Chapter 3
No Time At All
Tuesday 2nd November 2010
The next morning, Austin rose from his bed in a much-improved frame of mind. He felt certain that, at last, things were going his way. He remembered the surprised look Jordan had given him yesterday, when he had reached school to discover that Austin was already there. Even better, he recalled the moment when Jordan had grabbed his tie, and pushed him against the wall. He had laughed at Jordan instead of whimpering as he normally did. This had taken Jordan by surprise, and his surprise had turned to horror when the Deputy Head had walked round the corner.
Austin had strolled about for the rest of the day, a broad smile on his face, cherishing the memory of Jordan being escorted towards the Head’s office for a ‘little chat’. Austin’s fortune had changed irrevocably, and not before time.
Austin left his house at fifteen minutes past eight. He walked down Blackberry Crescent and turned into Hawthorn Avenue with a confident stride. His mood improved further when he realised there was no sign of Jordan. Maybe the Head had given him a day’s exclusion.
By the time he had reached the Oak Road junction, his mind was made up; he would attempt the short cut again, and see if the same thing happened. He checked his watch. Twenty-three minutes past eight. He slipped through the gap in the boarded-up door, carefully avoiding the splinter which had snagged him the day before, and made his way through the derelict Number 13. The same unpleasant sensations afflicted him as be passed through the kitchen doorway, but he just picked himself up and continued to school.
As he passed through the school gates, he couldn’t contain his excitement any longer, and looked at his watch. Okay, it says it’s twenty-eight minutes past eight, but there are only a few students here. He walked over to a couple of older boys who all had their mobile phones out, and were busy clicking away at them.
‘Excuse me?’ said Austin.
‘Yeah?’ said the tallest of the boys, not even bothering to look up from his game.
‘What’s the time please?’
‘ ‘Old on a minute,’ he said, and furiously pressed a button on his mobile, then let out a whoop of triumph. ‘Yes!!’ he cried and began to chant ‘Three-one, three-one…’
The other boys shook their heads, smiling despite having lost to their mate again. The boy then turned to Austin, and said, ‘What do you want?’
‘Have you got the time please?’ Austin repeated.
The boy looked at his phone and said, ‘Just gone quarter past, innit?’
Austin grinned. ‘Thanks!’ he said, and turned to the other two boys. ‘Do your phones say that as well?’ he asked.
The other two lads looked at Austin oddly.
‘I’m doing a science experiment,’ said Austin, quickly.
The boys shrugged, then looked at their phone displays, too. ‘Yeah,’ they said in unison, ‘just gone quarter.’
‘Right, thanks,’ he said, and walked off. He sat down on a bench and began to think. It took me eight minutes to get to Number 13, then another five minutes to get here. So it still took me 13 minutes, even though I went the new way. It said twenty-eight minutes past on my watch, but everyone else’s said quarter past eight. So I got here at the same time I left!
‘Good to see you here early again, Austin,’ said a familiar voice. He looked round to see where it was coming from, but couldn’t find the source.
‘Up here!’ said the voice.
Austin looked up and saw Mr Jones peering out of an upstairs window. ‘How long did it take you this morning, then?’ he said, cheerfully.
‘No time at all, Sir,’ said Austin, truthfully, ‘no time at all!’
A Day Off
Tuesday 2nd November 2010
Jordan didn’t go to school that day. His dad also suffered from bad headaches, and so between them they managed each other’s pain. He woke up late, and his dad brought him a bacon sandwich for brunch. Then he watched a few DVDs and played on his game console. Jordan looked forward to days like this. It made having one of his headaches worth the pain.
‘It’s back to school tomorrow,’ said his dad that evening. Jordan didn’t mind; he had a football match after school that he was looking forward to, but what he was really anticipating was running into Austin on the way to school. Forget the ugly stick, he thought, I’ll make him wish he’d never met me.
Austin Talks to Himself
Wednesday 3rd November 2010
At twenty past seven the following morning, Austin was getting dressed, when a thought occurred to him. I could phone myself when I pass through the time hole! How weird would that be? It gave new meaning to the expression ‘talking to yourself’. This will be so cool, he thought, and went downstairs to have his breakfast. Half way through eating his cereal, his mobile rang. Trembling slightly, he answered the call.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, me! It’s me!’
Unbelievable. It worked! And I haven’t even made the call yet!
‘Hi,’ Austin said. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Listen carefully, me. Jordan will follow you into the building, so hide in the toilet. I don’t know what happened to him, but remember; hide!’
‘Oh, okay,’ said Austin, ‘thanks!’
‘Who was that?’ asked his mother, ‘One of your friends?’
‘No, I was just phoning myself,’ said Austin.
‘There’s no need to be sarcastic,’ said his mother, ‘I was only asking.’
Into Number 13
Wednesday 3rd November 2010
When Jordan saw Austin turn into Hawthorn Avenue, he was already revved up to go. He took to his heels straight away, yelling out, ‘you’re dead, Austin!’ It wasn’t the brightest idea to alert his quarry to his presence, but Jordan enjoyed the challenge. Anyway, if Austin turned right instead of left again, Jordan was ready to follow him and find out just how he managed to reach school so quickly.
Sure enough, Austin turned right instead of left. Jordan grinned when he saw the frightened look Austin had on his face after he’d glanced back to see that Jordan was still following him. He decided to pace himself instead of going all out to catch him. He enjoyed the chase too much to let it end so soon.
When Austin turned towards one of the houses on Oak Lane, Jordan slowed down rapidly to a walking pace. He thought for a moment that Austin was calling for help. Perhaps he gets a lift from whoever lives there, he thought. But then he saw the boards nailed to the door, and the unkempt grass on the front lawn, and the hollow feel that emanated from the house, and he realised that it was abandoned. Then he watched as Austin fitted neatly through a gap in the boards and disappeared inside the house.Jordan started to run once more, and was soon at the door. Austin had surprised him yet again. He examined the gap in the boards and determined that although it would be a tight fit, he could just manage to squeeze through. He was a good deal bigger than Austin, who was small for his age. After a minute or two of struggling and bending and squeezing, Jordan entered the hallway of Number 13, and screwed his nose up at the squalid scent of cat urine and old beer.
There was no sign of Austin anywhere. Each step he took echoed through the house. There were old newspapers lying around, and he could see droppings from some kind of rodent, probably a rat. As he made his way down the hallway, he felt slightly queasy, and tried to ignore the sense of foreboding his surroundings gave him.
He recalled another film he had watched through the banisters, late at night. It involved an empty house, a girl, and a man in a mask. Well, this house fits the bill perfectly, he thought, and I might not have a mask, but Austin’s definitely the girl. He remembered the sequence when the masked man was searching for the girl, who had hidden somewhere in the house. He had called out her name, taunting her. It had sounded really creepy, and Jordan had slept fitfully that night. Now it occurred to him that it would be perfect for this occasion.
‘Austin!’ he called out. Aaaauuusstiiiiin!’
He w
alked further down the corridor and saw the kitchen in front of him. It had obviously been gutted when the previous tenants moved out, because there was no kitchen furniture left. There was no fridge, no washing machine, no oven, no cupboards. Even the sink was missing, leaving a tap hanging in mid-air, dripping onto a bare patch of concrete. Through the grubby window he could see the back garden and the field beyond it, and he figured that Austin had probably already gone that way. If that were true, he would easily catch him up now.
Jordan went through the kitchen doorway intending to do just that, but then several things happened at once: his vision blurred, his stomach tied up in knots, and his head burned like someone was holding a match to it. His muscles became very tight and then relaxed immediately, sending him reeling onto the kitchen floor.
Austin Talks to Himself Again
Wednesday 3rd November 2010
Austin was hiding in the toilet. It was pitch black and smelt of stale urine, but it was preferable to a smack in the face from Jordan’s fist. He held his breath, as he was sure that Jordan would be able to hear him. Austin could hear him calling out his name.
‘Austin!’ he jeered. ‘Aaaaaustiiiiiin!’
And then the calling abruptly stopped. Austin craned his head forward, trying desperately to hear any movement, any sound which would betray Jordan’s presence, but there was nothing. Then he could hold his breath no longer. He let go with a loud whooshing sound, and breathed in again deeply. He immediately wished he hadn’t, as the stench of the toilet was overwhelming, but he waited a few minutes longer, just in case, and then plucked up the nerve to open the toilet door and step outside.
There was no sign of Jordan, so he stepped through the kitchen doorway, prepared for the unpleasant feeling which accompanied it, and ran out of the back door and down the garden path to the gap in the fence. When he was sure that Jordan wasn’t waiting for him on the other side, he slipped through the gap and began to make his way across the wasteland towards the school. Then he remembered what he’d promised himself he would do, and quickly phoned his own number.
‘Hi, me! It’s me!’ he said.
‘Hi,’ he heard the reply, ‘How’s it going?’
Austin quickly told himself the message about hiding in the toilet and then put the phone away. He kept an eye out for Jordan, but when eight thirty arrived, and he had still not appeared, Austin began to worry. Has something happened to him? Surely he should be here by now?
Plain Wrong
Friday 3rd November 2023
Jordan was lying on the kitchen floor of the abandoned Number 13, his face millimetres away from droppings, and his uniform even more bedraggled than it already was. He slowly rose to his feet, blinking. He leaned against a kitchen cupboard to steady himself. He still felt weird, but there was something beyond that which felt plain wrong.
As his vision cleared he saw a kitchen sink with brass taps, marble worktops, and a big fridge freezer in the corner. There was also an oven, cupboards, and a washing machine. He stared at them incredulously. They hadn’t been there before he’d entered. He distinctly remembered a floating tap; a floating, leaking tap. And he had fallen over at the doorway, but now he was four feet into the kitchen, and the doorway was to his left, and four feet further back!
Everything felt wrong; plain wrong. Nothing was as it was supposed to be. Jordan sat down beside the cupboard and held his hands round his knees, hugging them to his chest. He rocked to and fro, and squeezed his eyes shut, as if to stem the tears that had started to stream down his cheeks.
Dad, he thought, I’ll phone dad. He’ll know what to do. He reached into his blazer pocket and brought out his phone. It was his dad’s old phone; it wasn’t anything special, and Jordan screwed his nose up at his mates’ phones, but he secretly wished he had one like them. This one was scratched and a little worse for wear, especially after a month in Jordan’s pocket, but right now it provided him with a lifeline to his dad, and that was worth its weight in smartphones. Jordan dialled his home number and put the phone to his ear.
Nothing happened. He looked at the phone, frowning. The display said searching and then no service. He looked at the signal bars. There were none. This ain’t right, he thought. There’s always service round ‘ere. Stupid phone!
Whenever Jordan felt bad, he always wanted his dad, but this time his dad wasn’t enough to calm him. He screwed up his eyes and tried to visualise the one person who could make this all go away.
‘Mum!’ he whispered, knowing that nobody would answer. ‘I need you!’
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