Beauty Sleep

by Kathryn Evans

  “Come for a jog with me?”

  “Er, no. I think I’ve made it quite clear I don’t do exercise,” Marsha said, demolishing the last of her Creme Egg.

  “You come then?” I said to Keisha.

  “We’ve got prep, remember? School?”

  No way could I sit in that room for two hours with all this…juice zinging round my body. I’d explode.

  I pulled the window closed and as I stepped back I saw a note on Marsha’s desk. On the front was a name:

  Liiri Hinliy

  My name.

  In Spiditik.

  “Marsha, where did you get this?”

  She looked at the envelope. “In the quad.”

  “Why didn’t you give it to me?”

  “Why should I give it to you?”

  “This is my name – it’s meant for me.”

  She sat up and snatched the envelope from me, examining the writing. Her face went an even whiter shade of pale. Then she said, “That is the most rubbish code I have ever seen.”

  I took it back and stuck it in my pocket.

  She said, “You can’t have it.”

  “But it’s meant for me.”

  “I found it.”

  “I don’t care. It’s meant for me.”

  Keisha interrupted our squabbling. “Who would be sending you a message? Who do you even know outside?”

  “I…”

  Marsha snapped all her attention on me. “Yeah, Laura, who do you even know?”

  Part of me wanted to confide in them, but I was so taken aback by the sharpness in Marsha’s voice, I didn’t answer.

  “Read it then,” Keisha said.

  I looked from her to Marsha and back again. The truth was I needed some advice about what to do, and they were my friends, weren’t they?

  I opened it and translated from Spiditik as I read out loud.

  “Spidi2,

  The car crash was her fault and you did not, do not, have never had cancer.

  The flower is not who you think she is.

  Spidi1.”

  I stared at the paper. A chill leached across my skull and down my spine. What?

  WHAT?

  What flower? Was she talking about herself? Stacey Flowers? Well, that was true: she definitely wasn’t who I thought she was.

  “What does it mean?” Keisha said.

  “I don’t know.”

  Marsha shook her head. “I know who it’s from. It’s that nutcase who set fire to the clinic, isn’t it? Why are you writing to her?”

  How did she know who it was from? How could she jump to that conclusion?

  I said, “I’m not writing to her. She wrote to me…”

  Keisha cut me off. “We have to tell someone, Laura. She sounds dangerous.”

  I shook my head automatically, jumping to Stacey’s defence. “She just wants to talk to me. She’d never hurt me.”

  But she had hurt me. So much. And I honestly wasn’t sure how much more she might hurt me if I carried on talking to her.

  I came round in pitch dark, my heart racing and my head bouncing against a hard floor. My arms were pulled behind my back, my legs tied together. I could hear the faint electric hum of a vehicle and guessed I was in a car boot or something.

  “Scrag?” I whispered, sensing his absence like my lost hand. I felt sick, but the stinking bag was still over my head. If I puked, the only place it was going was all over my own face. I wished I hadn’t eaten the doughnut. I swallowed and swallowed and tried to breathe but the bag smelled rancid. My head was groggy, my thoughts a mess.

  Where was Scrag?

  I heard his pained yelp in my head, imagined his body flying through the air. I choked down a sob.

  We stopped moving and a door clunked open.

  “Get up!” someone shouted, tugging my arm. I fell out of the vehicle and landed heavily on my side.

  They pulled me sharply to my feet. My arms were an agony of pins and needles. They undid my legs and shoved me forwards. I tried to speak, to find out where Scrag was, but my throat was dry and tight and nothing would come out.

  A door opened somewhere ahead, the floor changed to something flat and smooth. I guessed we’d gone inside.

  Someone said, “Make sure he’s completely decontaminated.”

  We turned right. I tried to listen for anything that might give me a clue as to where I was. We stopped and something sharp jabbed in my arm. They held me still until something said, “Scan complete. Subject identified. Please wait.”

  Another door shushed open. I was marched off again, through another door, then another. We turned right again and my hood was yanked off.

  I blinked against the bright light. I was in a locker room. One end was screened off. Behind me, the cord around my arms was cut free. As it snapped apart, my shoulders fell back into place. The pain was shocking. I gasped and tucked my hand and stump into my armpits, bending double to try and ease the pain. A woman stood next to me. She was dressed in a blue papery suit, with a white mask covering the bottom half of her face. She was tall but I reckoned I could take her down.

  “Don’t even try,” she said, as if reading my mind. “There are two guards behind you with Tasers. I presume you know what Tasers are?”

  I nodded. Part of me was relieved there was no point in fighting. I’d never liked physical violence. I always seemed to come off worst.

  “Where’s my dog?”

  “There are no animals allowed here.” She held out a yellow plastic sack. “Remove your clothes and place them in the bag, please.”

  “What?”

  “Your clothes. Off. Put them in the bag.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it. You cannot enter the facility until—”

  “What facility? Where am I? What do you want from me?”

  “It’s for your own good.” She sighed.

  “How is half suffocating me and nearly breaking my arms for my own good?”

  “You shouldn’t have resisted. Now, please remove your clothes.”

  “I am not stripping off in front of you.”

  “Fine.”

  I followed her gaze to the guards behind me. They were also dressed in blue paper suits but in a bigger size. A much bigger size. Enormous.

  “The vagrant refuses to remove his clothes. Can one of you assist him, please?”

  I backed away, holding my arms up. “You’ve made a mistake. I’m not a vagrant. I had a home. Seriously, I shouldn’t be here.”

  The woman said, “We’ll be the judge of that.”

  Judge, jury and… I didn’t finish the thought in my head. I hit the wall of lockers behind me and slid along them until I was in the furthest corner of the room. She advanced towards me with her plastic bag and the guards beside her.

  “Shoes first.”

  I was running out of options. I pulled one off and threw it at one of the guards. As he flinched, I ran past and yanked at the door. It wouldn’t open. Of course it wouldn’t.

  They’d got me.

  Whatever game this was, I’d lost.

  Prep again. Two hours of science and maths. I pulled Stacey’s note out and reread it.

  How could she say that about the cancer? I’d been ill. I was dying. The only reason Mum and Ima did what they did was because there’d been no choice. Me and Alfie were going to die.

  There was a time I would have trusted Stacey with my life, but now…? My mind bounced between the Stacey I remembered and this new version who said crazy stuff and set fire to…

  A hand clamped my shoulder. “Laura, are you feeling okay?”

  I looked up. Madam Hobbs was staring at me and at the note that I’d screwed up and smoothed out and screwed up and smoothed out. I had not written a single word of homework.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I feel really sick.”

  She took a step back. “You’d better pop up and see the nurse then.”

  I stood up and I genuinely felt a bit wobbly. I steadied myself against the t
able. “Better have someone go with you,” Madam Hobbs said. “Keisha? Can you go with her, please?”

  Keisha took my arm and led me up the corridor like an invalid. I had to know what Stacey meant. How could she think I hadn’t been ill? She’d seen me when I could barely move. Did she think I’d faked being sick? That Alfie had?

  Vicious layers of anger built in me. I wanted to have it out with her. I thought about Marsha picking up that message this morning.

  “Keisha, those drone things…do people have to be nearby to use them to deliver stuff?”

  “Depends on the sort of drone. Not the ones delivery companies use. Toy ones maybe. Why?”

  Because Stacey might have been here. She might have dropped the note in the quad and still be about, hoping to see me.

  I felt desperate. “I need to go out, I need some fresh air.”

  “You can’t. I’m meant to be taking you to the health centre.”

  “Sorry, can’t, need air.” I found the nearest door and ran outside.

  Absolutely no one was about. I tore down to the metal gates and looked through. There was no one there, not even any journalists, which was pretty lucky really. A picture of me peering through barred gates wouldn’t look good on the news.

  I climbed up the bank near the track and looked around.

  Stacey was nowhere to be seen.

  I headed back to school, the wind blowing my hair everywhere even though it was tied back. As I scooped it away from my eyes, I heard a whimper. Tucked right up against the wall, tight in a corner and shivering violently, was Hedge Boy’s little dog.

  The dog looked hurt. One eye was smeared with blood and swollen shut. I wasn’t sure if it was safe to go near him without his owner but there was absolutely no sign of the boy. I sucked my bottom lip for a second. The dog looked so sad I had to try and help. I walked slowly towards him, one arm stretched out so he could sniff me.

  “Hey, little chap, what’s your name? Scrag? What’s up, Scrag? Where’s your master?”

  His tail wagged feebly and my heart lurched. I got closer. His eye looked awful but it was the way his tiny body was trembling that really got me.

  “What’s happened, little one? Where’s your master?”

  I crouched down. He cowered back at first and then sniffed my outstretched hand before giving it a tentative lick.

  “You poor little thing.”

  I looked about for the boy, but he was nowhere. Had he abandoned the dog? Lost him? The little scrap seemed terrified. Very slowly, very carefully, I picked him up. His body squirmed in my arms and then relaxed. He lifted his head and licked my cheek.

  God knows what I thought I was doing, but I took the dog inside, hoping, hoping, hoping no one would see me. Luck was on my side right until I got to Blue House corridor. I pushed open the door and Marsha was on the other side, in deep conversation with Madam Hobbs.

  I turned around and went straight back out. I could not be caught with a dog. I headed for the nearest exit, the door to the quad. It was still light out but the courtyard was shaded from any sun in the evenings and was full of shadows. A bird, or a bat, or something fluttered right past me and I ducked. Scrag whimpered in my arms.

  “I’m sorry. Shh. Please don’t make any noise.” I put him down gently and said, “I’ll be back. Just wait here. I need to make sure the coast is clear.”

  I pushed open the door to Blue House – it was empty now but I was taking no chances. I pelted to my room and grabbed a towel before returning to the quad.

  I was just about to safely leave Blue House corridor when someone grabbed my shirt.

  “What are you up to?”

  Marsha.

  “You frightened the life out of me! Oh, Marsha, there was this boy…it’s a long story…anyway, he’s left his dog and…”

  “A boy, here? A dog? Are you crazy?” she said, but glee played on her face. “Where are they?”

  “It’s just the dog. He’s in the quad.”

  “Come on then. What are we waiting for? I’ll get the dog. You can be lookout.”

  “No, he’s injured. I’ll get him. You can be lookout.” I pushed open the door.

  Scrag gave a little whimper when he saw me and got up slowly, clearly in pain.

  Marsha crouched down. “Oh! He’s so cute. What happened to you, boy?” He let her pick him up and push back the little fringe of hair that covered his bloodstained eye.

  “We need to clean that up, don’t we, little fluff ball? Looks like someone kicked you. Hold out the towel, Laura.”

  She was so gentle, so calm, so UN-Marsha like.

  “What?” she said. “Come on, hold out the towel so we can wrap him up.”

  I did what she suggested and she placed him in my arms, saying, “I’ll make sure the way’s clear.”

  I followed her when she signalled it was okay. We made it halfway down Blue House corridor before we ran into Keisha and Susan.

  “There you are,” Keisha said. “You can’t run off like that. I was charged with looking after you.”

  “Not now,” Marsha said with a wave of her hand.

  She stepped up her pace and I followed her all the way back to our rooms. She headed for hers but I’d found him. Scrag was coming to my room. I pushed the door open. Marsha followed me in but Keisha and Susan were right behind her. Scrag poked his head out of the towel.

  Ruff.

  “Shh…” I said.

  Ruff, ruff.

  “What’s that?” Keisha said, as she and Susan made their way inside. “Are you mad?”

  “Marsha, shut the door,” I said. “Don’t let anyone else in.”

  “Awwww,” said Susan. “We can call him Elvis.”

  “Don’t encourage them, Susan,” Keisha said, exasperated. “Where…why…honestly, how have you got a dog? I literally left you, like, seconds ago.”

  “He’s hurt,” I said, as if that explained everything.

  “Funny how he got hurt when your crazy friend was around delivering notes nearby,” Marsha said.

  “She wasn’t around!” I said. “Why would you say that? She would never hurt a little dog.”

  “All right, I’m just saying. Two weird things happen in one day, it might not be a coincidence.”

  “Of course it is,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.

  They shoved me into a shower and snatched a thin white curtain across the space. Roots of white-hot panic burrowed through me. I was sure it wasn’t going to be a real shower. That’s what the Nazis had done, wasn’t it? Rounded up people they wanted to get rid of and gassed them in a pretend shower. I waited for the hiss of poison but, instead, water came on. Scalding. Almost too hot to bear. Only I was shivering as if it was ice pouring over me. I looked down at my shaking body.

  I hadn’t seen myself naked for years. I was thinner than I thought. And hairier.

  The woman snapped, “There’s soap on the wall. Use it.”

  “Why are you doing this? Who are you?” I asked.

  “Can you just wash yourself? You’d think you’d be grateful. When was the last time you had a shower?”

  I found a soap dispenser behind me. I squeezed some into my hand. It smelled like lemon and ginger and more weird thoughts crossed my mind – honest to God, I wondered if they were getting ready to eat me. I know, I know, but I was in full-on panic mode and nothing made any sense. I washed myself, thinking the longer it took, the better – the water ran grey around my feet. I kept going until it was clear. I had no idea what they wanted with me but the more time I spent in that shower, the less time they were spending doing something unimaginably awful. What was really strange was that I started to relax a bit. Even in that set-up, standing under the hot shower had some weird effect on me.

  The water shut off and I was blasted with warm air. I was clean and I was dry but I wasn’t leaving that cubicle until they dragged me out. Which they did.

  “Put those on.”

  A grey sweat top and bottoms hung from a hook on th
e wall and all I could think was: Prison. That’s a prison uniform. I’ve been arrested. That’s what this is.

  Something like relief swept through me. I’d get fed. I’d have a bed. I was so tired I could barely think – a bed, somewhere comfortable to sleep. And then shame nudged all that aside as my brain remembered what I was missing.

  “Where’s my dog?”

  Nobody spoke to me but they spoke to each other.

  “He’s worried about his dog?”

  “Yeah!”

  And they laughed.

  “I’m going to get a bowl of warm water to clean his face,” I said. “Marsha, please look after him.”

  I swept out of the room to the kitchen, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. Luckily no one asked why I was taking a bowl of warm water to my room. Marsha held it as I wiped gently at Scrag’s fur with a wet tissue, cleaning the blood off his little face. He flinched when I had a closer look at the cut but it was more of a split than a deep wound.

  “It might be bruised,” said Marsha. “Be careful you don’t press too hard.”

  He looked better when we’d finished. Then he dipped his head in the bowl and lapped some of the water up, splashing it over Marsha’s lap. She smiled at him, a smile full of warmth, and curled a hand around his cheek.

  “There you go, puppy. That’s better, isn’t it?”

  He licked her hand and she put the bowl on my desk before curling up on my bed with Scrag by her side. In moments, he was asleep.

  Keisha interrupted the peace. “You can’t have a dog here. Don’t you realize what you’re risking? If you get caught, exeat will be cancelled. Remember what that is? A precious day off. Me and Susan are going to the Pavilion – we’ve been planning it for ages.”

  “You’d better leave then,” Marsha said to Keisha. “If you don’t want to get in trouble.”

  “It’s not that easy, is it? I know now.” She scowled with fury and stomped out of my room. Susan shrugged and followed her out. I couldn’t say I blamed them. As annoying as it was to admit it, I was an idiot to have brought a dog inside. Then I looked at Marsha, her eyelids drifting down as she began to doze, a soft smile on her lips. She was so peaceful curled up next to the dog. I couldn’t bring myself to be sorry.