by Kirsty McKay
Up on the clifftop, the headlights have disappeared. I don’t know whether to be pleased or devastated, but there’ll be no rescue from the mystery driver. Which means we only have one option.
‘We have to go back into the water,’ I say to Vaughan. He nods, and starts to rise to his feet, shakily. ‘I’m a strong swimmer.’ I put an arm under his and around his back, helping him over the rocks. Shaking aside, he seems surprisingly steady on his feet. ‘You float on your back, I’ll tow you in.’
He nods again, apparently imbued with a faith in me that I’m not sure is justified.
We scramble down the rocks to the water, and as I ease myself in, it feels cold all over again. Vaughan slips a little, and splashes in beside me, but I still have solid rock underfoot, so I can gather him up in my arms and begin to tow him to land. There’s a moment when my foot leaves the rock and I’m swimming, kicking at the nothingness beneath me and trying not to panic, but Vaughan is perfectly calm, trusting me, lying so flat and relaxed in the water that I wonder for a moment if he’s still conscious. I tow him textbook-style, hand underneath tilted chin, just like Mr Churley taught us in swimming lessons, just like I never thought I’d have reason to put into practice. After a minute I feel shale underfoot, and we haul each other up on to the beach and collapse down on the sand by my discarded coat and jumper.
I catch my breath a minute, then wrap my parka around Vaughan, rubbing his arms and back to warm him. He puts his arms in and zips it up, and I’m thankful that I chose the oversized coat tonight rather than my girl-sized biker jacket. I peel my wet T-shirt over my head, hurrying to pick up my jumper and pulling it on quickly. Vaughan totally looks, by the way. All that time he was naked before me, and I didn’t sneak a peek at him – because, you know, bigger things at stake here – but for a second I’m in a bra and it’s like he can’t stop his eyes from wandering. Bloody boys.
‘Thank you for saving me.’ He shivers. ‘Thank you so much.’
I kneel down by him. ‘Are you hurt?’ I finally ask. ‘Did you hit the rocks when you fell?’
He shakes his head. ‘Only the water, but that was enough.’
‘How did you make it out?’
His hands move over his face, pushing back straggles of dripping hair. ‘I have no idea. Thrashed around. Swallowed some sea.’ His eyes crinkle shut, pushing back the memory. ‘Horrible. Then I got lucky and found a rock.’
‘Thank God,’ I say. ‘I can’t believe you told them you could swim.’ I feel the anger pushing its way back, warming me. ‘Have you got some huge death wish? Self-destruct button?’ I swear under my breath. ‘Rick is going to suffer for this, believe me.’
‘I couldn’t show them weakness, they’d eat me alive.’ He’s shaking so much, I struggle to hear the words. ‘Plus, now they’re scared of me. They think I’m crazy.’
‘And that’s going to make you popular?’ I throw up my arms, exasperated.
‘I’ll be accepted.’ He ruffles his hair, spraying water everywhere. ‘Another lunatic at the asylum.’ Then he’s raising a hand, pointing to something behind me. ‘Look.’
I turn around, and there’s a figure on the cliff path above us, winding its way down towards the beach. My heart leaps – Marcia, having a flash of conscience? No, it’s male, I’m sure of it. Alex, perhaps? But why should it be? Much more likely it’s the mystery driver. And I can only assume he’s seen us, because why would he be coming down here, otherwise?
‘Can you move?’ I ask Vaughan, and he nods. Suddenly, I’m not so sure I want us to be rescued. The difficult bit is behind us, and although we probably both have hypothermia, it would be crap if we got caught now. There’s also something really unnerving about just why someone is driving around Skola at ridiculous o’clock at night. I pull Vaughan up to standing, and together we hobble over the sand to the shadows of the cliff face. ‘Can you see him?’ I lean out a little, looking for the figure.
‘No.’ Vaughan shivers. ‘My feet . . . they smart, a little.’ He holds one up, picking sand off it. I reach across him for Marcia’s torch which is sticking out of the parka pocket, and shield it in my hand as I click it on. The sole of Vaughan’s foot is ripped open, and blood drips from his heel and in between his toes. He gently places that foot down and picks up the other. It’s not as bad, but still grisly.
‘Ow,’ I mutter. ‘Can you go on?’
‘What’s the alternative? To the caves?’ He nods in the direction of the Guild’s home, on the other side of the bay. It is probably our best bet, the nearest place to warm up and regroup.
‘Good thinking, Batman.’ Cringe. How dorky do I sound? But it makes him giggle in spite of his shudders, so I take the hit.
We set off, hugging the cliff as best we can, while staying on the sand for the good of Vaughan’s bare feet and speed of travel. We quickly reach the bottom of the gorse-lined steps that I came down the day of the first Summoning; the caves are just around the corner.
‘I need . . . to stop . . . just for a second,’ Vaughan pants. He holds his worst foot again, leaning against the rail of the steps for support. ‘Maybe a sit down.’ He plants his bare behind on the bottom step.
‘No, come on!’ I urge him. ‘Almost there, let’s keep moving.’
But Vaughan shakes his head, and I know he’s not only giving his feet a break, but also keeping himself together, keeping the tears at bay, gathering his strength. Because there’s a chance that when we hit the caves some of the Guild will have had the same idea. I would gamble that most would be running home to the dorms, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Alex and his Elders are having a crisis meeting before heading back to school. And if I’ve had this thought, then so has Vaughan, and he needs to get it together before he faces them.
I sink down on the step beside him, and look out to sea. All is deceptively still. ‘It’s OK,’ I tell him, patting his knee chastely, like his maiden aunt. ‘You’ll be OK. Let’s take a moment, and then we’ll get dry, find something to patch those feet with. Besides, we’ve lost that guy who was looking for us.’
‘No you haven’t.’ The voice behind me makes my heart stop.
CHAPTER 12
I spin round so quickly I almost slither off the step.
Mr Flynn is standing on the stairs. I don’t need the torch to see that it’s him, but I make the mistake of flicking the switch and shining it on his face anyway. I wish I hadn’t; I’ve never seen such fury.
Vaughan turns and looks up at him, then sighs, like a resigned dog that has been kicked one too many times. Flynn glances at him, a flicker of surprise on his face, then puzzlement and anger as he clocks the bare legs sticking out from underneath my borrowed parka.
‘Tell me that you’re both OK.’ Mr Flynn addresses me, and me only, his hands are held out in front of him, like he’s pushing his anger away.
‘We . . . are,’ I say, carefully, because I feel that we are probably very far from OK at the moment.
‘What in merry hell are you doing out here?’ Mr Flynn says.
‘What are you doing here, sneaking around? It’s so dodgy of you.’ I can’t imagine why I feel I can say this, and from his reaction, neither can Mr Flynn. He leaps down from the step with a kind of yell, and seizes my arm, pulling me to my feet.
‘Cate, this is beyond stupid! I can’t believe you’d do this to yourself. Breaking curfew? Why are you wet? Have you been swimming? What were you thinking?’
The gasp that is stretched across my face obviously helps to bring Mr Flynn to his senses, and he drops my arm, but it’s probably also something to do with the fact that Vaughan has leapt to his bloodied feet and is making a halfhearted attempt to wrestle Flynn off me.
‘Stop!’ Mr Flynn cries out, throwing up his hands. ‘Enough!’
Vaughan backs off, with some relief.
‘It was a dare,’ I invent. ‘We just had to dunk ourselves in the sea.’ Oh jeez, I sound so pathetic. ‘Sneak out, dunk, go back to school.’
Mr Flynn visibly takes
a deep breath and counts to ten. ‘Where are the others?’
‘There are no others.’ I’m not protecting them, I’m protecting the Game. ‘Just us.’
‘So how do the people who “dared you” know that you did it?’ Mr Flynn has a point.
‘Well, when we get back to school all wet and cold, they’d have to believe us.’ I also have a point.
‘And his clothes?’ Flynn turns round to point at Vaughan.
‘Oh, they’re just down by the sea.’ I gesture vaguely, waterwards.
‘Yes? Where? Show me.’
‘Um, well, I can’t remember exactly where we left them . . .’ I wander down the beach a little, and Mr Flynn is right behind me. ‘Down there?’ I point the torch at a place I know the clothes won’t be. But then again, who knows where the Guild stripped Vaughan? The way this night is going, I may well find the exact spot. But I don’t. I up the shivering a little. ‘Er, maybe over there a bit.’ I flash the torch around, hoping Vaughan is going to chip in sometime this year and help me out. Although given the dynamic between those two, maybe it’s better he doesn’t contribute. I could do with some help, however.
Mr Flynn clearly has a similar thought.
‘You – Vaughan, is it? – show me where you put your clothes!’ He swings round, we both turn around – to nothing. Vaughan has disappeared into a puff of smoke. Vanished. Melted into the ether, or sucked into the sand, he has gone without a trace.
‘Vaughan!’ Mr Flynn calls out. I think of joining in, then think better of it. Did he scale the steps? Nip round into the caves? We could probably follow the blood drips and find out, but I don’t enlighten Mr Flynn about that. We stand there, as if waiting for Vaughan to materialize again.
Mr Flynn swears. He does this quite a lot in class, and even more when we’re alone. I think he was so shaken by finding me wet and wild in the middle of the night that he had the swears chased out of him for a while, but he’s clearly finding his equilibrium again. It’s kind of reassuring.
‘We need to get you back to school.’
Instantly we’re on our own, he relaxes slightly.
‘Yes.’ I start to really shake, the cold truly setting in for the first time. ‘I’m freezing.’
‘What do you expect?’ He shoots me an exasperated look, then softens. He pulls off his jacket and puts it round my shoulders. ‘Come on.’
I follow a few steps behind as he leads off back down the beach the way we came. He takes a path up the cliff that I never even knew existed, and I struggle to keep up. The climb warms me up, though. At the top of the cliff, his bashed-up black hatchback is waiting. He climbs into the driver’s seat without an invitation for me to get in.
I open the door and poke my head in. ‘I’m all wet.’ I rub my legs in an embarrassing way.
‘I’ll cope,’ he says. I get in and he pulls away, and although he turns the heat on, I notice he leaves the headlights off. We drive, slowly, over the rough ground until we reach a gravel road.
‘Why were you in your car?’ The question comes out before I can stop it.
‘I think you’re the one who owes me answers, not the other way round.’ He keeps his eyes dead ahead. ‘But if you must know, the causeway was open, and I was coming back from the mainland.’ No more details. I wonder if he was with a woman.
We travel along in silence. Is he going to take me to his cottage? No; more likely he’ll just dump me at the dormitories.
‘What are you going to do about this?’ I hardly dare ask, but I have to.
He lets me suffer in silence a full minute longer, and then pulls over along by a tall hedge, with Main House on the other side.
‘Cate, I’m not sure yet.’ He sighs, and looks down, then across at me. ‘You tell me you’re OK?’
I nod, furiously.
‘Then sneak back to your room whichever way you came out. Do not get caught.’
‘And?’
He shakes his head. ‘And, I’ll sleep on it.’
I nod. I doubt I’ll get much sleep.
‘Do I need to go looking for that fool of a boy, or will he get some sense and make it back to his own bed?’
I flinch at the word ‘own’. ‘He’ll be OK.’ I think Vaughan will be OK. I mean, obviously his feet are a mess, but I don’t think he’s going to bleed out or anything. And him hopping back to his dorm through the woods is preferable to enduring five minutes of questioning in the car with Flynny.
Mr Flynn nods, curtly. ‘Go.’
I go.
Marcia is in bed and apparently asleep when I get in. In the midst of it all, I’d forgotten the betrayal, but when I see her lying there, the anger kicks me up inside and I feel like tearing the bedclothes off her and pulling her on to the floor in a fit of rage.
I don’t, though. She can’t be asleep, can she? She’ll be waiting for me to do something. And I won’t. I’ll keep her on tenterhooks, just the way I am with Mr Flynn; it seems only fitting.
Tomorrow, however, there will be hell to pay.
CHAPTER 13
It’s Sunday. I’m definitely alive, but that’s all I know.
I wake up and I have no idea where I am. That used to happen all the time when I first started at Umfraville, but I’m so assimilated to the cult of boarding school that I’m now used to being woken up by umpteen reluctant bodies trying to get dressed and down to breakfast in time to avoid a detention. This morning all is quiet, however, and this must be the reason I feel weird. The sun is shining in through a gap in the curtains.
Memories of last night suddenly slap me around the face. Did that really happen? Vaughan. I should have checked if he got back last night; for all I know he’s lying naked in a ditch somewhere. Or maybe I imagined the whole thing.
Before I move, I glance over at Marcia’s bed; it is unoccupied, and made. So that means she got up and got out. Avoiding me; as well she might.
Sitting up, I glance at the clock. 11.13 a.m. Perfect. I’ve missed breakfast, then. I swing legs out from under the duvet, and my feet touch a bunch of cold, wet clothes on the floor. Oh, it did all happen last night. A dip in the Irish Sea did that.
Amongst my sodden clothes is Mr Flynn’s jacket. I hope I can return it without anyone noticing; that would really fire up the rumour mill.
I dress quickly, because it’s chilly in the room and I’m shivering. My throat feels scratchy, my head feels hot. But what about Vaughan? The thought comes again, because if I’m feeling bad, I can only imagine what state he’s in. I leave my dorm room, run to the stairs lightly, and make for outside. It’s warm; there’s a bright blue sky against the orange and yellow of the autumn leaves. Someone, somewhere is having a bonfire. Not a soul is around, and that will work in my favour. I must search Vaughan out; we can regroup and think about where we go from here. I run across the Main House lawn, towards the quad – feeling a little ridiculous, because it’s Sunday, and nobody over the age of twelve runs in this place, especially at the weekend. Will he be holed up in his study, or hiding somewhere else? I duck into the main entrance to the studies, turning left to go down the corridor to Vaughan’s room which is on its own at the end of the hall. In the light of day, will he want to continue with the Game? Will he report Rick, and Alex – everyone, really – because who would blame him, if he did? I need to find out what’s inside his head, because he must be feeling lousy as hell—
There’s a roar of laughter behind me. I stop in my tracks, and spin around. The laughter comes again, from the direction of the common room. I retrace my steps and continue towards the closed door. I hear Rick’s voice, and Marcia too. Oh, lovely. What are they all talking about? Are they actually laughing about last night? I feel the anger rising in me again. I grasp the door handle and enter the room.
The common room is large and airy. It has a battered sofa and a couple of armchairs in front of a TV in the corner nearest the door. There are beanbags around a low coffee table, where the previous day’s paper can normally be found, eviscerated for the cross
word. And there is an oven, a long kitchen counter and a sink on the left side of the room, where you can make toast and coffee if you need the kick to propel you to study harder, longer.
But nobody is making toast, or watching TV, or sprawled on a beanbag. Everyone – Rick, Alex, Marcia, Martin and the Triumvirate of Pretty: Tesha, Whitney, Anvi – is grouped around one of the half-dozen computer terminals in the far corner of the room. And Vaughan is right in the middle of them.
He’s laughing the loudest of all.
‘Some of these are so friggin’ obvious!’ Tesha is howling. ‘I mean, “IceColdBlonde”? Totally Cynthia. And “Banana Hammock” has got Roger written all over it!’
‘Yes, well,’ Vaughan says. ‘I cannot be held responsible for the selection of usernames. And who knows? It could all be an elaborate façade.’
‘Roger doesn’t do subtle,’ Anvi giggles. ‘Can you imagine him trying to type something else?’ She puts out her hands in front of her. ‘“Must. Not. Put. That.”’ She groans, like a mummy, arms outstretched. ‘“Must. Not. Oh, sod it, Banana Hammock it is!”’
Everyone laughs again, and then Vaughan looks up and winks at me. ‘Hi, Catey. Come and look at Crypt.’
He knows I hate being called Catey. I walk up, slowly. ‘Er, isn’t this kind of risky?’
‘Nothing to see here, if the wrong person walks in,’ Vaughan smiles at me, brightly.
‘I could have been the wrong person,’ I reply.
‘But you’re not!’ He gives me a wink.
‘I followed the laughter. You should stop.’
‘Looking at Crypt, or laughing?’ His smile is fixed.
‘Hey, we’re just being quick, chill the hell out,’ says Tesha, like I’ve suggested everyone does something totally unreasonable, like, oh, I dunno, jump off a cliff or something.
‘You after your jacket, is that it?’ Vaughan says. ‘I put it in your study.’