by Kirsty McKay
I feel like testing him. ‘Think she might be Clouseau?’
‘No. Clouseau . . . is you.’ He puts his tablet down on the ground, and twists round to me.
‘And why do you think that?’
He stares at me. ‘Hunch.’ I hold his gaze, daring him to look away, but he doesn’t. His eyes widen. ‘Well?’
‘I’m not telling.’
He sighs, head on one side. ‘Even if I tell you who I am?’
‘You don’t need to. You’re DeadMcTavish.’
His eyebrows shoot up, indignant. ‘How did you guess?’
‘Because of “Magic McTavish”!’ I blurt. ‘When we were little – that made-up superhero you used to channel when the other kids were making your life hell. I’d forgotten all about him, but DeadMcTavish kept bothering me, and then it finally dawned.’
‘Bury me now, for I am deaded.’ Vaughan flings his head back on the beanbag. ‘I thought that was all after you’d left!’
‘Where on earth did you get McTavish from, anyway, when you were a kid?’ I laugh. ‘It’s not your average superhero moniker.’
‘I had a Scotty dog toy when I was a toddler, called McTavish. I lost it, cried for days, but then the name came back to me when I needed it . . .’ He half smiles, half cringes at the ceiling. ‘I am so busted . . .’
‘Your secret’s safe with me.’ I put a hand on his. ‘Why the “Dead” bit, though?’
He continues to look at the ceiling, but his hand squeezes mine, his thumb slowly stroking my knuckles. ‘I don’t know. Given the Game, it seemed appropriate?’
We lie there, with him stroking my hand.
Eventually, I speak, ‘Speaking of alter egos, I’d like to know who Skulk is.’
Vaughan nods at the ceiling.
‘Crypt’s very own troll. Every forum has to have one.’ He looks at me. ‘It’s probably reasonable to assume that Skulk is somebody’s evil twin, the extra username. Maybe they are the Killer.’
‘Or maybe they’re Killer number two, the rogue,’ I say. ‘Skulk is certainly nasty enough.’
‘Perhaps,’ Vaughan says. ‘Although, the saddos who get nasty online generally haven’t got the guts to do it in real life. They’re too cowardly.’
I pull my hand away from his, because it suddenly feels all wrong to be talking about trolls and Killers while holding hands. I turn around a little to face him. ‘But this is cowardly. Whoever hurt Emily is pretending it’s all part of the Game, aren’t they?’ When he doesn’t agree, I turn away again. ‘I guess we’ll know more after the Summoning.’
He grunts, and we lie there in silence a while. I wish he’d hold my hand again. There’s nothing stopping me from taking his hand. Except that, perhaps, I’m too . . . cowardly.
‘Daniel is OK,’ I say, finally.
‘Oh?’ Vaughan tries to sound casual. ‘You’ve spoken to him?’
‘Yeah. He said that he’s over the video. And he’s fine with me and him just being friends.’ I frown a little. ‘At least, I think that’s right.’
‘Good,’ Vaughan says. ‘I’m pleased for him. And you.’ He looks at me. ‘And I’m pleased for me too.’ He moves crunchily on the beanbag, towards me, eyes full of longing. He leans in. I hold my breath. Is he going in for the kill? I know it, bloody hell, he’s going to. He opens his mouth slightly, takes a breath. ‘And Alex?’
I sit up, startled. ‘What about Alex?’
‘You and him.’ His face is unreadable, eyes searching mine. ‘That a thing?’
‘No!’ I splutter. ‘I . . . we . . . just once. Look, how do you know this stuff, anyway?’ I’m bolt upright now. Vaughan sits back, ruffles his hair.
‘Instinct.’
‘Rubbish!’ I say, slapping the beanbag with both hands. ‘All your sneaky insider info! The way you know all the gossip, and just about every inch of Skola. How? Tell me, now!’
Vaughan rolls his eyes back, shuts them, then takes a moment to examine his beloved ceiling. ‘The Alex thing? Again, I overheard Tesha talking; girl loves to talk. But to be honest, I kind of had a feeling. The way he looks at you, like you’re chopped liver.’
‘Always such a nice expression,’ I mutter.
‘And how come I know my way around Skola?’ He pauses again. ‘I came here, beginning of summer. Walked the causeway, broke into school.’
‘You lunatic.’ I look at him, sharply, but he’s still staring at the ceiling. ‘Why?’
‘Recce.’ He licks his lips. ‘Prep work for the Game. Tinkering with Crypt on the servers here. I camped out for a couple of days in the dorms, explored the island; apart from some gardener there was no one about.’ He gives me a shy flash of the green eyes. ‘Turns out I slept on your bed.’
‘Oh my God!’ I shriek at him. ‘You creep!’ I grab one of the scatter cushions behind me and try to whack him with it.
‘What?’ He laughs, dodging the blows. ‘I didn’t know it was yours then, did I? Besides, if I had, I wouldn’t have chosen your bed, I would have chosen Whitney’s—’
‘Loser!’ I hit him over the head with the cushion, he wrangles it away from me, holding my hands so that I can’t get it again, and my cries of indignation turn to hopeless giggles. I lose my balance and half fall on him, and the beanbag sags and our heads almost knock together, making us laugh all the harder, until there is no laugh left.
And then I kiss him.
We both hold our breath. The kiss is gentle at first, and then I pull him closer, the beanbag sags once more and this time he almost topples on to me. We part slightly, stupid with giggles again, but then he kisses me back, and this time it’s more confident, passionate. My arms slink around his back, and I hug him to me, not quite daring to believe this is happening, scared it will stop, but a little frightened about what will happen if it doesn’t.
There’s a banging on the door.
We both freeze.
The banging again. I suppress a snort.
‘Oh God, perfect timing!’ Vaughan struggles to sit up on the beanbag. ‘Yeah?’ he shouts.
Whoever it is, doesn’t reply. Vaughan groans and staggers to his feet. I sit up a little on the cushions, and wonder if it’s completely obvious what we’ve just been doing. Vaughan gives me a quick look, checking that I’m ready to face the outside world, then flings the door open.
Nobody there.
‘Hello?’ Vaughan steps out into the corridor, looking in both directions. I get to my feet, and look at my watch.
‘Someone helpfully telling us it’s time for High Tea?’ I say.
Vaughan comes back into the room.
‘How nice of them.’ He smiles guiltily, and raises an eyebrow. ‘After all, we don’t want to be late . . .’
As he’s speaking, something rolls into the room, coming to a stop between Vaughan’s feet. A can, with a white furl of smoke coming out of a hole in one end.
‘What the—’ Vaughan leaps towards me, and pushes me into the farthest corner of the room, which given the study’s tiny dimensions, isn’t too far. He stands in front of me, protectively. The can continues to smoke, the smell of sulphur filling the room quickly.
‘Vaughan,’ I whisper to him. ‘What the hell is that?’
He gulps. ‘I know what I really hope it isn’t.’
‘Which is . . . ?’
‘White phosphorus.’ He shakes his head. ‘Mixed with carbon disulphide, hence the smell. Highly incendiary. Highly unstable. Check your Anarchist’s Cookbook.’
‘Damn,’ I murmur. ‘Must have left my copy in the dorm.’ I look to the window. ‘Can we climb out? I mean, is the thing going to explode?’
‘Maybe not. Look.’ Vaughan nods towards the can; the smoke has stopped.
‘Now what?’ I say.
‘We have to be very, very careful.’ He takes a baby step towards the can. ‘Just because it’s not smoking, it doesn’t mean it’s completely safe.’
‘Hey, hurry up!’ Alex appears in the doorway. ‘You two see my post?’ He walks in
, not seeing the can, not noticing we’re petrified. ‘Don’t want to be late for High Tea. Get a move on.’ As he turns and walks away, his foot catches the edge of the can, skittering it across the carpet towards Vaughan and me. We gasp, transfixed as it rolls. It stops just short of us, bumping into the beanbag.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Alex pops his head back around the doorway. ‘Now!’ He screws his face up. ‘Vaughan! This study stinks. Cut down on the eggs, bro!’
With that, he’s gone. But I don’t really watch him go, because I’m too busy staring at the side of the can, the side I didn’t see when it first rolled into the room. There’s a plain white label on the aluminium, and it has red letters on it:
YOU’RE NEXT
Vaughan has read it too, but he leaps over the can to rush out to the corridor. He looks left and right, and I can tell by his reaction that there’s no one else out there. I give the can the widest berth and join him. At the far end of the corridor, Alex is striding towards the exit, but apart from him, there’s no one there.
Vaughan starts down the row of studies, and opens doors. I run after him. He flings doors open, finding no one home. The last study on the wing, the door is locked. He rattles the handle. ‘Whose study is this?’
‘Er,’ I rack my brains. ‘Non-Guild. Peter Glames. He’s in my design class.’ Vaughan thumps the door with his fist, and shakes his head. ‘You can’t picture him?’ I lower my voice. ‘Thin, geeky kid? With jam jar glasses?’
‘Yeah, that really narrows it down in this place.’ Vaughan is threatening to kick the lock in.
‘Oh! And Martin,’ I remember. ‘Peter shares with Martin.’
Vaughan lowers his foot. ‘Martin,’ he whispers. ‘He absolutely could be the Killer. He does Chemistry, and Physics. This would be a breeze for him.’ He puts his ear up to the door, and listens.
‘Well?’ I whisper.
‘Ssh!’
I put my head to the door too. I hear nothing, only a low hum somewhere, the wood of the door carrying the sound to my ear. But it could be anywhere, not even necessarily in the room.
A door slams violently at the end of the corridor. Vaughan and I run flat out towards it. It’s still daylight outside, but the sun has slipped behind clouds, and on running out into the cool air I feel exposed, leaving the warm, safe light, and bursting into the scary unknown.
‘So who was that?’ I pant, looking around. ‘Someone’s messing with us. Are they crazy? Alex was right there, he must have missed them by seconds.’
Vaughan nods. ‘I need to go back – pick up the can. It’s evidence.’
Before I can protest, he’s gone. I stand, listening to the starlings chatter in the trees above. Even from here I can smell the food in the dining hall, beckoning us. But I have no appetite. In less than a minute, Vaughan is back.
‘It’s gone.’ He looks furious. ‘The can. That door slam must have been a distraction. Someone doubled back and took the thing right out of my study.’
‘But how?’ I say.
‘Through a window? Or the fire door at the other end of the corridor?’ Vaughan drops his hands on to his knees, and sighs. ‘I’m such an amateur. I don’t know why I bother.’
‘You read what it said on the can.’
‘I did.’ Vaughan moans at the ground. ‘Guess I’m next.’
‘Vaughan,’ I’m stunned at his self-centredness. ‘I was there too.’
‘The can was chucked into my study, Cate.’ He looks up at me. ‘Plus, you have immunity.’ He nods at my bracelet.
‘Only until tomorrow!’
‘I’m the target.’ His face is cloudy.
I roll my eyes. ‘Are we really fighting over who is going to be the victim? Besides, where do you rank, “in order of fit”?’ I pull at his arm. ‘Come on. We’ll go to High Tea. Then to the Summoning. There’s a lot to think about here.’
He straightens up. ‘Yeah, like if we should tell everyone about what just happened, for a start. It might be better to keep it to ourselves until we get a handle on it.’
Well, yes. We jog to the dining room together. I still haven’t told him about my messages. That’s proof enough to me that I’m next on the list.
We’re probably last to get to the dining hall; the lines for hot food are short, and most of the tables are full up.
‘Ezra’s here,’ I whisper to Vaughan.
It only happens once in a blue moon. Normally the teachers who are not on duty eat in their own quarters, but today there’s a table filled with all the senior department heads. Ezra, Mrs James the deputy, and a bunch of others. At one end of the table, Mr Flynn catches my eye.
‘Come on,’ Vaughan says.
We both skip the spag bol and veggie lasagne, and grab the end of a table that is partially filled with non-Guild kids a year below us. Anything to be sitting down and blending in. A few tables away, most of the Guild fills up three tables, with no room to spare. The mood is sombre; I think Alex must have decreed that no one gossip about Emily; he knows that the Game and the Guild are walking on the thinnest of ice.
The rest of the school is talking about it, however. It’s obvious, the looks that the Guild are getting, the hushed laughter and pseudo-concerned looks.
‘Let’s get something to eat, and get out,’ I say.
‘Toast,’ Vaughan says.
We go to one of the toasters by the wall, where there are still a few slices of brown bread left over. I feed a couple of them into the machine. It’s the type that takes the bread for a little ride on a rack, achingly slowly, toasting on both sides and then dropping it out of the bottom. It always takes just too long to linger and wait for it to be done, but if you step away to grab some coffee or butter and jam, by the time you’ve come back your toast has fallen off and been stolen by someone else. But today, we loiter, no place to go.
Already, people are finishing their meals. Guild members, anxious to slip away. The rest of the school wants to get away from the huddle of teachers. My first piece of toast is spat out by the machine. I unpeel a little silver pat of butter and leave it to melt. I’m reaching for a knife when there’s a scraping of chairs and Alex, Carl and Rick head out.
‘Count to sixty, then Marcia, Cynthia and Becky will be next,’ says Vaughan. ‘They’re so predictable,’ he mutters.
We never get to find out. As the three boys get to the dining room’s double doors, the doors open inward, there’s a little scuffle, and the boys back off, giving the people entering right of way.
Everyone takes in the uniforms, and the room falls silent.
The real detectives have arrived.
CHAPTER 19
‘There are dark forces at work here. But I am Grand Master, and everything is under control.’
Alex barely waited for everyone to sit down in the cave. He’s standing by the tables, arms spread, handsome face frowning with intensity, addressing his flock. It would be funny if the mood was different.
‘Trust in me.’ He nods, sombrely. ‘I will protect us all. Whoever is doing this will feel the full force of the Guild upon them, I swear. I will find them, and I will stop them. You can be sure of that.’
‘Can we?’ Marcia is standing too. ‘Sorry, Alex – I don’t mean to doubt you – but this is crazy. The police are here. Whether we like it or not, we need to think about shutting the Game down.’
‘No!’ Alex stamps, petulantly, his messiah act slipping. ‘Guess what? I have spoken with the Killer, and they have assured me that the whole Emily business was nothing to do with them.’
‘And you believe them?’ Marcia says.
Alex nods, vigorously. ‘I do. I’ve good reason to trust them, absolutely.’
Everyone lets that sink in. Alex trusts the Killer; so is it one of his close circle?
Finally, Cynthia speaks. ‘The way I see it, we have to have a hiatus,’ she says. ‘Let Emily come back to school. Let things cool down before we start playing again.’
‘Yes,’ says Roger. ‘That’s pro
bably the best way.’
‘That’s stupid. Not feasible, and supremely unintelligent.’ Alex is standing firm.
‘Yeah, makes us look guilty,’ Rick chips in. ‘Emily was pranged by some Guild-wannabe, someone who wants in on the Game. Or,’ he gets more animated, ‘maybe it’s revenge – someone we didn’t pick for the Guild, and they want to shut us down. Don’t give them the satisfaction!’
‘More likely this is from within the ranks.’ Vaughan is sitting on a box beside me. ‘We have to face the fact we have a Broken Arrow.’
‘Someone here, right now, has, like, gone rogue?’ Tesha says. ‘Why?’
Vaughan shrugs. ‘Maybe they’re disappointed they didn’t get to be Killer. Or maybe . . . they’re just a psycho?’
Tesha does not like this at all; her face reddens, and there’s a glint of tears in her eyes. ‘Who made robo spider?’ she shouts. ‘Come on! ’Fess up!’
There’s a gulpy silence. We all look at one another. Anvi giggles, but no one joins in.
‘OK, well I’m just going to come right out and say it,’ Tesha says, taking a breath. ‘Who is Skulk? Because he or she is clearly claiming to be some kind of big bad wolf, and if they are not the Killer in the Game, then presumably they are suspect number one when it comes to the attack on Emily?’
More silence. Alex looks around. ‘Anyone want to come forward and claim to be Skulk? I mean, you’ll ruin the Game, but you’ll satisfy her curiosity.’ Nobody says anything, and Alex looks at Tesha. ‘You always did take things too literally, love. People say a lot of things online, wise up and don’t believe all of them.’
‘Nobody here would do that to Emily!’ Whitney says. ‘She has no enemies. This isn’t personal, and I agree, it’s nothing to do with the Game. It’s just some lower school loser who wants attention.’
‘Whatever, we should take a break, at the very least, I think,’ Marcia says. ‘Just for a couple of weeks, until things calm down!’