The doctor cleared her throat. ‘Unfortunately things aren’t that simple.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Edward is a demanding resident, with strict routines. Your sister, and the nursing staff, have told me that Ed was attached to you. When you were first imprisoned, he was extremely distressed. Crying night after night. Asking where you were.
‘But he’s adjusted to your absence now. Your sister feels strongly that your reintroduction into Edward’s life could cause a major setback. Someone with your volatile history is unlikely to be able to provide the emotional stability that a vulnerable young man like Edward needs.’
Charlie felt like she’d been punched in the head. ‘He’s my brother. Surely I have a right to see him?’
‘You absolutely do not,’ Dr Raphael said firmly.
‘I looked after Ed,’ Charlie protested. ‘Washed his clothes, hugged him to sleep, made his food …’
‘I suggest you speak to your sister. Perhaps Fawn will reconsider when you’ve demonstrated that your anger issues are behind you and your lifestyle has stabilised.’
Charlie didn’t know how to reply. Saturday had felt like a fresh start, but now she’d barely slept and Fawn was messing with her again.
‘Your sister’s attorney will be sending a letter to you at Obama Independent Living. It will explain that there could be serious legal repercussions – including the possibility of arrest – if you make any attempt to contact your brother.’
Charlie’s brain turned somersaults. She rested the phone against her thigh and stared at the sky with a huge lump in her throat.
Why does Fawn hate me so much? What did I ever do to her?
Living the high life at the Janssen house and dipping into Ed’s money every chance she gets.
That girl’s evil. That’s all there is to it …
• • •
‘How’d everything go yesterday?’ Kirsten asked.
She’d been reading a book on the balcony and stepped inside as Harry spooned foamed milk on to two mugs of coffee.
‘Good,’ Harry said, shrugging.
‘You seem grumpy.’
‘We had a good day,’ Harry said, resenting his aunt’s intrusion.
‘You can talk to me,’ Kirsten said. ‘I was a teenage girl once. I know how their brains work.’
‘Matt’s waiting upstairs,’ Harry said dismissively as he picked up the coffees.
‘Use a tray or you’ll spill.’
Harry grabbed a tray and tried not to see Brad’s smug face as he walked upstairs.
Why would Charlie want my skinny legs and spotty face when a guy like that is sniffing around?
‘Just like Starbucks!’ Matt said brightly as Harry stepped into his bedroom.
Harry’s room was at the back of the hillside house, huge windows facing a rocky slope planted with cacti. Matt wore black, as always, and sprawled over Harry’s leather couch, with his laptop resting on his belly so that it wobbled with each breath.
‘Have you seen this insane dog video?’ Matt asked.
Harry pointed at his own laptop on his desk. ‘I don’t mind you hanging out, but I seriously have to crack on with this history assignment.’
‘Your fancy school gives way too much homework,’ Matt said as Harry gave him his coffee. Matt turned his laptop towards Harry and tapped play. ‘It’s eighty seconds – you have to watch this.’
Harry tutted, but was immediately drawn into the CCTV footage. It was an alleyway. Two cops in full protective gear used a door-breacher to smash open a fire exit. Two more cops rushed inside, but within seconds they burst back out, chased by huge brown animals.
‘Are those dogs?’ Harry gasped, watching a second animal bound out. It was three feet high, almost as wide, and it hit the cop so hard he flipped like a bowling pin. ‘Jesus, how strong is that thing!’
Two animals pounced on a female cop and started biting. There was a gunshot as another animal dragged a cop, leaving a streak of blood. The chaos lasted another fifty seconds, ending in a bloodbath, with more officers moving in and shooting the animals.
‘They’re calling them Nightmare Dogs,’ Matt explained. ‘The cops thought they were raiding a lab doing human gene editing. But the owner had a sideline producing nutty dogs for drug dealers. They’re saying these beasts have got traces of DNA from tigers and bulls and all sorts. Twice the weight and four times stronger than an unmodified Dobermann.’
Harry gawped. ‘I wish that had happened in Vegas. I could make a mint out of a video like that.’
‘Dude,’ Matt said, bursting out laughing. ‘One cop is dead, the woman is critical. And you’re worried about Vegas Local!’
‘Just saying …’ Harry said, shrugging defensively. ‘A video like that will get a hundred million hits.’
‘World’s starting to scare me,’ Matt said, shaking his head, then getting a milk moustache from his first mouthful of coffee. ‘Why am I working my guts out at school and spending evenings flipping burgers if we’re all gonna get wiped by mutant viruses or eaten alive by nightmare dogs?’
Harry saw Matt’s point. ‘History sucks,’ he said, snapping the lid of his laptop shut. ‘I’m sick of homework and I already make more money than most of my teachers. Do you wanna go downstairs to the cinema and play a video game or something?’
‘I’m up for that,’ Matt agreed. ‘Just let me send this video to some of the guys first.’
21 BETSY & MEL
‘Betsy is my one true love,’ Brad told Charlie as he fondly slapped the roof of a petrol-powered Subaru. ‘She’s eighteen, same age as me, and almost as beautiful.’
‘Obviously,’ Charlie said, managing a smirk, but churning thoughts of her first day at school in over two years.
Betsy was born red, but the old Subaru now had a green door, a dented blue hood and several patches of dark grey Rust-Oleum. The passenger mirror was cracked, and the rear fender held in place with a web of plumber’s tape.
‘There’s a knack,’ Brad said when Charlie tried opening the front passenger door.
Brad hopped round from the driver’s side. He pushed his knee against the door and strained until the latch popped.
‘Voilà!’
The inside smelled of mould and beer. As Brad settled into a preposterous orange-and-black racing seat, Charlie lobbed a girl’s leather jacket and a half-drunk bottle of vodka into the back, before bedding down on sticky green velour. She almost wished she’d taken the school bus, though Juno said they were the first stop on the route and it took half an hour longer than a car.
‘Be nice to me, Betsy,’ Brad pleaded, turning the ignition and bouncing like he was geeing a horse. He gave a whoop, followed by, ‘Good girl,’ as the engine clattered to life.
Charlie had warmed to Betsy’s charm as they rolled out of the OIL parking lot, with dark grey smoke billowing behind.
‘I think Betsy might struggle to pass her next emissions test,’ Charlie noted.
‘It’s just oil,’ Brad said. ‘Once she warms up, she’s golden …’
Every warning light on the dash lit up and the speedometer needle didn’t move as Brad hurtled past another car.
‘First day of high school,’ Brad said dramatically. ‘Nervous?’
‘I guess,’ Charlie said, staring at the near-empty backpack between her legs and realising that it still had the $7.99 tag from when she’d bought it at the mall the day before.
As Charlie ripped the tag, Betsy rolled into a side street and straight on to the driveway of a small-but-neat house. Brad blasted the horn, though his passenger was already halfway out the house. She was a Filipino-American, dressed in gold Adidas sneakers, rainbow-striped leggings and an oversized US Army jacket.’
‘This is my girl, Mel,’ Brad introduced.
Mel crouched by the passenger door, scowling at Charlie as she spoke with a thick New York accent. ‘Who’s this bitch?’
Charlie felt uncomfortable as Brad pushed the button to drop Charlie’
s window.
‘Charlie, Mel. Mel, meet Charlie,’ Brad said warmly. ‘It’s her first day of high school, so be nice.’
But Mel kept scowling. ‘She’s in my seat.’
‘Seriously?’ Brad said, shaking his head. ‘It’s a five-minute ride.’
‘I get carsick in the back,’ Mel said, but in such a way that it was obviously a lie.
‘I don’t care if I ride in the back,’ Charlie said, popping the door open.
As Charlie settled into the back, pushing beer cans, a deflated football and greasy KFC packaging out of the way, Mel leaned across the front passenger seat and gave Brad a short, noisy kiss, followed by a hands-off-he’s-mine glance at Charlie.
Charlie felt a touch of jealousy, but also relief. She had a whole new life to sort and Brad the friend was a simpler proposition than Brad the potential boyfriend.
‘So who you fighting today, Tiger?’ Mel asked as they set off. And now she’d marked her territory, she looked back at Charlie and smiled. ‘This goof has been in so many fights they’re sending him to anger management.’
‘They made me do that at White Boulder,’ Charlie said.
‘Did it help?’ Brad asked, sounding like he wanted it to.
‘I guess,’ Charlie said. ‘They give you techniques to put the current situation in perspective. So, if you’re about to kick off, they tell you to stop for three seconds and imagine yourself in the future. Then ask yourself if the consequences of what you’re about to do are worth it.’
‘Hope the other dude doesn’t knock your ass out while you stand there gawping,’ Mel said sourly. ‘When I lose my shit, ain’t nothing gonna stop me.’
‘I don’t like backing down,’ Brad admitted. ‘But at least I don’t blow my enemies up.’
Charlie knew she was being teased, but Mel and Brad were facing the wrong way to catch her wounded expression. When Mel did look round, she’d cracked a big smile.
‘You’re that girl?’ Mel asked admiringly. ‘Bombed the quarterback, over at Rock Spring. That was some dark behaviour! How’d they let you out so fast?’
‘She’s a white girl with sweet blue eyes who blew up a big ugly black dude,’ Brad said. ‘Now, if that was the other way round …’
Charlie resented the implication that she’d got off light, when all she’d actually done wrong was not disposing of explosives she’d made when she was eleven. But that was a big can of worms to open, so she stared out of the window until Betsy came to a smoky halt in the parking lot of Clayton Street High.
They were parked between a Mercedes and a Lexus convertible, and Charlie noted plenty more expensive metal and kids dressed in designer everything, as Mel made another big show, hugging Brad.
‘I guess I’ll go find the office,’ Charlie said, backing away. ‘I have to register.’
‘I’ll roll with you,’ Brad said. ‘Gotta do my post-suspension interview with the vice principal. The office you need is right next door.’
As they entered the school, three bulky hoods came over to Brad. A fat one in a Yankees baseball shirt bumped fists.
‘Welcome back, bitch.’
‘You hear about Mayhew?’ another added. ‘Wrecked his car Saturday night.’
Charlie stood by awkwardly as Brad smiled and said, ‘Mayhew can’t drive when he’s sober.’
‘His grandma cracked him up the side of the head. His eye is puffed up out to here, bro!’
The four boys erupted in laughter.
‘So, who’s this blue-eyed honey?’ the Yankees-shirt guy said as he gave Charlie a creepy grin. ‘Bit young, even for you, Brad.’
Charlie felt her face turn red. She wanted to storm off, but the hallway was packed with bodies and she hadn’t read any signs because she’d been relying on Brad.
‘Charlie’s my neighbour at OIL,’ Brad said strongly. ‘And acting like dicks isn’t compulsory, you know?’
Brad turned to Charlie, but kept his voice low, as if he didn’t want the guys to hear. ‘Gotta catch up with my boys, OK? Main office is straight down, third on the right.’
Charlie rolled her eyes to show she wasn’t impressed, but cheered up as she made her own way, surrounded by school life. Stoners, losers. Musical instruments in big black cases. Backpacks and ring binders, locker doors slamming. False laughs and tangled voices.
For the first time in two and a half years, Charlie wasn’t inmate B3790, or the mad bomber, or the suspect in handcuffs. She was a nobody in a school hallway, and that made her feel truly free.
22 TERRIBLE TRIO
Harry called after school on Monday and Charlie told him her first day had been fine. The locker they gave her was busted and they’d started her in a low-ability science set. But she’d spoken to her teacher about the college-level courses she’d done at White Boulder and he said he’d try to get her moved up.
The afternoon was theatre arts. Charlie was embarrassed when they split into pairs and she wound up standing alone, but the teacher pushed her into another group to make a trio, and had a laugh with two loud Latina girls, who messed around so much they had nothing to show at the end.
‘Glad you survived,’ Harry said cheerfully, though he hadn’t liked hearing that Brad had picked her up and dropped her home.
Tuesday ticked by, but Wednesday turned out to be cursed. Betsy had a leaky fuel line and the school bus had already left by the time Brad found out. Charlie wound up taking a city bus and arriving twenty minutes late. She sat through three classes where nobody spoke a word to her. At lunch she found a table on her own and picked at her pizza slice and baked potato, until three ninth-grade girls came over.
Clayton Street had a broad mix of kids, from OIL dropouts and offspring whose parents came to North Vegas for the cheap housing, to rich brats who lived behind the security-patrolled walls of Swallow Park.
These three had the designer labels and fussy hairdos that come to girls with moneyed parents, but there was also an awkwardness about them. One was a giant with a huge onion-shaped ass, there was a ghostly redhead with beaky nose and a birthmark stretching from cheek to neck. The third wore an Armani tracksuit over a boyish frame and had one eye that never quite opened.
‘Charlie Croker, isn’t it?’ the giant asked.
‘Sure,’ Charlie said, set on edge by an exchange of knowing glances.
‘Blown anything good up lately?’ the beaky one asked, earning noisy laughs from her two friends.
Charlie didn’t rise.
‘So, what’s it like in White Boulder?’ the girl in the tracksuit asked, sounding friendlier.
‘Fine,’ Charlie said, resenting the question as she unconsciously hid her face behind her pizza slice.
‘Did you turn lesbian living with all those girls?’ Tracksuit asked. ‘Or do you still crush on big black quarterbacks?’
Beaky made a honking laugh, like she had a peg on her nose. Charlie decided to stay quiet, hoping they’d get bored if she offered nothing to feed on.
‘It’s nasty what you did,’ the giant said. ‘All the pictures with the skin burnt off that poor girl’s face.’
‘Sixteen skin-graft operations,’ Beaky added.
So much for blissful anonymity, Charlie thought, standing up and grabbing her tray.
‘Aww, that’s so rude!’ Tracksuit said, smirking. ‘Walking off when we came here for a chat.’
‘I didn’t say you could leave,’ the giant hissed, grabbing Charlie’s wrist.
Charlie broke free and backed away, tipping her leftovers in a bin and slotting her tray into a metal rack. But as she headed for the closest door, the terrible trio were a few steps behind.
‘Did you have sex with Deion Powell?’ Tracksuit asked as Charlie started a brisk walk. ‘You were only thirteen, you dirty girl!’
If Charlie had known the school better, she’d have walked towards the library, or a place where there was likely to be staff. But she’d never been through this door before and found herself walking down a long, deserted hallway. As she n
eared the end, the air thickened with humidity and body spray.
The male locker room was on the left, transgender right and female straight ahead. Charlie hoped to find plenty of bodies in the girls’ room, or better still a member of staff to scare the terrible trio off. But this wasn’t her day.
‘A nice place for a pow-wow,’ the giant carped, pounding locker doors as Charlie passed benches and lockers. She hoped the double doors leading to the gym would come open. But they rattled in their frame, locked.
When Charlie turned back, the three girls blocked her in. Although they were in the year below Charlie, the giant was taller, and the one in the tracksuit twice as wide.
‘Our gardener’s son was at the White Boulder Boys’ Camp,’ the beaky one said. ‘He got in a fight and they sent him back for the rest of his sentence.’
‘Is that right, Charlie?’ Tracksuit asked, bunching a fist. ‘We’ll all say you started on us. Get you sent back to White Boulder where your trashy ass belongs.’
‘Don’t you speak, Charlie Croker?’ Beaky asked.
You’ve got the thing with the fire extinguisher, the locker bomb and three fights at White Boulder on your record. If you get caught fighting, you’re screwed. Stay passive. Hopefully they won’t get too far. You faced down worse at White Boulder …
Tracksuit threw a punch, but pulled it a half-inch from Charlie’s face.
‘Flincher,’ she teased, then she fired a big glob of spit into her eye.
‘Hey,’ Charlie said, rearing up.
‘Don’t you like that?’ Tracksuit mocked, spitting again. ‘Why don’t you do something?’
Charlie turned, so the next spit hit her earlobe. The giant had been gathering saliva in her mouth and shot a torrent into Charlie’s face. Beaky pulled her phone to take a picture as foamy spit rolled into Charlie’s eyes.
‘Why don’t you swing at me, Croker?’ the giant teased. ‘I can see you want to.’
Charlie tried pushing between Tracksuit and the giant as Beaky snapped with an iPhone.
‘Make her kneel and kiss your Nikes,’ Beaky suggested. ‘That’ll be a good Instagram!’
KILLER T Page 11