GLAZE (29 page)

I place my hand over the touch lock, expecting it not to respond. So when it clunks and slides open I almost fall over.
 

Light floods into the room from the corridor outside. It’s glaring white from strip bulbs overhead, making it hard to see where the walls end and the floor starts. But other than the light, it’s empty.
 

Leaning against the wall I make my way down the corridor, fingertips dragging across gaps in the wall where I assume doors open on to more rooms like mine. I try a few. The pads bleep softly and deny me access.
 

The corridor opens up into a round room at the bottom, where a nurse is sat at a reception desk. I flinch, expecting to be shouted at, but when she looks up and sees me she only smiles.
 

‘Hello, Petri,’ she says. ‘You’re looking much better.’

‘Er, thank you.’

She stands up and walks out from behind the desk. The name on her badge reads Catherine. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No, I just... Can I go home?’
 

‘Oh, I don’t think you’re ready to go home,’ Catherine says, taking me by the elbow and gently turning me around. ‘Not quite yet. A couple more days to get your strength back. You’ve been through quite a lot, haven’t you?’

‘I guess.’ I let her lead me back down the corridor.
 

‘I know what will cheer you up,’ she looks at me kindly, biting her lip. ‘I probably shouldn’t, you know. I have strict instructions that she receives no visitors. But I think it would do her good. Do you good too maybe.’

She drops my arm and places her palm against the wall. With a hiss, a door opens up revealing a woman sitting in a white chair. She’s staring at a picture of a boat being tossed about in a turquoise sea.
 

‘Zizi?’

A gentle hand presses on the base of my back pushing me into the room. I take a stumbling step forward. ‘Zizi?’ I say again, my voice cracking.
 

The woman in the chair is wearing a nightdress like mine. Her cropped grey hair is growing out of its style. She has four scars running down the side of her cheek. I reach out and brush her skin, following the tracks with my fingers.
 

‘I’ve cut her nails now, so we shouldn’t have a problem like that again.’ Catherine has followed me into the room and busies herself over at a small table. She takes a glass vial with a small dropper in it, and drips clear liquid into Zizi’s eyes.
 

‘Poor thing,’ she says. ‘She can’t even blink. But it seems so cruel to keep her eyes closed.’
 

Catherine massages the drops in, then goes and stands back by the door.
 

I look at my mother’s hand, lying gently on the padded armrest of her chair, and feel sick. Zizi wore her hair cropped short, refused to dye out the grey on principle, and always dressed in men’s suits for work, carefully tailored to fit her curves without looking overtly sexual. But she kept her nails long and painted a vivid colour. Electric blue or fuchsia pink. They were, she would say, a reminder to her male colleagues that she was after all a woman and, therefore, not to be messed with.
 

Now her nails are bare, filed back to show what looks like too much flesh. She seems more naked than I’ve ever seen her. I take her hand in mine and squeeze it tight.
 

‘I’ll leave you,’ the nurse says. Either uncomfortable at this show of emotion, or careful not to intrude.
 

‘No. Stay,’ I say. And not because I want her with me—I’m filled with hatred for this woman and her cheery kindness—but because I don’t know what I’ll do if she leaves.
 

I stroke the back of Zizi’s hand with my thumb, watching as the skin rucks up and slowly slides back into place.
 

‘Zizi,’ I say, for the third time. ‘Can you hear me?’
 

There’s no change in her dead eyes.
 

‘Do you think she can hear me?’

‘Oh, I’m sure she can,’ Catherine says. But I don’t believe her.
 

I follow Zizi’s gaze over to the picture of the boat. The stupid boat on the stupid sea. I run over to it and yank it off the wall and throw it across the room. The nurse barely flinches. She stays standing against the white wall, her hands together. In her white uniform and hat she blends into it.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, when I’ve found my breath again. ‘But she’d hate that picture.’
 

‘Well, maybe you can pick out a new one?’
 

‘I wouldn’t know what to pick.’

She doesn’t say anything. I look from her smiling expression to Zizi’s blank one. ‘She must be so bored,’ I say, placing Zizi’s hand back onto the armrest. ‘She never could sit still for longer than a minute.’
 

‘We’re streaming content to her chip. I understand she was fond of
Corner Office
?’
 

Zizi’s favourite soap. I wonder if, somewhere in there, she’s laughing and shouting at it still.
 

‘I guess. She used to watch it after a particularly crappy day.’

‘Well then. Maybe a break from the stresses of her job will do her good?’ She has to be joking? But no. She’s still smiling, dumbly. I almost envy her stillness. It reminds me of someone. Someone I’ve forgotten.
 

‘Ethan!’ I say. And with his name comes a rush of memories so powerful it’s like being on Glaze again. How could I have forgotten him? I run towards the door but the nurse moved to block my exit.
 

‘Where are you going, Petri? Don’t you want to see your mother?’

‘I have to go,’ I say, trying to move her out of the way. She looks frail but she isn’t budging.
 

‘Do we have a problem here?’ The nurse moves and I fall straight into Max’s chest. He grabs me by my shoulders. ‘Petri, what are you doing out of bed?’

‘I’m sorry, Mr White,’ Catherine says, sounding mortified. ‘I didn’t know… I mean, she was wandering the corridors and I thought it might be beneficial for her to see her mother. I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.’

‘No, of course not, Catherine. Don’t worry. I’ll take Petri back to bed.’

Nurse Catherine walks past us and lays a hand on my shoulder. I shake it off, resenting the intimacy. I watch her walk back to her desk.
 

Natalie and Jonathan stand behind Max. Or at least I think it’s still the same two assistants who were at my house the night of the attack. He might have replaced them already. Neither of them look especially happy to see me.
 

‘My friend, Ethan, where is he? What have you done with him?’

‘Petri, calm yourself, I have no idea who you’re talking about.’

‘Ethan Fisher. The boy I was with when your men tracked me down.’

‘Ethan Fisher, where have I heard that name before?’
 

I wince as his eyes fog over and Natalie and Jonathan’s eyes do the same. ‘I wouldn’t bother,’ I say. ‘He’s not on.’
 

‘Ah, yes. Now I know why the name is familiar. He’s
that
boy. The one who’s been causing so much trouble making crazy accusations against WhiteInc,’ Max says.
 

‘We have issued a cease and desist order, Max,’ Natalie says, although Max waves her away.
 

‘Are you saying he’s lying?’

 
Max’s eyes clear and then fix on me. ‘Oh poor, Petri.’

‘What? What happened to him?’
 

‘Nothing’s happened to him. He escaped. But don’t you see? He used you.’

Natalie and Jonathan both look at me with mock pity on their faces.
 

‘Used me? But he’s my friend.’
 

‘Let me ask you this, Petri. How did you two meet?’
 

‘I … I don’t understand. We met at the riot when he saved me.’
 

‘Don’t you think it was a little convenient that the very boy who’s been trying to cause the company so much trouble conveniently turns up at the riot and saves you? What are the chances?’
 

Everything starts to feel light and too bright. ‘One in a billion,’ I say.
 

‘Precisely. Don’t you think it’s more likely he sought you out? Hoping he could find out information from you? It wouldn’t be hard.’
 

‘No!’ I don’t want to believe him. But… Why did Ethan come to my school only to leave again? Why did he help me in the riot? Had he only been trying to get close to me so he could get close to Max?

My knees give way. Max scoops me up and carries me back into my room, his assistants trotting after him. He lays me on the bed and sits beside me.
 

‘You need to forget about this boy,’ he says, patting the air above my hand. ‘There are plenty of other boys, you know. I should arrange for some of your friends to come visit. Would you like that?’ It would be so good to see Kiara, to talk this all over with her and try and make some kind of sense of it. I know she’s in no state to be chatting, but if I could just see her.
 

‘Can I visit my friend Kiara? Mrs Roufail’s daughter?’
 

‘Ah, I’m afraid not. She’s receiving treatment somewhere else. Anyone else?’

Apart from Kiara, I don’t really have any more friends. Unless you count Ryan, which I’m not sure I do. But maybe he could get a message to Ethan for me.

‘Ryan McManus?’

‘Natalie, have a car pick this Ryan McManus up and bring him in.’ Max turns back to me. ‘It will be good for you. No one should be alone, Petri.’
 

With that they all leave. And I can’t help but think he might be right.

26

MAX IS TRUE TO HIS WORD
. A few hours later there’s a knock at my door.
 

Ryan looks tired: his eyes red-rimmed and sunken above dark purple bags. He’s either been crying or he’s not slept in days.
 

‘Hey, Petri,’ he says, as he steps through the door.
 

I go to ask him what’s wrong and then I remember Amy’s face. ‘She’ll forgive you,’ I say.
 

Ryan hitches his mouth into a crooked smile. ‘Can’t hide anything from you, can I?’
 

‘Can’t hide anything from anyone, Ryan. Not on Glaze.’
 

‘Is your chip working now?’
 

I reach up and scratch at the bandage. ‘They had to take it out.’
 

Ryan walks in and sits on the edge of my bed. ‘I’m sorry, Petri. I shouldn’t have taken you to Logan. I shouldn’t have abandoned you after. I’m sorry.’ He laughs. ‘I’ve been saying that a lot of late.’
 

My instinct is to forgive him. I bite it down. ‘The video went viral?’

He nods. ‘I swear, Petri, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I thought I’d taken it down, but somehow, Dave-bloody-Carlton got hold of it and now the whole school’s seen it, and god knows how many other people. Amy was...’

‘Furious?’ I ask.
 

‘Broken,’ he says. ‘She won’t come to school. Won’t leave her house. I’m really scared. I don’t know what to do.’

He looks at me like I’m supposed to have the answer. ‘You could apologise.’
 

‘What do you think I’ve been doing? I go to her house every day after school, but she won’t let me in.’
 

‘Not in person. To the world. Tell everyone what happened. Tell them it was you. Take it all on you.’

He raises an eyebrow and nods, as if he genuinely hadn’t considered this. ‘You really are smart. But... I don’t know if I have the guts.’ He runs his hand through his hair.
 

‘It’s your choice.’
 

‘If only there was a way I could get the video taken down. Have it wiped from Glaze.’ He turns to me, looking hopeful, but there’s something else in his expression that makes me recoil. Guilt. And not over the video.
 

‘Is that why you’re here?’ I say, standing up and moving away from him. ‘Did Max promise to take the video down? To wipe your slate?’
 

He hesitates long enough for me to know it’s true. ‘No. It’s just that—’

‘The upgrade, is that it? You got it.’ Even without a chip of my own I can read him. ‘Don’t bother, Ryan. Please, you’ve done enough.’

‘It’s so good, Petri. Even better than before. You’ll see.’
 

‘I won’t see. I won’t ever be a part of it again!’

He shakes his head. ‘Max said that Fisher kid had been brainwashing you. You can’t trust him, Petri. He was using you, you know that right? Him and Logan and the others.’

‘But not you?’ I say. ‘Tell me, Ryan. Was any of it real?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘The kiss? Any of it? Be honest now, if you’re even capable of it.’

‘OK, I admit it, at the beginning, when I found out who your mother was, I thought maybe we could help each other. But after that, I honestly started to care about you.’ He reaches out to touch my arm and I twist away.
 

‘Don’t. Don’t you dare. You’re a liar. It’s all you are.’

I can’t trust him with a message for Ethan. I can’t trust anyone. I feel like someone has tightened a belt across my chest. It’s hard to breathe.
 

‘You don’t look too good, shall I get a nurse?’

‘Get out.’ I wheeze. ‘Get out and never come back.’
 

He hesitates, not sure what he should do, as always. Then he turns and shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone once more.
 

Over the next few weeks I explore as much of WhiteInc HQ as I’m allowed. The building is twenty storeys high and each floor is dedicated to a different division: research; development; marketing; support. I know Max’s office is at the very top, although I’ve not been up there. No one can access his floor without an invitation. So I make do with the five restaurants—one run by a Michelin-starred chef—the swimming pool, gym, sauna, games room and, of course, the floor I’m on, which they call ‘The Spa’. My every desire is taken care of. Apart from one. I want to go home.