‘I mean mad at us, for messing up her room?’
I shrugged.
‘As teachers go, she’s pretty decent. A bit strict, but...it's good she’s given us this mural to do, isn't it? At least we have a purpose -’
‘But it was only a clay fight, right? No big a deal. I mean, until Curtis got that
tub of grey gloopy stuff and lobbed it - that bit was quite bad.'
I winced, remembering the sight of the bucket of clay slip as it flew through the air, splattering all over the drying racks, ruining a stack of coursework. As soon as it happened I felt awful. I couldn’t believe I’d played a part in destroying other people’s hard work, wrecking the art room - my favourite place in the whole school - just because I was trying to keep up, impress Leon Prentice.
‘You’d have come in and done this mural anyway, right?’
His eyes were now fixed to his phone screen, fingers texting. I couldn’t help wondering who he was texting. Or maybe it was a status update: just chattin with the grl of my dreams!
In my dreams.
‘I can use it for my portfolio,’I said. ‘As long as it’s good.’
‘It’ll be good,’he said. ‘If you’re in charge.’
Oh, god!
‘What about you?’I said, determined to keep the conversation going. ‘Do you mind being here?’
‘Not my usual scene, but it beats busking in the pissing rain.’
‘You go busking?’
‘Sometimes.’
Suddenly, Curtis leaped onto Leon’s back. He was wearing an African mask, which he must have found among Miss Nevis’s still-life props. He pulled it back, waggled his sunglasses, and made a silly face. Miss Nevis marched over and snatched the mask off him. I thought she was about to tell us to stop wasting time, but instead, she looked uncharacteristically flustered.
‘It's a mystery,’she said, shaking her head. ‘I ordered twenty tins of paint for this mural. Rollers, brushes, everything…and the whole lot has disappeared, a long with a term’s worth of modelling clay–and I assure you, that’s a lot of clay. I don't get it! Yesterday, my order was piled up outside the classroom door. Today...gone.’
‘Maybe you imagined you had it?’said Curtis.
‘I don’t imaginethings,’ said Miss Nevis, shaking her head. ‘Sadly, I can only assume it’s been stolen. Either that, or it's sprouted feet and walked out. I’m afraid the only way the mural can happen now is if I drive to the retail park and pick up more paint -’
‘I’ll go,’said Curtis hopefully.
I could see Miss Nevis thinking this through. Curtis on a mission, getting side-tracked by a text message, stopping off to get some chicken wings, then blowing all the paint money on phone credit and scratch cards.
‘I think I’llgo,’she said.‘And while I’m gone, you can start drawing the design on the back wall. Have you finalised your idea, yet?’
I pushed my best sketch to the front: a trail of girl/boy figures holding hands against a sunset, headed by a couple who vaguely resembled Leon and I - embarrassing, but I couldn't help myself.
‘Yes, I like this,’said Miss Nevis. ‘I like the flow. It reminds me of dance.’
‘Looks like a bunch of naked aliens to me,’said Curtis, grinning.
‘It’s representation,’said Miss Nevis. ‘The figures are supposed to represent humans. Or aliens. Or whatever you like. They don’t have to be realistic.’
‘So why are they stuck together, then?’
I guess Curtis didn’t have the patience for artistic vision. I wanted to tell Miss Nevis to save her breath. Then Leon stepped in.
‘They’re not stuck,you dolt. They’re holding hands. They’re dancing. It’s meant to be arty. Kate knows what she’s doing.’
He caught my eye. I blushed, rocked on my heels, distracted myself with pastel dust. In that moment, it didn’t matter that Miss Nevis had lost the paint or that the rain was ridiculous. Leon Prentice was flirting. With me. I was just about to give him a smile, when the door burst open.
Miss Nevis raised an eyebrow.
‘Ryan?’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’
In the entrance, at the top of the steps, was a young man - tatty grey blazer, messy hair, round glasses, headphones. His face was red and sweaty, like he'd been physically exerting himself. All he did was stare at us. For a moment, I thought I recognised him, then I noticed the Hurst College logo on his bag and realised he was another student. I’d probably seen him in corridors or halls or lunch queues–or maybe around Vis A. Yes, definitely Vis A. He had distinctive eyes: dark, deep-set, the whites barely visible. You don’t see eyes like that very often. He was sort of cute in a scruffy, off-hand kind of way, but his attractiveness was marred by his surly expression. He took his headphones off.
‘Hi,’he said quietly, barely a grunt.
He was soaked through. The water dripped off his nose.
Miss Nevis beckoned him in.
‘It’s Saturday, Ryan.' She looked concerned. 'Are you here to - ?’
Before she could finish, Curtis was up in his face.
‘Yo, son!’he said. ‘This is, like, a private function, bro. What are you here for?’
‘The mural,’said Ryan, eyes shifting from side to side.
Curtis sneered. ‘What mural?’
‘Oh, Curtis,’Miss Nevis sighed. ‘You knowwhat mural - the mural you’re here to help paint, to make up for the mess you and your friends created last week. Or has that escaped your memory?’
‘Lots of things escape my memory, Miss. And I also make lots of mess, so it’s hard to keep track. Man, I’m thirsty. I need me a sugar fix. Got any cherry cola in your cupboard?’
‘Curtis La Mont for Prime Minister, anyone?’whispered Gemma.
Meanwhile, the newcomer - Ryan - walked towards us. Close up, he smelled of stale smoke and unwashed clothes. His shoes were caked in mud, like he’d trudged through the hills to get here. His hair hung in wide, soggyclumps. It needed a brush more than mine. His eyes were something though. I couldn’t stop looking at them.
‘I’m here to help paint,’he said.
‘Oh,’said Miss Nevis.‘Well, okay then. Thank you,Ryan. The more the merrier, I guess. But don’t get mud everywhere.’
‘I won’t,’he said, without looking up.
As he took of his shoes, he didn’t once acknowledge the rest of us. It got me thinking. Did he really have nothing better to do on a rainy Saturday afternoon? There was such a shyness in his manner, an awkwardness, I started to feel sorry for him. But when I glanced at Gemma and Leon and Greg and I could tell they were thinking something different:
Weirdo. Intruder.
Chapter Three
We watched from the rain-splattered window as Miss Nevis left the building, bound for the retail park at the other end of town. Curtis pressed his face to the glass.
‘Mind the bodywork!’he yelled, as she squeezed alongside his car. ‘And don’t forget to bring back snacks! Pot noodles, extra hot! Man, I’m starving!’
The rain was too fierce for Miss Nevis to hear him. By the time she was seated, she was soaked. I felt bad for her. She’d gone out of her way to organise this mural - she’d given up her free time too–and all Curtis wanted to do was eat.
‘Isn’t Miss Nevis supposed to be the adult in charge?’he said, as her car pulled away. ‘What if we all go crazy and start smashing everything?’
‘You’re the only one at risk of doing that,’said Greg. ‘The rest of us can manage fine without a baby-sitter.’
With Miss Nevis gone, the atmosphere changed. Gemma and Greg disappeared into the store cupboard. Leon and I leant against a radiator and made small talk. Curtis demonstrated juggling tricks, using two sponges and a jam jar. And Ryan, the new boy, kept himself to himself. From the corner of my eye, I could see him crouching at the back of the room, doing something - but I couldn't tell what.
‘Seriously,’said Curtis, leaning towards Leon and I. ‘What kind of weirdo freely giv
es up their weekend to paint a poxy mural on a school wall? It’s different for us because we’ve been madeto come here, but he’s here of his own accord. What’s thatabout?’
I shrugged.
‘Has anyone spoken to him to find out?’I said.
‘No one speaks to him,’said Leon. ‘He’s a loner. I remember him from my Geography field trip last year. Doesn’t talk to anyone. Super-brain. But proper weird.’
‘Let’s get him over,’said Curtis, a gleam in his eye.
They started to call,‘Oi, Ryan! Come here! Come talk to us!’
Ryan looked up.
‘I’m busy,’he muttered. ‘And for your information, my name is Byron.’
‘Byron?’said Leon.‘I thought it was -’
‘I changed it,’snapped Byron - or Ryan - or whatever.
‘Easy now,’said Curtis. ‘No need to get snarky. Only being friendly.’
Friendly, but there was cruelty in there, too. Why are boys like that? Always competing, trying to outrank each other. Curtis didn’t want to be friends with Byron. He just wanted to toy with him. Byron, however, paid no attention and carried on with what he was doing. Curious, I edged around the table so I could get a better view. I saw that he was counting pencils, lining them up in order of colour and size. He’d finally taken his wet blazer off. Beneath it, he was wearing a white shirt and a knitted tank top, which made him look old-fashioned, like someone from a different era.
‘Hi,’I said.
‘Hi.’
I pointed to the orderly line of pencils.
‘That’s...neat,’ I said.
‘My exercise.’
‘Doesn’t look like exercise.’
Byron shook his head.
‘Not the kind of exercise Leon Prentice is good at. It’s a mindexercise.’
‘A what?’
‘I’m training my brain to notice the finer details of how things look, sound, feel, taste and smell - otherwise known as ‘sensory acuity’. According to the books, if you get good at it, you can teach yourself to interpret the human mind. Did you know your surface behaviour leaks all kinds of messages about your innerthoughts? Like, you’ve come over here now to be polite. You’re trying to be friendly, but you’re nervous, too. I make you nervous. The way you’re flicking your finger nails and glancing from side-to-side -’
‘I–yes– ’
I checked myself, stuffed my hands in my pockets, tried to keep my gaze in one place.
‘You don’t haveto be nervous,’he said, looking down at the pencils, swapping a couple. ‘You of all people.’
‘Right. Thanks.’
I smiled, baffled by his matter-of-fact manner.
‘So whypencils?’
He smiled back.
‘They aren’t as interesting as people obviously, but I kind ofneed the practice.’
‘Why would anyone call themselves Byron?’said Curtis. ‘What kind of name is that?’
‘I mean,’said Leon,‘if he likes the letter B, he could just call himself Bryan.’
They laughed. I made a point of not joining in. Leon looked at me.
‘Sorry, Kate,’he said. ‘Is Byron your mate now?’
‘No.’
‘Saw you talking to him.’
“I was just being polite,’I protested. ‘It was no big deal.’
‘Hey, I’ve got it!’said Leon. ‘I bet he'shere because he’s got a crush on Miss Nevis.’
‘Yesss!’said Curtis. ‘Bingo! He fancies Nevis so bad, he comes and helps her at the weekends. You know what, he must be blazing that he’s arrived to find we’re all here, too!’
‘Yeah, like he must be desperate to get her alone in the store cupboard so he can show her his tank-top!’
They both fell about laughing.
I didn’t like where this was going. I stood up, to show I didn’t want to be part of the ridicule. Leon looked at me apologetically. I opened my mouth to speak, then suddenly an enormous cracking sound shattered the quiet.
We all froze.
‘What the hell was that?’said Curtis.
The cracking was followed by a deep, loud rumble.
‘The river!' yelled Greg, as he emerged from the store cupboard.
His mouth dropped open.
We all looked to where he was looking, through the back window, towards the forest,and that’s when we saw it–a massive rush of foamy brown water, twenty meters wide, as high as a house, cascading down the hill, overwhelming the narrow river that ran past the school, swamping the pine trees, swallowing everything.
Like something from a film.
‘Holy shit!’said Curtis.
It didn’t look real. And because it didn’t look real, it didn’t look dangerous. Except, a torrent of water like that, I knew it had to be dangerous. In less than three seconds, it was at the school gates, crashing over the six-foot metal perimeter fence, tearing up the bicycle shed.
Heading straight for us.
Chapter Four
‘This isn’t happening!’said Greg. ‘No way!’
None of us could believe it, but when the wave of water rushed all the way up to the walls of Vis A and the spray hit the very window we were gazing out of, we knew we had to believe it. The force was immense. Leon leapt to the floor.
‘Everybody get down!’he cried.
We all did as he said. Except Byron. Byron climbed onto the sideboard in front of the window, stood up straight, and pressed his face to the glass. I peeped at him from behind my fingers. So did Curtis.
‘Are you mad?’Curtis hissed, tugging his trouser leg.‘Get down!’
Byron ignored him. He just stared into the chaos. He didn’t look frightened or shocked. In fact, he seemed completely calm. For a moment, I actually thought I saw him smile. After a minute, the rest of us sat up.
‘Is it over?’said Gemma, her voice wobbling.
Leon looked up. He prodded Byron.
‘What can you see? Are we safe yet?’
Byron shrugged.
‘Safe-ish.'
Slowly, we got to our kneesand went to the window to survey the damage. The car park was now a fast moving river. The flow of water wasn’t stopping and there were uprooted trees thrashing in the swell. The torrent had smashed through the mobile classrooms at the back of the playing field and had rocked them from their foundations. Two of them were on their sides and were being buffeted by the deluge.
I wanted to throw up. My eyes filled with tears. Gemma hugged me, but it was obvious she was as worried as I was. The boys looked alarmed. Curtis seemed dazed. Greg was incredulous. Everyone started talking in stern, hushed voices, butLeon was the first to mention the word‘flood’.
‘I bet you anything that’s what it is,’he said. ‘I’ve seen this sort of thing before, in India. Flash floods. They get them all the time.’
‘When have youbeen to India?’said Curtis.
‘It was on the Discovery Channel, duh.’
Curtis shook his head. 'But what if it'snot a flood? What if it’s the…whaddaya-call-it…you know…the thing at the end of the world?'
'Apocalypse?
'Yeah, that.'
‘Trust me, it’s notthe Apocalypse,’said Byron coolly.
Leon leapt onto the window ledge and stood alongside him.
'Whatever it is,' he said, 'it's bad.'
He turned back to us. He looked like he wanted to have authority, but his eyes darted from side to side, giving away his fear.
‘I think we need to get out,' he said. ‘Put it this way, if the school building is about to fill with water, we don’t want to be trapped inside. Let's check the doors.’
Without hesitation, Leon, Curtis, Greg and Gemma ran to the exit. I thought about following them, but I could see Byron lingering. My conscience told me to stay with him.
‘You okay?’I asked.
‘Yes,’he said quietly, without looking up.
‘You don’t seem too worried?’
‘No.’
‘Pretty scary
though. I mean, my heart’s still racing -’
‘I think I feel more impressed than scared,’said Byron. ‘Water might be powerful, but it isn’t cruel. It doesn’t mean to hurt or destroy. It just does what it does.’
Then for the first time, he made eye contact with me.
‘Kind of odd,isn’t it?' he said. ‘That peoplesee forces of nature, such as floods and earthquakes, as evil things. We describe them as disasters. We say they’re terrible. Are we really so afraid of nature’s power that we have to pretend it’s the bad guy?’
I didn’t know what to say. I shrugged, wished I’d never started the conversation. Then he smiled again.
‘Kate Archer,’he said. ‘I like your drawings. I think your mural will be good.’
‘Uh, thanks,' I said, surprised he was still thinking but the mural - and equally surprised that he knew my name. 'Although it's not really mymural,’I explained. ‘Just something silly, for a detention - '
I paused, thought about what to say next.
'Can I ask?' I said, eventually. 'Why did you stand up on the sideboard?’
He pushed his glasses up his nose, gave a sigh.
‘Why did you lie down?
‘Because…because Leon told us to. Because the water was coming at us.’
‘Unfortunately, your friend Leon missed the point that water will find the lowest escape route possible. Lying down is the worst thing to do.’
‘Oh.’
‘In a flood situation, it’s better to get as high as you can. Don’t worry, Kate. We are, by default, in the safest place we could be. The art room is the highest point in the school, and in fact, the highest point in the whole of Hurst. We’re safe. Trapped, but safe.’
He smiled again.
‘The flood is only going in one direction and that’s down, down the hill, past the cricket pitch, through the back streets, into the town centre -’
‘The centre?’
‘For certain. Hurst High Street will probably be the worst hit.’
I froze.
The High Street?
Where my parents were meeting friends for coffee. Where my sister, Ella, was getting a manicure. Where Leon’s parents were buying a new lawn mower. And poor Miss Nevis was driving her yellow Mini.
Rain In My Heart Page 2