Crooks and Straights

by Masha du Toit

  “You can get dressed now,” said Nurse Lily. “And then Cadet Dunson will show you to the waiting room. Cadet, stay with her, please.”

  -oOo-

  Once Gia was dressed, Cadet Dunson showed her to a room further down the passage.

  There were some people already there, mostly young men, all dressed in the same grey uniform as Cadet Dunson. Some of them sat around a table, playing a game with coins. Others simply lounged back in their chairs, chatting.

  At one of the tables, sitting by herself, was a pale young woman with short-cropped hair and a faint scar that ran from eyebrow to cheek.

  Cadet Lee.

  Gia saw the flicker of recognition in the cadet’s eyes.

  “Can anyone watch this one?” said Cadet Dunson. “I’ve got to get back to Section C.”

  Cadet Lee nodded, and gestured for Gia to take the chair next to her.

  “You just been for testing?” she asked.

  Gia nodded.

  “You want some tea? Coffee?”

  “Yes, please. Tea, thanks.”

  The cadet got up and went to a table against the far wall that held an urn and a row of cups. Gia tried to ignore the stares from the rest of the room. The sound of voices drew her eyes back to the door, and she glimpsed two people as they walked past. One was a man in a white coat, but the other—

  What was she doing here?

  Surely that had been Mrs Solomons, the school social worker?

  At Valkenberg?

  “Here you go. Sorry, it’s not very hot— that urn never really boils.”

  It was the cadet, holding out a cup of tea. She wore gloves, Gia noticed, thin, white gloves of some flexible, leathery material.

  “Thanks.”

  The tea was warm, and unexpectedly sweet.

  “Put some sugar in for you,” said Cadet Lee. “Need something sweet, after being tested.”

  She watched as Gia took another swallow. This close, Gia could see the delicate veil of freckles that covered her face. Her eyelashes were so pale they were nearly invisible.

  “I freaked out when they did me,” said the cadet. “Screamed so much I was hoarse for weeks.” Her voice was perfectly level and without emotion, as if she were commenting on the weather.

  “That’s horrible.”

  “It was.”

  The thought Gia had been suppressing since the test began, finally surfaced.

  Nico.

  Nico, strapped down, lights shining in his eyes…

  She felt herself beginning to shiver again and wrapped her hands round the comforting warmth of the teacup.

  “I’ve seen you before,” said the cadet. “You’re the girl who came to speak to me after that school presentation.”

  “That’s right.”

  Gia remembered the question she’d asked.

  “Do you ever see your parents?”

  She wanted to ask it again, but did not quite dare.

  “Do you know how long I have to wait here?” she asked instead.

  Cadet Lee’s pale eyebrows rose. “Didn’t Dunson explain? Well. Dunson is a cold fish. It should just take a few minutes for the initial results. Then, if those are positive, you’ll have to go for more tests.”

  Gia felt her heart sink.

  More tests.

  How long would she have to be here?

  “Don’t worry,” said Cadet Lee. “Doubt you’ll get a positive. You seem pretty straight to me.”

  With an involuntary start, Gia remembered that the cadet’s special talent was telepathy.

  Can she tell what I’m—?

  Cadet Lee laughed. “No need to look like that,” she said. “I can’t read people these days unless I’m touching them. Anyway, I don’t need to be a telepath to figure out what you’re thinking. You need to learn to hide your feelings a bit more.”

  A bell rang somewhere down the corridor.

  “Hey-up,” said one of the other cadets. “There goes another one.”

  “Freaking freaks,” replied one of his companions.

  There was a sound of hurrying feet in the corridor outside, and Gia glimpsed several blue-clad nurses striding by the door.

  The bell rang again, but this time it mingled with another sound, a thin, tearing wail.

  Was that a voice? Somebody screaming?

  It was clearly not a mechanical noise, but before Gia could decide if it was human or animal, it stopped abruptly.

  Could that have been a child?

  Gia shook the thought from her. The cadet seemed completely unmoved by the sound. It must just have been some kind of alarm.

  To distract herself, she looked at the posters that lined the walls. They were Special Branch recruiting posters, each with brightly coloured photographs of cadets in various poses and situations. A cadet holding a billowing South African flag against a bright summer sky. A cadet striding out of a burning building, a baby cradled in his arms. A cadet with a determined look on his face, holding the leash of a snarling dog. All of them had the same message printed in large, bold letters.

  Make A Difference. Special Branch Youth Brigade Has A Place for You.

  “Thinking of joining?” There was a glint of irony in Cadet Lee’s smile.

  “Um, not really.”

  “University then?”

  “Well, no. I’m hoping to take First Exit and go to art school.”

  The cadet’s eyebrows rose again. “Art school?”

  Gia started answering, but was interrupted by a movement at the door.

  “Gianetta?” It was Nurse Lily.

  “Good news, Gianetta. No need for more tests,” she said. “All negative. You can go.”

  “Negative?” asked Gia, getting to her feet. She was surprised by the stab of disappointment.

  “No magic,” said the nurse. “You have unusually high empath score, and your realisation range is particularly strong, but all readings are still within the normal, human range. Here, you’ll want this— your certificate of purity.”

  Gia took it from her— a creamy piece of paper with several official-looking stamps.

  So I’m a straight after all.

  She tried to convince herself that she was relieved.

  “You can fold it, and tuck it into your ID book,” said the nurse. “Cadet, can you take Gianetta down to reception?”

  And before Gia could reply, Nurse Lily turned on her heel and left.

  “See,” said Cadet Lee. “Told you you were straight. And now you’ve got a certificate to prove it.”

  She got to her feet.

  “Well. Let’s go then.”

  -oOo-

  Sonella held down the certificate as the wind caught at it.

  “I didn’t know you could get these already,” she said. “I thought it would only be if the Purists got the referendum.” The two of them were sitting in a sunny spot in the school courtyard. It was second break, and a group of boys were playing a lively game of lunchbox soccer.

  “The nurse told me to put it in my ID book,” said Gia. “As if she thought people would be checking for it.”

  Sonella shook her head. “I don’t like the sound of that. That’s how it is all over Europe now, people having to have papers proving they're human. And things are getting bad again. Did you see the news last night?”

  “No. What happened?”

  “There’s been more riots in Greece, and a man got set on fire in the middle of the street. They say the crowd thought he was a moldyman, but he was probably just some poor homeless guy. And my mother told me, a lot of the refugees that are running away from that kind of thing, if they don’t have the right kind of papers proving they are—” Sonella tapped the certificate, “— non-magical, they get put into trucks, and nobody knows what happens to them then. They get disappeared.”

  Gia felt a chill, as though the sun had gone behind a cloud.

  That was what had happened in Italy, at the time her parents had returned to South Africa. Riots and burnings. Religious zealots whi
pping up crowds in the after shock of the stock market crash. The government passing laws that made it impossible for anyone with magical abilities to get work, or even to move around without continual harassment. Whole families had been taken into custody and never seen again.

  They got disappeared.

  With an effort, she pulled herself back to the present.

  All that was long ago. And it could never happen here.

  “Were the tests horrible?” asked Sonella.

  “I guess they weren’t that bad,” said Gia. “I mean, it was pretty freaky. But what I’m worried about, Nico’s never going to cope. We’re just going to have to find a way to get him off.”

  “Why? Do you think they’ll—?”

  Gia, startled by the strength of her feelings now that she was finally voicing them, spoke slowly, figuring out what it was that was frightening her. “It’s not just the tests. I mean, I’m fine with them, just a bit shaken, but Nico…”

  She wondered if Sonella would think she was exaggerating.

  “I think if he had to go through what I went through, he’d just— snap.”

  She shook her head helplessly, trying to convey her sense of horror. “But that’s not all. I think, well, I’m pretty sure that Nico won’t test negative.”

  Sonella nodded. “I think you’re right about that.”

  They both stared down at the gravel for few moments, busy with their own thoughts.

  “Sonella,” said Gia at last. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you but I keep forgetting. You know the school social worker? Mrs Solomons?”

  Sonella looked puzzled. “I didn’t know there was a school social worker. There’s a school nurse—”

  “No, not her. Wait, I’ll show you.”

  Gia took took out the card that Mrs Solomons had given her.

  “No. I’ve never heard of her.”

  Gia put the card away again, and felt her worries stirred up again like mud at the bottom of a pool.

  “You remember when Mr Peterson called me in, on Friday? It was to see this woman. She said she was the school’s social worker. I thought it was a bit odd, because she asked the strangest questions. Mostly about Nico.”

  “Oh?” said Sonella. “That’s odd.”

  “Yes. I thought so too. But the thing is, I saw her today. Or at least, I think I saw her. At the Valkenberg Annex.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “It just seems strange to me that all this stuff is happening now. The sniffer unit, and this testing thing. After Mrs Solomons was asking all those questions about Nico. And now it turns out she’s got something to do with Valkenberg.”

  Sonella was looking worried. “You think all this is about Nico? That they want him for some reason? But why?”

  “I don’t know,” said Gia.

  After a moment or so, Sonella spoke again. “What do you think they’ll do, if Nico tests positive?”

  Gia had to shake her head. “I have no idea. They couldn’t just keep him there, could they?”

  “I don’t know,” said Sonella. “Your parents can’t do anything?”

  “My father doesn’t seem to think we should do anything. I think he’s scared of drawing the wrong kind of attention. Mom just wants to go into hiding, and—” Gia hesitated. She’d promised not to tell anyone about the Pillay job, but the urge to share her worries was too strong.

  “Thing is, if Mom goes away, we’re in the dwang anyway. Sonella, you can’t tell anyone this, okay? But we’re working on Kavitha Pillay’s wedding dress—”

  Sonella’s eyes widened in surprise and she grabbed Gia’s hand. “But that’s wonderful, Gia!”

  “Yes. It is,” said Gia, and she couldn’t help smiling at Sonella’s reaction.

  “But the thing is, apparently Luxulo Langa has a reputation for being extremely nasty to anyone who gets on his wrong side. And without Mom, we’ll never get the gown finished in time.”

  Sonella lost her smile. “Oh,” she said. “Luxulo. I forgot about him.” She stared at Gia. “It’s true. Gia, can’t your parents get out of that? I’ve heard some dreadful stories about that man. I mean, you know he’s the head of the Purists. And Valkenberg is like his special project.”

  “It’s too late to get out of that now. But if we can find a way to keep Nico from having to be tested…”

  “Well, I can ask my parents, I guess,” said Sonella. “They might know of some way. But really, what you want is to get in touch with the Belle Gente.”

  Gia wondered if she’d heard right.

  “The Belle— but, aren’t they like— terrorists?” She faltered, embarrassed at her own ignorance.

  “No, not at all, that’s just Purist propaganda,” said Sonella. “Most of them are just normal magicals, people who were hounded out of their own countries by fanatics like the Purists. They just want to be left alone, just like anyone else.” She looked earnestly at Gia.

  “I know some of them are extreme— there’s some of them that believe in an eye for an eye, and that they should fight fire with fire. But the leadership is all for a peaceful solution.”

  “Well, anyway, how on earth am I going to get hold of them?” said Gia. “It’s not like I can just look them up in the phone directory?”

  Sonella laughed. “No. But you know the caretaker?”

  The bell rang for the end of break, and they got to their feet.

  “Yes,” said Gia. “But you’re not going to tell me he’s a member of the Belle Gente!”

  “No, he’s not. But he’ll know who you should speak to.”

  “You think so?”

  “Definitely. Everyone knows the caretaker, and he knows everyone. Tell your parents to speak to him. I’m sure he can suggest something.”

  -oOo-

  When Gia got home, Mandy was in the studio. She came out to give Gia a hug.

  “You okay?” she said. “The tests weren’t too bad? I was so worried. Listen, your lunch is on the kitchen table. I’m still going to be busy here for a while. But I’m looking for your dirty clothes, I want to do a wash.”

  Since Nico was still at Mrs Winterbach’s, Gia had the house to herself. She added her clothes to the laundry, then tried to settle down to her homework.

  She could not concentrate.

  Sonella’s suggestion to contact the Belle Gente now seemed absurd. But what other plan was there? She kept thinking of that scream she’d heard at the Valkenberg Annex, and the other cadets’ reactions.

  Freaking freaks.

  What would they think of Nico?

  Even if Nico got through the tests, he might test positive. Surely they would not just let him go with— what? A certificate of impurity?

  Sonella assumed that Gia would tell her parents about the caretaker, and contacting the Belle Gente. But Gia knew what her father would say. He’d laugh, and tell her not to worry. Her mother, she was not so sure of. As a rule, Saraswati avoided discussing anything to do with magic.

  Why was that?

  No. She could figure that out later.

  If anyone was going to speak to the caretaker, she’d have to do it herself.

  Brakman

  The caretaker took so long to answer her knock that Gia nearly gave up and went away. When he did open the door, he looked exactly the same as the first time she had seen him. Far too tall, and with a calm question in his eyes.

  “Hello,” she said, and swallowed nervously. “I’ve got to ask you something. Can I come in?”

  He looked down at her for a moment longer, then stepped aside.

  It was dark in the caretaker’s place. The only light came in through some narrow windows near the ceiling. Gia realised that the room was almost entirely below ground, and that the windows must be at pavement level outside.

  The room was crowded with objects, but the light was so dim she could not see much. It smelt very like a garage, of oil and dust and ancient cardboard, and the floor was bare concrete.

  As she followed the
caretaker, her eyes became used to the dark, and she started to make out what was around her.

  The space looked like a cross between a mechanic’s workshop and a junk heap. The walls were invisible behind cupboards and shelves. Tools of every description hung in uneven rows.

  And everywhere were things.

  Radios. Telephones. A washing machine. A stack of typewriters. A pile of alarm clocks. Boxes full of broken toys. Things she did not recognise, with dials and knobs and handles. Engine parts. Bicycles. Things sprouting wires, and things with cogs and springs.

  Bits of machines spilled out of drums, hung from the ceiling, and were stacked against the walls.

  There was so much stuff, that Gia had to thread her way through a path between them, and it was difficult not to knock into anything.

  Nico would love this.

  As she moved deeper, she could see that it was not as chaotic as she’d first thought. There was a sense of order about it all. The room was larger than she’d guessed, and Gia realised that it probably ran under several, if not all, of the houses in the row.

  The caretaker reached an open space in the forest of machine parts. It was lit by a bare light bulb that hung from the ceiling. There was a workbench there, with even more shelves and great number of tools ready for use. In front of this stood an ancient office chair, sagging on its wheels. On the chair, curled up into a tiny ball, lay Paddavis, apparently fast asleep.

  “Shoo,” said the caretaker, poking at him with a long finger. Paddavis made a show of stretching and yawning.

  “Hmm,” he said to Gia, and hopped onto the workbench. “Come to visit?”

  He began grooming and preening his whiskers. The caretaker lowered himself into the chair, and gestured to another, smaller chair.

  “Sit.”

  Gia sat.

  “So. You have something to ask?”

  Gia swallowed. She’d rehearsed what she would say, but the unexpected presence of Paddavis threw her off.

  “I— that is, we— we need your help.”

  “Your parents know you are here?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  The caretaker stared at her with no change of expression.