by French, Tana
Gemma has perfect eyesight, and no one in school has hair like Selena’s. On the other hand—Julia grabs for the other hand—Gemma lies like a rug. Julia scans her for bullshit, scans and scans. She can’t tell. She can barely see Gemma, the solid dry-witted kid she used to share crisps and pens with, never mind read her.
Julia’s heart is running crazy. She says coolly, “Whatever you and your little stud were smoking, can I have some too?”
Gemma shrugs. “Whatever. I was there. You weren’t.”
Joanne says, “Sort it out.” Now that she knows she’s in charge, all the twisted bits of her have gone back where they belong; she’s smoothed to angelic, except for that curled lip. “We only bothered to warn you this once because we’re being nice. We’re not going to do it again.”
She whisks around—she doesn’t actually snap her fingers at the rest of the Daleks, but somehow it looks like she does—and struts off, out of the tennis courts and up the path towards the school. The others scuttle to keep up.
Julia turns the tap back on and moves her hand up and down between the water and her mouth, in case they look back, but she can’t drink. Her heartbeat is jamming her throat. Her T-shirt sticks to her skin like some clammy sucker-footed thing, dragging. The sky presses down on her head.
Selena is in their room, alone; the others must still be in the showers. She’s cross-legged on her bed, brushing out her wet hair and humming. When Julia comes in she glances up and smiles.
She looks the same. Just seeing her gentles Julia’s heartbeat; one breath, and the layer of grime the Daleks left behind starts to blow away. So suddenly and overwhelmingly it nearly knocks her breath out, Julia wants to be touching Selena, pressing up hard against the familiar curve of her shoulder, the solid warmth of her arm.
Selena says, “You could text Finn to meet you.”
It takes Julia’s mind a minute to pull out what she’s talking about. “Yeah,” she says. “Maybe.”
“Have you got his number?”
“Yeah. It doesn’t matter. I’ll see him whenever.”
Julia sits on the floor, starts undoing her runners and fights with her mind. If Selena was with Chris, she’d have found a way to get to the social on Saturday, in case he hooked up with some other girl. If Selena had gone out last night, the rest of them would have woken up. If Selena had been with Chris, she wouldn’t be first back from the showers; she’d want extra time to wash off the smell of him, of night grass, of guilt. If Selena had been with a guy, it would show, clear as suck marks blotched across her neck. If Selena had done that, she’d be staticky with it, she’d need to talk, need to tell, she’d need to somehow make it all—
“Lenie.”
“Mmm?”
Selena looks up. Clear blue eyes, untroubled.
“Nothing.”
Selena nods peacefully and goes back to brushing.
The whole vow thing was Selena’s idea to begin with. If she hadn’t wanted to do it, all she’d have had to do was keep her mouth shut. But getting the key, finding a way to get out at night, that was Selena’s idea too—
There’s a knot in Julia’s shoelace. She digs her nails into it.
She feels Selena’s eyes on the top of her head, hears her stop humming. She hears the quick indrawn breath as Selena braces herself to say something.
Julia doesn’t look up. She tugs at the knot till a nail splits.
Silence. Then the long swish of the brush again, and Selena humming.
It has to be bullshit. If the Colm’s guys had a way to get out of school, everyone would know. But if they don’t, then who was Gemma meeting, unless Gemma was making up the whole thing—
“That song!” Holly yells, bouncing in smelling of strawberries, with her armful of PE gear flying everywhere and her hair turbaned up into a stripy ice-cream swirl. “What’s that song? The one you’re humming?” But neither of them can remember.
Julia gets a text from Finn during first study period. See you sat eve? Got a surprise for you.
“Phones off,” says the prefect supervising them, without looking up. The common room feels dim and dirty, light bulbs struggling against the murk outside and losing.
“Sorry, forgot.” Julia slides the phone under her maths book and texts blind: Not going sat. After a moment she adds, 2moro after school? Got sthing for you too.
She sets her phone on silent, sticks it in her pocket and goes back to pretending to care about maths. It’s less than a minute before she feels the buzz against her leg. The field, like 4.15?
The thought of Finn hanging out in the Field gives Julia a twinge that’s too stupid even to think about. See you there, she texts back, and switches her phone off. Across the table, Selena works quadratic equations in a steady, tranquil rhythm. When she feels Julia’s eyes on her, she glances up.
Before she can help herself, Julia nods upwards, at the overhead bulb. Selena’s eyebrows pull together: Why? Julia mouths, Go on.
Selena’s hand tightens around her pencil. The light bulb flares; the common room leaps alive, instantly huge and rippling with colors. Around the tables people glance up, startled and golden, but it’s already over; the air has turned muddy again, and their faces are sinking back into dimness.
Selena smiles across at Julia, like she’s handed her a tiny sweet present. Julia smiles back. She knows she should feel better, and she does, but somehow not as much as she hoped.
When they slide past the wire fencing the next afternoon, the Daleks are already perched on their pile of breeze blocks, making squealy noises to get the attention of a handful of Colm’s guys who are on the rusty machine, shoving each other to get the attention of the Daleks. Finn is sitting on another breeze-block heap, drawing on the side of his runner. It’s a gray day, damp and chilly; against the solid skyful of cloud his hair looks like you could warm your hands at it. Seeing him feels even better than Julia expected.
“Back in a sec,” she says to the others, and starts to speed up. It feels all wrong, wanting to get away from them snagging at her, to Finn where it’s safe and easy.
Holly says after her, “Careful.” Julia rolls her eyes and doesn’t look back. She can feel Holly watching her all the way across the Field.
“Hey,” she says, pulling herself up onto the breeze blocks next to Finn.
His face lights up. He stops drawing and straightens. “Hi,” he says. “How come you’re not going Saturday?”
“Family shit.” The Daleks have exploded into a flappy little whirlwind of sniggers and glances. Julia waves and blows them a kiss.
“Man,” Finn says, putting his pen away in a jeans pocket. “They don’t like you, do they?”
“No shit,” Julia says. “And I don’t like them, so it’s all good. What’ve you got for me?”
“You first.”
Julia has been looking forward to this for weeks. “Ta-da,” she says, holding out her phone. She can’t keep the grin off her face.
The photo shows her on the back lawn, which was dumb because any of the nuns could have looked out of their bedroom windows, but Julia was feeling daring. Duckface, hand on cocked hip, other hand flourished over her head pointing up at the clock. Midnight, bang on.
(“Are you positive?” Holly asked, Julia’s phone in her hand.
“Hell yes,” Julia said, glancing up at the clock to make sure it would fit in the shot. “Why not?”
“Because he’s going to know we sneak out, is why not.” Behind Holly’s head, Selena and Becca watched from under the trees, pale bobbing faces, waiting.
“We never said anything about not trusting guys,” Julia said. “Just not touching them.”
“Yeah, and we never said anything about, like, skipping around telling anyone who’s a good laugh.”
“Finn’s not going to rat on us,” Julia said. “I swear. OK?”
Holly
shrugged. Julia struck a pose and pointed over her head at the clock. “Go,” she said.
The flash blazed white lines of trees across their eyes like lightning and Holly and Julia ran for cover, ducking low, gasping with laughter.)
“I’ll take my tenner now,” Julia says. “And an apology. I like them with extra groveling.”
“Fair enough,” Finn says. “You want me to get down on my knees?”
“Tempting, but nah. Just make it good.”
Finn puts one hand on his heart. “I apologize for saying you would be scared of anything in the universe. You’re a fearless superhero who could kick my arse, or Wolverine’s arse, or a mad gorilla’s arse.”
“Yeah, I am,” Julia says. “You’re forgiven. That was beautiful.”
“Good pic,” Finn says, having another look. “Who took it? One of your mates, yeah?”
“The ghost nun. Told you I was badass.” Julia takes her phone back. “Tenner.”
“Hold your horses,” Finn says, pulling out his phone. “I’ve got a surprise for you, remember?”
If this is a photo of his dick, Julia thinks, I will kill the fucker. “Make my day,” she says.
Finn hands her the phone and grins, that same straight-on wicked kid-grin, and Julia feels a rush of relief and guilt and warmth. She wants to touch him, hip-bump him off the breeze blocks or hook her elbow around his neck or something, to apologize for underestimating him all over again.
“Great minds,” Finn says, and nods at the phone.
Him, on the back lawn, in almost exactly the same spot. Black hoodie pulled up over the red hair—he played it smarter than she did—and one hand above his head, just like her, pointing up at the clock. Midnight.
The first thing Julia feels is outrage: Our place, at night that’s our place, can’t we even have— Then she realizes.
“Still want your tenner?” Finn says. He’s grinning away, like a Labrador bringing home something rotten, looking for pats and praise. “Or will we call it evens?”
Julia says, “How’d you get out of school?”
Finn doesn’t notice the change in her voice; he’s too pleased with his big surprise. “Trade secret.”
Julia pulls it together. “Wow,” she says. Big admiring eyes, sway in towards Finn. “I didn’t know you guys could do that.”
And this time she’s not underestimating. He’s delighted with himself, with how smart he is, dying to impress her even more. “I hotwired the fire-door alarm. Got the instructions online. It took me like five minutes. I can’t open it from outside, obviously, but I stuck a piece of wood in to keep it open while I was out.”
“OhmyGod,” Julia says, hand over her mouth. It’s so easy. “If someone had gone past and seen it, you’d have been in so much shit. You could’ve been expelled.”
Finn shrugs, all fake-casual, leaning back with one foot up and his hands in his jeans pockets. “Totally worth it.”
“When’d you do it? We could’ve run into each other.” She giggles.
“Ages back. A couple of weeks after the dance.”
Plenty of time for Chris to set up a meeting with Selena, a dozen meetings; if he knew. “On your own? Was that a selfie? Jesus, you really aren’t scared of the nun, are you?”
“Live nuns, God, yeah: terrified. Dead ones, nah.”
Julia laughs along. “So you went out there by yourself? Seriously?”
“Brought a couple of mates, for the laugh. I’d go on my own, though.” Finn rearranges his feet and examines whatever he was drawing on his runner, like it’s fascinating. “So,” he says. “Seeing as we can both get out, and we’re both not scared. Want to meet, some night? Just to hang out. See if we can spot the ghost nun.”
This time Julia misses her chance to laugh along. A discreet distance away, among the ragwort and dandelions that are growing even taller and thicker this year, Selena and Holly and Becca are all trying to listen to something on Becca’s iPod at the same time; Selena and Holly are elbowing each other for the earbud, laughing, hair in each other’s face, like everything’s that simple still. They make Julia want to shoot off the breeze blocks and explode. Any second now some mate of Finn’s is going to show up and come bouncing over, and by then she needs to know. If Gemma wasn’t lying, just if, Julia needs the weekend to figure out what to do.
“You’re friends with Chris Harper,” she says. “Right?”
Finn’s face closes over. “Yeah,” he says. He holds out a hand for his phone, shoves it back in his pocket. “So?”
“Does he know you’ve cut off the alarm?”
His mouth is getting a cynical curl to it. “Yeah. It was his idea. He’s the one that took the photo.”
Gemma wasn’t lying.
“And if he’s who you wanted to hook up with all along, you could’ve just said that to start with.”
Finn thinks he’s been played for a fool. Julia says, “He’s not.”
“I should’ve fucking known.”
“If Chris disappeared off the earth in a puff of sleazebaggy smoke, I’d be celebrating. Believe me.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” Finn has changed colors, eyes gone dark, a raw burned red high on his cheeks. If she were a guy, he would punch her. Since she isn’t, he’s left stinging and helpless. “You’re some piece of work, you know that?”
Julia understands that if she doesn’t fix this right now, the chance will be gone and he will never forgive her. If they run into each other on the street when they’re forty, Finn’s face will get that burned look and he’ll keep walking.
She doesn’t have room to work out how to mend this. The other thing is spreading white and blinding across her mind, pushing Finn to the edges.
“Believe what you want,” she says. “I have to go,” and she slides off the breeze blocks and heads back to the others, feeling the Daleks’ eyes scratching at her skin like needles, wishing she was a guy so that Finn could punch her and get it over with and then she could find Chris Harper and smash his face in.
Holly’s eyes meet Julia’s for a second, but whatever she sees warns her or satisfies her, or both. Becca glances up and starts to ask something, but Selena touches her arm and they go back to the iPod. Some game is sending little orange darts zipping across the screen; white balloons explode in slow motion, silent fragments fluttering down. Julia sits in the weeds and watches Finn walk away.
21
We didn’t talk about Holly, me and Conway. We held her name between us like nitroglycerine and didn’t look at each other, while we did what needed doing: handed Alison over to Miss Arnold, told her to hang on to the kid overnight. Asked her for the key to the lost-and-found bin, and the story on how long things stayed in there before they got dumped. Low-value stuff went to charity at the end of each term, but pricey things—MP3 players, phones—they got left indefinitely.
The school building was dim-lit for nighttime. “What?” Conway demanded, when the crack of a stair made me shy sideways.
“Nothing.” When that wasn’t enough: “A bit jumpy.”
“Why?”
No way was I going to say Frank Mackey. “That light bulb was a bit freaky. Is all.”
“It wasn’t fucking freaky. The wiring in this place is a hundred years old; shit must blow up all the time. What’s freaky about that?”
“Nothing. The timing, just.”
“The timing was there’d been people in that common room all evening. The motion sensor’s been working overtime, something overheated and the bulb blew. End of fucking story.”
I wasn’t going to fight her on it, not when I agreed with her and she probably knew it. “Yeah. I’d say you’re right.”
“Yeah. I am.”
Even arguing, we were keeping our voices down—the place made you feel like someone could be listening, getting ready to jump out at you. Every sound we made flitted away
up the great curve of the stairwell, settled to rest in the shadows somewhere high above us. Above the front door the fanlight glowed blue, delicate as wing-bones.
The bin was black metal, old, off in a corner of the foyer. I fitted the key—quietly as I could, feeling like a kid slipping through forbidden places, springy with adrenaline—and swung open the panel at the bottom. Things came tumbling out at me: a cardigan smelling of stale perfume, a plush cat, a paperback, a sandal, a protractor.
The pearly pink flip-phone was at the bottom. We’d walked past it on our way into the school, that morning.
I put on my gloves, eased it out between two fingertips like we might get prints. We wouldn’t. Not off the outside, not off the inside of the cover, not off the battery or the SIM card. Everything would be shiny clean.
“Great,” Conway said, grim. “A cop’s kid. Beautiful.”
I said, finally, “This doesn’t mean for definite that Holly did it.”
My voice sounded reedy and stupid, too weak to convince even me. Flick of Conway’s eyebrow. “You don’t think?”
“She could’ve been covering for Julia or Rebecca.”
“Could’ve been, but we’ve got nothing that says she was. Everything else could point to any of them; this is the only thing we’ve got that’s specific, and it points straight at Holly. She couldn’t stand Chris. And from what I’ve seen of her, the kid’s determined, independent, got brains, got guts. She’d make a great killer.”
The cool of Holly, that morning in Cold Cases. Running the interview, glossy and sharp, throwing me a compliment to jump for at the end. Taking control.
“Anything I’m missing,” Conway said, “feel free to point it out.”
I said, “Why bring me the card?”
“I didn’t miss that.” Conway shook out another evidence envelope, spread it on top of the bin and started labeling. “She’s got balls, too. She knew someone would come to us sooner or later, figured doing it herself would take her off the suspect list—and it worked, too. If there’s trouble waiting for you, better to go out and meet it head-on, not stick your head in the sand and hope it doesn’t find you. I’d do the same thing.”