by Lynne Thomas
“Yeah,” says Rhiannon, fingering the material of her skirt.
I clear my throat. “Um, thanks for yesterday. You were really cool, in the end”.
Rhiannon brushes away my thanks.
“Don’t stress. It’s not every day that I get to levitate, right?”
We lapse back into silence. God I suck at this!
“So, anyway. My end of the bargain still stands. I won’t mention a word about,…um,…you know, and neither will Agatha.”
Rhiannon nods.
“Oh, yeah. Cool. And don’t worry, you’re secret is safe with me. It’s not like anyone would believe me, right?”
I nod, once.
“That’s that, then. You’re free of the freaks. Phew.”
Rhiannon smiles wanly. “Yeah, phew.”
Half way out the door, I feel a hand on my arm. I look up.
“Six thirty, right?”
I grin.
“Sure. You get the address? Good. I’ll see you there.”
Well, we’re hardly likely to go around arm in arm at school tomorrow. One step at a time, yeah?
Chapter Fifteen
“Hey, Jelly”.
Agatha and Humphrey push their way through the throng of people mooching around the yard, waiting for the school busses.
“So, what time shall we meet later to go to Thorn’s, or are we going to meet there?”
“Well, well. Look at the little fairy boy with his girlfriends.”
Humphrey’s face freezes. His turns to face Michael Marks.
“Leave it Michael.”
Marks sniggers, it’s an ugly sound, mirroring the ugly expression on his face. He shoves Humphrey in the chest. Humphrey stumbles and struggles to stay on his feet, but Marks steps forward and pushes him again, sending him crashing into a group of year seven kids. A couple of them wind up on the floor and Humphrey, bright red in the face, scrambles to his feet and hurries to help them up.
My heart starts beating an irregular pattern.
Now I know that Michael doesn’t want to cause trouble today, of all days. I’ve been putting up with this kind of rubbish for months and, what with the sleep depravation, the alien thing, and having to make friends with a cheerleader, it’s all getting a bit much.
“He said LEAVE IT, moron.”
I step in between Humphrey and the leering giant. I stare into Marks’ face and see the fury in his eyes. He is, for a moment, unrecognizable.
He hates Humphrey. He really, truly, hates him, for no reason at all. Jut because he exists.
I fight the temptation to spit in Michael Marks’ face. I know that spitting in his face is a very bad thing to want to do, and I know that I’ll hate myself for it, but I really have had enough of this bullying crap.
“Why don’t you and your big, fat, ugly face get lost?” I decide to start with some mild insults. “Up close, it’s kind of disgusting. In fact, you’re turning my stomach. Yeuch! I might sick-up my lunch right here on the pavement.”
Marks roars and pulls back his hand.
Bloody hell, he’s going to hit me!
Right. That changes everything.
I step back just as a collective ‘woooooooooo-ooooooooo’ ripples around the growing crowd.
Marks looks round in confusion, hand stalled mid-air, as he takes in the fact that he’s got an audience.
That’s right, no-brain, hit a girl in front of all these people and try and get away with it.
“I should have known,” I say, loud enough for people to hear. “You hit girls. You like to fight with girls. You’re a woman-beater.”
Marks’ mouth hangs open. Whispers and giggles from the crowd grow louder. The tables turned for the first time in his life, he seems unsteady on his feet, like a prize fighter hit by a lucky punch.
He’s distracted and I grab the opportunity. I have a wicked idea.
“And that’s rich anyway, coming from you, Marks: look at the little fairy boy with his girlfriends,” I mimic. “So let me get this straight. Humphrey hangs around with girls and he’s a ‘fairy’,” I make exaggerated speech marks in the air. “Whereas you hang around a load of boys in the changing room, in your underwear, and we’re supposed to believe what – that you’re some kind of stallion?”
I turn to Agatha.
“Maybe this explains his infatuation with Humphrey.”
Agatha nods.
“It would explain a lot.”
I fold my arms across my chest and click my tongue, delighted to see Marks blush to the roots of his blonde hair.
“What is it they say, Michael? People that live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
Marks shakes his fists and roars.
“What are you talking about? Glass houses, stones? He’s the fairy, not me!”
Yup, just as I suspected: IQ of a cabbage.
I decide to push it that little bit more.
“Although I suppose that if I were unfortunate enough to be going out with Trisha ‘I love shopping, tee hee’ Gibson, then I might be tempted to switch sides. That girl does the female race no favours.”
Some of the girls in the crowd laugh, others whisper in groups: this is gossip fodder too good to miss. Todd looks like an over ripe tomato about to split its skin. He makes a strangled noise deep in his throat.
A voice rings out from the crowd.
“Michael, is there something you want to tell us?”
Marks spins and shouts,
“Who said that? WHO SAID THAT? I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”
A hand touches my sleeve. Turning, I find myself face-to-face with Humphrey.
“Jelly, this is crazy. You don’t have to defend me,” he whispers, his eyes locked onto Michael’s hulk-like frame. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
I shrug off his hand.
“I know what I’m doing.”
Humphrey rolls his eyes to the heavens.
“Jelly…”
His voice is firm, but I know Humphrey better than I know myself. I can see the glint in his eye, the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He’s enjoying this as much as I am; he just isn’t ready to admit it yet. I laugh and wink at him.
“Relax. Trust me; you’re going to come out of this a lot better than he is.”
I glance at Marks as he scans the crowd and thunders “WHO SAID THAT?” His neck is bulging way too much to be healthy.
The crowd shuffles and I look up to see Trisha pushing her way through the throng, elbowing people out of the way in her haste to reach me and presumably scratch out my eyes. Melissa is close behind, followed by a weary-looking Rhiannon. I note with some amusement that for the first time in her life, Rhiannon is bringing up the rear. Our eyes locked and I know what she’s about to do.
It’s the wrong thing.
She’s going to try and stop Trisha. I shake my head. Too dangerous, can’t risk arousing suspicion. Yesterday we were at each other’s throat and today we’re on the same side? Like that’s not going to get the grey matter working overtime.
‘Don’t get involved,’ my eyes flash, ‘I’m OK..’
Rhiannon inclines her head to show that she understands as Trisha screeches to a halt at the edge of the circle.
I notice with a start that Marks is staggering towards me, his mouth drawn back in a snarl. I focus and prepare to unleash everything at him.
“Hey Michael, where are your changing room buddies?”
“Yeah, do you want me to go and get them so they can hold your hand?”
Marks falters.
High school can be sooooo cruel.
The anonymous voices are music to my ears. No way is Marks going to recover from this. There are some uncomfortable times ahead, for sure. I think with glee, for the first time in my life, of football practice, rugby practice…any practice! Oh, I could rub my hands together!
With a strangled cry, Michael Marks launches himself at me.
Oops, I’d forgotten about him.
Just in time, I step to t
he side and stick out my foot. Marks trips, stumbles and lands on the floor with an almighty thud. Crouching down beside him, I lock my eyes on his, lean forward and whisper,
“You think that this afternoon has turned into your own personal nightmare? That was nothing.” I spell it out for him. “Nothing. Try that again and you’ll see exactly what I’m capable of.”
Marks tries to get up, so I lock him down with invisible chains. I tilt my head forward, my hair swinging in a curtain around my face and hiding my eyes. I summon the fire. Green irises form a perfect frame for the orange flames that leap and dance in the depths of my pupils.
Marks head recoils as if I’ve spontaneously combusted. Ha! I instruct the flames to flare once, magnificently, and then die. I blink and they’re gone.
Marks moans; a small wretched noise from the pit of his stomach. I release him and he scrambles to his feet and lurches through the crowd.
I watch him go, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. A smile that promptly dies as I catch sight of Trisha. She stares at me with pure loathing. Melissa is clamped to her one arm and Rhiannon has a firm hold of the other. Trisha fights like a wildcat to free herself and Rhiannon’s swift glance in my direction barely hides her concern.
“Bitch,” hisses Trisha. “You’re gonna to pay for that you stinking little -
Melissa narrows her eyes at me and, leaning closer to Trisha, whispers something in her ear. Trisha stops struggling and smiles. The sneer holds such malice that I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Trisha, it would seem, really, really hates me.
“Watch your back, Cooper,” Trishia growls, “this ‘aint over.”
“Aint it?” I reply, mimicking her nifty ‘go girl’ head movement and everything. My impersonation talents are not appreciated. Shaking herself free of Melissa and Rhiannon, Trisha turns and stalks away. Melissa runs after her like a good doggy and, with one final exchange of glances, Rhiannon follows.
Agatha materialises at my side. “She won’t forget that.”
I shrug. “So she’s got a problem with me. What’s new?”
Humphrey, glad that the busses have arrived and people are drifting away, walks over in a daze. He frowns at me – at least he tries to, but it’s not at all convincing with the corners of his mouth curling.
“I don’t know whether to be scared, relieved, outraged or just plain amazed,” he mutters.
I poke my tongue out and Humphrey roars with laughter.
“Imp! Come on,” he sniffs, wiping his eyes. “We’d better go.”
“I’ll catch you up,” I say with a smile. “I’ve left my bag in the art room.”
The smile still on my lips, I climb the steps into the main building. Travis Jenson, slouched against the doorway, watches me closely.
My breath catches at the look on his face. His stormy eyes glitter and my stomach flips as they travel the length my body. I shiver.
Marks is Travis’ friend and I’ve just made him look like a monkey in a dress in front of half of the school. I don’t want to know what’s running through Travis’ mind right now.
His hooded eyes hold mine. Despite the stern talking to that I’m busy giving myself, I start to feel intimidated. Our relationship is just too weird.
Repeat after me, one hundred times, ‘you are not having a relationship!’
Abruptly, his lips twist into a wry smile. He tips two fingers to his head in a mock salute to my playground victory and disappears into the depths of the hall.
*** *** ***
Three minutes later, stood on the riverbank, I stare into the water and tick things off in my mind. After a while, I arrive at a very annoying conclusion.
No matter how much I don’t want him to be, Travis Jenson is the Hunter.
It all makes sense. He’s new to the area, male, physically fit (why does he have to be so physically fit?) and suddenly intensely interested in me. It all adds up.
It’s a bit of a slap in the face to realise that the only reason he’s interested in me is because he wants me six feet under. I feel a bit hard done by.
I bet Travis convinced Marks into having a go at Humphrey just to goad me into a display of power.
Thinking of how close I came to falling for it, and for him, makes my skin crawl.
Turning away from the glittering river, I head home, deflated but determined.
“I should have known those teeth were too perfect to be true.”
Chapter Sixteen
Life is like a tunnel. Most days, you race through it and strive forward, out into the brilliant sunshine. On other days, the shadows linger, reluctant to let go. Occasionally, the shadows’ grip is too strong and you remain in their clutches, deep in the belly of the beast.
As I walk to meet the others at Gregory Thorn’s house, I feel like I’m entering a new tunnel, full of unknowns, and I don’t know if I’ll make it out the other side.
The Hunter is closing in, I know it, and sooner or later, probably sooner knowing my luck, it’s going to be me and him; one-on-one. In situations like this, it always ends one-on-one.
As I scurry through the streets of Seabrook, I remember that mum is at home, waiting for me, and I stop walking.
I can’t go back. Not now I know what I am and what he is. He’s out there, waiting for me, looking for me, smelling the air for my scent. It’s happening tonight and I have to see it through. Mum will just have to understand. I hope Dad’s home and she’s not alone.
I try to squash the little voice inside my head that whispers that I will never see my family again.
*** *** ***
I knock on Thorn’s door, once.
Made it.
Gregory Thorn opens the door and ushers me into the hallway.
“Humphrey and Agatha are upstairs. They got here five minutes ago. So did Rhiannon Miles.” He studies me with concern. “Are you OK?”
I nod, letting my eyes roam over the picture-strewn walls of his home. I don’t recognise any of the faces other than Thorn himself.
“Are they Kavalrion?”
He glances at the mixture of sepia, black and white and colour photographs that line the hallway. He nods, a faraway smile on his lips.
“Which one is Cal Sakiiri?”
Gregory plucks one of the framed pictures from the wall and hands it to me. He points to a white-haired man sat in the centre of a group of merry people. The man stares out of the photograph, his eyes burning with intensity.
“That’s Sakiiri,” says Thorn. “And there’s Maurice, Eustasia and Megan. The others you see around you are members of Kavalrion.” He gestures to the other photographs hanging on the wall.
Gregory Thorn is focused on the pictures, his eyes alive with emotion.
“You, ah, you care a lot for them, don’t you?”
His gaze doesn’t flicker.
“Oh yes. A great deal. I can’t wait to see them again.”
I stand, uncomfortable in the silence. When it stretches with no indication of ending, I clear my throat.
Still no closer to being a group hug girl, then.
“Right,” Thorn takes the photograph from my outstretched hand and hangs it back in its place, his fingers brushing Cal Sakiiri’s face. “Shall we go and join the others?”
“Sure.”
I follow him up the stairs, nervous at the thought of training. That’ll be one giant egg on my face if I fail, but hey, at least I’ll be too dead to feel the shame.
“I think that I know who the Hunter is,” I blurt out.
So much for keeping a cool head.
Gregory stops, his foot resting on the step. He turns to me, his face pale.
What is it with the men in my life? Half of them have no confidence in me and the other half want me dead! I see the fear in his eyes. He’s frightened for me. He doesn’t think I’m ready. He doesn’t think I can win.
I can’t tell you how much that takes the wind out of a girl’s sails.
“Who?”
“I think that
it’s Travis Jenson. He’s new to the area, and…”
Thorn frowns. “Travis? Travis Jenson? Are you sure?”
Just how is it that the sporty types get away with so much? Honestly, it’s one of the world’s great unexplained mysteries. I open my mouth to protest (and explain), but Thorn turns away before I can answer, muttering to himself.
“I didn’t realise that you knew Travis,” he throws over his shoulder.
“I, um, I don’t. Not really. It’s a hunch, I suppose.”
Now who feels like a prize idiot?
Embarrassed, I dawdle on the stairs, which are also lined with photographs. I study them as I climb. At the end of the landing, Thorn pushes open a heavy wooden door and turns to me.
I have a major case of the butterflies. My feet are planted and I am not moving.
Thorn seems to know me all too well. He comes back and takes my hand.
“Relax, you’ll walk it. No problem. You, me, your friends; we’ll all work together. We can do this.”
I’m surprised at how much I need to hear the words. I squeeze his hand and head for the training room, groaning when I see a skipping rope lying on the dusty floorboards just inside the door.
“Skipping! Oh man! I hate skipping. Can’t we do something else? Anything except skipping. This isn’t Rocky, you know.”
“I know.”
I walk into the room and frown. He could have left some furniture.
“Guys! The floor is minging! Get up.”
Agatha’s eyes bulge. She nods her head at something to the left of my shoulder. Her jaw works frantically against her gag.
This is one freaky way to train. What does he want me to do? Am I supposed to free them? Is this a test?
It could be a test, except that I’m pretty certain that Humphrey and Rhiannon are unconscious.
It’s a test.
It’s a test – that’s it.
It’s a test.
Agatha seems OK. Petrified, but OK.
This isn’t a test.
‘No.” The light finally goes on in my very stupid brain. “No.”
Thorn cackles. If I need confirmation that my life is over, then that is it.
“What…what’s going on?”