Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope

by Anne Plichota

  Oksa felt even more at a loss when it came to the “Neanderthal affair”. Even if that bully had made her furiously angry, she’d never meant to hurt him. Not at all. She might have a vivid imagination, but she knew the difference between dream and reality. It was very tempting to use her powers, and so very easy, but she knew they were subject to the constraints and demands of the real world. However, when she’d been confronted by the Neanderthal, it had felt as though there was no longer any difference between the two. When he was terrorizing her in the toilets, she would have loved to have given him an ultra-powerful punch in the stomach and sent him flying. She would have really loved it—but only virtually speaking. And yet it had happened for real, even though she hadn’t done anything! How could she have managed it? And what about him? How had he ended up in that state? She hadn’t even touched him. She pictured the boy’s bloody nose and his body crumpled against the tiled wall. It had been such a violent attack—he could have been killed! Could she have killed him? The thought made her shiver.

  Still sitting on the ground feeling vexed, with her elbows on her knees, Oksa took a deep breath. A ray of reddish light was slanting through the grimy stained-glass windows and filling the strange room with a dusty light. It came to rest on a tiny, clogged-up washbasin which Oksa found she was staring at defiantly. Just for fun, and because she was curious, she focused all her attention on the small tap. She couldn’t see it clearly from her vantage point, but it looked rusty and broken. A strange longing materialized: why shouldn’t she turn it on by force of will alone? It was a perfectly pointless exercise, but so comforting to think that she could do it. Without moving, she resolutely gathered her thoughts along with the tiniest scrap of energy. The tap didn’t take long to yield… a few seconds later, a trickle of water formed an astonishing vortex in the air and twisted in graceful spirals to splash delicately at Oksa’s feet. She stretched out her hand towards the stream of water, which was now performing a complex arabesque. It spurted softly onto her palm, lightly splashing her blazer sleeve. This was all beyond belief and yet nothing was more real.

  12

  DISTURBING THEORIES

  “OKSA, WAIT FOR ME!”

  Gus was trying to catch up with his friend, who’d sped off on her rollerblades as soon as the last lesson had finished, losing him for the umpteenth time that day. Feeling guilty, Oksa pretended not to hear him, although she did stop trying so hard to outdistance him. Speeding along, she glanced behind to see if he was still following her. She knew she was being cruel, petty and contradictory. She wasn’t acting like a true friend. She really regretted it, although she didn’t feel able to do anything about it.

  She kept going until she reached St James’s Park, where she sat down under a weeping willow and watched the ducks on the river peacefully flowing past. They were lucky. No McGraw to ruin their lives, no Neanderthal to mar the landscape.

  “Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed, catching sight of Gus who, a few minutes later, came towards her, looking annoyed.

  “Yes, here I am and don’t tell me you’re glad to see me, because I won’t believe you,” he replied cuttingly. “Thanks a million! Nice of you to wait for me.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I feel a bit odd today.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” he added, unable to help smiling indulgently at her. “I only hope you’re not forgetting who your best friend is!”

  He sat down next to her and gave her a gentle shove.

  “I thought you might come here.”

  For a while they watched the squirrels leaping about on the grass and the children throwing them peanuts.

  “Do you remember when we came to this park last year on the school trip?” asked Gus. “If anyone had told me that, a year later, I’d be living really close to here…”

  Then he added sadly:

  “I feel as if we never see each other these days… lucky we’re in the same class; just think what it’d be like if we weren’t.”

  Oksa felt ashamed. She hadn’t treated her friend very well today. Feeling a bit embarrassed, she waited for him to go on.

  “You okay?” he asked, without looking at her, fiddling with a piece of grass.

  “No, not really,” she admitted, “my feelings are all over the place.”

  “There’s nothing strange about that,” declared Gus. “We’ve had a lot of changes in a short period of time, everything is new: the country, the house, the school—it’s just a reaction.”

  “It’s not that, Gus…”

  A few minutes went by in uneasy silence.

  “Fine,” Gus said finally, glancing sidelong at his friend. “It seems like I’m going to have to worm it out of you if I want to get to the bottom of this.”

  Oksa felt as if she couldn’t escape from her own thoughts. Her secret was beginning to take up a lot of space and she was dying to tell him. So why was she hesitating?

  “Gus!” she said, feeling on edge. “I am your friend, aren’t I? And whatever happens, I’ll always be your friend, won’t I?”

  “Er, yes, of course!”

  “You swear it?”

  “I swear it.”

  Oksa took a deep breath, feeling excited by what she was about to do.

  “See that pine cone over there, near the bench?”

  “Yes,” replied Gus, intrigued.

  “Watch closely.”

  The pine cone rose from the ground, hesitantly at first, then more steadily, and then flung itself some thirty feet away, where a squirrel pounced on it. Gus cried out in amazement, looking back and forth between the pine cone and Oksa. But the demonstration had only just begun. The pine cone rose vertically into the air, as if lifted by an invisible hand. The squirrel was jumping up and down to catch it and Oksa couldn’t resist driving the poor creature to distraction by making the fruit it craved shoot from the ground into the lowest branches of a tall tree. Then she decided to focus on a huge pile of dead leaves—a rising whirlwind immediately sent the leaves flying, provoking the outraged shouts of the park gardeners.

  “Don’t tell me you just did that?” exclaimed Gus in a choked voice.

  “Why? Did you think I didn’t? Look!”

  This time she targeted Gus’s bag, which began floating almost two feet above the ground. Gus sprang to his feet, snatched his bag out of the air and looked around uneasily before muttering:

  “How are you doing this?”

  “I don’t know, Gus.”

  “Fine,” he said sceptically, “you want me to believe that you’ve somehow succeeded in defying the laws of gravity and you have no idea how you’re doing it, is that it?”

  “I just will it to happen, that’s all.”

  “You know, I’d like to be able to do this kind of thing too. But there’s no point me just willing it, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t be enough. You’ll have to be a little more convincing than that!”

  “Like this?” said Oksa, rising above the ground like a Hindu yogi.

  Gus watched her in astonishment and grabbed her hand, pulling her sharply down to the ground.

  “Are you mad? What if someone sees you?”

  Oksa’s face clouded.

  “I’d rather they didn’t.”

  “But how has this happened?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea, Gus.”

  It was such a relief to be able to talk to someone and she began telling him everything that had happened over the past six days. The experiments in her room. The trick she’d played on McGraw. The duel with Mortimer-the-Neanderthal. Gus listened attentively until the end without interrupting. When she’d finished, he leant back against the tree trunk and whistled through his teeth:

  “That’s totally amazing! I’d never have believed this sort of thing could happen in real life!”

  He looked at her again and this time he met her eyes, which were shining with elation.

  “But you must be very careful, you understand? You could get yourself into serious trouble. Do you
feel as if you’re not exactly the same as everyone else?”

  Oksa nodded vigorously.

  “You know what they did with people like you not so long ago? They burned them alive or hung them from trees until their corpses rotted away to nothing.”

  “Oh Gus, don’t get carried away, this is the twenty-first century! In any case, thanks for making me feel better, you’re such a pal.”

  “I’m just saying it because I know you. You do have a tendency to go over the top.”

  Oksa had to agree with him. Gus had always been the voice of reason, ever since they were little kids. “Be careful, Oksa! You shouldn’t… Be sensible… Hell’s bells! Oksa, no…” How many times had he stood between her and danger? It was very annoying, but she had to admit that he was always right.

  When Oksa and Gus decided to leave the park, it was just after six o’clock—time to go home for their tea. The two friends headed for the exit, reassured by their renewed bond; but as she put on her rollerblades, Oksa’s mood suddenly seemed to darken.

  “You okay?” asked Gus anxiously.

  “I didn’t want to tell you, but there’s something else…”

  “What do you mean, something else?”

  Oksa hesitated.

  “He isn’t who he seems.”

  “Who isn’t?”

  “McGraw. It’s hard to explain,” she mumbled, not daring to look at him. “He isn’t a maths or physical-sciences teacher. That’s just a cover,” she whispered.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Hear me out, please,” begged Oksa, looking tense. “I’ve thought a lot about this and everything adds up, you’ll see. Firstly: McGraw knew who I was before he met me, I’m sure he did. Do you remember when Bontempi gave the roll call in the courtyard: he mispronounced my name and McGraw jumped in to correct him. That’s odd, isn’t it? Secondly: he sent me out of the class. Officially because of the noise I made with my chair. But wasn’t it really because I sent his felt-tip flying?”

  Gus stared at her with an intrigued expression. He felt unsettled by Oksa’s theories.

  “Thirdly: something totally… conclusive happened.”

  Gus’s expression became more enquiring.

  “What did you do?” he asked softly.

  “I swear I didn’t do it on purpose!”

  “Oksa, what did you do?” he repeated.

  She told him about the incident of the “rescued bottle” without omitting the slightest detail. Gus put his head in his hands.

  “You’re completely mad!”

  “I couldn’t help myself—it was an instinctive reaction. And he just stood there, staring at me, without batting an eyelid! That guy isn’t what he seems, Gus. I think he may be there because he’s looking for something. Or someone. I’m not imagining things.”

  “No, that’s not your style,” interrupted Gus with an edge of sarcasm. “We all know and love the legendary restraint of the Pollocks. So what conclusion have you come to about all this?”

  “If you remember, he said he worked for the CIA. So, looking at things objectively, imagine what supernatural powers like mine could mean for someone in the CIA, KGB or any other secret service. McGraw knew I had these powers before I did, he knows me better than I know myself. He knows everything! I’d stake my life on it. I don’t know how he’s done it and why exactly he’s there, but I’m sure it has something to do with me. You’re bound to think I’m being paranoid, but I’m scared, Gus.”

  “Scared? Why?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m not normal. Do you remember that story about the crickets?” she asked suddenly, out of the blue.

  “Crickets? What are you talking about?”

  “We talked about them not so long ago,” explained Oksa. “Scientists want to study the microscopic worms that live in crickets’ brains—”

  “Oh yes,” interrupted Gus, “I remember! Crickets throw themselves into water and then they die, because they can’t swim. For years people thought they were committing suicide, which didn’t make sense, because animals don’t commit suicide. It was a mystery for ages. Then they discovered that it was because of worms that burrow into their brains. When it’s time for them to reproduce, they guide the crickets to the water, the crickets dive in and drown because they can’t swim. Then the worms tear through the shell of the drowned crickets and reproduce in the water. But what has this got to do with McGraw and you?”

  “Maybe he wants to clone me or experiment on me—perhaps even dissect my brain to see how I can do these things. Like the scientists did with those worms to find out how they manage to make the crickets head for water, even though it’s against their nature. Just think what these abilities could be used for.”

  Gus looked at her out of the corner of his eye, disconcerted by his friend’s theory and troubled by the conviction in her words. Oksa was gazing into space, spinning the wheels of her rollerblades with her fingers, but she was as tightly strung as a bow and terribly hot and bothered—she would have paid good money for some ice-cold lemonade! They stood there, side by side, in a confused silence which dragged on for several minutes before it was broken by Gus.

  “Your theory does stand up to scrutiny. But if that’s really the case, we’re in a real mess.”

  “I think it’s crucial we find out more about McGraw, don’t you?” asked Oksa hopefully.

  “Agreed,” confirmed Gus. “But you mustn’t panic. You have to keep a cool head and not let him provoke you. If you’re right, he’ll do anything he can to make you give yourself away again. In the meantime, we’ll try to find out where he comes from and what he’s doing here. You know you can count on me,” he said.

  He stood up and held out his hand to help Oksa up. He was burning to ask one last question.

  “Have you said anything about this to anyone?”

  “You must be crazy!” burst out Oksa angrily. “Who would you like me to tell?”

  “I don’t know. Your parents or your gran,” he retorted, concealing his deep sense of relief and pleasure at being the only one in the know.

  “No,” replied Oksa, horrified at the idea. “I can’t tell anyone!”

  Gus wasn’t sure what to make of her reply, but after thinking about it for a few seconds he decided it meant that Oksa was giving him special treatment.

  “Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly, “you’re not on your own.”

  After seeing his friend safely home, Gus needed some time to think. He threw himself down on his bed, his heart pounding and his nerves jangling.

  What an astonishing revelation! He felt exhilarated and a little freaked out. Oksa was like his sister. No, better than a sister, more than a sister—his alter ego. The person who knew him best, after his parents. Just as he knew exactly who she was. Or had done until today… Because what she’d shown him went way beyond anything he could have imagined. And yet he hadn’t dreamt it. Was Oksa a witch? A supernatural being? A fairy? It beggared belief, but he was in no doubt: she was a little of all these things.

  13

  AN ENJOYABLE EVENING

  IMMEDIATELY AFTER SAYING GOODBYE TO GUS, Oksa went up to her room. Once she closed the door behind her, she felt every muscle and nerve in her body relax and the tension subside. It was so quiet here that she knew nothing bad could happen to her and that she was completely safe from the world and its dangers. She then moved on to the evening’s top priority: swapping her pleated skirt and blazer for threadbare jeans and a bright orange T-shirt.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, lay down on her bed for a few minutes and then, unable to stay still any longer, she got up again. She was just about to head upstairs to Dragomira’s apartment when she heard the front door bang: her mum had just come in from work. Oksa rushed downstairs to see her. It was so nice when she was at home.

  “Hello darling! Did you have a good day?”

  “Ugh, a killer of a day. But don’t worry, as you can see, I survived! I was just going up to see Baba.”
>
  “Wouldn’t you like to have a bite to eat with me instead? I know you have your little habits,” acknowledged her mum, gazing at her daughter. “But your gran is busy with your father and some friends, and they mustn’t be disturbed.”

  “Oh! Baba’s Band? In that case, they’ll be chatting for ages. Not my idea of fun, thanks.”

  When the Pollocks lived in Paris, Dragomira liked to have friends over to her apartment regularly and they’d talk for hours, drinking tea as black as coffee—a custom which she seemed keen on continuing here in London.

  “Yes, there’s a large Baba’s Band this evening,” replied Marie Pollock, laughing. “But that’s nothing to do with us. Come on, I’ve made some piroshki filled with meat, just the way you like them. It’s my turn to spend some time with you for a change!”

  Sitting at the kitchen table, mum and daughter devoured half a dozen of the little Russian pastries fresh from the oven, then attacked a sausage, before polishing off the Camembert. Oksa was enjoying sharing some moments of intimacy—and pigging out—with her mum; she wouldn’t have swapped these precious hours for the world. Brimming with happiness, she kept glancing over at her mum with sparkling eyes and Marie smiled back radiantly in reply.

  “How’s the restaurant going?” asked Oksa, after talking about school for ages.

  Marie had always worked with Pavel. In Paris, her husband had done the cooking while she’d managed an army of waiters and run the restaurant with great panache. “An iron hand in a velvet glove!” said Pavel, who admired his wife’s flair more than anyone. Now they were opening their own restaurant, Oksa knew her parents would have to work even harder. And deep down, she was sorry that was the case. Evenings spent as a family were going to be very few and far between…

  “The work’s almost finished, but your father is convinced that nothing will be ready in time for the opening, you know what he’s like. The workmen are going flat out, but he’s always breathing down their necks. I really feel sorry for them! Fortunately Pierre’s there and he’s much less hyper… I’m glad they’ve become partners. Your dad’s such a worrier—it should do him good. Even if I’m starting to lose hope of ever seeing him relax… but we just have to put up with it and accept him how he is. After all, that’s why we love him, isn’t it?”