Fury (16 page)

I was thinking all these things before I realised I had come to Captain Moore’s House. I stared up at the red brick homestead of our founder, with its old-fashioned roses and wedding bushes studded with thousands of little white flowers. Still standing after all this time. The only old house left. I wonder what Captain Moore would think of this place today. Whether he would bother sailing all the way here for an exciting discovery-adventure if he knew it would one day be filled with pretentious townhouses and fashion boutiques.

In fact, the last time I had come here myself on a little curfew-breaking adventure of my own was…

“Looks different during the day, doesn’t it?” The voice almost made me jump out of my skin.

Neil stared at me. I stared back at him. He widened his eyes at me mockingly.

“I’ve come here to pay my respects to your friends, the dearly departed.” I put my palms out in front of me to show I meant no harm.

Neil smiled at me.

“Wow. Their first-ever visitor. Don’t excite them too much now. I don’t quite know how to crowd control a pack of itty-bitty rat zombies.”

He swung himself past me. I scrunched up my face and held my breath. When I realised he hadn’t accidentally brushed past me but was off out in front, I breathed out and ran to catch up with him.

At the bottom of the garden, under the big Linden tree, stood the tiniest tombstone you’ve ever seen.

“I got that in Dallas. I have to go back and get another for Rat B. You can get everything in America.”

“Everything?”

“I stand corrected. Almost everything.”

I turned my head and his face was right there over my shoulder. He smelt like something from a long time ago. Like butcher’s paper, clag, cherry cough-syrup. The powdery scent of a My Little Pony.

“Um. So how was the Assassination Museum?” I asked, keeping perfectly still.

“The
Sixth Floor
Museum.”

“Whatever. Do they display the gun that killed JFK?”

“No. I think it’s still with the police, but I did look out the window where Lee Harvey Oswald stood when he shot the president. It was wicked,” replied Neil. “I got myself a souvenir. You’ll like this.”

He reached down for his school bag and grabbed something out of it.

“Shit!”

“Here. Hold it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry. It doesn’t actually work.”

I cradled the revolver in my hand. It was heavier than I expected.

I had so many questions. Why does Neil have a gun?
How did he manage to get it through customs without ending up on an episode of
Border Patrol?

“I’m trying to fix it though. It’s a vintage Colt Cobra, the same type that Jack Ruby used to kill Oswald.”

I gave the gun back to Neil. I felt disappointed afterwards, my hand unnaturally light. Unnaturally empty.

“So when are you going back to America?”

“After the exams are over. New York. I’m going to Central Park to find Strawberry Fields.”

“The memorial to John Lennon! I’ve heard the easiest way to find it is to look for the Dakota Apartments first, you know where he was shot, and then look across toward the park…”

If I wasn’t mistaken, Neil was looking at me with the same expression I get when I am half-sick with nostalgia and summer longing.

“I was thinking maybe I’d go without my parents.”

For a split second I had an image in my head of me and Neil walking under canopy of sunlight, staring at a mosaic with the word
Imagine
printed in the middle. I am eating a giant pretzel. Then I snapped back into reality when I realised I was dreaming. In so many ways.

“What you need to do is locate West 72nd Street—you’re familiar with the grid system, I assume, since you’ve been to the US before?” I said hurriedly. “And where that intersects with Central Park West … will you send me a postcard, if I say please?”

“You infuriate me, Elle,” replied Neil. “But you wouldn’t be so special if you weren’t so awkward to deal with, huh?”

“The answer is no,” I say to Dr Fadden. “Traffic light is green again. Keep your eye on the road.”

That is the end of the conversation. I will talk no more. Not about Neil. Not to him. Not to anyone. We ride in silence all the way back.

The day that Lexi came back to school, the only person who cared was me. She arrived in her father’s sleek silver Lexus. I was prepared to be shocked. I had not seen her since he took her away.

Her father had decided that since nobody here could tell him what was wrong with his daughter, he would take her to a specialist in Sydney. Lexi and I spoke on the phone every night. She told me about the diet and the herbal remedies she was on. She was fine, only tired.

“I’m totally dying for a cheeseburger and fries,” she said to me, and we both laughed even though it wasn’t funny.

I had thought to myself that if she looked really pale or skinny I would be prepared for it. After all, she’s had a rough couple of weeks. I thought I should stand close to the car in case she needed to be helped out, and if she hobbled I could help support her.

What I was not prepared for was for her to look absolutely normal.

To me it felt like the world had dealt Lexi the cruellest blow. It was like she had a giant wound inside of her, still fresh and bleeding, but which only I could see. She had no plaster casts, stitches or bruises to show for it.

“Hi,” said Lexi.

“Hi,” I said back.

“Where’s Marianne?”

“She’s at a Ball Committee meeting. The Aztec theme fell through because instead of giant Mesoamerican death masks, Caroline Aherne ordered giant Easter Island heads, which kinda screwed things up a bit.” I replied weakly.

“She’s busy, I get that,” said Lexi.

We both stared at the school gates with our school motto wrapped around them like a ribbon:
Animadverto Vestri. Remuneror Vestri. Vindico Vestri.
Through it we could see a figure in the distance headed determinedly towards us. The Queen Bee—or should that be Queen Bitch
—
of the rumour mill, Kerry Croft.

“Hi, Kerry,” I said.

She ignored me and turned to Lexi instead.

“So. Is it true that Alistair tried to come onto you?”

She made it sound like Lexi and Aardant were in the back row of the cinema and Aardant sprung a sneaky arm-over-the- back-of-the-seat on her.

“What’s it to you?” I demanded.

Lexi touched me gently and turned to Kerry.

“Yes, Alistair tried to ‘come onto me’. It was unwanted, if that’s what you’re trying to find out.”

Kerry said nothing more. She just turned and walked back toward the school.

“Lizzie,” whispered Lexi.

I took her small cold fingers and entwined them into my own.

“Go ahead then, Croft—go and spread that one around, you skank!” I shouted after her.

“How come Kerry knows?” asked Lexi.

I bit my lip. I hadn’t told her about Miss Bailoutte.

“I don’t know. I promise I never told anyone else. Why would I, Lexi? You don’t think—?”

“No,” said Lexi softly. “Of course not. I trust you.”

I gave her hand a little squeeze. I hoped she couldn’t feel my guilt.

Marianne was already in the English classroom when we got there. And boy, did she look a wreck. Her hair was pulled back with what looked like a rubber band. There were several unidentifiable stains on her white blouse. The Marianne at Jane’s party—the one in the neon purple heels and the wild dress, like a flag that mesmerised the red bull in Gauntly—she seemed like a dream now.

“Hi, Lex,” Marianne said. She had barely wrapped her arms around Lexi before she sat down again to continue poring over her overstuffed folder.

“I just can’t believe that Caroline … and even daring to cry as well when I kicked her ass off the committee! The new theme is Wild, Wild Western Australia—and this time I’m going to put myself in charge of ordering the nine-metre plastic Boab tree, in case I, like, end up with a one-foot miniature Japanese bonsai…”

Professor McFarlane, Marianne’s Chem teacher, whom Mr Steele said had suffered a mild case of smoke inhalation during the library fire, died last week. While Principal Hollerings searched for a replacement, Marianne and Neil had their English lessons shifted to this class.

Marianne wanted to sit in the same spot she always sat in during her English class—i.e., my spot. On any other day, I wouldn’t have let Marianne win. But because we found out Professor McFarlane died on the same day she broke down in front of Miss Bailoutte, I let her have her way. I sat on the other side of Lexi so I didn’t have to be close to Marianne.

We heard male voices approaching the door, and I could feel Lexi tensing up next to me. Gauntly and Neil walked into the room. Lexi’s body relaxed. I saw Gauntly give Marianne a long, brooding look as he followed Neil to the back of the class. Marianne didn’t even look up from her folder.

“Wow, I see you’re giving lover-boy your full attention,” I said.

“Do I look like I have the time?” replied Marianne, my sarcasm going completely over her head.

Aardant stood in the doorway. I was the first to see him. I think his nose had healed, but now seemed to be slightly crooked. Lexi was distracted by Marianne selfishly sucking up all the desk space she could get.

I saw Aardant look directly at us. His eyes bore down on Lexi as she whined at Marianne and tried to push her stuff back onto her own desk. Something caught his attention and his eyes flickered to the back of the class. The smile from his face disappeared. I watched as he marched past us, his eyes returning to Lexi. This was when she noticed him.

I could feel her body tremble as their eyes met. Then he was out of sight.
Don’t look behind you,
I prayed in my head. Other students started filing in then, thick and fast, and I was glad we were not so alone, so exposed.

Mr Steele made his flamboyant entrance about five minutes later.

“Okay, class. No more fooling around in the back seat of the panel van. We’ve come to the pointy end of the school year
now. The outcome of this will separate the A-pluses from the A’s for
Average
and the A-minuses from the B-pluses and the B-b-b-can do
better.
Can I please have your final assignments. Right. About.
Now.”

He marched up to the back of the class to start his collection. Usually, I would have turned around to smirk at the poor suckers who had forgotten, but now that didn’t seem like such a funny thing to do. I didn’t dare turn around.

“Assignments please, my ladies.”

Mr Steele’s hand was suddenly in front of us.

I slid my assignment out of its plastic sleeve and slapped it onto his hand.

“Thank you, Miss Boans. Miss Gutenberg?”

Lexi stretched her hand out with the paper and Mr Steele whipped it off her. “Thank you, Miss Gutenberg. I am impressed you had the time during your therapeutic sojourn. Do you feel better?
Good.
Miss Jones?”

It was then that I noticed that Marianne looked worse than ever. She stared at Mr Steele and turned a ghastly shade of white.

“I—I have it at home. It’s on my computer. I just got confused because I don’t usually have English class today—”

“No excuses please, Miss Jones. I expect more than that, especially from you.
My top student.”

I flinched. The remark hit me in the face like mud.

“Maybe I have a draft version somewhere in my file,” said Marianne miserably.

Mr Steele stood patiently as Marianne took out another fat folder from her bag and started rummaging through it.

Under the desk, on my knees, I was balancing another crisp, neatly typed and stapled assignment. I had written up a completely different one as a backup for Lexi. Turned out I shouldn’t have worried about her. I should have been worried about Marianne.

I slid the assignment onto Lexi’s knee. She turned around to question me and I shifted my eyes toward Marianne, and then back at her. Lexi gave a little nod.

“Here Marianne, let me help you find it,” said Lexi and she took the folder gently off Marianne. Then she dropped it. The overfull folder hit the floor and exploded.

“Oh! Sorry!” Lexi bent over to help gather the scattered contents. Marianne stared at the mess in horror.

“Oh, here Mari, I found it.”

Lexi held my assignment up to her. Marianne snatched it from her and looked down at the cover page. Silently she held it toward Mr Steele.

“Thank you,” replied Mr Steele coolly. “And for the entertaining little melodrama too.”

He stared at the cover.

We all held our breath.

“Your name is not on this assignment,” said Mr Steele after what seemed like an eternity. He handed it back to her.

“Sorry, sir,” replied Marianne and she looked down. “I told you it was just a draft.”

She hastily scribbled her name on the top. Mr Steele collected it back and shuffled it into the rest of the pile. Marianne’s gaze temporarily brushed mine and I winked at her. It was my way of saying I forgave her for everything.

“Thank you people. Now, if I can get you all to take out your study guides. If you thought the mocks were hard, then you haven’t seen anything yet. I will caution anyone in this class who isn’t taking this 110 per cent seriously at this point to gather their meagre belongings and leave this room immediately!”

Marianne approached me after class.

“Thanks,” she said, bowing her head.

“That’s okay,” I said. “You are the top English student. You should try and keep it that way.”

I know I should have been happy to see Marianne finally acknowledge her place, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t believe that the proud Marianne that I used to know, the one who, a month ago, would have torn up that assignment rather than accept it, now appreciated my small charity. I looked into her watery eyes and I felt … mean.

“Dux presentation in less than two weeks,” I replied, trying to keep my voice strong. “You deserve to get the one for English, if not the all-rounder. So, congratulations.”

“Lexi!” I called as she headed out of the classroom.

“Do you want to walk together to your next class?”

“Our classes are in the opposite direction.”

“I know, but I thought—”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Now I gotta go. See you at lunchtime.”

I watched as she marched off alone.

“I won’t be able to join you both for lunch. I’ve got a Ball Committee meeting,” said Marianne, wiping her eye. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I thought you had a meeting this morning?”

“Well, the ball’s not going to organise itself,” she snapped with the little energy she could muster. “I am the president. And I say that this
will
be the best ball ever. That is fact, not an opinion. As it is I’m missing a meeting because of my piano lessons.”

“Why are you still doing piano practice? Can’t your parents lay off you until after the TEE exams?”

“This has got nothing to do with my parents. I am fine. Now let’s go.”

On the other side of the corridor I could see Aardant, standing and watching the other students. His gaze shifted to us. Marianne took one look at him, flipped him the finger and kept on walking.

“What was that? You know better than to do something like that!” I grabbed Marianne by the arm.

“Of course I know better. It doesn’t mean I’m going to behave better.”

Marianne turned to me with a smile.

Now,
that was more like it.
I couldn’t help but smile back. Then we both laughed. There she was, the old Marianne. Thank God for that.

“Oh hi. There you are. I’ve been trying to find you two.”

Jane Mutton at three o’clock, heading straight for us.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like we were suddenly in club Share and Care. We still didn’t like Jane and I don’t think Jane liked us that much either.

“Frenemies?” I suggested. We shook hands. It was like we owed each other something now.

“How’s it been?” I asked Jane.

“Complete bliss if I just ignore the taunts of being called Jane Nuthin’,” she replied, friendliness toward me still foreign in her mouth.

As the three of us walked up the North Wing corridor, approaching from the opposite direction came two bobbing blonde heads. The timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.

Jane and Ella. Now known as
Jella.
Or
Bonjela,
like the mouth ulcer cream. Which was appropriate ’cos just the thought of the two of them made my mouth flare up. They were inseparable now.

“Oh great.” I put a hand as a warning on Jane Mutton’s shoulder.

“What are we staring at then, Eliza?” said Ella.

What do you think I’m staring at?
I thought, but was far too irritated by her trying to patronise me.

“If I remember correctly you once told me—after you got us both into trouble by running out of History—that I could pick who I wanted to be friends with. You promised you wouldn’t even look in my direction?” Ella glanced at Jane Ayres as she said this. “So turn away then, Eliza.”

I was fuming, but I couldn’t think of anything smart to say because me getting suspended from that class and canteen duty wasn’t funny. Apparently today, Ella was going to be witty enough for the both of us.

“Why don’t we pretend that none of this ever happened and start from the beginning?” echoed Ella with more of my own words.

I pushed Jane Mutton and Marianne and we started walking.

“I hear that Lexi is back,” Jane Ayres called over her shoulder. “I’m gonna get that little slut for what she did with my boyfriend.”

“I’m not surprised she pulled that stunt. I always knew Lexi had validation issues,” said Ella and she cocked her head. “She
is
a little fat.”

Before I could react, the both of them were swept up and disappeared in the sea of students. Marianne looked at me with her mouth open.

“Bitch,” I said under my breath to no avail.

We are back at the station. Dr Fadden unlocks the cuffs. I rub my wrists. They are painful and raw where the metal has cut into my flesh.

It’s me who leads the doctor back to the interview room. I say nothing and neither does he; I know how this goes. I can fight it, but if I do then there will be more pain for me. I think of Rat B’s broken body, and wonder if Neil had time to finish the shrine before…

Dr Fadden sets up a tape recorder between us on the desk. One that actually takes a cassette tape. What the hell. Was he going to bring out a gramophone or Morse code machine too?