KILLER T

by Robert Muchamore

  Charlie finally broke silence as she wiped her eye. ‘You three had better watch your backs after this,’ she snarled. ‘Maybe I’ll mix a nice batch of acid to throw in your ugly faces.’

  At White Boulder, Charlie learned that a reputation for being vengeful made even the baddest girls think twice. She’d also picked up a couple of self-defence moves from an older cellmate, which had come in handy when fear wasn’t enough.

  As the terrible trio wondered if picking on a girl who’d done prison time for almost killing Deion Powell was a great idea, Charlie rammed Tracksuit in the solar plexus. As Tracksuit stumbled back in a choking fit, the giant tried to put Charlie in a headlock. But Charlie had momentum and charged into a gap.

  Beaky was on the skinny side. Charlie caught her in the face with an elbow and sent her iPhone spinning. Charlie wanted to break free, but as the phone neared the tiled floor in front of her she succumbed to vengeance and caught the device with a volley that would have made a soccer player proud.

  Beaky yelped as the iPhone hit the wall hard, and slid down, landing on a changing bench with a cracked screen.

  Charlie thought she’d got clear, but the kick had slowed her down and her sneaker squealed as it hit a puddle. She started doing the splits, but managed to rebalance. As she tried pushing into a run, the giant got an arm round Charlie’s waist.

  The pocket on the back of Charlie’s jeans ripped as the giant failed to hold on. Tracksuit had enough breath back in her lungs to launch a kick, but the giant started squealing like something out of a horror movie. One of the giants’ manicured fingernails had snagged Charlie’s T-shirt, and Charlie was horrified to see a tear in her shirt, filled with a bloody fingernail.

  As Charlie tried to scramble up before Tracksuit could kick her again, the giant dry heaved, nauseated by the blood dripping from her fingertip.

  Still half blinded by saliva, Charlie found her feet and scrambled towards the door. But the giant’s screams had brought attention from across the hall and a hairy-legged gym teacher blocked the entrance.

  ‘Ladies, ladies, what the heck?’ the coach yelled, as he took in Charlie’s gasping, spit covered face, the giant trailing drips of blood across floor and Beaky staring mortified at her cracked iPhone.

  Charlie was breathless, tearful and hurt in at least four places. She’d been relieved when she first saw the teacher, but Charlie wasn’t confident how things would pan out when it was her word versus the word of three best friends out of Swallow Park.

  23 VICE PRINCIPAL

  ‘I’m jinxed,’ Charlie moaned. It was five in the afternoon, and she sat on the floor at the end of her bed with puffy eyes and her phone tucked between face and shoulder. ‘Isn’t luck supposed to even up? Because, if it does, I must deserve to win the state lottery by now.’

  Harry was shocked hearing about Charlie’s day and tried to sound soothing. ‘So what happened after that?’

  ‘This nice girls’ coach came in. Luckily she knew what monsters those other three were, and she pointed out that this Meghan girl never could have got her nail ripped off the way she did unless she’d tried to grab me as I ran away. Then she got a wet towel from her office, so I could wipe the spit off.’

  ‘But you still got in trouble?’

  ‘It didn’t look great when we got to the vice principal’s office. One was sobbing over her smashed phone and there was Meghan with her finger bandaged up. The other girl was going for an Oscar. She had her inhaler out, saying I’d set off an asthma attack. All I had was a ripped shirt. It almost looked like I’d beaten the three of them up!’

  ‘Where was the teacher who took your side?’

  ‘I guess the coach was back teaching her lessons and the vice principal didn’t care who’d done what to who. We got a lecture on Clayton Street High’s zero tolerance stance on fighting and bullying. Her assistant had printed off the paperwork for us all to get two days’ suspension before we said one word.’

  ‘At least she didn’t take their side,’ Harry pointed out. ‘And you get a four-day weekend …’

  ‘I don’t want a four-day weekend,’ Charlie hissed furiously. ‘I need good grades and I don’t want everyone in my new life thinking I’m some mad bomber psycho freak.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ Harry said anxiously. ‘I was just … Well, being an insensitive dick, I guess. I’m sorry you’ve had a rotten day.’

  ‘I’ve got an emergency appointment to see my support worker tomorrow lunchtime,’ Charlie said, her voice wobbling. ‘When I left White Boulder, they told me not to assume I had a free pass to mess up once or twice before they sent me back. Any breach of the rules can get my ass busted, and I think getting suspended for fighting on your third day back at school is about as bad as it gets.’

  ‘Have you met this support worker?’ Harry asked gingerly.

  ‘I was supposed to, but there was some mix up last Friday. The guy was off sick or something …’

  ‘Maybe they’ll understand how tricky it can be settling into a new school.’

  ‘With my luck?’ Charlie sighed.

  ‘I hate people who give cheesy clichéd advice, but try to stay positive.’

  Charlie laughed. ‘Look on the bright side. Take things one step at a time. Don’t be a Debbie Downer.’

  ‘There’s always light at the end of the rainbow,’ Harry said, joining the laughter. ‘Or is it light at the end of the tunnel?’

  ‘Long darned tunnel I’m in,’ Charlie said, sighing as she rubbed her eyes. ‘But talking to you always cheers me up.’

  Harry felt a glow from the compliment. He hated having to wait until the weekend before he could see Charlie again, and the chance of her being sent back to White Boulder and not seeing her for months was appalling.

  ‘I’m happy to come and be with you,’ he said. ‘It’s too late for me to drive, but I could jump in a cab and be with you in fifty minutes.’

  ‘You’ve got your running,’ Charlie said. ‘And a cab to North Vegas and back will cost a mint …’

  ‘It’s an after-school club – I’m not training for the Olympics …’

  Charlie cut him off. ‘Harry, no,’ she said firmly. ‘Just … I’m a mess. It’s been a long day. It’s sweet of you to offer, but I feel like I need to be alone. Get my head straight.’

  ‘If you’re sure …’ Harry said, not entirely hiding his hurt. ‘What about Makers Yard?’

  ‘Oh, that …’ Charlie said, thrown off balance. ‘I was looking forward to it. But I’ve had so much going on today I’ve hardly thought about it. Maybe I’ll go next week, if I haven’t been booted back to White Boulder by then. I haven’t even worked out how to get to Swallow Park.’

  ‘It’s not far,’ Harry said. ‘Maybe seven bucks in a cab.’

  ‘I won’t be focused with all this going on.’

  ‘But you’re meeting your support worker tomorrow. All you’ll be able to say is that since your release, you’ve got trashed, hung with me, gone to the mall with Juno and been in a fight at school. It might make a difference if you have something you can big up and sound positive about.’

  The last thing Charlie felt like doing was going out and interacting with a bunch of strangers. But Harry had made a good point, and there’d be plenty of time to catch up on sulking if she didn’t do all she could to avoid getting sent back to White Boulder.

  24 HOT OR NOT

  Betsy was back to her smoky best, and the sun was setting as she cruised the boundary of Swallow Park golf course, with Brad at the wheel and Charlie using her phone for directions.

  ‘It says point-four of a mile, then left at the stop sign.’

  ‘Aye-aye,’ Brad said, then glanced across at Charlie. ‘So that English kid, is he your boyfriend?’

  ‘Just friends,’ Charlie said, shaking her head.

  ‘How’d you meet him? At school?’

  ‘Long story,’ Charlie said. ‘Harry was awesome after I got busted. Wrote me, visited me. Paid money into my commissary account at
White Boulder, so I could buy treats and toiletries.’

  ‘And he don’t get nothing out of that?’ Brad asked.

  The way Brad phrased it made Charlie feel guilty. ‘He’d just moved from England and he was lonely.’

  ‘You find him attractive?’

  ‘He’s a nice guy.’ Charlie squirmed.

  Brad laughed. ‘That’s not what I asked.’

  Charlie realised she didn’t exactly know the answer to that question. She was tempted to tell Brad to mind his own business, but he’d been sweet, offering a ride after she realised she’d spent most of her money on leggings and a school bag at the mall and didn’t have enough for a cab both ways.

  ‘I guess he’s more like an older brother,’ Charlie answered finally. ‘He’s my best friend, but I don’t really think of him like … that.’

  Betsy misfired as she turned off, then rolled to a halt at a striped barrier, with a rock fountain and Swallow Park signs either side of the road. Harry’s flash Mini had been waved through on Saturday, but two guards came out of their booth to inspect Betsy. One crouched and made a signal for Brad to lower his window, as the other went behind to inspect the smouldering exhaust.

  ‘Sir, is this a zero-emission vehicle?’

  Brad smiled, and dabbed the gas pedal so that the guy up the back got smoked. ‘Does it look like one?’

  As the guy behind started coughing, the one squatting down pointed at a zero-emissions sign next to the gate. ‘Non-residents can only enter Swallow Park in a non-polluting vehicle. You’re gonna have to turn about.’

  Brad looked pissed. ‘Are you telling me my car’s not good enough for your snooty-assed—’

  Charlie brushed Brad’s shoulder and interrupted. ‘It’s three minutes’ walk from here, so don’t worry. Thanks for the ride.’

  As Charlie ducked under the gate and started walking, Brad did a U-turn. Then he furiously revved Betsy, before blasting the horn as she shot off. Charlie smirked, seeing the entry booth and fountains obscured by a silver-grey haze.

  After a wrong turn, which led to a row of tennis courts, Charlie hurried into Maker’s Yard, conscious that she was a few minutes late. But that was the least of her problems.

  It was like in an old movie where the baddie walks into a bar. People doing personal projects at the benches stopped stapling and gluing. The pink-haired teacher who’d been there on Saturday was finishing a class with an all-girl group, and tween mouths froze like they’d sighted the devil. Steve was at his messy bench, facing a skinny ginger guy in a striped suit and the big-mouthed Texan.

  ‘Charlie, welcome,’ Steve said, voice wavering with stress. ‘Can I talk to you for a moment?’

  ‘This doesn’t feel welcoming,’ Charlie noted, as a chill went down her back.

  ‘There have been some discussions regarding your attendance,’ Steve said quietly. ‘I’ve always felt that this maker community should be open to everyone.’

  The big Texan interrupted with a grunt, and Steve scowled at him.

  ‘Unfortunately not everyone shares my view and objections have been raised to your membership.’

  ‘What have I done?’ Charlie asked indignantly.

  ‘Nothing,’ Steve said, louder so that people could hear. ‘You’ve done nothing.’

  ‘Would you say that to the little girl she left half burnt to death?’ the Texan bawled, shaking his chunky arm. ‘And you wanna let her come here to learn all the skills to make bigger and better bombs?’

  ‘I said I’d handle this,’ Steve snapped. Then looked back at Charlie, shaking his head apologetically. ‘Makers Yard has an inclusivity policy. We encourage people of all ages, races and genders to join. However, these premises are provided free of charge by the Swallow Park Community Association, which retains the right to exclude anyone if they choose to.’

  The skinny ginger guy stepped round the desk and handed Charlie a printed letter on Swallow Park Community Association letterhead.

  ‘This notice excludes you from all communal facilities and from entering Swallow Park, unless you are an invited guest of a property owner visiting their private home. Failure to respect this notice will result—’

  ‘Why?’ Charlie yelled. ‘What did I ever do to you?’

  A mom in yoga pants came storming across from the lounge area, wagging her chubby finger. ‘You got suspended from Clayton Street after less than three days. You smashed my daughter’s eight-hundred-dollar phone and ripped out her best friend’s fingernail like some savage beast!’

  ‘Ask the school for the CCTV from the lunch room,’ Charlie spat back. ‘Look and see who was going after who.’

  ‘We want that phone money,’ the mom added. ‘You’ll be hearing from our family lawyer.’

  ‘Sue me,’ Charlie said, disgusted. ‘But I don’t have a cent. And when your darling daughter’s phone gets fixed, be sure to look at the last photo she took. The one where her two pals smile while their spit runs down my face.’

  ‘If they spat in your face, you gave them reason,’ the mom snarled.

  ‘Ya don’t gotta to listen to this brat’s nonsense, Terri,’ the big Texan said cheerfully. ‘It’s time to shut her up and ship her out.’

  Charlie looked around, to sour faces and jeers. She felt sorry for Steve, who was the only one taking her side.

  ‘I’m friendly with the guys who run two other maker communities in Las Vegas,’ Steve said as he led Charlie away. ‘I’m going to call them on your behalf, because this is not the spirit in which maker communities are supposed to operate.’

  Charlie was angry, but knew she’d book her one-way ticket to White Boulder if she kicked off and the cops showed up.

  ‘I’d resign my position if I thought it would make a difference,’ Steve said.

  ‘Might vote you off at the next committee meeting anyway,’ the Texan sneered from behind. ‘You’re making a fool of yourself.’

  ‘Vote me off, you dumb redneck,’ Steve said, grinning like a loon. ‘Take my unpaid job. See what it’s like when you’re the one who locks and unlocks, sterilises bathrooms, mops floors and unblocks the dust extractors. And I’ll carp over the way you run things.’

  As Steve and the Texan shot daggers across the room, Charlie shook her head and backed away.

  ‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she said, fighting tears as she headed out the door.

  25 JUICE JET

  Charlie walked fast in the dusk. The road out of Swallow Park had no sidewalk and she had to hop into a rocky embankment whenever headlamps bore down. She couldn’t face calling Harry or Brad. Part of her wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out, but a bigger part felt vengeful.

  Go back with a gun. Shoot the big Texan first, then the lanky guy, the soccer moms and their sweaty brats. Burn Swallow Park to the ground and give everyone a real reason to send my ass back to White Boulder …

  But it was just a crazy fantasy and Charlie felt shaky and tearful as a single light closed from behind. She moved on to the verge as the electric motorbike passed, then felt angst as it slowed.

  A shiver shot through Charlie as the rider set down a boot. The moonlit figure was wasp-like, in black riding leathers and a bright yellow helmet. Charlie backed up and glanced behind, worried about having to escape over jagged rocks in the dark, as the rider flipped their visor.

  ‘Hey!’ she yelled.

  The rider made a huge groan as she stepped off and Charlie’s nerves eased as she realised the riding leathers were stretched over a pregnant belly.

  ‘I’m sorry if I startled you. Are you OK?’

  When the rider removed her helmet, Charlie recognised the cropped pink hair of the woman who’d been teaching at Maker’s Yard.

  ‘Am I still inside Swallow Park?’ Charlie asked warily. ‘I’m moving as fast as I can.’

  The woman shook her head as she stepped up. ‘The security gate is the boundary – you’re fine. But you’re staying at Obama, right?’

  ‘Sure.’

 
; ‘Long walk,’ the rider said, stopping three paces from Charlie and fighting for breath.

  Below the pink hair, she had a pierced nose and half a dozen rings in each ear. She looked around thirty, some Latin blood, advanced pregnancy forcing her to stand with feet far apart.

  ‘I’m sorry about what happened back there,’ the rider said. ‘Seems like there’s more assholes in the world every day.’

  ‘For sure,’ Charlie said, appreciating the sympathy, but miffed that the woman had kept quiet at Maker’s Yard.

  ‘I’m Mango,’ she said, reaching out to shake hands.

  Charlie raised an eyebrow. ‘Like the fruit?’

  Mango nodded. ‘My older brother’s called Tomato, but at least that shortens to Tom.’

  ‘Certain names are borderline parental cruelty,’ Charlie said, smiling slightly.

  ‘Steve’s a diamond,’ Mango said. ‘I felt bad letting him hang, but I’m seven months gone, and my blood pressure is stratospheric.’

  ‘I was looking forward to a new start,’ Charlie confided. ‘But it seems not to work like that.’

  ‘Marc was ranting about you when I arrived to teach my lesson …’ Mango explained.

  ‘The big Texan?’

  ‘Who else?’ Mango said, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know what you did to tick him off but he had all his guns set on you. I Google-stalked you. You’ve led an interesting life.’

  ‘A boring life would suit me fine.’

  ‘You’re looking at a forty-five-minute walk back to the Obama,’ Mango said. ‘I’m not even sure you can get across the two-fifteen, unless you play chicken with eight lanes of traffic. Have you ridden on the back of a motorbike before?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘It’ll be a squeeze with my big belly. But I can take it gentle. I need to get my blood sugar up, so I was planning to stop at Juice Jet up the road. I can fix you an Uber home from there.’

  ‘I’ve got twelve dollars on me,’ Charlie said. ‘I think that should cover it.’