I shook my head.
‘Then what is it?’
‘I just don’t want to play anymore!’ I said, and started howling as if my heart was about to break – mostly because it was.
‘There now, calm down,’ Dad said. ‘No-one’s going to make you go if you don’t want to.’ He paused, and I could hear a note of sadness and hurt in his voice. ‘I thought you liked it.’
‘I do, but –’ How could I tell him that I loved it more than anything but I didn’t dare to play anymore for fear of the consequences? I burst out into fresh sobs.
‘It’s all right, it’s all right. Never mind. If it upsets you that much you don’t have to go.’
I tried to get a grip on myself and gradually the sobs died. ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’
‘Hush now,’ he said. ‘It’s only a game.’
Later that night I overheard them talking.
‘I told you not to put so much pressure on her,’ my mum said.
I couldn’t hear what my dad said.
And I wanted to tell them it wasn’t his fault, that I loved cricket just as much as ever and I never would have given it up if I had a choice. But after what had happened to Mr Granger I felt like I didn’t have a choice anymore.
Ben
The next day was Saturday, and for the first time in a very long time I had the whole day to myself. It should have felt great, but instead I felt miserable. The thought of getting out of bed seemed like way too much of an effort. While I was lying there I heard my dad making a phone call. I realised he was calling my coach.
‘Melissa won’t be able to play today,’ I heard him say. ‘A little bit of a tummy bug.’ He paused. ‘Yes, I’ll tell her. Bye.’
I guess he couldn’t tell my coach the real reason: Melissa can’t play today, she’s having a breakdown, but we’re hoping she’ll snap out of it soon.
Mum came in with some orange juice. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’ she asked.
‘Okay,’ I said.
‘Dad called the coach,’ she said. ‘He told them you weren’t going to play today.’
‘Yeah, I heard.’
‘He said he hopes you feel better soon,’ Mum said.
I didn’t say anything. I knew that if I didn’t play they might have to forfeit the game because we didn’t have any reserves, but there was nothing I could do about it. I wished I could tell them that the alternative was potentially far worse.
‘I was thinking,’ Mum said, ‘we could go and see a movie today. Just you and me. We could catch the latest chick flick. Would you like that?’
Wow. She must really be worried about me. ‘Um – sure,’ I said. ‘Which movie?’
‘Why don’t you hop up and have some breakfast and we can have a look in the paper and see what’s on?’
‘Okay,’ I said.
So I got up and had some breakfast while Mum and Dad hung around the kitchen pretending everything was super-normal. Mum was bright and cheery and cracking jokes. Dad had his apron on and was making pancakes, something he usually only did on special occasions. I knew they were trying to make me feel better, which was incredibly sweet, but I couldn’t help thinking that if they knew what I’d done they wouldn’t be going to all this trouble, and that just made me feel terrible again. The only person who wasn’t trying to be nice to me was Jason, who was shouting nonsensically and stuffing pancakes into his mouth and running in and out of the room like he had a jet-pack up his bum. For once, it was strangely comforting.
I tried calling Ben one more time while I was getting dressed. Last night I’d been desperate to see him; now, I felt like the crisis was past and I’d managed to find a solution without his help. But I was still angry at him for not being there when I needed him. Some guide he’d turned out to be. I hoped his snake bit him.
Mum took me to the mall and we went to a movie and then she bought me lunch and she didn’t even try to make me order something healthy at the food court. She chattered away and asked me non-leading questions and gave me plenty of openings to spill my guts and talk about what was worrying me. But of course I didn’t tell her.
‘I’m going to have a cappuccino,’ Mum said, when she’d finished her sandwich. ‘Would you like something else?’
I shook my head. I was still sucking on a big fat chocolate thickshake and my eyes were about to pop out of my head with the effort.
‘All righty then,’ she said, and wandered off to get herself a coffee.
I sat there, idly scanning the food hall, wondering if anyone I knew was there. There wasn’t, but I found myself staring at a mob of private school boys lounging around on the other side of the food court, talking loudly and throwing fries at each other. I knew they were private school boys because they were wearing their Prince’s School sports uniforms and blazers and they’d spread their monogrammed Prince’s School sports bags around in such a lordly manner they were taking up half the floor space. From the way they were hooting and whooping and carrying on I could tell they’d won their match. I don’t even know why I was staring at them – unlike some of the girls in my year, I’m not totally obsessed with the rich kids who go to fancy schools – but for some reason I was. And then one of the guys turned to scan the room, and his eyes met mine, and I stiffened, and so did he.
It was Ben.
For a long moment I stared at him, the shock washing over me. Ben was a schoolboy? He was a snotty Prince’s School boy? When he’d shown up at my house he’d seemed so cool and adult and mature. But he wasn’t an adult – he was just a kid who had to go to school and play school sport on the weekend, and who had a whole bunch of meathead buddies. I suppose it should have made me feel less angry at him – at least now I knew why he hadn’t come to see me yesterday, it was because he’d been at school himself – but for some reason it just made me angrier. In fact, I felt betrayed. The person I thought he was – a lone wolf in bare feet and raggy jeans, cool, aloof, together – was a lie. This – the maroon blazer, the hairy knees, the spotty mates – was the truth. I’d believed he was someone I could count on, someone I could look up to, someone who could really help me. But how could he help if he was just another kid?
The look of shock on Ben’s face must have mirrored my own, because I could practically see the thoughts racing through his mind: damn, she’s seen me! What do I do? Do I go over to her in front of all my mates or do I pretend I haven’t seen her? I felt angrily sure he was going to cut me dead, and I waited for the moment when he’d turn away from me and go back to the conversation as if he didn’t know I existed, but then I saw his muscles tense as he prepared to rise to his feet and I began to wonder if perhaps I’d underestimated him. Right then Mum sat down with a cappuccino and a gigantic chocolate biscuit dotted with Smarties and said, ‘I got this for us to share – isn’t it enormous?’ and I saw Ben relax into his seat again. He turned his head to respond to some remark someone had made to him, and I saw my chance to talk to him slipping away. I was going to have to act.
‘I might just go to the loo,’ I said.
I threaded my way nonchalantly through the tables, passing right by the table where Ben and his mates were sitting so that I could be absolutely sure he’d seen me, and then headed out into the mall.
Ben caught me out on the main concourse.
‘Melissa, I was going to come and see you this afternoon –’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ I snapped, ‘you’re obviously very busy.’
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘Has something happened?’
‘Like you care,’ I spat.
People were starting to stare at us. ‘We can’t talk about this here,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘Come on.’
He started to walk, but I refused to move. ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘A safe place.’
‘Is it far?’ I asked stubbornly. ‘My mum thinks I’ve gone to the toilet.’
‘It’s not far.’
Ben started walking and I had no choice but to follow h
im. I couldn’t stop staring at his hairy legs sticking out from the bottom of his monogrammed shorts.
He led me through a door marked ‘No Admittance Past This Point – Staff Only’ and as I went through the doorway I caught a whiff of that familiar mix of happy smells – lemons, pizza dough – that told me I was in a safe place. We walked down an echoing concrete corridor lit by fluorescent strips and into a cleaner’s room filled with mops and buckets and industrial-strength detergents and floor wax.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you’re a Prince’s boy?’ I demanded.
A swift look of annoyance crossed Ben’s face. ‘It didn’t seem important.’
‘Of course it’s important!’
‘Why?’ he shot back angrily. ‘Because if I’m a Prince’s boy it means I’m a snob?’
‘You haven’t told me a single thing about yourself,’ I accused. ‘You know heaps about me and I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know how to get in touch with you when I need you – I’m supposed to just wait until you turn up.’
‘You can use your bracelet.’
‘You could give me your phone number!’ I snapped.
For a moment we glared at each other.
‘All right,’ Ben said finally, folding his arms tightly. ‘Go ahead. Ask me. What do you want to know?’
‘How old are you?’
‘Seventeen.’
I’d thought he was twenty. At least.
‘Where do you live?’
‘Brightview Hill.’
It was a nice suburb, not super-posh, but not so different from where I lived.
‘And are your parents lawyers or doctors?’
Ben looked at me in exasperation. ‘What does it matter what my parents do? You wanted to talk to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you any sooner, but I’m here now. So what was it you wanted to tell me?’
I drew myself up to my full height, wanting to shock him. ‘I think I may have killed someone,’ I said, and was rather gratified by the look on his face.
‘How?’ he asked.
So I told him the whole sad story of the science test and Mr Granger’s accident, and then explained to him how I’d made a pact with the forces of destruction that I wouldn’t play cricket again if they’d just make him all right again.
‘Ah,’ Ben said. ‘Magical thinking.’
‘Do you think it’ll work?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Not a chance.’
‘But there must be something I can do,’ I protested. ‘Surely I can use my powers to –’
‘They’re powers of destruction,’ Ben said. ‘You can kill the taxi driver who fell asleep at the wheel. Or the guy next door with the leaf-blower who kept waking the taxi driver up when he was trying to sleep before his shift started. But you can’t unmake the accident. You can’t relive the day.’
‘You mean with all this power I’ve got, there’s no way I can take back what I’ve done? Change it? Fix things?’
‘What’s done can’t be undone,’ Ben said.
‘Not even if I make some kind of sacrifice?’
‘What, like a goat?’ he said, smiling
‘How can you be so calm about this?’ I yelled. ‘Don’t you get it? I’ve done something terrible!’
And then, to my shame, I burst into tears.
‘Hey,’ Ben said uncomfortably, ‘don’t cry.’
But I couldn’t help it. I cried and cried.
‘It’s okay,’ he said.
I was still crying.
‘Hey,’ he said. He put his arm around me. I shook him off.
After that he stopped trying to comfort me. Eventually I stopped crying and got a hanky out of my pocket and blew my nose. If this had been Summerdale, Ben would have given me his hanky. But he didn’t, so I used my own.
‘I do know how you feel,’ Ben said finally. ‘It sucks.’
‘How could you possibly know?’ I snapped.
Ben looked at me, gravely, as if he was weighing something up. ‘I told you I used to play sport?’ he said finally.
I nodded.
‘I was fifteen when I got my powers,’ he said. ‘Me and some mates were doing a skit for some end-of-year thing and we went looking for costumes at this skanky old second-hand shop.’
‘Let me guess,’ I said, ‘you were all going in drag.’
Ben gave me a crooked smile and nodded. ‘So I found the bracelet in a box with a whole lot of other crappy old jewellery, and for some reason I put it on and –’
‘It wouldn’t come off.’
He nodded. ‘So I was stuck with it. You wouldn’t believe the crap I had to put up with from my mates when I kept wearing it, but eventually they just got used to it.
‘My guide was a guy called Marcus. Really cool guy, nothing ever fazed him. He believed we’ve all been chosen for a reason, and that given half a chance, most of us will get to the point where we don’t use our powers for stupid, selfish reasons. But he wasn’t the kind of guy who’d lecture you about it. He just let you work it out for yourself, by making mistakes.’
He paused. ‘I’d always been good at sport, but after I got my powers I started to get really good. I was amazing, I couldn’t lose. Every week I was outplaying everyone on the field. But accidents were starting to happen around me.’
I stared at him. ‘What kind of accidents?’
‘People started getting hurt,’ he said quietly, his eyes fixed on a point on the floor. ‘Every time I played, something bad happened to somebody. It never looked like it was my fault; it always looked like bad luck. I knew what was happening, I knew I was causing it, but I didn’t care, because we were winning. That summer, my basketball team and my cricket team won every game. Then the footy season started.’
He paused again, as if he was willing himself to keep talking. ‘It was the same as it had been in the summer. We won every game and everyone else had amazingly bad luck. Then in the fourth game, one of the guys we were playing against copped a high tackle and broke his neck. Fifteen years old and he was a quadriplegic for life.’
I was stunned. ‘You did that?’
Ben glanced at me, his eyes dark, angry. ‘I didn’t tackle him,’ he said. ‘But it was my fault it happened.’
I didn’t want to believe it. And just like Soph had when I told her about Mr Granger, I tried to let him off the hook. ‘So you can’t be sure it was you –’
‘I’m sure,’ Ben said flatly.
I was silent for a moment. ‘The last time I played,’ I said slowly, ‘I was having one of those days where nothing goes wrong for you.’ Ben was nodding. ‘And I knew that if I kept on playing something terrible was going to happen. I had this – well, this premonition.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I faked an injury and stopped.’
Ben scrutinised me for a moment then smiled ruefully. ‘Wow,’ he said. For a moment he didn’t say anything more. Then he continued. ‘I stopped playing after that.’
‘Footy?’
‘Everything. I couldn’t trust myself anymore.’ He paused. ‘Caused a huge stink at school. Sport’s a big deal for them, and it’s compulsory, and I was one of their star players and suddenly I was refusing to cooperate.’ He grinned. ‘They were going to expel me. They thought I had to be on drugs because I’d had this total personality change.’
‘But you couldn’t tell anybody what was really going on?’ I suggested.
Ben shook his head. ‘Not a chance. Finally Marcus came to see me. We talked about sport. It’d always been a part of my life, you see, for as long as I could remember, and for me to give it up completely – it was like giving up a part of who I was. Out of fear.’ He paused. ‘He made me see that that wasn’t the answer. I had to find a way to keep playing, but in a way that I could still – you know – live with myself.’
‘So what did you do?’ I asked.
He smiled. ‘I started playing sports I didn’t like very much. If I’m playing something I love, it’s just too hard to ho
ld back. I mean, I can kick a footy around, or play backyard cricket, but if it’s a real game . . . forget it.’
I thought about this for a while. ‘So do you think I could go back to playing cricket?’
He smiled. ‘I reckon you probably could.’
‘But what about the promise I made to the forces of destruction?’
Ben’s smile faded. ‘If you want to punish yourself then go ahead, give something up. But it won’t make the slightest bit of difference to your science teacher. What’s done is done and you can’t change it.’
My guilt rose up again in a horrible wave, and I felt the tears threatening, but I fought them down. Tears weren’t going to help me now, any more than they were going to help Mr Granger.
‘Is it always going to be like this?’ I asked. ‘Is someone going to get hurt every time I use my powers?’
‘Not always,’ Ben said. He was silent for a moment, watching me with a sympathetic expression on his face. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been a great guide so far. I’m still pretty new to all this myself.’
‘But can’t you just call Marcus for advice?’
‘I wish I could,’ Ben said quietly.
I went a little cold inside. ‘Why? Where is he?’
‘He was neutralised,’ Ben said.
I was shocked into silence.
‘I’ve run into the agents of order three times since I got my powers,’ Ben said. ‘The first time, I was on a crowded train, coming home from school. I was standing in the aisle and I realised somebody was watching me. She looked like an ordinary person who worked in an office, and then I noticed she was wearing that insignia I showed you. She’d seen me, and she knew what I was, but the train was packed and there was nothing either of us could do about it. I got out at the next stop and she didn’t follow me and I never saw her again.
‘The second time, believe it or not, was at an inter-school sports day. One of the parents was an agent. He cornered me behind the change-rooms and I think he would have neutralised me but someone came along and interrupted us so he couldn’t finish the job.
‘The third time was different. There were five of them that time, and it was a set-up. I told you the forces of order aren’t like us, right?’
Melissa, Queen of Evil Page 8