Lifespan of Starlight (21 page)

Kessa’s watching me as she chews, waiting patiently. She’s so open, so quick to trust,
that before I realise what’s happening my eyes brim and tears threaten to spill.

It happens so fast that all I can think to do is drop my gaze, saying the words in
my mind that I can never say out loud:
I can’t tell you what happened, because I
have too much to lose.

‘Scout?’ Kess leans close, her fork already on the plate and concern in her tone.

But already I’m pushing it back. ‘I’m sorry, it’s nothing. I just fell.’

‘Don’t be sorry,’ she says softly, and for a moment I imagine that maybe she’s guessed.
Somehow. But then she says, ‘It must be way painful, you look wrecked.’

I lift my head, brush my thoughts away. ‘It’s okay. I’m okay.’ She thinks it’s because
of the sprain. ‘Should we find a med room? They’ll have a nerve block or something.’

‘No, no.’ Back on track. Finding a smile is easier now.

‘Really? You sure?’

‘Yeah. I’m okay.’

Maybe I can never tell her who I once was, but that doesn’t have to stop me from
sharing the person I am now. A citizen, just like her.

Mum’s only just left the next morning when the doorbell buzzes. I’m on the compad
in an instant, my hands on autopilot as they swipe straight for the grid. The police?

A second buzz has already sounded when I find two dots, both already tagged. Mason
and Boc.

Yesterday’s shirt is slung over a chair. I slip it on, still in my pyjama bottoms,
and pause at the disengage button. In my mind I repeat a reassurance: if they were
going to turn me in, they would have done it ages ago.

Okay. Holding my head high, I hit the door open.

As soon as I see them standing there I have to step back. Wish there was more of
a buffer between us.

‘Hey.’ It’s Boc who comes forward, hands on hips. ‘Get dressed. We want to show you
something.’

‘Show me what?’

‘You’ll see.’

I don’t move, questioning Mason with my eyes.
What’s going on?
He jerks his chin
forwards. ‘It’s okay, Scout.’

Okay. ‘Give me a minute.’

They disappear and I’m left scrambling for clothes, pushing away tiny sparks of hope
before any take hold. This was how
I hit trouble in the first place. I have to be
smart about this, stay sharp.

I think about messaging Mum and decide against it; don’t want her worrying any more
than she has to. Instead I bring up the grid on the comscreen, complete with firewall
and fake browsing bot. Then I set it to track me on the grid. If Mum comes home tonight
and I’m not back, she’ll find an instant view of where I am and who’s with me.

It’s a message to her, but only if it’s needed. Here’s hoping it’s not.

Jeans, boots and shirt buttoned almost to the top. Ready to run if I need to.

I make my way out the main entrance doors and find them waiting near the front gate.
Mason’s standing a distance from Boc, and it makes me wonder what’s been going on
between them. They had the chance to turn me in and decided against it. That counts
for something. Doesn’t it?

I make a point of keeping my expression even. ‘Okay. Where to?’

‘Come on.’ Already Boc’s moving, arms swinging as he leads us along the street.

Mason falls into step beside me, his hands sunk deep in his pockets as he glares
at the ground just ahead of our steps. They both move fast; I have to concentrate
on keeping up.

‘So where are we going?’ I ask Mason.

‘You’ll see.’ No pause, not even the slightest turn of his head.

I’m quiet after that. He’s here, with me, but also not.

Judging from the path we take I guess we’re headed for the train station. We take
the bridge to Platform 2, trains out of the city. A train arrives only a few minutes
later. There are more seats available than on the trains headed into the city. I
haven’t travelled in this direction ever before.

Mason and Boc stay near the doorway, leaning against the rails, silent. We can’t
really talk, I guess. Not about time skipping. Not about chips. After hovering nearby
for a while, I give up and find a seat.

At one point a guy sitting next to me climbs off. The train rocks into acceleration
then smooths out as it reaches top speed. Mason leaves his handrail and makes his
way across the aisle to slip in next to me.

Another spark of hope rises and I have to push it back down. Hold my hands in my
lap, contained and neat.

‘What happened?’ He raises his eyebrows meaningfully towards my wrist, still in its
bandage.

‘Just a sprain.’ I lift my arm and inspect the fastening. Still secure. I can’t help
pushing at the bandage on top of the wound, the pain a reminder of who I am now.

‘Really?’ he scoffs.

‘What else could it be?’ I scrunch my nose to mean
think I’m going to talk about
this in here?

He gets it finally, ‘Yeah. Sorry,’ and finds the space in front of him again.

We stay that way for the rest of the trip, saying nothing.

We reach Seaholme Station and I make a mental note. Have
to keep a map in my mind
of where we’re going. The pace is slower this time, out of the station and along
the main strip until we reach the high steel fence of a school. Kids are crowded
into a bare earth quadrangle, using the little remaining space for fitness drills.
This class looks like it streams into basic emergency services but part of the skill
seems to be dodging all the other kids in there too.

A teacher keeps calling out, ‘Chins up! Chests out! Not long until water break.’

It’s only now that I think to ask: ‘How come you two aren’t at school?’ They aren’t
even in uniform.

‘Study week,’ Mason says simply.

I bite at some dry skin on my lip; still no idea what we’re doing here. Usually kids
in the mainstream schools get steered into the manual jobs like food prep and cleaning,
but I can’t see what this has to do with me.

Boc is focused on his compad, checking a couple of kids in the quadrangle before
frowning at the screen again. We’re making our way along the length of the fence
when Boc stops and his eyes narrow. ‘Back this way.’

He strides past us, picking up the pace, but this time I decide to stick with him.
Boc’s the reason Mason found me out, but I can’t let that get to me. It’s safest
if he doesn’t think of me as the enemy. I have too much to lose.

‘So, um … congratulations,’ I say. ‘You’ve learnt to time skip? That’s pretty cool.
And you stayed away for over an hour. I’m impressed.’

He’s walking a step or two ahead of me, and pauses to glance back. His chest seems
to inflate in recognition.

‘So how did you manage your first jump?’

‘Dunno.’ Hands still on hips, no warmth in his expression, but at least his pace
has slowed a little. ‘You taught yourself, didn’t you? I mean,’ he shrugs, and his
top lip curls: ‘if
you
can do it …’

It takes a few seconds for me to realise what he means but when I do, I have to stop
walking.
If an illegal can do it, then anyone can.

What am I doing here? I’m about to turn for home when Boc looks down at his compad
again, then points into the schoolyard. ‘There.’

My last spark of pride is begging me to walk away, but curiosity works its way in.
I’ve come this far. Mouth set straight, I turn slowly and track along the line of
his outstretched arm.

It’s a girl around my age, her arms heavy with a box that’s about as big as she is.
Dirty potatoes are piled so high in it that the lid won’t close.

She’s walking along the edge of the school grounds. We’re on the footpath outside,
following a short distance behind.

I turn to Boc and raise my eyebrows. ‘And?’ I’ve heard that school kids do food prep
for restaurants in exchange for references. Sort of slave labour but with the chance
of a job once you graduate.

Boc’s waiting with the grid already on display. ‘Here.’

I stop walking, and summon the final piece of patience I have left. I’m thinking
that maybe she’ll have no dot; that they’ve
found another illegal and expect me to
watch as she’s caught. Or something like that. So I’m surprised to see a dot moving
along the fence line in real time, the grid clearly matching reality.

‘See?’ Boc asks, and points to show that the dot has been tagged with a name.

‘Jaclyn Hurstbridge,’ I read obediently. We start following again, moving slowly
as Boc swipes at his compad again, only glancing up now and then from his screen
to check where he’s stepping.

Soon Jaclyn drops out of view as she turns a corner. We’re slower as we turn down
the side street but I pick her out a short distance ahead. She must be heading to
the food prep area.

I glance over at Mason. ‘So who’s Jaclyn Hurstbridge?’

‘Here.’ Boc holds out his compad again to show a list of names, none that I recognise.
‘This is the list of applicants for next year’s intake at Karoly High. Two hundred
people were offered places, including you.’

As I keep watching he scrolls past names, slowing at mine – 93, which makes my eyebrows
go up – before he continues down. It’s a while before we reach Jaclyn Hurstbridge.
Her name is listed beside the rank 201.

As soon as I see it I glance up. She’s still within view but moving slower now, as
if the weight of the potatoes is wearing her down.

‘We’re not going to turn you in, okay?’ Mason says.

‘That girl was ranked 201,’ continues Boc. ‘Because you got a place, she didn’t.’

It’s almost too much. For a moment I can’t speak.

I’m not sure which is worse: the way Boc brought me out here to show me this, or
the way Mason went along with it. My arms lift in helpless frustration. ‘What do
you want me to say?’

‘Just thought you should see for yourself.’ Boc crosses his arms, an air of satisfaction
about him. Maybe he couldn’t risk going to the police, but he’ll never forget who
I am.

It doesn’t matter that I sat the test fair and square, doesn’t even matter that I
scored higher than Jaclyn. She’s a citizen, and I am not. In their minds I’m accessing
resources that were allocated to someone else.

Unfairness balls and burns inside me, but my body is still. I won’t give them the
satisfaction. I’m holding it back, for now.

Before I can stop myself, my gaze lifts once more to Jaclyn. She’s still within view,
just.

My heart slows as she moves further away, growing ever smaller. She doesn’t realise
what has happened. What I’ve done.

The life stretching before her is so different from mine. Again the injustice flares,
but it’s different this time, cold, somehow, and still. This is the first time I’ve
been on the other side. Her choices have all shrunk; her job prospects will be limited
because of this school. I’ve always wondered how it feels to be on the inside, what
it’s like to be one of the chosen ones.

My eyes drop. Now I know.

‘Come on,’ Mason turns to go. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

They know they’ve hit me hard. I can barely move with the weight of this.

Boc falls beside Mason and they begin along the path with their backs to me. I can
tell that I’m expected to follow.

But I don’t.

And I’m not going to either.

They’ve only gone a few steps when Mason turns my way again, waiting. I’ve been practising
for a different kind of escape but this will do just fine. My eyes fix on him as
I drop into the tunnel.

Anywhere but here.

There is peace inside the tunnel, but I’m already deep inside nothing when I realise
my mistake. I’ve lost all control, dropping further than ever before, sinking so
fast that I’m tumbling, spinning inside empty space.

No idea where I am. No sense of which way is up or down. It’s not panic I feel but
a shifting fog engulfing my mind, invading my thoughts.

Blindly, I search for a way forwards, struggling to remember. There’s somewhere I
need to be. The further I fall, the thicker this space becomes. It gets even darker,
if that’s possible.

A vague thought comes to me. I should be panicking. How strange that I’m not; all
I feel is the bliss of ignorance. No real plan to find my way out.

Only a distant, dimming memory of who I am.

Mum.

It’s Mum who finally brings me back. Or rather, it’s the idea of her coming home
to find me gone that does it; the knowledge that I have to save her from the worry.

All is quiet, empty; I’m floating through nothing when I sense a pull, the faintest
of pulses calling me. It’s enough to follow, gradually, moving slowly at first and
then accelerating towards a pinprick in time. I have to return before Mum gets home.

With a gasp, I break through the surface, immediately certain of when I’ve returned.
It’s the same day, late in the afternoon. I’ll make it back home in time.

My mind is buzzing, the air cooler now than when I fell away. The change in atmosphere
hits me in an instant. Last I knew it was late morning, but now I find myself surrounded
by evening. How strange.