘Not you.’

‘Just guys?’

I thumped my head lightly on the piano lid. ‘Am I that obvious?’

Nelson shook his head. ‘No. I’m such a sensitive soul for recognizing it.’ He grinned.

‘I’ve got a few issues.’ I wrinkled my nose in disgust at myself. My problems were many, al rooted in my deep sense of insecurity according to the child psychologist I’d been going to since I was six. Wel , gee, as if I couldn’t have worked that one out for myself, seeing that I was abandoned and al .

‘I’m a bit out of my comfort zone.’

‘But I’ve got your back, remember.’ Nelson pul ed out his choice and showed it to me for my approval.

‘You can breathe easy round me. I ain’t got no nefarious designs towards you.’

‘What’s nefarious?’

‘I don’t know, but my grandma accuses me of having them when she thinks I done something bad and it sounds good.’

I laughed, relaxing a little. ‘That’s right—I can rat you out to her if you step out of line.’

He gave a mock shudder. ‘Even you can’t be so cruel, Brit Chick. Now, are we going to sit shooting the breeze al day or play some music?’ Nelson grabbed his sax and tested the tuning.

‘Music.’ I propped the score open on the stand and jumped right in.

I had no plans for the wee

kend.

Doesn’t that sound pathetic? Tina and Zoe had Saturday jobs in the local stores and Nelson was out of town to see his dad so there was no one to hang out with. Simon had mentioned something about hunting for second-hand pianos but that idea got shot down by the manager of the Arts Centre asking my parents to come in and sort out their studio space. I knew better than to get in the way. It would be like standing between two chocoholics and their candy supply. That left me circling Planet Wrickenridge, a lone comet in my own orbit.

‘Come and find us for lunch,’ Sal y said, handing me a twenty dol ar note. ‘Go and see what’s what in town.’

That didn’t take long. Wrickenridge was American-quaint; even Starbucks masqueraded as a Swiss-style chalet. There was a smal selection of upmarket shops, some only open during the skiing season, a couple of hotels with posh looking restaurants waiting for winter, a diner, a community centre, and a gym. I stood outside that for a while wondering if it was worth a closer look but in the end felt too shy to try it. Same went for the adjoining spa and nail parlour. I wondered if N e a t Nails was where Tina got hers done. I’d pretty much bitten mine to the quick.

Wandering further on, I headed up Main Street towards the park, enjoying the municipal flowerbeds spil ing over with bright autumn blooms. Passing the duck pond that doubled as an ice rink in winter, I walked until garden planting faded into an arboretum of mountain trees and shrubs. A few people strol ing in the sunshine greeted me as we passed, but I was mostly left to myself. I wished I had a dog to make my presence less conspicuous. Perhaps I should suggest it to Sal y and Simon. A rescue pup that needed a home because someone had abandoned it—I’d like that. Problem was we were only certain on staying a year—not long enough to be fair on a pet.

I fol owed a track up, hoping to reach a viewpoint I’d seen marked on the map at the park entrance with the intriguing label of ‘ghost town’. My leg muscles were burning by the time the path led me out on to a rocky outcrop that had a great vista of Wrickenridge and the rest of the val ey. The label hadn’t lied: the ledge was home to a street of abandoned wooden buildings; it reminded me of a movie set when filming had finished. I read a plaque hammered into the ground.

Gold Rush township, built 1873 when the first nugget

was discovered in the Eyrie River.

Abandoned 1877. Seven miners died when theEagle shaft collapsed in Spring 1876.

Only four years and the miners had thrown up a whole little community of lodging houses, saloons, stores, and stables. Most of the dark wood buildings had lost their roofs, but some were stil thatched in tin which creaked ominously in the breeze. Rusting chains dangled over the edge of the escarpment, swaying over the golden wild flowers that clung to the ledges, mocking the lost dreams of the pioneers. It would make a great backdrop to a real y spooky story—‘Revenge of the Miners’, or something. I could hear the spine-chil ing themes already, incorporating the lonely clank of the chain and the hol ow notes of the wind blowing through the abandoned buildings.

But it was a sad place. I didn’t like to think of the miners buried somewhere in the mountainside, crushed under tons of rock. After poking around in the buildings, I sat down, crossed my legs on a bench, wishing I’d thought to buy a Coke and a chocolate bar before climbing al the way up here.

Colorado was just so big—everything on a scale unfamiliar to a British person. Mist drifted off the mountain slopes, cutting the sunlit summits off from the dark green base like an eraser rubbing out a picture. I fol owed the progress of a yel ow van winding its way along the main road, heading east.

Cloud shadows moved across the fields, rippling over barns and roofs, dimming a pond then moving it on to leave it a bright eye gazing up at the heavens again. The sky arched over the peaks, a soft blue on this hazy morning. I tried to imagine the people living up here, faces turned to the rock rather than the sky, watching for the glint of gold. Had any of them stayed on and moved down to Wrickenridge? Did I go to school with descendants of people who arrived in the madness of the Gold Rush?

A twig snapped behind me. Heart thumping, head ful of ghosts, I twisted round to see Zed Benedict hovering at the point where the track left the trees.

He looked tired, shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there last week. His hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly.

‘Perfect, just what I need,’ he said with cutting sarcasm, backing away.

Words not calculated to make a girl feel good about herself.

I got up. ‘I’m going.’

‘Forget it. I’l come back later.’

‘I was just heading home in any case.’

He stood his ground and just looked at me. I had the strangest sensation that he was drawing something out of me, as if there was a thread between us and he was winding it in.

I shivered and closed my eyes, holding up a hand, palm towards him. I felt dizzy. ‘Please—don’t do that.’

‘Don’t do what?’

‘Look at me like that.’ I blushed a furious red. He would now think I was completely mad. I’d imagined the thread after al . I turned on my heel and strode off into the nearest building, leaving him the bench, but he fol owed.

‘Look at you like what?’ he repeated, kicking aside a fal en plank of wood in his pursuit. The whole place groaned; one puff of a strong wind and I was sure it would col apse on our heads.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ I marched ahead, making for the empty-framed window overlooking the val ey. ‘Forget it.’

‘Hey, I’m talking to you.’ He caught my arm, but seemed to reconsider. ‘Look … er … Sky, isn’t it?’

He cast his eyes upwards as if seeking guidance, not quite believing what he was about to do. ‘I’ve got to tel you something.’

The breeze got under the eaves, making the tin roof creak. I suddenly realized just how far we were from other people. He released my arm. I rubbed at the places where his fingers had dug into my skin.

He frowned, reluctant even to speak to me, but made himself do so. ‘There’s something you need to know.’

‘What?’

‘Be careful at night. Don’t go out alone.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The other night I saw … Look, just be careful, OK?’

No, not OK. He was one scary guy.

‘You’ve got that right.’

What? I hadn’t said that aloud, had I?

He swore and kicked the broken mining gear in frustration. The chain clanked to and fro, reminding me of a body swinging on a hangman’s scaffold. I hugged my arms to my chest, trying to make myself a smal er target. This was my fault. I’d done something—I don’t know what—something to set him off.

‘No, you haven’t!’ He said the words sharply.

‘None of it is your fault, you hear?’ He dropped his voice. ‘And I’m just scaring the hel out of you, aren’t I?’

I froze.

‘Fine. I’l leave.’ He strode off abruptly, disappearing

between

the

empty

buildings,

swearing at himself under his breath.

So, that went wel .

Three weeks into the se

mester and high school had

proved to be mostly fun apart from the weird feeling left over from Zed’s warning. What was that boy on?

And what did he think he had seen? How could it possibly have anything to do with me not going out after dark? The last thing I needed was some bad boy to take an unhealthy interest in me.

I tried to shrug it off. Too much else was going on. I had a few bad moments with some of the students teasing me about my accent and ignorance of things American, but on the whole they were OK. A couple of the girls in my social studies class, including the cheerleading Sheena—ones I’d privately tagged as Vampire Brides due to their preference for blood-red nail varnish—stole my ID off me for a joke when they’d heard me moaning to Tina about how bad my picture was. Unfortunately, the Draculettes agreed with me and dubbed me the ‘blonde bunny’ when they saw my photo, which I found more than annoying. Tina advised me to let it pass, arguing it was more likely to stick if I made a fuss about it. So I bit my tongue and kept my school swipe card hidden at al times.

‘Activities day next week—Juniors can choose to go rafting,’ Nelson told me one Friday afternoon as he walked me home. He was on his way to fix his grandmother’s lawnmower for her. ‘Wanna come?’

I wrinkled my nose, imagining Robinson Crusoe lashing together tree trunks. ‘Rafting—you have to build one or something?’

He laughed. ‘This isn’t the Boy Scouts of America, Sky. No, I’m talking white-water, white-knuckle, high octane excitement on the Eyrie River. Imagine an inflatable boat with room for six or seven. You’ve got the main man on the rudder at the back, the rest of us with the paddles sitting on the sides, just barely holding on as we plunge through the rapids. You’ve gotta give it a try if you want to count yourself a Coloradan.’

Whoa, high school wasn’t like sixth form col ege after al —this was immense. I could see the images flashing before my mind now as I expertly navigated my way down a foaming river, saving the child/dog/injured

man,

music

swel ing

to

unbelievable heights, heavy on the strings, tight with tension …

Yeah, right.

‘They’ve got a beginner’s level?’

‘Nope, gonna send you down the trickiest run with no life jacket and no guide.’ Nelson laughed at my expression. ‘Course they have, you muppet. You’l love it.’

I could do this: start smal , graduate to hero status once I’d got the hang of it. ‘OK. Do I need any special kit?’

He shook his head. ‘No, just wear some old clothes. Sky, I don’t suppose you’d ask Tina if she’d like to come in our group?’

My suspicions were instantly alerted. ‘Why don’t you ask her yourself?’

‘She’l think I’m coming on to her.’

I smiled. ‘Aren’t you?’

He rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture. ‘Yeah, but I just don’t want her to know it yet.’

The day of the rafting trip and the weather looked a little cloudy, the mountains a sul en grey and breeze stiff. There was a definite chil in the air, even a few spots of rain. I’d put on a thicker hoodie, my favourite one with ‘Richmond Rowing Club’ on the front which I thought was funny considering this was absolutely no Thames. The minibus bumped down the dirt track that led to the rafting school. The first gold leaves were drifting off the aspens and fal ing into the river to meet a violent end in the rapids. I hoped it wasn’t a sign of things to come.

When we arrived, the rafting school receptionist doled out helmets, waterproof shoes, and life jackets. We then gathered on the bank to listen to a briefing given by a stern-faced man with long dark hair. He had the dramatic profile of a Native American, broad forehead and eyes that seemed eons older than his years. It was a face made to be drawn or, better yet, sculpted. If I’d written a melody for him, it would have been haunting, plaintive like the South American panpipes, music for wild places.

‘Great—we’ve got Mr Benedict—Zed and Yves’s father. He’s the best,’ whispered Tina. ‘He total y rocks on the water.’

I couldn’t pay attention, my eagerness to launch myself out on to the rapids dwindling now I actual y faced the turbulent river.

Hearing our murmured discussion, Mr Benedict gave us both a keen look and I had a sudden glimpse of colours surrounding him—silvery like the sun on the snowy peaks.

Not again, I thought, feeling that strange sense of dizziness. I refused to see colours—I wasn’t letting them back in. I closed my eyes and swal owed, snapping the contact.

‘Ladies,’ Mr Benedict said in a soft voice that stil managed to carry over the noise of the water, ‘if you would listen, please. I’m running through vital safety protocols.’

‘You OK?’ Tina whispered. ‘You’ve gone a little green.’

‘It’s just … nerves.’

‘You’l be fine—there’s nothing to worry about.’

I hung on to every word Mr Benedict said after that but few of them lodged in my brain.

He finished his little lecture, stressing the need to obey orders at al times. ‘Some of you said you were interested in kayaking. Is that right?’

Neil from cheerleading raised his hand.

‘My sons are out on the course right now. I’l let them know you want a lesson.’

Mr Benedict was gesturing towards the upper reaches of the river where I could just make out a series of striped poles suspended over the channel.

Three red kayaks were racing down the rapids. It was impossible to tel who was in each boat but they were evidently al skil ed, playing the river in a series of almost bal etic movements, pirouettes and turns that brought my heart into my mouth. One shot through to the front of the trio. He seemed to have an edge over the others, able to anticipate the next churn of the water, the next flip of current, a fraction ahead of time. He passed under the red and white finish post and punched the air with his paddle, laughing at his brothers lagging behind.

It was Zed. Of course.

Mesmerized, we al watched the other boats cross the finish. Zed was already at the bank getting out of the kayak when his brothers reached him. After some rowdy arguments in which the word ‘unfair’

was shouted several times, the tal est one picked Zed up and threw him in. He went under—but it was a calm backwater so he merely bobbed up to the surface. He grabbed his brother and pul ed him over.

From the easy way the boy fel , I guessed that this was not unexpected. That left Yves on the bank but he was getting royal y splashed before lending a hand to haul his brothers out. They col apsed on the bank, laughing, until they got their breath back. It was odd to see Zed happy; I’d come to expect nothing but dark looks from him.

‘My younger sons,’ said Mr Benedict with a shrug.

As if hearing a whistle out of the hearing of the rest of us, the Benedict boys looked up.

‘Get the raft launched, Dad, and I’l be right with you when I get changed,’ shouted the tal est one.

‘Zed’l take the kayaker.’

‘That’s Xav,’ said Tina. ‘He only left school this year.’

‘Is he like Zed or Yves?’

‘How do you mean?’

We tagged along after the rafting party as it headed to the landing stage.

‘Hostile or friendly. I think Zed’s got it in for me.’

Tina frowned. ‘Zed’s got it in for a lot of people, but not usual y girls. What’s he done?’

‘He … it’s kinda hard to explain. When he notices me—which isn’t often—he seems real y irritated.

Look, Tina, is it me? Have I done something wrong?

Is it because I don’t understand how things are done here?’

‘Wel , there are these vicious rumours that you prefer drinking tea to coffee.’

‘Tina, I’m being serious!’

She put her hand on my forearm. ‘No, Sky, you’re doing fine. If he’s got a problem with you, that’s what it is exactly: his problem, not yours. I wouldn’t worry.

Zed’s been acting kinda strange for a few weeks now—more of everything, more angry, more arrogant—everyone’s noticed.’

Our discussion ended as we had to pay attention to Mr Benedict’s instructions as to where we were going to sit. ‘River’s running high since the rain over the weekend. We need the smal est and lightest in the centre of this seat so you don’t get flipped out.’

‘That’d be you, Sky baby,’ said Nelson, nudging me forward.

‘One of my sons wil take the paddle at the front, and you,’ he pointed to Nelson, ‘take the other side.

That leaves you two girls to sit behind them near me.’ He beckoned Tina and another girl from high school forward. They both were issued with paddles; I was the only one without as I had to be in the middle.

Zed approached, having dumped his wetsuit and put on shorts and a life jacket.

‘Xav and Yves are taking the kayaker,’ Zed announced.

His father frowned. ‘I thought that was your job.’

‘Yeah, wel , I saw that he was going to be a jerk.

Yves’s better at handling that.’

I decided there and then that Wolfman had missed out on the devilish charm-school part in his anti-hero training.

Mr Benedict looked as if he wanted to say something—a lot of somethings—but was prevented by us listening in.

We took our places in the inflatable raft. This arrangement had the unfortunate consequence that I was next to Zed with Nelson on the other side. Zed appeared to be studiously avoiding looking at me—

I’d become Miss Invisible Sky.

‘Girl in the middle at the front—Sky, isn’t it?’

I turned round to see Mr Benedict was speaking to me.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘If it gets rough, link arms with your neighbours.

Girls up my end, make sure your feet stay in the toeholds on the bottom of the raft when it starts to buck. They’l keep you from fal ing in.’

Nelson grunted with disgust. ‘Not worried about the boys then, is he?’

Zed overheard him. ‘He thinks men should be able to look after themselves. Got a problem with that?’

Nelson shook his head, feeling the dig. ‘Nope.’

Sal y would just love this, I thought. As a card-carrying feminist, she would think Mr Benedict a complete dinosaur. She wouldn’t be too impressed by Zed either.

Mr Benedict pushed the raft off from the moorings.

With a few strong pul s from Zed and Nelson, we were out in the current. From here on, paddles were mainly about steering as there was only one direction on this stretch of the river—downstream very fast. Mr Benedict shouted instructions, plying the rudder-paddle at the rear. I hung on to the seat, biting back my shrieks as the raft spun round a rock jutting out into the water. When we passed it, I saw what lay ahead.

‘Oh my God. We’re never going to survive that!’

The water looked as if there was a giant whisk churning away on the fastest setting under the water.

Froth flew in the air; rocks pierced the surface at irregular intervals, making navigation round them impossible as far as I could see. I’d watched what happened to eggs in a food mixer—that was going to be us in two seconds.

With a great kick, the boat surged forward. I screamed. Nelson roared with laughter and shouted

‘Yee-ha!’, swinging his paddle to help stave off the rocks. On my other side, Zed calmly did the same, showing no sign that he felt the exhilaration, the danger or even noticed that I was having a minor panic attack.

‘Devil’s Cauldron’s looking a bit frisky,’ shouted Mr Benedict over his shoulder. ‘Keep us central, boys.’

The stretch he referred to looked more than frisky.

‘Frisky’ is what you cal boisterous foals on a spring morning, gambol ing in the sunshine; this was an autumnal savaging bear in a kil ing frenzy, wanting to stock up for winter with extra body fat. A raft-load of humans seemed to me the perfect menu.

The strains of the Jaws theme tune thumped in my mind.

The raft plunged in. The nose momentarily dipped under the surface, dowsing us in icy water. Tina shrieked but she was laughing as the water sloshed away. We were buffeted on al sides. I was thrown against Nelson, then into Zed. I slipped my arm through Nelson’s elbow, but didn’t dare do the same on the other side, Zed looked so forbidding. Nelson gave my arm an encouraging squeeze.

‘Having fun?’ he bel owed, water dripping down his face.

‘In an awful “I’m-gonna-die-any-moment” way, yes!’

I shouted back.

Just then, the nose of the raft got wedged between two rocks, pressure of water pushing us sideways.

Waves slopped over the side.

‘I’m going to push us off!’ Mr Benedict shouted.

‘Al to the right.’

He’d taught us this dril on shore—it involved piling over to one side of the raft to make it lift half out of the river. I ended up sandwiched between Nelson and Zed, the stem of Nelson’s paddle clipping my chin.

‘Left!’

On the order, we lurched to the other side. The raft began to slide free.

‘Back to your places!’

As I scrambled to obey the order, Zed suddenly threw his arms around me, tackling me to the floor, face down in the water that sloshed ankle-deep.

‘Keep hold or you’l fal in,’ he yel ed in my ear.

Water going up my nose, I panicked and struggled free, just as the raft leapt down another rapid.

Floundering on the floor, I was propel ed towards the side. I had no grip so I parted company with the boat and tumbled backwards into the water.

Cold—rushing

water—screams—whistles.

I

thrashed to the surface. The boat was already ten metres behind as I was swept like an aspen leaf through the Cauldron.

Float! The order punched its way into my brain—a voice in my head that sounded like Zed.

I had no choice but to let the current take me where it would, trying to lie as flat as possible to stop my legs hitting submerged rocks. Something scraped my calf; my helmet col ided briefly with a boulder. Final y I was spat out into the slack water of an eddy. I clung to a boulder, fingers frozen white spiders spread on the stone.

‘Oh my God, Sky! Are you OK?’ shrieked Tina.

Mr Benedict steered the boat to my side so Zed and Nelson could heave me out of the river. I lay gasping on my back at the bottom of the boat.

Zed briskly checked for injuries. ‘She’s fine. A bit scraped up but fine.’

We completed the rest of the course in a subdued mood, the fun having been swept away when I had. I felt cold, numb, and angry.

If Zed hadn’t pounced on me, I would’ve been al right.

Mr Benedict steered us to the landing area where a jeep and trailer waited to take the raft back up the river. I refused to look at Zed as I got out on to the bank.

On dry land, Tina gave me a hug. ‘Sky, you real y OK?’

I forced a smile. ‘Fine. Whose bril iant idea was this anyway? What is this—kil -a-foreigner week?’

‘I thought we’d lost you.’

‘You know something, Tina: I’m not cut out for this great outdoors stuff you Coloradans do.’

‘Sure you are. You were just unlucky.’

Mr Benedict and Zed finished loading the raft, then came over to us.

‘You al right, Sky?’ Mr Benedict asked.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

‘What happened?’ The question was directed to Zed.

I got my side in first. ‘He flattened me—made me lose my grip!’

‘I realized what was going to happen—I tried to warn her,’ countered Zed.

I scowled. ‘You made it happen.’

‘I tried to stop it—shoulda just left you to it.’ He scowled at me, eyes chil ed as the river.

‘Yeah, perhaps you should—and then I wouldn’t be freezing to death here!’

‘Enough!’ Mr Benedict separated us. ‘Sky, get in the jeep before you get any colder. Zed, a word.’

Swathed in towels, I watched father and son continue the argument until Zed stormed off, heading on foot into the woods.

Mr Benedict climbed into the driving seat. ‘I’m sorry about that, Sky.’

‘It’s OK, Mr Benedict. I don’t know why but your son seems to have a problem with me.’ I shot a glance at Tina to say ‘I told you so’. ‘I don’t need an apology. Perhaps he could just keep his distance or something. I don’t like people laying in to me without cause.’

‘If it’s any comfort, he’s got a lot on his mind at the moment.’ Mr Benedict’s sombre eyes fol owed his son. ‘I’ve asked too much of him. Give him a chance to work things out.’

‘See what I mean?’ I whispered to Tina.

‘Yeah, I do. What was that about?’

‘I dunno—I real y don’t.’ I needed her advice so badly; she was rapidly becoming the Obi Wan to my clueless apprentice. I hoped she understood boys, or at least Zed, better than I did.

‘That was weird.’

The windscreen wipers swished to and fro as the rain began to fal in earnest: he hates me, he hates me not, he hates me …

‘You’ve not been pestering him, have you?’ Tina asked after a pause.

‘No, of course not.’ I kept quiet about the number of times I had looked out for him at school. She didn’t need to know the details of my pitiful obsession with the guy. Today had cured me of that.

‘You wouldn’t be the first. Lots of girls throw themselves at him, hoping to be the one.’

‘Then they’re seriously stupid.’

‘After what he said, I’d have to agree with you.

There’s a lot of anger in that boy and I wouldn’t want to be around when it gets out.’

I spent the evening and

much of the night pondering

Tina’s warning, transposing it in my mind to fit her new role in my internal storyboarding: the force is strong in this one but the boy has much anger.

Good advice, Obi Tina. Zed was too much for me to handle. Leave the Wolfman to chew on his own resentments. I was making light of it, but part of me instinctively cringed away from violent emotions like his, knowing that they could hurt. I had an uneasy sense I’d once lived too close to someone who flew into rages—someone from the time before I was found. I knew that harsh words became fists and bruises. Added to this, I was furious with myself. I had to be the prize idiot for obsessing about hearing Zed’s voice when I was in danger. I needed to get a grip and leave the whole Zed thing wel alone.

My good intentions were stil intact as I crossed the school car park with Tina the fol owing morning, that was until I saw the look I got from Zed. He was standing with the other boys by the motorbikes, arms folded, scanning the crowds entering the building.

When he saw me arrive, he took one long examination and then, as if deciding I didn’t measure up, dismissed me.

‘Ignore him,’ murmured Tina, seeing the exchange.

How could I? I wanted to go over and slap him, but, let’s be honest here, I’m not the kind to have the guts to make a scene like that. I was sure I’d get halfway and bottle out. I’d promised myself I’d leave it alone.

Go on, do it, my anger told me. Girl or mouse?

Mouse every time.

Every time but this. There was just something about Zed Benedict that was like a match to my fuse and I was fizzing up to the point of explosion.

‘Excuse me a moment, Tina.’

Before I knew it, I had changed direction and started towards him. I was having an Aretha Franklin moment—‘Sisters are doin’ it for themselves’

blasted through my head, giving me the foolhardy courage to close the gap. The intent behind my furious charge must have transmitted itself to the other students because I could see heads swivel ing towards me.

‘Just what is your problem?’ Whoa, had I real y said that?

‘What?’ Zed dug in his pocket and pul ed out his shades, putting them on so I was now looking at myself in double in the reflection. The four other boys were smirking at me, waiting for Zed to slap me down.

‘I almost get drowned yesterday thanks to you and you made it sound like it was my fault.’

He stared at me silently, an intimidating tactic that almost worked.

‘You were more to blame than I was for what happened in the raft.’ Aretha was leaving me, her voice dying to a whisper.

‘ I was to blame?’ His tone was marvel ing that someone dare address him like this to his face.

‘I knew zilch about rafting—you were the expert—

go figure who was most in the wrong.’

‘Who’s the angry chick, Zed?’ asked one of his friends.

He shrugged. ‘No one.’

I felt the punch—and it hurt. ‘I am not “no one”. At least I’m not an arrogant pain-in-the-backside with a permanent sneer.’ Shut up, Sky, shut up. I must have developed a death wish.

His friends howled at that.

‘Zed, she’s got you nailed,’ said the one with slicked-back red hair, looking at me with new interest.

‘Yeah, she’s something else.’ Zed shrugged and nodded his head into the building. ‘Run along, BoPeep.’

Mustering al the dignity I could, I clutched my books to my chest and strode into school, Tina at my side.

‘What was that?’ she marvel ed, touching my forehead to see if I was running a temperature.

I puffed out the breath I’d not been aware I was holding. ‘That was me being angry. Was I convincing?’

‘Er … some.’

‘That bad?’