Three Strikes

by Lucy Christopher

  Panning the torch beam over the pile of rocks, she saw there was no way she’d be able to smash her way through it with her hammer. Most of the debris looked too heavy for her to move, and she knew it wasn’t a good idea to move it anyway: the rock pile was probably the only thing keeping the tunnel from collapsing completely.

  But as she moved the light higher, Bo found that the way forward wasn’t entirely blocked. There was a gap, up near the ceiling, perhaps wide enough for a cat to squeeze through.

  Bo sighed, and dropped her backpack.

  ‘This is going to be grim,’ she said, and clambered up the side of the rock pile.

  It took several minutes just to work up the nerve to begin bending and squeezing her body into the gap. The earth smelled damp and deathly all around her. Bo’s heart pounded, thudding dully against the pressing soil, and she knew that on some level her nightmares had been warning her about this moment. Perhaps even Madame Curio had seen this coming, and that was why she had cautioned Bo to stay away from the Penny Well.

  If I ever get out of here, I’m going to have a word with that fortune-teller about being a bit more bloody specific.

  Bo pressed forward, wriggling her elbows and knees so she was propelled deeper into the gap between the rock pile and the tunnel ceiling. She paused to shift the torch, shining its beam ahead of her. Thank God. She could see where the space opened out, perhaps half a metre in front of her hand. She could do this, just as long as she didn’t get stuck.

  Don’t even think it. Bo pushed on, more determined now, and with no time to think about the tons of earth bearing down above her head.

  Two minutes later, she wriggled free and ran for the well shaft, only limping slightly. Her footsteps echoed loudly again, bouncing from the tunnel walls like laughter. Bo ignored them.

  At last she burst from the tunnel. The pale moon cast a spotlight down on her, the silhouetted shapes of the narrow steps spiralling up the well shaft calling her back to solid ground. Clinging to the wall, Bo forced her burning muscles to carry her back up the winding staircase. She half expected the steps would disappear, sliding back into the wall and dropping her all the way back to the bottom of the well, but they held steady. Only as she hauled herself over the lip of the well and collapsed onto the gravel path next to it did Bo hear the tell-tale rasp of the stones withdrawing, the circular stone she had used to reveal them earlier now turning back to its former position.

  She lay panting on the ground, looking up at the stars. Bo knew she needed to find Levi, to make sure Edita hadn’t lied about him being safe, but that sense of panic she’d felt earlier was gone.

  How strange. There was no echo of Edita’s laughter now, no sound of falling rocks or air humming with power. Had she even heard that at all, or was it just some trick of Edita’s? Some last bit of puppetry before she rested, Bo hoped, in peace?

  This was the last time Bo would get herself tangled in one of Blackfin’s mysteries. This had all been far too much effort.

  ‘There you are.’

  Bo turned her head just enough to see Jared sliding from the driver’s seat of his camper van. There was another figure in the passenger seat beside him, and Bo yelped out a laugh when she saw who it was.

  ‘Oh my God, he’s okay! Where did you find him?’ she asked Jared, gesturing toward Levi, who was now making engine noises and pretending to drive the van.

  ‘He was under your bed. I was just lying there, like you asked, dreading the moment your mum would walk in and start screaming, until a few minutes ago when this little voice tells me, The girl says I can stop hiding now. He scared me half to death.’ Jared shook his head. ‘You should probably change your sheets before you go to bed tonight.’

  Bo laughed, then held out a hand for Jared to help her up.

  ‘Thanks for looking after him. I take it Mum’s not home yet?’

  ‘No. At least, she wasn’t there when I left.’

  ‘Good. We can drop Levi back at Mrs Pearce’s on the way home, and then Mum won’t have a clue anything weird happened … that is, if you don’t mind doing me one last favour?’ Bo smiled, meaning it to be endearing but knowing it probably wasn’t. Jared just shook his head wearily.

  ‘I’ll add it to the very long list of favours you already owe me.’

  Epilogue

  No voice summoned the children of Blackfin from their beds the following night, or any night after that. The weathervane still scowled down at the passing townspeople, and the Penny Well continued to steal coins from the pockets of anyone who wandered too near. But nobody questioned those things.

  Bo certainly didn’t. And although she often thought about the raven-haired twins lying in their underground tomb, she kept that secret to herself. She had meddled in the mysteries of Blackfin, despite her best and most slovenly intentions, and had suffered for it. She’d nursed blisters, bruised knees, and aching muscles for days after her misadventure in the tunnels, and had no intention of ever doing something like that again.

  No, let Blackfin’s secrets stay buried, she thought.

  As for Silas … he remained as he had for so many years: watching over the town he had always loathed so very much; a part of it, yet apart from it. He didn’t think much of Bo’s pledge to avoid meddling in the ways of the town, either. Teenagers couldn’t help meddling. And this town had so very many mysteries to unravel.

  What really happened the night Sky died? What is Jared hiding? And what else is waiting to be discovered in Blackfin Woods? Uncover more of the town’s secrets in BLACKFIN SKY, available now from Firefly Press.

  Remember: nothing stays buried in Blackfin.

  ‘Where words fail, music speaks.’

  Hans Christian Andersen

  Chapter One

  ‘I thought you should know I’ve written a letter,’ Nia’s dad announced as he poured his first coffee.

  ‘I didn’t know people still sent those.’ Nia offered him the milk jug. Her dad didn’t smile; he’d probably forgotten how. She shrugged her shoulders – her wit was wasted on this audience. She waited for him to say more but he’d reverted to type and was now eating in silence.

  ‘OK … so are you going to tell me any more or shall I guess?’ She coated her porridge thickly in brown sugar.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  He anticipated the need to apologise. Nia put her spoon down and ran through the list of people her father could have sent a letter to. It was pretty short.

  ‘The letter is to tell school that you won’t be going on the Winter Festival Tour,’ Jacob said. He drained his mug of coffee and stood up, bracing himself for her reaction.

  Nia had known there’d be consequences; Sol had already been grounded for a week. After the phone call from school yesterday Nia had thought she’d be grounded too or that he’d take her phone away: something, anything, but not this.

  Not this.

  ‘NO! No, Dad! Please!’ she begged. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded. She wouldn’t let him do it.

  ‘I warned you after the last detention. I can’t trust you, Nia.’

  He wasn’t open to negotiation. This was it, her last connection and he was cutting it off, ripping it from her, tearing it away. How could he? I hate you, Nia wanted to scream at him, although it wasn’t necessary, he could see it in her eyes.

  ‘You have to understand why, Nia. The Winter Festival is too dangerous. You’re too young to be away from home, to travel without me there to look after you. The rest of the choir are all a lot older than you. I’m sorry but there are too many unknowns, too many strangers, too many different towns and hostels. I can’t let you go. I can’t let you go too.’ His words ran into one another, coming out too quickly for Nia to take in.

  ‘Mum would have let me go,’ Nia whispered, not sure if he’d heard her.

  He wouldn’t look at her.

  ‘I’m never, ever speaking to you again,’ Nia said, loudly this time, pushing her chair back from the table. She shoved on her coat, grabbed her bag
from the hook near the door, forced her feet into her snow boots and charged out. She left the door wide open in the hope that all the heat would follow her out of the house and leave him in it, cold and alone.

  She pounded through the woods, the cold air scratching her throat. She smashed into the outstretched arms of the trees that got in her way, the snow-covered branches clawing at her long hair. She stamped down hard on the frozen ground, trying to get rid of some of her anger before reaching Sol’s house. This was where she went, where she always found herself running to now, running away from her father.

  ‘Uh oh. What’s happened?’ Sol asked as he opened the front door.

  ‘My dad,’ Nia panted. He rolled his eyes; it was hardly a surprise. ‘He’s told school I’m not going on the Winter Festival Tour. He’s written them a letter! As if he’s never heard of email or the internet.’

  Nia spat out the words as she searched for her gloves in her coat pocket. Then she turned away and started to make her way through the forest towards the bus stop. Sol had to jog to keep up with her.

  ‘He says we broke the rules and now we have to pay for it. He says he warned me, no more trouble.’

  She really hadn’t been looking for trouble when they decided to leave the school grounds last week. She’d just wanted to do something different, instead of sitting in the canteen with all the others listening to the same jokes, the gossip as flavourless as the reheated food. She pulled Sol away from his half-eaten pancake and walked outside with him.

  ‘We’ve got forty minutes of lunch left, that’s just enough to get to the town square and back again before we’re missed. Fancy it?’ she asked, expecting him to say no, as he always did.

  ‘Go on then, but only if we can climb St Oswald’s tower.’ He surprised her and a smile broke across her face.

  They walked through the town, school ties hidden under their coats. They tried to blend in with the lunchtime shoppers – parents pulling tired and hungry toddlers along and retired couples with all the time in the world to wander slowly along the cobbled streets. Nia and Sol ran around them, weaving and darting out of their way as they headed for the music shop first. The bell clanged, announcing their arrival to Carl, one of the new owners.

  ‘Hello, is it that time already?’ he looked at his watch for a moment, as if the afternoon had passed him by.

  ‘Shouldn’t you two be at school?’ asked Harald, his partner. He didn’t know them or their names, but the question was enough to put Nia on edge. She only dared enter the music shop because the owners were new and wouldn’t know her dad, wouldn’t mention the fact that she’d been in there to him. She mumbled something about lunch break and dodged any more questions by sitting down at the piano. As Nia stroked the keys, Sol wandered the aisles looking pointlessly at sheet music he couldn’t read, let alone appreciate. His musical skills were all in his ears.

  When Nia began playing Sol stopped what he was doing to listen, Carl sighed and settled down on his stool and Harald opened the shop door. Nia’s playing was a great advertisement for the shop and might entice in some customers.

  ‘No. Shut it!’ Nia begged, jumping up from the piano. Harald looked bewildered. Nia gathered up her bag and coat and left the shop. Sol followed, hearing the bell clang again as the door shut behind them.

  ‘He’s at work,’ Sol reasoned as they headed towards the church and the bell tower. ‘Your dad’s not going to suddenly appear in the music shop in the middle of the day, is he?’

  ‘I know, but he could come into town for something.’ She raised her arms to the air as if to say don’t ask me what. Nia’s father was a creature of habit, making his packed lunch every evening before he went to bed, placing it carefully in the fridge ready for the next day. He never came to town in the middle of a work day.

  ‘You’re paranoid!’ Sol told her. Nia nodded but she didn’t care. It just wasn’t worth the risk. She’d promised her father. She’d given him her word that she wouldn’t follow in her mother’s footsteps, would leave music behind.

  But she just couldn’t do it.

  She just couldn’t stop.

  Chapter Two

  They’d climbed St Oswald’s tower quickly, aware how little stolen time they had.

  ‘Come on, I’ll race you!’ Sol challenged. They ran up the tight spiral steps, winding their way higher. This was Sol’s favourite place and he never tired of the same view of Wildsee Lake. Nia held the heavy door at the top open for him as he caught her up. They walked out into a white sky like a sail billowing in front of them, holding the snow back, just. Sol reached into his pockets and put his gloves on. Nia did the same. They leaned against one another, watching the heavy sag of the clouds loaded with snow waiting to fall.

  ‘So, why did you want to come into town? What couldn’t wait until Saturday?’ Sol was breathing heavily. The air was so thin and sharp up here, closer to the mountains.

  ‘Hmm?’ said Nia. She wasn’t ready to answer. She wondered if he’d realise, hoped he’d work it out so she wouldn’t have to say the words.

  ‘Nia?’ Sol was clearly unwilling to be put off. Perhaps because they never seemed to get a chance to talk about things properly these days. There was always something in the way; someone waiting to be dropped off or picked up, choir rehearsal, work, jobs around the house, homework, supper time, just always something. Now there was nothing, no one, just them.

  ‘Why is this your favourite place, Sol?’ Nia asked, switching the focus.

  ‘You know why. Mum used to bring me up here. It would be the end to a trip into town, a way to keep me going as she got stuff done, I guess. A sort of reward, who knows? I’m seeing her this weekend, you know, she’s finally moved into her new apartment.’

  Sol smiled, running his hand over his hair before putting his hat back on.

  ‘And you know I’ve always been a climber! This is the highest point in town, it has my name written all over it!’ Sol raised his hands to the mountains and the sky as if the answer to everything was up there somewhere, if only he could get high enough to reach it.

  ‘Come on, why aren’t we in school, you know, where we’re s’posed to be?’ He nudged Nia’s arm with his own, moving the focus back to her.

  ‘It’s almost been a year.’ She knew she didn’t have to tell him any more than this, didn’t need to explain herself any further.

  ‘Oh, right.’ Sol felt flat, useless and too full of himself; his head filled with his parents’ divorce. He’d actually forgotten about Nia’s mother.

  ‘I’m so sorry…’ Sol began, but Nia shook her head and talked over him, trying to make him feel better. She knew others had moved on; a year was a long time, but for her it felt like two minutes and just as fresh.

  ‘I didn’t want to be in school. It’s too noisy today. Up here is good. I can hear myself think.’ Nia’s sentences were short, but he got what she meant. Sol put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. Nia relaxed against his side.

  ‘Nearly a whole year.’

  ‘That’s a long time.’ Sol stated the obvious, searching for something more to offer her, something that wouldn’t sound empty.

  ‘Too long. And it’ll just get longer from here. The time will go on and on and stretch out and away from me, getting bigger and bigger. And then I’ll start counting. I’ll say things like, “It’s been five years,” or I’ll start talking about anniversaries or I’ll just stop talking about Mum at all.’ Nia rubbed her gloves hard over her eyes as she spoke.

  Sol turned away from her, his eyes settling on the spires, the rooftops and the buildings coated in the first fall of snow. It looked so peaceful; they couldn’t hear the noise of cars from up here, just the ticking clock and the wind moving softly around the large bells that hung above them.

  ‘It’ll be our first Christmas without her,’ Nia whispered.

  ‘It won’t always be this bad. It won’t always be like this, I promise,’ Sol replied, guessing at the truth, trying to imagine how he’
d feel if he was Nia. But it was impossible. Sol knew he couldn’t imagine what it would be like because it hadn’t happened to him – until something bad happened to you how could you know when it would stop hurting?

  Anything else was just a lie.

  By the time they’d climbed back down, they were late. The bells clanged and clanked, ringing out their troubles. They held hands and ran through the town, nearly knocking a woman over. She shouted at them and they laughed nervously, embarrassed. Sol flung an apology over his shoulder as they ran on.

  If it had been PE or art they’d have got away with it, Nia decided afterwards, as they sat in silence on the hard wooden chairs outside the Head’s office trying not to look at one another. If only it hadn’t been French and Madame Reinard. If only they hadn’t been twenty-five minutes late; maybe if it had just been five they could have made something up about feeling ill or losing their school bags out on the field. But half an hour was too much. Madame Reinard had held her hand up as they entered the room ready with a tumble of excuses, and silenced them with the glare from all the gold rings on her fingers.

  ‘Sortir d’ici!Maintenant!’ she’d ordered, her long dangly earrings shaking as she gestured to the door with her head. The rest of the class sat up, anticipating a show but Nia had no fight in her and skulked out again, leaving Sol to try and appease Madame Reinard. It didn’t work; he soon joined Nia on the world’s uncomfiest chairs, presumably chosen to make the wait all the worse, until the red light above the Headmistress’ door changed to green with a click and they were summoned.

  Chapter Three

  ‘But of all the things to take from me, Sol! Of all the things…’ They were climbing the spiral ladder to the tree house in Sol’s garden a few days later. When they’d been smaller, Nia used to imagine she was a character from a fairy tale climbing a spiral staircase, which weaved its way around the tree trunk, leading to a treetop palace. Now it was worn and weathered, nailed back into place too many times to be a thing of beauty. Soon they’d be too big and too tall for this place. But not just yet, not today.