by Emery Hale
As Kayson and I made it to our seats near the front, the chatter in the auditorium grew while the whistles of the orchestra warming up flowed through the air. The ceilings stretched to the heavens, the wallpaper a rich red encasing the entire place, while the lights varied from small chandeliers to built-in circular ones in the ceiling. There were two floors above us for seating and from what I could see, they were completely full.
There he was again! Edward, the head of the police standing at the front of the first floor, watching like a hawk. What was he doing here? I doubted it was to watch the show.
‘So you’ve never been to see a show before?’ Kayson asked, popping into my line of sight. I darted around, but once again the hawk-like man had disappeared. Who was he, Jason Bourne?
I shook my head, turning my attention back to Kayson.
‘Never. I mean, Jess made me watch the movie Hairspray one time, but that was about it.’
He seemed surprised at this.
‘Seriously? Jessica dragged a bunch of us to see one.’
At that, I paused: Kayson told me they were acquaintances. If Jessica dragged him and a group of friends to a show, didn’t that make them more than just two people who shared a couple of classes?
‘I thought you barely knew each other?’ I asked.
Kayson’s mouth popped open, ready to blurt out an explanation, but then all of a sudden it seemed he decided not to. Just like earlier, I could practically see the cogs turning behind his eyes. What wasn’t he telling me?
‘Well, that was at the start of the year when we all met.’ His expression had morphed into something completely unreadable. ‘They had a mixer for all the scholarships.’
A mixer? Uh huh . . .
‘So where you from?’ I asked changing the subject completely, since I knew he wasn’t going to give me a straight answer.
Kayson blew out a breath. ‘Well I was born in Seoul, in South Korea, but my dad and I moved here when I was two.’
‘Is your mum still in Seoul?’ I asked, but he only nodded in return. ‘Have you ever been back?’
‘Can we talk about something else?’ he asked, running a hand through his hair.
‘Yeah, sure.’ Parents must be a touchy subject. ‘What did you get into the Academy for?’
At this he burst out laughing.
‘You’ll never believe me.’
‘What? Are you a mechanic or an athletics scholar?’
‘Mathematics,’ he said simply.
I’m going to frank, the guy sitting beside me did not make any sense. One minute he was a confident bad boy, then a mathematics scholar. Not that they couldn’t be smart, it was just really uncommon, especially in my high school.
‘What? Is it really that bad?’ Kayson asked, knocking me from my thoughts.
‘No!’ I exclaimed, throwing my hands out, but soon become very aware that we were sitting in a row full of people, amongst a crowd of other people who probably thought I was crazy.
Kayson chuckled, but didn’t say anything in return, and suddenly I felt the stares of at least ten people on the back of my head. I almost caved in on myself, but then another stare met my eyes and this one, I didn’t object to.
‘You know, I’ve never had a girl yell at me that maths isn’t lame.’ His arm now lying loosely on the back of my seat.
‘Sorry,’ I said, in a voice like a mouse. ‘I didn’t mean to yell, it’s just you don’t seem –’
‘What?’ he asked, a charming smile replacing his grin.
‘The kind of guy who would like maths.’
‘Oh sweetheart, I do a lot of things that would surprise you.’
I was about to ask what he meant when the gentleman next to him started up a conversation. It seemed like a polite and harmless exchange so I looked away, fiddling with my nails. They needed a serious re-painting, the purple polish was a month old at least.
As I left Kayson to his conversation with the stranger I couldn’t help but wonder about earlier: what business did Scotland Yard have here? They don’t turn up for the fun of it. Were they putting in new terrorism procedures? If they were I was writing to my MP! There was no need for more, we already had to take a test every month.
Then there was Kayson’s friend Luca, he said I wasn’t a part of something, maybe he meant the Academy. Then he asked for someone called Blackbird – I’d never heard of it before but it didn’t sound like a common term.
Suddenly Kayson shoved a programme in my lap. ‘The guy said you could have it if you want, it has all the actors inside.’
I looked past him to the man in question, but his back was turned. Huh, that was nice of him.
Kayson fiddled with his ear for a second but I’d already started to flick through pages. Halfway through, I stopped. There was a head shot of Jessica, she was in the ensemble – but the name underneath was the reason I stopped to check because it wasn’t hers, it was someone called Jemma Robertson.
‘That can’t be right.’
‘What?’ Kayson leaned in closer to my side, and my shoulders caved in on themselves as he moved in, the feeling in my stomach rising again.
‘Jessica’s in the show but she’s under the wrong name.’
‘Must be a typo or something,’ he said dismissively.
‘She didn’t even say she was doing this.’
‘Maybe she didn’t think you’d be interested.’
Was that what was happening? Did Jessica think because of our distance that I wasn’t interested in her life anymore? I knew friendship was a two-way street, had I not met her halfway? Maybe the other week she needed space. Jessica looked stressed, and then I went barging in – was I too overbearing?
Before I could dwell on the thought any longer the lights dimmed and the stage lit up with a single spotlight. As the show started and someone walked out I felt Kayson inch closer, his arm still resting behind me but shyly, and slowly I leaned into it.
I’d always pictured something like this happening, except at the cinema, but I didn’t care! Any doubts fell from my mind as I felt Kayson’s arm around me. He was wearing some kind of cologne, something spicy that wasn’t familiar. Something new.
Dancers flooded onto the stage as the music picked up. I glanced over at Kayson – the lights reflected on his face, but the shadows from behind carved out his cheekbones and jawline, his features sharply defined. It was only then that I caught sight of three almost scratch like scars on his temple, as if from a knife. However I pushed the thought away quickly, probably an accident when he was younger or something. As I stared at him I realised just how close we were, my face inches away from his. For a first date it was a little fast-paced, but I didn’t mind, his embrace was warm and inviting. Perhaps I was following my gut wrong, maybe my gut was telling me there was so much more about Kayson I needed to uncover.
I was so distracted by the man beside me I didn’t even see that Jessica had taken centre stage. Now I wasn’t savvy when it came to the theatre, but I didn’t know that ensemble members didn’t take the spotlight, singing on their own while everyone danced about them.
Kayson also picked this up.
‘I thought you said she was in the ensemble?’ he whispered softly in my ear.
‘That’s what it said.’
Kayson turned away, confused for a moment, before the look left his face and he relaxed again.
As soon as Jessica started to sing I knew she’d spotted me because she threw a glance my way – but then I realised, the frosty glare wasn’t meant for me, it was for Kayson. He shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with the crease in his jeans. Maybe they were more than acquaintances.
As I watched Jessica perform it felt as if we were back in my bedroom, the same spark alight in her eyes as she sang. She always had the confidence I lacked and the beauty I . . .
Suddenly the warmth disappeared from my back and Kayson leaned closer to whisper in my ear.
‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ He stood up and strolled out of the row and the
n up the aisle out of view. Must have needed the bathroom or something.
My attention was drawn right back to Jessica. She commanded the stage, her entire presence captivating the audience, and I had no doubt she would kill it. It was in her nature.
Kayson retuned about ten minutes later which left me questioning where he went in the first place, although the whole audience was silent and I didn’t want to have another random outburst.
For the rest of the performance I didn’t ask him any questions, even in the intermission or after it had finished. I stayed quiet because as the lights came up in the auditorium for the second time I was waiting for him to explain why he was wearing an earpiece covered in blood.
Perhaps being so close to someone on a first date wasn’t the brightest idea.
* * *
As we walked out of the auditorium I kept to myself – I didn’t know what to say. Kayson was wearing an earpiece! What was he a part of? Was that why Scotland Yard were here? Was Kayson involved in something illegal?
Kayson took my hand and my whole body went rigid. Now I knew he was lying about something. He cast me a confused look, but I didn’t dare return anything, especially when I didn’t know where the blood came from.
‘Everything OK?’ he asked, his voice breaking a little.
‘Yeah, fine,’ I answered.
We managed to make it to the lobby before Kayson pulled me down one of the corridors, the endless chatter that surrounded us now fading.
‘OK, what is it?’
‘Nothing, I said I was fine.’
‘Yeah,’ Kayson said with a knowing look, before letting his hand drop from mine. ‘Isn’t it a rule that when the girl in front of you goes rigid like a board, then proceeds to tell you she’s fine, that it’s safe to assume she in fact isn’t?’
What was I supposed to say to that? This was Kayson Ashford, a bad boy on the outside and a genius within. Was any of that true? Maybe I was overreacting, but you don’t just get an earpiece because the magical fairies gave you one. The blood was another thing – whose was it?
The fear I felt suddenly dissolved and curiosity rose in its place. There were so many questions I needed the answer to, but not here. Especially since the noise was beginning to die down. On the outside Kayson looked like a regular guy but now I knew, that was only the first layer to the man in front of me.
‘Did I say something?’
Abruptly a loud voice echoed down the corridor.
‘I don’t fucking care!’ I knew right away the voice belonged to Jess. ‘Get it sorted.’
She stood at the other end of the corridor, still in the same flapper dress I’d seen her in moments ago – she looked incredible, but no amount of make-up could hide the harsh glare storming her face.
Kayson let out a breath, rolling his eyes as he called out to her.
‘Oi! Winters, your friend is here to see you!’
At that Jessica turned to face us, the glare on her face fading as she looked at me in what I can only describe as relief. She full on sprinted towards us, pushing past Kayson and pulled me into a crushing hug.
‘You’re OK . . . ’ Jessica trailed off, her voice soft and weak. Now I was beyond confused, what the hell was going on? Of course I was OK. ‘Did you enjoy the show?’
‘Uh yeah, you were great,’ I mustered, trying to put the pieces together in my head.
‘What? Was I pitchy?’ she asked. ‘Oh, I bet I was.’
‘Oh, no – it’s just in the programme your name was Jemma, and –’
‘Oh yeah that, that’s a misprint, they’ll get it sorted.’
‘But your name wasn’t in it at all Jess, if it was a misprint wouldn’t it be somewhere else?’
Jessica dismissed the idea pretty easily.
‘You know how these things happen – besides, anyone who comes to see the show will know it’s me.’
‘Oh, is your mum coming?’ Silence. ‘She’s not coming?’
‘You know, work and all that,’ she said, smiling softly.
I truly didn’t understand anyone in front of me right now – Jessica was talking to me as if nothing had changed. Ever since she’d moved to that godforsaken school she’d given me the cold shoulder, what happened?
‘I need help with clean-up back here!’ an unfamiliar voice shouted from down the corridor. Both Kayson and Jessica turned, sharing a look before my friend sighed.
‘I’ll try to call you tonight,’ Jessica said, taking my hand and squeezing it softly before running back down the corridor.
Well, better clear my schedule for the call that will never happen.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ Kayson said, but he didn’t try to take my hand again.
Instead he walked ahead through the lobby and out the doors, where he stopped, waiting for me, but I couldn’t stop staring at the blood spatter on the back of Jessica’s tights as she turned the corner. I tried to convince myself that it was fake but in the end the blood was splattered too randomly and frankly looked too convincing. That meant both Jessica and Kayson knew about the blood, but neither of them said anything. Even the look they shared told me they were hiding something.
The rest of the night was spent at a bar nearby; we talked for an hour or so before I decided to go home. I had the feeling Kayson picked up on my sudden distance, and I noted that he’d ditched the earpiece. I didn’t mention what I saw, not when it could be passed off as trivial or my imagination.
Kayson walked me back to the train station, making me promise to text him when I got home, which I did. After which, he sent another text to apologise for whatever he’d done but I didn’t reply.
When I stepped back into the house it was quiet, only two lights were on.
After slipping off my shoes and hanging my coat I walked into the living room, but the sight there wasn’t a common one. My mum was staring at her laptop, a hand over her mouth, and her expression was one of sheer horror.
‘Mum?’
She whipped around, sliding the laptop screen out of view.
‘Yes?’ she said, her whole face like a deer caught in the headlights.
‘What were you watching?’ Hurrying over to the table, I made a grab for the laptop, but my mum pushed the lid down. ‘Mum?’
‘It’s nothing, work stuff.’
I was already being lied to by two people; I didn’t need another. My mum was a journalist and that came with its own horror stories, but I’d never seen her react like this. Ever. I pulled back, crossing my arms over my chest and standing as tall as I could. I wasn’t moving.
The pair of us stared each other down for five minutes, it seemed, before mum broke with a sigh, pushing away straggles of hair from her face.
‘What I’m about to show you, you cannot tell anyone.’
‘Of course.’ That was how it rolled with her job.
‘I’m serious. You can’t tell your father, your friends, no one. You understand?’
From my mum’s grave tone I didn’t know what this could possibly be. Was it a terrorist making threats? Those were usually published on the news first, not my mum’s laptop. Could it be something to do with the explosion at the bank?
I nodded slowly – if there was one thing I was good at, it was keeping secrets. Mum pulled the laptop back around so I could see.
From the look of it, the video was alright quality, a bit blurry but good enough to make out the two figures. The Head of Scotland Yard pinning Jessica against the wall by her neck, strangling her. Even though I didn’t want to look, I couldn’t pull myself away.
‘That’s –’
‘Edward MacDonald, The Head of Scotland Yard strangling a student.’ My mum cut me off. ‘Yes, it is. I always knew there was something off about him.’
‘Mum how did you even find this? That was tonight, it has to be. I saw Jessica, she was wearing that on stage.’
‘How exactly did you see Jess? Weren’t you out with Katie?’
‘Yeah, about that . . . I lied.’
‘Excuse me?’
Not bothering to answer my mother since it would result in a lecture rather than a congratulations on achieving a social life, I listened more closely to the computer’s audio, hearing the faint sound of music playing in the background.
‘Can you turn it up?’
Mum clicked a button and the volume boomed. I recognised the song, but I didn’t know the title – it had been on after the first one Jessica performed in. That’s when it must have happened. Why he was strangling Jess was beyond understanding. He surely couldn’t just be there to do that, that’s not what the police do.
‘Mum, seriously, where did this come from?’
‘I got the clip in an email, I recorded it just in case it was something. This is something,’ she said, shaking her head in disgust.
Just then a ping sounded, making the pair of us jump. My mum clicked out of the video back onto her emails, where a new one sat waiting to be opened. There was no subject and the email account was just a bunch of random letters and numbers. From my mother’s rapid clicking to open the thing, I could tell this was probably from the same person who sent the video, but this time, instead of a video clip there was a link.
A new page opened. The film was the same quality as before but this time it was dark, and extremely blurry at the beginning, like the camera was being moved around.
‘This is live,’ Mum said.
Soon the view cleared and light flooded the image. The camera was pointed down a large corridor, the walls a stony grey, the floor concrete, the light coming from above. As some of the answers I craved earlier appeared in front of me, I no longer wanted to know them.
Three people stood in a line facing the wall and all of them I knew. Jessica was first, and then her two friends from the coffee shop, but now I could see Jessica had bruising around her neck. What the hell was happening?
‘Aspin and Winters, get on your fucking knees!’ a brutal voice barked as a man came into view. It was Edward MacDonald, the same man who was at the theatre, the same man who assaulted Jess.