Rain In My Heart (23 page)

Chapter Forty Five

            
 ‘
At least i
t’
s dry up here
,
’ I whispered
.‘
I feel a bit warmer, do
n’
t you
?
’

              This was a lie.  I was shivering more than ever.  Gemma and I had been dragged up the steps to the library, then pushed in a corner.  Behind us, a large broken window gave way to the elements.  The gaffer tape around our arms was so tight the slightest movement constricted our bodies. Every time one of us breathed, the other felt it.  It did
n’
t help that Gemma was sobbing so much she was hyperventilating.  I kept talking, trying to calm her.

            
 ‘
Do you remember when we used to sit at that computer over there and look up song lyrics, instead of doing our French homework?  And what about that time when we smuggled a bag of crisps and ate them from your pocket and the librarian caught us.  She had a moan and took them - then we saw her eating them in her lunch break
!
’

‘
I want Greg
,’
Gemma sobbed.
 ‘
Wher
e’
s Greg
?
’

I did
n’
t know what to say.

            
 ‘
He - he went looking
,’
I mumbled.
 ‘
He went looking for you.  He got out
.
’

            
 ‘
Got out
where
?
’

            
 ‘
Out of the art room, through the flood
.
’

            
 ‘
What!
  Where is he now?  Is he okay
?
’

‘
He - um - he - he was really brave
.
’

I could see the despair forming across her face.

‘
Do
n’
t worry.  H
e’
s a strong swimmer.  He's bound to befine
.
’

              I knew he was
n’
t, of course, but if I told Gemma the truth, it would destroy the little morale she had left.  Right now, I needed her to be strong.  We both had to be strong.

            
 ‘
What about the others
?’
she whimpered.

‘
Leo
n’
s hurt his legs.  I think his ankles are broken
.
’

‘
Oh, god
!
’

‘
He tried to jump to the ridge, but did
n’
t make it
.
’

‘
And Curtis
?
’

‘
Curtis has passed out.  He drank something dodgy.  Leon reckoned it was
-
’

I stopped myself.

‘
Honestly
,’
I said confidently.
 ‘
Le
t’
s think positive. W
e’
re okay.  W
e’
re all going to be okay
.
’

I realised I was mainly trying to convince myself.  My mind kept flipping between images ofMarshal
l’
s torch-lit leer, the sight of Leo
n’
s broken ankles, Curtis on top of the cupboard, Greg in the water, the creaking sinks in the art room, and sewage busting out of the pipes.

‘
How did you know I was here
?’
said Gemma.

‘
I did
n’
t.  It was luck.  I heard you banging on the locker. 
I’
d been trying to find a way out.  I had
n’
t known the rest of the school was open.  I mean, it had
n’
t been, until - oh, Gem, I was so happy when I saw you.  We thoughtyo
u’
d gone mad and made a run for it. We were scared yo
u’
d drowned
.
’

            
 ‘
He grabbed me
,’
she whispered, between sobs
.‘
I was in the art room with all of you.  It went dark, then I felt a pair ofhands around my mouth and my wais
t–
an
d–
an
d
– ’

              It made sense.  I blinked.

            
 ‘
He took you when the candles went out
,’
I said, appalled at the thought.
 ‘
I thought the
y’
d gone out by accident, from a draught, but it was
him
.  He blew them out deliberately, to distract everyone, to create a diversion.  He planned it, Gem
.
’

              I realised I had no sympatheticthoughts left for him. Ther
e’
d always been a part of me that had wanted to help him, make him less angry, less needy. But that was all gone now.  H
e’
d gone too far, caused too much damage. I could see him prowling near the bookshelves,ruminating on my suppose
d‘
betraya
l’
.  He looked like someone wh
o’
d lost grip on reality.

An hour went by.   Maybe less, but I was aware of every moment.  And every moment seemed to stretch. The thought of the rising water sat uneasy in my mind, and Leon, my Leon.  I tried to think of good things: our kiss, our talk of growing old together, of where we would go on our first date.  After all w
e’
d been through, it deserved to be special.  It
would
be special.  I prayed he was
n’
t in pain,hoped he was
n’
t cold.

I was freezing.  I could
n’
t feel my toes or fingers and my teeth were chattering constantly. I started to daydream about warm fluffy towels, the under-floor heating in my mu
m’
s bathroom, the heat of a hair dryer - anything to be warm and dry.

All of a sudden, Gemma squealed.

            
 ‘
Quiet
,’
I whispered, worried sh
e’
d draw attention to us.

She squealed louder, started to wriggle.  I turned as far as I could and saw what the problem was.  On the desktop, a few inches from her head, was a rat.

‘
Eugh
!
’

We both tried to pull away.  The rat was
n’
t bothered.  It crept up to Gemma and started nibbling her hair.  I felt terrible for her.  It was ghastly, but I had to focus - something else had claimed my attention.  On the same desk, a mere foot away, was a dagger-shaped shard of glass. My thoughts sprang to life.  As the rat sniffed and nibbled, I shuffled towards the table and nudged it as hard as I could.  It tipped and clattered to the floor.  Gemma yelped.

              Sure enough, Marshall marched over.

            
 ‘
Wha
t’
s going on
?
’

            
 ‘
A rat was on us
,’
I said.

              We watched it scamper under the bookshelf.

            
 ‘
Big deal
!’
said Marshall.
 ‘
Yo
u’
re telling me yo
u’
re scared of a little rodent
?
’

              Scared of the big rodent standing in front of me, I thought (but did
n’
t say out loud).

Eventually, Marshall went back to scowl in the dark.  And I pushed the shard of glass out from where
I’
d trapped it under my foot, kicked it towards my left hand and made a clumsy but determined effort to slice through our gaffer tape binds.

Chapter Forty Six

              We did
n’
t move straight away.  We waited for our opportunity.  But when Marshall began shoving stacks of books off the shelves, I knew it was time.   He stormed along the rows, systematically emptying each bookcase.  I guess it was some sort of anger release, but it was adequately absorbing that it took his attention away from us.  I whispered to Gemma.

            
 ‘
Listen.  In a second, you and I are going to stand up - silently - and then w
e’
re going to tiptoe to that broken window behind us.  W
e’
re going to see if we can use it as an exit
.
’

            
 ‘I’
m scared
,’
said Gemma.

              I squeezed her hand.

            
 ‘
You ca
n’
t be scare
d–
yo
u’
re a Goth
.
’

            
 ‘I’
m not a very convincing Goth
.
’

              At this, we laughed.  We cried and laughed.  But it felt good, a reminder of why we were friends, our jokes, our banter.  Normality.

              We watched and waited.  When Marshall was done messing the shelves, he sat cross-legged on the floor and started manically flicking through the pages of an encyclopaedia.  He looked engrossed - hopefully it would do him good.  Meanwhile, I gave Gemma the cue.                            

              We hunkered to our feet.  It was difficult because we were both shivery, both exhausted, but as soon as we got moving, the adrenalin kicked in.  We crouched and sneaked beside the upturned desk, behind the computers, towards the window.

            
 ‘
Look
,’
I whispered, desperate to cheer Gemma along.
 ‘
Can you see?  The rain has stopped.  The sk
y’
s starting to clear
.
’

              We stared up through the broken glass and saw the moon.  We even saw stars.  The torrent of floodwater was still rushing below, but it looked like the worst of the weather had finally passed.  I held my little finger out to Gemma, linked it with hers. 

            
 ‘
Friends forever
,’
I said, smiling.

              With Gemma acting as lookout, I climbed up to the window.  It was obvious how it had broke
n–
and how Marshall had managed to enter.  A massive beech tree on the bank of the ridge had uprooted and fallen against the building.  It looked precarious, but ultimately, it was a bridge - and a better bet than a hastily constructed homemade zip wire. 

              I peered forward.  A large section of tree trunk had been submerged.  It was acting like a dam, slowing the current.  The water was still a hazard, but it looked passable. I jumped down, whispered my findings to Gemma.

            
 ‘
Just think of it like an assault course
,’
I said, remembering how Leon had encouraged me.

            
 ‘
I hate assault courses
,’
she replied.

            
 ‘
Then think of Greg
,’
I said, holding her hands.
 ‘
Think of Molly
.
’

              We hugged, wished each other luck.

            
 ‘
You go first
,’
she said.

              We both climbed onto the desk.  Carefully, quietly, I pulled back one of the branches that was blocking the way.  Just a simple skip across a fallen tree, a leap over a stream, a crash landing onto bramble-covered ridge.  Easy.  I imagined myself as a gymnast or an acrobat at a circus.  I stood up, faced the wind.  The cold prickled my skin.  The sound of the raging water was frightening, but if Leon had managed to pull himself out with two broken ankles, I had to believe I could do the same. 

              I stepped forward, looked for the sturdiest branch, the best way to duck the razor sharp sections of glass that were wedged into the window frame.  I aimed my sights.  Then I heard a yell.

            
 ‘
What do you think yo
u’
re doing? 
I’
m not done yet! 
I’
m not done with you, Kate
!
’

              A moment later, Marshal
l’
s hands were on my waist, dragging me away from the window, pushing me onto the floor.