She scream-roars – scroars – like Digger did, only hers is higher pitched so it sounds even more terrible. I put my hands over my ears while I grin at her furious face. The rope is almost out of swing, so she’s just dangling from the harness in the centre point between the trees. She can’t get to either side and she can’t drop down. One of her shoes falls off into the darkness below.
‘You’ll pay for this,’ she says. ‘It doesn’t matter what happens to me. My race is stronger, smarter and better than you in every way. We will dominate this world and you will be forgotten.’
‘I’d love to stop and chat, Miss,’ I say. ‘But if you look to your left, you’ll see that the river is flowing back into Crater Lake, so I’m afraid your precious sporelings aren’t going to be escaping any time soon.’
She turns to see the river surging down to the bottom of the crater, carrying most of the bug-eye workers with it. They’re so weak from the moss-soup and the cold water that they’re not even attempting to climb out, just scrabbling around with panicked looks on their faces. Mak and Adrianne did it.
I climb down from the tree and collapse on the floor.
‘How’s the tunnel blocking going?’ I ask Kat, who runs over and flops down beside me.
‘Chets is nearly finished. He worked out how to operate the digging machinery,’ she says.
‘So he’s digging in reverse?’
‘Yes, and still wearing the sunglasses. He thinks they make him look swag.’ She smiles. ‘Well done, Lance. Your plan worked.’
‘It was all of us,’ I say. ‘That was some epic climbing.’
‘I nearly fell when that black slime started oozing out of him.’ She looks over to where the thing that used to be Digger is glued to the wall, jerking around still trying to get loose. ‘Poor Digger – he looks disgusting.’
‘An abomination,’ I agree.
‘I guess he must have skipped dinner, or maybe because he’s been turned the longest the moss didn’t work so well on him. Do you think if we give him some more water bears he might turn back?’
‘I don’t think there’s any coming back from that,’ I say. ‘But hopefully the others will be OK. Are you up to doing one more job?’
‘Of course.’
‘We’re not safe until we get the word out. Will you take my mobile and climb up to the roof? If you can get reception, phone the police, MI5, the Men in Black and my mum.’
‘I’m on it,’ she says, taking my mobile and running back across the lawn.
I want nothing more than to lie here and fall asleep, but there’s still work to be done, so I force myself to get up.
Without my phone, I’m not sure what time it is exactly, but the crescent moon is high in the sky, and the stars are twinkling. With the floodlights on I can see the lawn and the lake, and they’re buzzing with activity.
I walk over to where Chets is driving the digger, and obviously having the time of his life. He grins at me and gives me a thumbs up.
‘When you’re done,’ I call, dodging out of the way as a pile of earth tumbles out of the scoop, ‘can you go and look for Digger’s keys? If we can get into his office, we might be able to use the phone. I don’t know if Kat’s gonna have any luck getting reception.’
‘He usually keeps them in his pocket,’ he yells.
‘I think his trousers are still mostly intact,’ I say, ‘though I don’t even want to think about what he looks like underneath. The keys might have fallen out when he turned.’
‘If not, I’ll climb up and see if I can get them,’ Chets says.
‘You sure you’re OK with that? He looks pretty scary.’
‘Don’t worry, I can handle it.’
I give him a wave and make my way to the lake. It’s going to take a while to get used to this new Chetan.
The lake is full of bug-eyes splashing about. Adrianne and Big Mak are running around the edges, poking them back in with oars when they get too close to dry land.
‘Hey, Lance!’ Big Mak shouts. ‘We did it!’
‘Woohoo!’ Adrianne punches the air.
‘You guys did amazing,’ I yell. ‘You’re heroes!’
‘You too, mate.’ Big Mak comes running over to me. ‘Some of this lot are turning human, so we can start getting them out.’
‘They’re tired, though. Maybe we could get something to help them, some life-jackets or something?’ Adrianne prods Atul, who definitely still has bug-eyes, deeper into the water.
‘I think there’s a dinghy in the boat shed,’ I say. ‘I saw it when we were hiding in there.’
‘That would be perfect.’
‘I’ll go get it.’ I run around the lake to the pier side, open the door to the boat shed and flick on the light.
I see what I need towards the back of the shed – behind the canoes and oars there are some inflatable rafts. It’s going to be a squeeze to get to them, so I take off my backpack and chuck it on to the pier, then I go for the inflatables, climbing over piles of ropes and oars until I’m at the back of the shed.
Suddenly, the light flickers. My first thought is that the lightbulb must have popped, but I turn on instinct and, in the last flash of light, I see her. Then everything goes black. I crouch down behind the rafts.
‘It’s no good hiding,’ Hoche’s voice hisses from somewhere in the darkness. ‘I can see you.’
I swallow. Damn those bug-eyes.
‘Miss Hoche,’ I say, ‘I thought I left you hanging out by the leap of faith. Get it? Hanging out?’
She doesn’t laugh. ‘I managed to find my way out of your pathetic trap. Anger is a great motivator.’ Her voice is a little closer this time. ‘You should know – a boy like you, full of anger and aggression. If you were going to make it past today, you’d only end up in prison.’
‘You’ve got me all wrong,’ I say, fumbling with the inflatables in front of me. ‘The things I’ve done – trapping Trent in the toilets, everything at Crater Lake – I didn’t do them out of anger. I did them to help my friends.’
‘And now you’ve ruined our plans,’ she says. She must be barely more than a metre away now. ‘My sporelings are destroyed. Soon I’ll be the only one left.’
‘You don’t like soup?’ I say.
‘My human body is allergic to carrots. So I found alternative nourishment.’
‘OK,’ I say. I’m stalling. I need a few seconds more. ‘Firstly, a carrot allergy? That’s random. And, secondly, the way you say “alternative nourishment” sounds totally creepy, like you were eating human entrails or something.’
‘I know what you’re doing,’ she says. She’s so close I can feel her breath on my arm. ‘But there’s no way of getting out of this alive. You’re not clever enough to defeat me.’
‘See, that’s where you’re wrong,’ I say, and I yank the ripcord on the dinghy in front of me. It pops up hard and starts inflating, knocking Hoche back. I hear a crash and a scroar and I run, clambering over the boats towards the light coming in around the edge of the door. I fling it open and run out on to the pier, grabbing my backpack.
There’s a deafening scroar behind me, and Hoche comes running out of the shed.
‘Do you know what, Miss?’ I say, running and trying to open my backpack. ‘I might not be in the top group for maths. I might not be on the football team. I might not have the most house points. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have smarts and it doesn’t mean I don’t have skills.’
I’m at the end of the pier now. I could jump into the lake, but that isn’t going to get this finished.
Hoche slows down to a walk. She knows I’m not going anywhere.
‘Compared to me, you’re nothing, Lance Sparshott. It’s like that ridiculous game you all play – the one with the Geek, the Robot and the Overlord. I’m the Overlord and I was put here to enslave geeks like you.’
‘You’re wrong,’ I say.
‘You’re pointless and weak – the archetypal geek.’
‘Hell, yes, I’m the geek and pr
oud of it,’ I say, taking one more step back. ‘I meant you’re wrong about you.’
She tried to step toward me, but her stupid heel is caught in between the wooden boards of the pier. She wobbles.
‘You’re not the Overlord, you’re the Robot.’
I launch myself at her, and as she opens her mouth to scroar, I stuff in a bunch of moss and hold my hand over her mouth, pushing us both over the edge of the pier. She fights me as we fall, but as we plunge into the water, the shock of the cold makes her gasp. She swallows the moss. I let go of her face and hope I never have to get that close to a teacher again, then I leave her to splutter back to the surface.
I take a breath and swim for the shore.
22
Facing the Future
I knew when I went on the trip to Crater Lake that I was going to be homesick, but I didn’t realise how much.
It’s 8.37am. (I know that cos I got my phone back.) And I’m sitting on the sofa in the snug room at my house.
Katja and Chets both managed to call for help, and not long after my final showdown with Hoche, the police showed up, followed by ambulances, some official-looking guys in suits and all of our parents. They’d found Trent not far from the activity centre, crying on a tree stump. He’d used up all the oxygen, run out of snacks and got lost in the woods. They asked us some questions while we were there, and then let us go home to rest.
I’ve sat here a million times – this is my favourite room in the house. But this time, it’s different.
‘I can’t believe you kept this house hidden from us all this time,’ Chets says. ‘It’s like a mansion.’
‘And there was everyone thinking you were a tramp from the wrong side of the tracks.’ Mak shoves a whole burger into his mouth.
‘I never said we were poor,’ I say, and dunk a chip in some ketchup.
‘Well, now we can come here every weekend.’ Katja is lying at the other end of my sofa, yawning like she hasn’t slept for, well, two days and two nights. ‘You’ll still come, won’t you, Ade and Chets? Even though you’re going to Bing with the genius kids.’
‘I’m not going to Bing,’ Ade says.
‘What?’ Mak nearly chokes on his burger.
‘I never said I was going there. It’s not for me. I’m going to Latham with you guys.’
We all stare at her in surprise.
‘It’s like I told you at Crater Lake,’ she says. ‘People are always making assumptions.’
Our parents are all in the kitchen having some kind of crisis meeting, so we eat and chat and laugh together, until the tiredness starts to catch up with us.
Katja falls asleep first, curled up like a kitten.
Then Mak just passes out on the floor, with a pillow under his head. I guess he’s used to sleeping rough, so our carpet is probably pretty comfortable in comparison.
Adrianne lies on the other sofa, her face turned away, just like she slept with my CPAP at the centre.
‘You’re never coming to Bing, are you, Lance?’ Chets says.
‘No. I’d never get in there, and I’d hate it if I did.’
‘How will I get by without you?’
‘Chets,’ I say, looking over to where he’s made himself a nest on the floor. ‘Think about what you’ve been through over the past few days. You’re going to be just fine.’ And I believe that – I honestly do.
‘I don’t think Trent’s going to mess with me anymore,’ he says.
‘No chance. You were a bad-A.’
‘I was, wasn’t I?’ He’s grinning bigger and bolder than I’ve ever seen him grin before. ‘We’ll still be friends, though, right?’
‘Wherever we go, whatever we do, even if we don’t see each other for ages, I promise you that you will always, always be my friend.’
‘You too,’ he says. ‘My best friend. Night, Lance.’ And he lets his head fall onto the pillow. Within two minutes, he’s snoring gently, like a bear cub.
My eyes are so heavy, and my head is full of thoughts and feelings. I look around at my friends and wonder why I didn’t let them in sooner. Crater Lake has changed my life, in so many ways. And I know that no matter what lies ahead, I’ll deal with it. Actually, we’ll deal with it together.
I turn on the CPAP and strap the mask to my face, listening to the comforting soft whirr of its pumps filling the tube with oxygen. Then I let my eyelids drop, and in a safe and happy place, with a full stomach and the people I love around me, I snuggle into a warm haze of contentment, and finally go to sleep.
Acknowledgements
Firstly, I would like to thank everyone at Firefly: Penny, Meg, Simone, Janet and Rebecca. To be a Firefly is to be part of a close team, and I know how hard-working and passionate you all are about every Firefly book and author. Thanks to Anne Glenn for a cover that I make heart-eyes at every time I look at it, and to Fritha, publicist extraordinaire. Thank you to my agent, Kirsty, who guides me with such wisdom and kindness – I couldn’t manage without you. Thanks to all my author friends who have reached out and offered a word of advice, encouraging message, or cheering cup of tea when I’ve needed it. These things make such a difference and I hope to return the kindness one day, if I haven’t already. To wonderful Lorraine, Eloise, Ness and BB, who are always at the end of a DM to help me fight another day. To Vashti who read this story before anyone else, and gave me the confidence to share it.
Thank you to the teachers who have embraced my books and me (sometimes in actual hug form): the Liverpool lot (Ashley Booth, Ian Hunt, Laura Baxter, and Les Hall); Bruce McInnes, Jane Clapp, Maaria Khan, Neil Black, Matthew Girvan, Karl Duke, Dean Boddington (told you I’d put you in my book), Laura Reid, Tami Wylie, Sophie Topliss, and my wonderful friends Ann Hopson and Simon Hawley. There are SO MANY other teachers and TAs who I’m grateful to, and I’m sorry that I can’t add all of your names. Please know that every kindness you’ve shown is appreciated from the bottom of my heart.
Thanks to the brilliant bloggers who are so committed to sharing their love of reading, especially BookLoverJo Clarke, LibraryGirl&BookBoy Jo, GoldenBooksGirl Amy, everyone at @MyBookCorner, and bookwormhole Liam – your continued support is worth heaps. Thank you to the tireless booksellers who I know shout about my books as often and loudly as they can, especially Karen at Waterstones Cirencester, Bronnie at BookWagon, and the bunch of much-missed misfits formerly of Waterstones Uxbridge, but temporarily scattered – Jane, Phoenix, Tom, Heather, Alex, and even Lance.
And finally, thank you to the people who keep me going on a daily basis, through their love and unwavering support: my family – Mum, Dad, Julie and Alfie; my friends Nic, Laura, Emma, and Sarah; my children – Stanley, Teddy, Mia, Helena and Luis (I was going to be mean and put your nicknames here but decided that some of you wouldn’t see the funny side); and my husband Dean, who thinks I should just be writing here that it’s ALL because of him. I love you all so much.
And, of course, to my readers! Thank you for turning the pages of my stories, for laughing with my characters, and gasping at the twisty bits. I hope Crater Lake takes you on an adventure that you won’t forget.
First published in 2020
by Firefly Press
25 Gabalfa Road, Llandaff North, Cardiff, CF14 2JJ
www.fireflypress.co.uk
© Jennifer Killick 2020
The author asserts her moral right to be identified as author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record of this bo
ok is available from the British Library.
Print ISBN 978-1-913102-20-3
Ebook ISBN 978-1-913102-21-0
Crater Lake Page 15