The entrance hall was
empty – all the teachers and pupils at their next class. Mr Rogerson, our maths
teacher scuttled past, his arms full of textbooks.
‘Shouldn’t you be in a lesson, Nico?’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘On my way, sir.’ I pushed myself up off the wall and headed along the
corridor towards my history class. Fergus was already in there when I arrived
though the class hadn’t technically started. He raised an eyebrow at me, but
didn’t say anything.
It was the day after I’d given Ketty the money for the Youth Marathon.
She’d barely spoken to me since and I was going quietly mad with frustration.
I’d quickly realised how insane my ambition to learn to juggle seven
balls in four days had been. But at least I could use telekinesis to help. I’d
been practising like mad ever since, unable to concentrate on anything else,
though I’d still only managed to keep four balls in the air so far.
Fergus made some announcement about a new boy who had started at Fox
Academy that day. All the usual stuff . . . please make him feel welcome . . .
blah, blah, like head teachers do. I drifted off after a few seconds. It was
the same during science and then maths. In fact, the only thing – apart from
Ketty – that I noticed in the whole of my maths class was that Mr Rogerson’s
hair seemed to have slid slightly to one side.
‘D’you think he’s wearing a wig?’ Tom whispered in my ear.
I grinned. ‘I dare you to go up to him and pull it off.’
Tom grinned back. ‘After you.’ He glanced at the front of the
classroom, where Mr Rogerson was busily writing an equation on the whiteboard.
‘Hey, you said you’d show me a picture of your fit new girlfriend.’
I frowned for a second before I realised he must be talking about
Dylan.
‘Yeah, next time I see her,’ I whispered.
‘You’re making her up.’
‘I’m no—’
‘Another whisper and you’ll both be in detention.’ Mr Rogerson’s clipped
tones temporarily ended our conversation, but Tom didn’t let the subject of
Dylan drop. In fact, he was still teasing me during lunch break. In the end I
headed up to Fergus’s flat to get away from him. I used to live here, but last
year I told Fergus I’d rather be in the dorms with everyone else. I still had a
bedroom, though, and keys.
I let myself in and sat on the sofa. There was a bowl of apples on the
table and I spent a few minutes attempting to juggle five of them using
telekinesis. I could still only manage four.
Disgruntled, I put the apples back in the bowl and looked round. I
hadn’t been in here for weeks, but the flat was as tidy as ever. Fergus’s
timetable was clipped neatly to the fridge door, along with a picture of me and
Mum from when I was about three.
I wandered over to take a closer look. Mum was smiling in the photo.
What would she say if she knew about me and Ketty? I sighed. Chances were, that
if she were alive, I probably wouldn’t tell her. Most boys I knew didn’t seem
to talk to their mums about girl stuff.
The timetable showed that the whole of Fergus’s lunch hour today was
taken up with a staff meeting. Jack’s instruction to look for information about
the fourth teen with the Medusa gene suddenly popped into my head. Well, I might
as well see what I could find while there was no danger of Fergus interrupting
me. I could have another go at the juggling in a minute.
I scanned the bookshelves, then spent a few minutes investigating a
cupboard that contained a load of private bank and tax info. Nothing remotely
to do with the Medusa gene. I had a quick look round in Fergus’s bedroom, but
there was clearly nothing in here apart from clothes and a few old car
magazines.
Maybe all the really important stuff was in his office. I headed out of
the flat and past the boys’ dormitories. I’d just reached the back staircase
that led down to the ground floor when I heard a muffled cry coming from the
storeroom at the top of the stairs. I paused. The light was on inside the room
– a glowing strip at the bottom of the door.
The cry came again – like an animal in pain. I threw open the storeroom
door. The two people inside both jumped – Billy Martin and a boy I didn’t know.
Billy’s face was vicious – screwed up with anger. The other boy looked terrified.
Billy’s hands dropped to his side and I realised that the other boy was holding
his belly, like he’d just been punched.
‘What’s going on?’ I said.
Billy swore. ‘This loser just started in my Spanish class and he speaks
and writes it perfectly.’
I looked at the other boy. He had thick, sand-coloured hair and blue
eyes. He was tall, too. Taller than either me or Billy. But there was something
gentle about him. Something just asking to be picked on.
‘So you’re beating him up because he’s better than you at Spanish?’ I
narrowed my eyes. ‘Or are you just annoyed’cos Ketty dumped you?’
‘She didn’t dump me,’ Billy snorted. ‘I didn’t want
to go out with her – all she ever does is go running. And she’s butters.’
‘Don’t call her that,’ I spat, fury boiling up in my chest.
‘Er . . . I think I’m going to go,’ said the new boy.
‘No.’ Billy put out his arm to stop the boy walking past. The boy
flinched. I gritted my teeth. The truth was I didn’t particularly care about
this new boy – but I was itching to punch Billy. What had Ketty seen in him?
I pointed at the new boy. ‘So what’s he done to you then, Billy?’
‘I asked him really nicely to do my homework for me . . .’ Billy
clenched his fists. ‘But the tosser said no.’
I glanced at the new boy. He must be the one Fergus had mentioned in
history, earlier. He was standing perfectly still, his head bowed, like he was
waiting for me and Billy to decide his fate.
I looked back at Billy. ‘He shouldn’t have to do your homework,’ I
said, my hands curling into fists. ‘In fact, I’m telling you now, he’s not
doing it ever.’
‘Or what?’ Billy squared up to me.
I glanced round the storeroom, searching for a weapon. There was a mop
in the far corner. Maybe I could make that fly towards me. I caught the new
boy’s eye. He frowned at me, as if he could see I was planning to grab a weapon
– and didn’t approve.
‘Or what?’ Billy said more loudly.
‘Or this.’ I shoved him in the chest. Billy
stumbled back a step, then lunged forwards. I darted out of the way, grabbed
his arm and twisted it behind his back.
‘Leave him alone, or I swear I’ll make you sorry.’ I wrenched at
Billy’s arm.
‘Ow! Stop . . . you’re hurting me!’
‘I’m not hearing you promise you’ll leave him alone . . .’ I twisted
Billy’s arm further up his back.
That’s
for saying Ketty’s ugly.
‘Okay, okay, I promise.’
I released Billy’s arm. He rubbed it, then stormed out of the
storeroom. Panting, I looked over at the new guy.
He was still staring at me. ‘Thank you,’ he said, his face breaking
into an eager smile. ‘Thank you . . . thank you . . .’
‘I’m Nico,’ I said, mostly to stop him from gushing on.
‘Edward.’ He held out his hand.
I shook it – just for a second. It felt a bit awkward . . . I wasn’t
used to boys my own age being this formal.
‘So, did you start here today?’
‘Yeah, my parents thought I’d be . . . better off at a boarding
school.’
I grimaced in sympathy. From what I’d seen of Edward so far, he
wouldn’t be better off anywhere this side of a home school. What with his
gentle, geeky air and his eager-to-please face, he might as well have Beat Me Up stamped across his forehead.
‘You’re Mr Fox’s stepson, aren’t you?’ he said.
‘How d’you know that?’
‘He told me about you earlier.’ Edward paused. For a second he looked
alarmed, like maybe he’d said too much. Then he burbled on. ‘Anyway, I know I
said my name was Edward but most people actually call me Ed . . . My brother
calls me ENOB. That’s from my initials. My full name’s Edward Neill O’Brien.
Anyway . . .’
‘Edward O’Brien?’Where had I heard that name before?
‘Thanks for what you did, Nico.’ Ed was now walking hurriedly past me,
chattering on at high speed. ‘I owe you but I ought to get back to the dorm . .
. check where my next class is.’
He scurried off. I followed more slowly, the memory of where I’d heard
Ed’s name before still niggling away at the back of my brain, just out of
reach.
I tried, for a minute, to work out what it was. But then I reached the
bottom of the stairs and saw Ketty in the distance – and all I could think
about was my Saturday night problem again.
Friday. Another dull
history class with Fergus. I was certain, now, that Ketty was avoiding me. We
normally talked at the end of school, before she went running, but yesterday
she’d rushed off to get changed without a word. That was Thursday – late-night
shopping – so, to cheer myself up, I sneaked out of school and got the bus to
Hanmore Park. It’s the nearest town to school, with plenty of phone shops on
the High Street. Tom and Curtis agreed to cover for me if Fergus asked where I
was. In the end I was out of school for about an hour and a half altogether.
Risky, but worth it. I bought myself a great new phone with the money Ketty
hadn’t wanted.
Since then I’d spent my entire time attempting to achieve my ludicrous
juggling ambitions. I could now keep six objects in the air at any one time,
though only for a few seconds. I’d stopped practising with balls – tennis balls
were too big to manoeuvre and I couldn’t find any smaller ones. Anyway, using
different objects looked cool. The whole thing was
cool actually. I loved watching the objects zoom around each other. However, I
was only too aware that making stuff move on my own was one thing and doing it
in front of other people, especially Ketty, was
something else.
I’d spent most of the lesson so far with my new phone under my desk,
looking online for tips on normal juggling that I could adapt to fit my own,
telekinetic version.
Fergus asked Ketty a question. I looked up. She was a few seats over.
Her hair was loose today, resting on her shoulders. I got the distinct
impression she was using it like a veil . . . hiding from me. But maybe I was
being paranoid.
Ketty answered Fergus’s question, then looked round. She caught my eye
and smiled.
My confidence surged. It was going to be okay. Ketty might have been a bit
withdrawn the past few days, but we were still friends – I just needed to make
her believe that I won that stupid juggling competition. I decided to catch her
after class and make some definite plan about Saturday. I turned back to my
mobile.
‘Nico?’ Fergus’s exasperated voice cut through my exploration of
juggling4dummies.com.
I glanced up. The whole class was looking at me.
‘At last,’ Fergus said. ‘Am I interrupting something?’
‘No, sir.’ I slid my phone into my trouser pocket.
‘Then perhaps you can tell me which highly important historical
document we’ve been discussing?’ There was a sardonic edge to Fergus’s voice.
He only used it on me – and maybe a small handful of genuine school
troublemakers.
I glanced at the textbook on my desk, desperately hoping the open page
would give me a clue. But all I could see was a map.
‘Er . . .’ I looked round the class, hoping for help or inspiration.
Ketty was mouthing something at me, but too fast for me to follow what
she was saying. Billy was smirking in the back left corner. Lola and Lauren
were sitting on either side of him, both looking anxious.
And then I caught sight of Ed. He was up at the front, his thick, sandy
hair all tousled up – making him look even geekier than when I’d found him in
the storeroom. But the eager-to-please smile was gone. Instead, he was frowning
in my direction – his blue eyes intense.
‘Stand up, Nico,’ Fergus barked.
Crap.
Crap. Crap.
I stood, my eyes still drawn to Ed’s.
‘Right, if you can’t tell me what we’ve been discussing, I’d like you
to empty out your pockets,’ Fergus went on. ‘Then maybe we’ll discover what’s
so distracting that you appear to have failed to follow the past fifteen
minutes’ discussion.’
No.
My thoughts careered ahead of me. If Fergus found my phone, not only would it
be confiscated but he would want to know where I’d got the money to buy it. How
was I going to explain that?
‘Nico?’ Fergus repeated. I shook my head. It wasn’t fair. Fergus would never ask an ordinary student to turn out their pockets. As
usual, he was picking on me.
Ed was still staring in my direction. All of a sudden, his gaze shifted
and he made direct eye contact. I knew only a few seconds had passed but
suddenly it felt like time had vanished. That everyone had disappeared apart
from him. And then I heard his voice in my head.
Say
this: Sorry, sir. We’ve been discussing the Magna Carta, sir.
I opened my mouth and said the words. As I spoke I knew that Ed was
inside my mind, telling me what to say.
Like, I was present. And yet, not present.
It was, without doubt, one of the freakiest experiences of my life.
Fergus frowned.
‘And the Magna Carta is?’ He folded his arms, and stared at the floor,
clearly expecting me to crumble.
I stood, my heart racing. Ed’s voice sounded in my head again, but I
was panicking so much I could barely follow what he was saying.
Calm
down, Nico.
I blinked.
Just
listen, Ed’s voice went on. The Magna Carta was an English charter, issued in
1215, which limited the powers of the king and which has been used as the basis
for constitutions around the world. Many of our rights and freedoms come from
that one document. That’s what we were discussing. How an ancient piece of
writing still affects our lives today.
As he spoke, I repeated the words. I knew I wasn’t saying them in the
way I normally spoke, but there wasn’t time to personalise them. It was my
voice, but it was, undoubtedly, Ed speaking.
‘Very well, Nico.’ Fergus looked up at me, sounding puzzled. ‘You may sit
down.’
As Fergus looked up, Ed looked away. His presence inside by head
vanished completely. I sat down, shaken. For a few seconds I was unable to take
in what had happened. And then the bell rang for the end of class and
everything fell into place.
Edward O’Brien was the name of the boy with the Medusa gene that Jack
had told me about – the one who hadn’t wanted Jack’s help all those months ago.
Jack had been convinced Fergus would know about the boy and he was obviously
right.
Ed had psychic powers, just like me and Dylan – except, in his case,
the Medusa gene had clearly given him the ability to read minds . . . and to
communicate without speaking.
Everyone around me was moving towards the door. Ed was still at his
desk, loading books into his bag. I leaped up. Ed glanced at me out of the
corner of his eye. He sped up, hauling his bag onto his back, almost running
out of the room.
Completely forgetting my decision to speak to Ketty after class, I
grabbed my textbook and pushed my way to the door.
Ed was already out. I looked both ways down the corridor. There. He was scurrying away, round the corner.
I ran after him, praying some teacher didn’t appear out of nowhere and
stop me for speeding down the corridors.
I caught up with him just outside the back door, in the so-called
Tranquillity Garden. It’s a small patch of grass with a bunch of flower beds.
You’re not supposed to talk or run around out there.
Needless to say, it’s hardly ever used.
‘Ed?’ I said. ‘Wait.’
He kept on walking.
‘Stop.’ I reached out and grabbed his arm.
‘What?’ He hung his head, as I let go of his arm.
‘What did you do back there?’
‘What d’you mean?’ Ed assumed an extremely phoney look of puzzlement.
‘Nothing.’
For
God’s sake.
‘You got inside my head, man.’ I frowned. ‘Told me what to say.’
‘You’re imagining it.’
‘You did,’ I insisted. ‘You can read people’s
minds. You’ve met Jack Linden. He told me about you.
You’ve got the Medusa gene. Why won’t you admit it?’
There was a pause. The wind rustled in the trees above our heads. Then
Ed looked up, slowly. ‘It’s wrong, what I can do,’ he said. ‘Getting inside
people’s heads is . . . it’s evil.’
‘No.’ I stared at him. ‘That’s what Fergus wants you to think.’
‘My parents think so too,’ Ed insisted. ‘Mr Fox told them about the
Medusa gene a year ago. He offered me a place at school then . . . said I’d be
safer here. But they didn’t believe him. Then I started being able to
communicate telepathically and—’
‘Tele- what?’
‘Telepathically.’ Ed reddened. ‘It means I can “hear” other people’s thoughts
and they can “hear” mine, if I want them to.’
A worrying possibility struck me. ‘So . . . so how many of my thoughts
could you “hear” just now?’
Ed shuffled from foot to foot. ‘Not many,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I wasn’t
prying. You’d know if I was. I was just sensing the surface stuff, really –
mostly all I felt was how freaked out you were about the idea of Mr Fox seeing
whatever was in your pocket – which would have been obvious to anyone looking
at you anyway.’
‘God, Ed, you can read people’s minds . . .’ I grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t
you see, it’s amazing. Didn’t Jack make you see that?’
Ed shook his head. ‘We only spoke for a minute. It was horrible. I
mean, he turned up out of the blue outside my old school, about a month ago,
telling me I was going to develop some mad genetic ability . . . that I was one
of four people implanted with this deadly virus-type thing. My parents were
really cross he’d come to me directly rather than going through them.’
I frowned, suddenly remembering what the Medusa gene had done to my
mum. ‘You keep talking about your parents,’ I said. ‘Isn’t your mum . . .
didn’t she . . .?’
‘She died when I was four.’ Ed looked away. ‘Sandra’s my stepmother,
but I think of her as my mum. I mean, I don’t remember my real mum much.’ He looked
at me. ‘It must be the same for you?’
I shrugged, embarrassed. Then I realised what he’d said.
‘How did you know I had the gene too?’ I said. ‘I never said.’
Ed sighed. ‘I saw it in Mr Fox’s mind the day I got here. He made me
look him in the eyes and when I do that to someone, it’s really difficult not
to just go straight into their head. Mr Fox was trying so hard not to give away
that you had the gene that I couldn’t help but see
it.’ He paused. ‘Look, I only helped you out today because you helped me with
that boy yesterday. But we’re quits, now. I thought you’d understand, seeing as
you’ve got the gene too. Mr Fox and my parents are right. The Medusa gene is a
curse – it kills people. I’m not going to use it any
more, so please leave me alone.’ And with that he scuttled away, back into the
school building.
I stood in the silence of the Tranquillity Garden for a few moments. Ed
was so wrong about the Medusa gene. I checked the time. I was already late for
my next class. A few more minutes wouldn’t make any difference.
I took out my new phone, called Jack and told him everything Ed had
done and said.
Five minutes later I strolled back into school, a smile on my face –
juggling seven pebbles perfectly in the air.
Saturday afternoon, and
almost everything was in place. Once I’d mastered the juggling on Friday I’d
been tempted to show Ketty straight away, but I knew that doing it privately
was one thing – and making it work in front of her was another, so I kept
practising.
As soon as Jack had heard about Ed he said he wanted to meet up with us
both on Saturday night. I’d explained that I was supposed to be seeing Ketty
then, but Jack was undeterred.
‘There’s a pub called the Saracen’s Head not that far from your school
where we can all hook up,’ he said. ‘I’ll make sure no one hassles you and your
girlfriend for ID and your drinks won’t cost a thing. You’ll look good in front
of her, while I speak to Edward.’
‘Great, er . . . but she’s not my girlfriend,’ I explained. ‘We’re just
friends.’
Jack laughed. ‘Well, maybe Saturday night will change that.’
I was worried Ketty might have changed her mind about us going out, but
she agreed to go to the Saracen’s Head straight away. She still seemed a bit
reserved with me, though – not easy-going and relaxed, like she used to be.
It was simple enough to get permission slips to be out at the movies
until 10 p.m. on Saturday night. I had no intention of either going to the
cinema or getting home that early, of course, but it’s easy enough to fool
adults. You just have to keep updating them with texts:
Bus broke down outside
cinema, have to wait for another
Now
bus stuck in heavy traffic cos of accident, should be back in 30
Still
stuck . . . driver says at least an hour
That sort of thing.
Which left the one crucial detail that was threatening to spoil
everything. How was I going to get Ed to come too? He didn’t look like the kind
of teenager who’d be comfortable in a bar, even a small, local one. The idea of
him having fake ID was laughable.
I walked into our year group common room. Ketty wasn’t there – she
always runs on a Saturday, even when it’s pouring with rain like it was today –
but almost everybody else was. Billy, Lola and Lauren were sitting in one
corner, laughing over some magazine. Tom and Curtis were playing table tennis.
Ed was perched on the sofa by the window, flicking through a history
textbook. I shook my head. Somebody should really tell him how uncool it is to
be seen studying on a Saturday afternoon. Movement outside the window caught my
eye. Ketty was jogging past, her sweats and hair plastered to her body.
I looked back at Ed. He was watching her too. Which gave me an idea. I
sauntered over and sat down next to him on the sofa.
‘Hey, Ed,’ I said. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Fine, thanks.’ He smiled.
I watched him warily. Was he going to try and read my mind again? But
Ed’s eyes were guarded and not quite focused on my own. I realised, with a
jolt, that this was how he always looked at people – not quite making eye
contact. What had he said about it before? That if he looked into someone’s
eyes, it was virtually impossible to avoid reading their thoughts . . .
Making a mental note to avoid looking directly at him myself, I cleared
my throat. ‘Got any plans for tonight?’
Ed shook his head. ‘I thought I’d catch up on some reading. I mean, the
syllabus here is different from my old school, so I’m behind in a couple of
subjects.’ He held up the history textbook.
I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes at this latest display of
Ed’s geekiness. ‘I thought you might like to come out with me?’
Ed’s expression grew wary. ‘Where?’ he said, cautiously.
‘Just a bar in Hanmore Park – that’s the nearest town to here. It’s
nothing special.’ I made a face. ‘We only get permission slips to stay out till
ten, so you won’t see much action down there, but it could be a laugh.’
Ed shrugged. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘My parents wouldn’t like me
going somewhere where they sell alcohol.’ He frowned. ‘How would we get in,
anyway?’
‘Oh, there won’t be any alcohol,’ I lied. ‘The early part of the
evening’s just for under-eighteens. They’ll kick us out by nine-thirty.’
I held my breath. Surely even Ed wouldn’t fall for that? But he did.
‘Oh, well that’s okay then, but I’m still not sure I should. I mean, I
do have all this reading to do.’
Unbelievable. I sighed.
‘That’s a shame,’ I said. ‘Ketty was really hoping you’d come along.’
‘Ketty’s going?’ Ed’s face brightened.
I grinned. ‘So you’ve only been here two days but you know who Ketty
is?’
Ed blushed. ‘I’ve just . . . I’ve seen her running. She’s . . . well,
it’s different. I mean, she’s different, isn’t she?’
More
than you’ll ever understand, mate.
‘Yeah, Ketty’s cool,’ I said. ‘She’s a really good friend of mine . . .
tells me everything.’ I paused. Here goes. ‘Actually, I
think she likes you.’
‘Really?’ Ed’s face flushed scarlet.
‘Yeah,’ I lied, praying he wasn’t going to suddenly break his own rules
and attempt to read my mind. ‘Ketty was going on about you earlier, before she
went running. Said how good-looking she thought you were. And
interesting.’
Ed’s dark blue eyes lit up.
‘Don’t expect her to make it obvious, though,’ I added hurriedly. I
wondered if I’d gone too far. I was sure Ketty hadn’t even noticed Ed existed.
And she was certainly way too cool to go for someone so geeky. ‘Ketty’s much
shyer than she looks,’ I went on. ‘She might seem like she’s not interested but
she’s actually just really unsure of herself.’
‘Okay.’ Ed leaned forward, like he didn’t want to miss a word I was
saying. ‘Thanks, Nico. I really appreciate you telling me all this.’
For a split second, he almost made eye contact with me, then his gaze
dropped again.
A throb of guilt pulsed through me. I pushed it away. I was only doing
this so that Jack would get another chance to speak to Ed . . . to make him see
how special his mind-reading abilities were.
I was doing Ed a favour here.
‘Right, well we’re meeting out the front at seven-thirty.’ I stood up,
then punched him playfully on the shoulder. ‘Good luck, man.’
The Saracen’s Head in
Hanmore Park was already crowded when we arrived just after 8 p.m. I hadn’t
really enjoyed the twenty-minute bus journey over here . . . I was too
preoccupied – mostly with my impending juggling but also, slightly, over how Ed
was going to react when he realised he’d been tricked into a meeting with Jack.
I hoped Jack would show up soon. While he was talking to Ed, I planned
to slip outside with Ketty and give her a juggling demo. Once I’d proved that I
could do what I’d claimed, I was hopeful that she’d stop acting so withdrawn
around me. Actually, I was hoping for a lot more than that. But now really
wasn’t the time to get ahead of myself.
At least Ketty hadn’t seemed to mind Ed tagging along. And Ed himself
was surprisingly at ease with us both. I’d called Jack beforehand.
‘I’m not sure a pub’s the best place for you to meet Ed,’ I’d said.
‘He’s not exactly experienced in the night life department.’
Jack had laughed and told me not to worry about it – or our ID. ‘Just
give the password “white flag”,’ he’d said. ‘That’ll sort everything.’
And now we were standing beside the bar. It was ultra-modern, all
mirrored walls and pale blue lighting.
We were the youngest people in here by several years. I was cool with
that and Ketty looked like she fitted in okay, but Ed – dressed up like a
middle-aged yuppie in a crisp shirt and chinos – looked very uncomfortable.
I looked round. Most people weren’t taking any notice of us, but a few
of the older ones were giving us extremely dirty looks.
A man beside us bought a beer and Ed turned to me.
‘I thought you said there wouldn’t be alcohol,’ he whispered. ‘And
where are all the teenagers?’
I grinned. ‘I may have misled you on the exact parameters of the
evening, Ed, but just because they serve beer here, doesn’t mean you have to
drink it.’
Ed opened his mouth to say something, then glanced at Ketty and clearly
thought better of it.
I smiled to myself. He didn’t want to look uncool in front of her. Some
chance.
‘I’ll get the drinks,’ I said. ‘What d’you want?’
Ed glanced at Ketty again.
‘Coke please,’ she said.
‘Me too,’ Ed said, clearly relieved she hadn’t asked for an alcoholic
drink.
I rolled my eyes and turned to the bar. I had my fake ID all ready to
ask for a beer, but decided to try Jack’s password instead. As soon as I said
‘white flag’, the barman nodded.
‘Sure. No charge, mate.’
Wow.
For a second, I was tempted to get myself a triple vodka or something on top of
the beer. Then I remembered why I was here – and that, as soon as Jack took Ed
away, I was going to have to show Ketty I could juggle with seven objects.
Better to keep a clear head and stick to a small beer.
After a few minutes, while the three of us sipped our drinks and looked
round, Jack sent me a text:
Back room. Left of
gents. Come alone.
I made an excuse and left Ketty and Ed by the bar. There was a bouncer
on the door next to the toilet. I said the ‘white flag’ password again. The
bouncer opened the door and stood back to let me pass.
Feeling a little unsettled, I walked into a small cloakroom, where a
woman in a silver dress was checking in coats and bags. I didn’t have anything
with me, so she just yawned and waved me through to the main room. It was
buzzing, with slot machines against one wall, four card tables at one end and a
roulette wheel in the middle. Staff wearing silver shirts (for the men) or
silver dresses (for the women) wandered about with drink trays. Another man was
calling out numbers by the roulette table, which was crowded with people
watching the wheel spin.
Silver lights made the room sparkle. Both the walls and the floor
seemed to be covered with dark red velvet. I’d only ever seen rooms like this
in films.
Jack appeared beside me in another smart designer suit.
‘Is this a casino?’ I said.
He nodded. ‘A small one.’
A couple walked past. The woman stared at me. I suddenly realised how
out of place I must look – at least five years younger than everyone else in
the room.
‘What’s the plan, then?’ I said, wondering why Jack hadn’t come out to
speak to Ed in the main bar.
He laughed. ‘That’s what I love about you, Nico, you’re up for
anything.’
I glanced at him, suddenly worried. Did he expect me to play cards or
something? I had no idea how to do anything more complicated than ‘snap’.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jack said, misunderstanding my anxiety. ‘The owner’s a
business contact of mine. No one’s going to challenge you.’
‘Okay, but . . .’
‘So Edward and this girl of yours are out by the bar,’ Jack
interrupted.
‘She’s not . . . er, yup, but . . .’
‘And they’re friends too? I mean, I know Edward’s only just met her,
but he likes her . . . they get on?’
‘Yeah.’ I thought of Ed’s smile when I’d told him Ketty was interested.
‘I think he likes her a lot, actually, but I don’t see how that’s relevant. I
mean, I don’t think Ed’s going to be able to handle this room,’ I said. ‘Even
if he gets over the shock of seeing you, which I doubt.’
‘He just needs a nudge.’ Jack grinned.
He glanced across the room at a middle-aged woman in a smart black
dress. She was watching us talk, an expression of deep interest on her face.
‘What d’you mean?’ I asked, feeling confused. ‘I thought you just
wanted to talk to him?’
‘Mmm . . . slight change of plan,’ Jack said. ‘But don’t worry, you’ll
still end up with loads of cash.’
‘But . . .’ I knew that I’d told Jack I wanted money. But that had only
been in order to impress Ketty. Now that I’d realised flashing expensive stuff
in her direction really wasn’t going to work, I just wanted a chance to talk to
her alone. ‘You are going to take Ed off, aren’t you?’
‘All in good time.’ Jack grinned. ‘Now, I want you to go back outside
with Edward and . . . what’s your friend’s name?’
‘Ketty.’
‘Okay, go outside with Edward and Ketty and wait. Act normal. Don’t say
you’ve seen me. And, whatever happens, just go along with it. Everything’ll be
okay. Remember I’m pulling the strings.’
Pulling
what strings?
But Jack was already propelling me out of the casino and towards the
bar area.
I made my way back to Ed and Ketty feeling more troubled than ever.
What was Jack going on about? And when was he going to take Ed and leave me and
Ketty alone?
Ketty and Ed were so deep in conversation that they didn’t notice me
coming until I was almost on top of them. Ketty looked really pretty, all
smiling and fresh-faced in her jeans and red jumper. Beside her, Ed just looked
geeky – his shirt even had ironed-in creases down the sleeves.
‘Ed did orienteering at his last school,’ Ketty said, as I walked up.
‘It’s like running with maps.’
‘Right,’ I said, Jack’s words still racing through my head. What did he
mean about ‘pulling the strings’?
‘What’s the matter?’ Ed said.
‘Nothing. Er . . . d’you want more drinks?’
‘I’ll get them.’ Ed fished out his wallet and turned to the barman.
I raised my eyebrows. Where was all Ed’s confidence coming from?
Ed bought three Cokes and we chatted on for a bit. Ketty was clearly
having a great time, explaining various school customs and procedures to Ed. He
was all silent smiles and encouraging nods. I hung back, grim-faced, wondering
what was about to happen. I didn’t have to wait long.
After about ten minutes a youngish man in a suit and tie wandered over,
his eyes on Ketty.
‘Hello, miss,’ he said with a frown. ‘I need to ask you to step into
the office for a minute.’
I froze. I wasn’t expecting anyone to challenge us for being here.
Hadn’t Jack said that he knew the manager?
‘White flag,’ I said.
The man ignored me.
‘I’ve got ID,’ Ketty squeaked, picking up her bag. ‘And we only drank
Coca-cola.’
‘That’s not it, miss,’ the man went on. He took the bag from her. ‘I’m
afraid we have reason to believe you are in possession of class A drugs.’
‘What?’ Ketty and I spoke together.
Ed’s eyes widened into circles.
‘That’s ridiculous.’ Ketty’s lip trembled. ‘Look in my bag if you don’t
believe me.’
The man thrust his hand into her bag. He slowly pulled out a small tube
of pills.
Ketty gasped. ‘They’re not mine.’ She looked at me.
‘They’re not hers,’ I insisted. ‘Someone put them there.’ The idea that
Ketty would take pills was ludicrous. Of all the people I knew Ketty was the last person who’d ever use drugs.
And then it struck me. This must be what Jack had warned me about –
what he’d been referring to when he’d told me: Just go along
with it . . . I’m pulling the strings.
The man remained impassive. ‘Like I said, please, no fuss, miss. We’d
just like a private word.’
I was too shocked to think straight as we crossed the crowded bar
towards the casino room. Why had Jack arranged to have drugs planted on Ketty?
It didn’t make sense.
The man took us into the little cloakroom with all the coats and bags.
‘I don’t understand.’ Ketty was shaking now. ‘I’ve never
taken drugs. Not even the tiniest bit.’
The door from the casino swung open, letting in a shortlived burst of
light and chatter. The woman in the long black dress that I’d seen watching
Jack earlier swept in.
She had short blonde hair cut in a sharp bob and smelled of a deep,
musky perfume. Her dark, hard eyes took us in, then she turned to the man.
‘Please take the girl outside, Scott.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ The man opened the door and indicated that Ketty should
leave.
‘Where are you taking her?’ Ed’s face was pale under his freckles.
‘What’s going on?’ Ketty looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes full
of fear as she was led away.
I stared down at my feet, unable to meet her gaze. What was going on?
Where was Jack? I forced myself to remember what he’d said: Whatever
happens, go along with it. Everything’ll be okay.
Ed looked like he was about to be sick. ‘This isn’t right,’ he said.
‘We weren’t taking drugs. Oh, God, please don’t tell my parents.’
I bit my lip.
‘Don’t worry, Ed, dear.’ The woman smiled. ‘Nothing’s going to happen
to you or Nico or Ketty, providing you do what I tell you now.’
Ed stared at her. ‘How do you know our names?’ he said.
‘Oh, I know a lot more about you than that, Ed.’ The woman smiled
again. ‘In fact, there’s something inside you both that was named after me.’
She glanced at me. ‘I’m Geri Paterson.’
‘Sorry, but I don’t think I have anything called Geri Paterson inside
me,’ I murmured.
A flicker of amusement crossed the woman’s face. Like she was
acknowledging the fact that we both knew the drugs thing with Ketty was a fraud
but we weren’t going to let on to Ed.
I decided I didn’t like her.
It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ Geri Paterson smiled.
Ed shook his head, clearly completely baffled. ‘I don’t understand,’ he
said. ‘What d’you want? What have you done with
Ketty?’
‘First things first.’ Geri smoothed down her sleek blonde bob. ‘I think
you’ll both understand when you hear my code name.’
‘Your what?’ Ed frowned.
I just raised my eyebrows, determined not to let her see that I was
almost as confused as Ed. ‘So what’s your code name, then?’
Geri’s smile deepened.
‘Medusa.’
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