The echo of the smile that tugged Donny’s lips falls. He’s gone right back to that lightless, wispy-eyed look of surrender.
“Huh?” Clear confusion takes hold of Jayce, as it does with Jasper, who cautiously leans in a little more.
“It’s no use,” Donny repeats, his voice still so soft and quiet it’s almost inaudible.
“What do you mean, Donny?” Jasper asks, visibly concerned. “Even if I get out of here, he’ll come for me.”
“What? What do you mean? Who’s coming for you, Donny?”
“I’m… I’m safe here. That’s why… that’s why I have to stay here. W- When I get out, he’ll come for me…”
“Calm down Donny. No one’s coming for you.”
Donny’s voice breaks into a raspy whisper and his eyes completely glaze over as he chants: “he’ll come for me. He’ll come for me. He’ll come for me.”
“Donny-”
“You can’t let him, Jayce!” he suddenly yells, jerking forwards and staring right at him with wild, gaping eyes. He leaps out of his chair and grabs Jayce’s collar and begins to shake him violently. “You can’t let him. You can’t let him come for me, Jayce. Jayce!” This immediately alerts the wardens who run over. Two of them run behind Donny and pull him backwards whilst another stands in between to shield Jayce.
“Let me go! Let me go!” Donny screams.
He thrashes about in the wardens’ arms, kicking, struggling and spitting. Before they pull him away, he burns through Jayce with a look of pure hatred and musters all remaining life to scream a fuming and unforgiving:
“It should have been you!”
Jayce.
Yes?
*****
I’ve looked at hundreds of cases. I’ve been trying to solve any crime I can get hold of for years.
I know.
I can look at a c’ve and most of the time I’ve at least got a rough idea of who’s to blame or what’s happened. What I’m trying to say is I like to think I can tell apart an innocent person from a criminal. I’d like to think I could do that at least.
Okay.
He’s innocent.
I knew you’d work that out.
What happened?
Becky died, Alicia. People don’t just overlook something like that. All those law-worshipping bastards you want to be so badly, they all went and put their noses into it and had to have answers. Our whole group were considered people of interest – me, Ryo, Sasha, all of us.
Ryo got Donny and Alex just to confess to the murder and say they acted independently so they’d get off our case. He could have made any of us do it, but he chose them. So they did it; they confessed. They were terrified of what he’d do to them if they didn’t.
Donny’s still scared Ryo’s going to come back for him. He’s scared he’ll be waiting right outside the prison, arms wide open, ready to reap him back into his gang all over again. I don’t know about that, but I know Donny is definitely right about one thing.
It should have been me.
Chapter Sixteen
3:40 PM
Jasper drops us off back at Kit’s house, and it’s only now that I realise there’s something not right here. That may or may not be because Jayce has started jumping around the front door like a kid in a toyshop and clapping his hands like a retarded seal.
“They’re here! They’re here!” he cries, still jumping on his invisible trampoline.
What’s he talking about? Who is here?
That’s when I see there is another car parked in the driveway, an old, beat-up red Volkswagen.
Jayce repeats ‘they’re here!’ again and unlocks and bangs on the door, putting in all his energy, altogether so dramatically I’m sure he’d win the role of the Nobody who appears in every Shakespeare play just to knock on doors and relay messages.
So apparently… people are here?
Before I have a chance to even register that this house in the middle of nowhere somehow has guests, Jayce has grabbed my arm in childlike excitement. “I can't wait for you to meet them! They are going to love you!”
For goodness sake! Who is going to love me? Who is here?
The front door opens. I gasp.
That gasp is the only thing that can describe the absolute horror I feel when the curvy, blue-haired girl in the black leather jacket turns her arctic gaze straight at me.
It must be her. She could be no one else. Her reputation is that of a celebrity – you would not only know her before you had properly met her, you would also fear her.
I have seen her before, many times, through my window and sometimes when walking back from school. I have heard her voice, nasally and metallic, threatening me without any betrayal of emotion on the other side of the phone. I have listened to them admirably mention her in almost every conversation that needs to exemplify Jayce's power.
Her name recoils in my mind, a dying basilisk, thrashing and writhing and screeching in pain.
Kaylie.
“Alicia, I'd like you to meet my friends.”
*****
My hands are clamming up and I can't breathe. Too many people. Too many people.
So this is what terror feels like. This shaking in my legs, this sweating in my hands, this python squeezing my chest. It's a different sort of terror to the one I used to feel around Jayce, the fear that I was going to be hurt. This is the terror I am forcing onto myself. These people shouldn't scare me. I am making myself scared. They're not going to hurt me. Jayce wouldn't let them hurt me.
No. I can't think like that. For all I know, Jayce has brought these people here deliberately to hurt me. Jayce is crazy. He choked me. He killed Jeffrey, and now he's trying to kill his mother. My God. He actually killed Jeffrey. No, don't think about it. Stop.
I know now that the most terrifying feeling is fear itself.
Kaylie is terrifying too. With those sky blue expressionless eyes made only clearer by the electric blue ringlets framing her heart-shaped face, she could well be the Grim Reaper's secretary. Just by looking into those vacant poker- player eyes, you know she is the perfect liar. She could tell me right now she has killed my father and I would believe her straight away. But what makes me fear her most is that those empty eyes also mean she could tell me she only wants to help me, and of course I'll believe her then too, when really she's already sharpened her pitchfork and is waiting for the moment I blink.
I can't understand why she is here though.
When Nick gave me his phone to call home, it was this girl in front of me that picked up. She was the one drawling threats at me through an anaesthetic smirk.
I would naively jump to the conclusion that my father is safe, but that's not like Jayce. It's not like him to call touché and then drop his sword. The only other option is too morbid to think about and I must stay positive or else I'll never get out of here alive. I force myself to believe she's let him go, that's all. Father is safe and he's coming to get me. There. That's a much better thought.
To get my mind off my father, I turn to look at the rest of the group. There are two girls behind Kaylie, trailing behind her like servants or, better yet, henchmen.
One is tall, bony and straight-figured. She looks so undeniably miserable you'd think she's just seen her cat get run over. Her straggly black hair has been hacked into some pixie cut, jutting out haphazardly just below her rectangular chin, which leaves her swan's neck looking way too long and exposed. I can hardly tell the colour of her eyes from the amount of black eye make up she has crayoned them in. That reminds me that I was reading somewhere all the reasons some girls feel the need to wear so much. But it can't be that she's self-conscious; she is plain and forgettable but certainly not ugly and there is far too much arrogance in those lines patterning her forehead. And I might say that she does it for attention, but she's folded her arms across her chest so tightly I'm sure she's struggling to breathe, so it seems she wants nothing more than to slip into the background. Either way, the make-up overdose makes her nei
ther prettier nor gives her attention; it just makes her look skeletal.
The other is about a head shorter and has dark skin and a pug-like face with eyes that take up too much of it and a stubby nose that doesn't take up enough. Her startling muscles bulge out from underneath the fishnet sleeves of her tight t-shirt and the black mini-skirt that just about contains her bum does nothing to keep her warm; its only role is to show off her fat, stumpy chicken legs. Her hair has been bleached a hideous colour of ketchup red, which illuminates the huge black pupils she has in place of real eyes. All in all, she is just trying too hard to make herself look tough, but judging by the array of colourful and heart-studded friendship bracelets around her wrists, I wouldn't be surprised if she secretly still plays with Barbies.
The girls make way for us to pass and we enter the room. Jayce takes off his coat and I look over to the door leading to the kitchen, where inside I see a muscular, towering teenager with smooth, dark skin and an oversized nose talking to Nick. He is big and bulky, resembling Nick in stature, but his face is somehow softer than Nick's, handsome even. A crescent of a smile peppers his lips and there is a kindling of warmth in his brown eyes. I think I remember him. He was almost always with Jayce back in Elmview.
“Alicia, this is Mel,” he indicates the bony, lanky girl “Tyra,” the short girl with the red hair “Jory,” the boy in the kitchen “and Kaylie.” I notice how he has introduced Kaylie last. Judging by the irritated look she gives him, it seems she has noticed that too. “So, this is my gang. Steve would be here too, but as we all know, he cannot be here today due to technical difficulties.”
Steve. That's the guy Father put in drug rehabilitation after his stop-
and-search escapade.
“So let's get started then shall we?” he chirps, clapping his hands together. “We have a party to get ready for.”
*****
I don't understand what Jayce has just said, but his words see to have electrocuted the others: they dart to attention, busily hurrying to and fro and organising bags and boxes they had placed in the kitchen. I stare at Jayce with wide and searching eyes. I don't know what's going on and he's not doing anything to make things clearer.
“Don't you remember? We got invited to a party yesterday. And I never reject an invitation.”
A party? Syrup-slowly, the memory trickles back into my mind. Ryo, in all his Mohawk glory, pale face elucidated with a smirk: “Listen, me and Sasha are having a joint party tomorrow. My house, starts at six, and God knows when it will end. I know it's short notice but come if you can, okay?”
Jayce is actually taking me to Ryo’s party?!
Every bone in my body screams in protest.
Becky died because of Ryo. Donny and his friend, both innocent, are in prison because of him. Jayce surfaces in my thoughts, heart-wrenchingly telling me: “I don't want to be Ryo.” He's a murderer. Not even that, but a monster. And Jayce is taking me to his house. What is he playing at?
He could get us both killed!
Or maybe that's exactly what he intends to do. He can’t… No…
The girl named Tyra approaches me, eyebrows furrowed in questioning. I can't help but pull back slightly. She has a way of looking at me as though she is not really looking at me at all – the depths of her cartoon black eyes mean no matter how hard they stare, they never actually seem to see.
She stands as though she is about to jump into a fight – her shoulders sink into her breasts and her fists are clenched so tightly I am sure her nails must be leaving cuts.
I get the sudden urge to hide under the sofa.
“Cor, you couldn't crack a smile could ya? You look more depressed than Mel!” she finally exclaims, her voice loud and brittle, but with a somewhat reassuring undertone. She breaks into a toothy grin and relief floods through me. I honestly thought she was going to do something terrifying, maybe hit me or tell me I've failed all my exams.
“Let's just get this over with,” Kaylie's drawling, nasal voice is exactly as I remember it. She struts over to me, yes, struts, her abundant hips swaying from side to side in perfect time with her blue ringlets. The movement is so forced, so clumsy, I am sure she must be doing it only for Jayce. Too bad he is already crossing the room to talk to Jory.
I wince, seemingly out of nowhere, and it takes a while for my mind to catch up with my body to tell me what has happened – Kaylie has squeezed my shoulder, digging her black manicured nails right in. She could rip out someone's throat with those claws.
Although her face remains unreadable, frozen with that same empty gaze, I can understand one thing loud and clear.
She hates me.
I'd never be able to tell that from her blank-as-paper expression. But I can hear it rattling inside. The hatred is there, bubbling through her blood, clattering against her ribs, radiating off the pores of her skin. It’s there, in her speech, her breath, her movement. Simply the way she drums her fingers against her thighs like she’s itching to scratch.
Though neither she nor her eyes move, I get the feeling she’s somehow circling me, weighing me up and mentally bone-picking me apart, just like a vulture does to dead meat before it digs in.
I never thought I would actually meet her; she was just an ever-present blemish jangling in the back of my mind every now and again when things got too quiet. And yet, without even meeting her, she had struck up a fear inside me. Her name has made my flesh cripple ever since that phone call.
She squeezes my shoulder tighter, turns around and begins pulling me along. She marches me up the stairs. I can feel my heart rate increase with every step.
“Jayce has asked me to get you ready for his friends' party. I don't want to but I have to.”
Kit's idea of getting me ready was choosing my clothes and doing my hair. It was all right when she did it. But I can't stand the thought of
Kaylie doing the same. I don't want her anywhere near me.
Mel and Tyra follow carrying two large boxes each. Kaylie appears to know exactly where she is going and leads me straight to my room, and gestures me to sit on the stool by the white vanity table. Whilst I go to sit down, Mel and Tyra put the boxes on the bed and Kaylie goes over and begins pulling out various beauty tools, some of which look more like medieval torture weapons.
She turns around brandishing curling tongs, then sits down on the bed behind me and begins pulling my hair. By the merciless way she yanks my hair back and nearly rips out strands of my hair, it's not hard to tell she wishes they weren't curling tongs at all but tasers.
*****
4:05 PM
“How's it going?” I look up. It's Jayce, who has just popped his head around the door.
It has been torture. I'm not just over-exaggerating. They've played colouring-in with the eyeliner around my eyes. They have given me a facemask of foundation. They've plucked my eyebrows like a butcher would pluck a dead chicken. And now Kaylie has begun grilling my hair again, probably in the hope that curling it too many times will make it all fall out.
“Really good thank you!” and there it is. One of Kaylie's infamous, nearly extinct smiles, reserved only for Jayce.
Jayce faces me with a gaze like that of strobe lights; it leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable. He's judging me, judging whether all this eyeliner actually does anything to my eyes, whether this gunk plastered on my face would ever fool anyone into believing I was pretty. My cheeks are burning. I hate it. I just want him to look away. There is a small pause, a shift in the air, the only thing moving being Kaylie as she tennis-ball-watches Jayce, then me, then Jayce again.
“You look lovely,” he eventually mumbles. I feel my face turning red. He said I looked lovely! Something flutters in my chest and I can't help but smile at him.
He moves to sit on the bed on the only space not consumed by boxes. He takes his phone out of his pocket and appears to be texting someone. Kaylie continues grilling my hair, although a lot less forcefully, almost stroking it. Certainly a change from the way she was
nearly tearing it out before. I guess this is all part of the façade to impress Jayce, the one-woman-show about how lovely and amazing she is, the show she only puts on for him.
Mel and Tyra left the room about half an hour ago. Tyra insisted she wanted to help do my eye make up but Kaylie snapped saying that she would do it by herself, and so they hunched off in a strop. It's a stupid thing to fall out over, but I get the feeling this happens all the time.
Jayce stands up and goes to the door again, his arm stretching out for the doorknob. That's when he appears to remember something he needed to do.
“Hey, Kaylie, can I speak to you for a moment?” she's already jumped up before he's finished his question. He disappears behind the door and she practically runs after him.
Alone again.
At least now I can breathe a little easier.
Ding.
I could have sworn I heard a sound, something beeping. My God. Is that…
I can't believe it! It is! Jayce has left his phone on the bed! This is my chance!
Enter passcode.
Damn.
Wait… It couldn't be…
Well isn't this interesting. Jayce has slipped up.
He's forgotten something very important. He's forgotten I've got to know him a lot in the past few days. I'm starting to see how his mind works. The labyrinth isn't as complicated as it seemed before, and quite a few of the twisting pathways actually end up in the same place.
Confidently, I tap in four numbers. 0303. The date today. My birthday. Bingo.
The phone unlocks with a pleasing click and up pops the message from someone named 'Sasha Rabinovich.' It isn't a text message, but a private message from some kind of social networking site.
*****
3rd March 2011
Sasha Rabinovich - Jayce Cobalt
Hey mate: D ryo said he saw you in bath yesterdayy! why didn you tell us u where comin! you comin to our party tonight? oh and ryo said you wer with some girl haha
#GASHMAN. You better bring her to! sash x
The Mute and the Liar Page 13