Talisman of El (2 page)

‘If you do need anything, I’m right across the hallway.’ Jacob smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Charlie waited until the light under the door vanished before getting up and splashing the glass of water on his face. He opened the window, which looked out over the back garden and the stretch of woods that lay beyond the fence, and cold air poured into the room, carrying with it a rich, wet, earthy scent.

Daylight came sooner than expected. The sun shone with brilliance through the wafting curtains. Charlie was sitting in bed rifling through a black box with metal embellishments, a tenth birthday gift from his mother. Inside the box, he kept letters his mother had written to him before she died.

He shivered, his pyjamas like ice against his skin, but he didn’t mind the cold; it had a way of calming his nerves. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, he looked up at the clock nestled between two pictures – a bucket of daffodils and swans in a lake. It was almost eight – four hours since the nightmare – and he hadn’t slept a wink. Replacing the letters inside the box, he got up and walked over to the walnut dresser, setting the box on top of it, and then headed across the room.

He opened the door and paused, glancing back to survey the small room, as he had done every morning since he arrived at Spring Drive. A tingle of anticipation rippled through him as he thought about how far away he was from Alpha Children’s Home. His gaze shifted to the TV and game console beside the dresser, and he smiled.

As soon as Charlie entered the bright, yellow farmhouse kitchen, the flagstone floor cold under his bare feet, the smell of bacon grease hit him, and his stomach turned. As always, neither the windows nor the door to the back garden were open.

A shrill whistle filled the air, and he glanced to his left at the kettle on the range cooker behind the oak table where he spotted Jacob sitting down reading the
West Sussex Gazette
. ‘Hi,’ Charlie greeted him.

‘Morning,’ Jacob replied. His gaze shifted to the kettle, and he set the newspaper down on the table, got up, and went over to the cooker. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Good,’ Charlie said, as he approached the chair in front of him. Sitting down, he grabbed a saucer from the stack in the centre of the table and two slices of toast from the rack.

Jacob returned to his seat with a steaming cup of coffee. ‘You look tired. Did you get any sleep?’

Charlie paused in the middle of buttering his toast. ‘Yep.’

Jacob’s beady brown eyes studied him a moment. ‘Marz mentioned that you have trouble sleeping.’

Oh great,
Charlie thought.
He thinks I’m disturbed.

‘Are these nightmares regular?’ Jacob asked.

Here we go again.
‘No. Just your average nightmare. Who doesn’t have them, right? It’s no big deal.’ Charlie clenched his jaw and looked down at his plate.

‘All that city noise, I bet. Maybe you just needed a change of scenery.’ Jacob took a bite of his bacon sandwich. ‘I thought we had a break-in with all that screaming last night. Gave me a right fright, you did. That must have been a terrifying dream you were having. What was it about?’

Charlie looked at him, apprehensive. ‘I … uh … I can’t remember.’ His weary voice broke at the end.

A speculative look came into Jacob’s eyes, and his lips parted, as if he were about to say something; instead, he took another bite of his sandwich. ‘Are you looking forward to school on Monday?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Well, you have nothing to worry about. The kids here are great. Besides, Oakwood is a lot smaller than your last school, so you’ll make friends in no time.’ He gave Charlie an encouraging smile.

Charlie bit into his cold toast and leaned back against the hard chair. According to the Oakwood High School website, the total enrolment was exactly four hundred and seventy-five – about one-third of the total population at his last school – who most likely knew everything about one another. Being the new kid was a certified way of attracting attention, but being an outsider
and
an orphan, well, he’d be a headliner.

Charlie felt a swirling sensation inside his chest as he pondered that thought. Tasting something sour in his mouth, he set the toast down on the saucer. ‘Is Oakwood really the only secondary school in Capeton?’ he asked.

Jacob nodded. ‘It’s a small town, but that’s why I moved here. It’s quiet. People respect your privacy. You’ll settle in soon enough. Just think of it this way. You’ll have all your friends under one roof. Just promise me you won’t throw any house parties while I’m at work.’

Charlie smiled and took a deep breath, relaxing a little.

‘Speaking of which,’ Jacob went on. ‘I have to pop into work this morning. You don’t mind having the house to yourself for a few hours, do you?’ Charlie shook his head. ‘Good. I have a wake I need to organise.’

‘A wake?’

‘Yes. It’s a gathering of family and friends, a way of showing respect for the deceased.’

So that’s what you call it,
Charlie thought. When he had attended his dad’s wake, he had thought it had been a surprise party for him, believing that his dad had played a terrible trick on him. It had taken him almost a year to realise he wasn’t coming back. ‘Did you have a wake for your wife?’

Jacob’s shoulders stiffened. ‘I did,’ he answered, his voice choked.

‘What was she like?’

Jacob looked at his watch. ‘You know, I should get going. I have so much to do. You have my work number.’ He got up and rushed out of the kitchen far faster than he looked capable of moving. Charlie heard him say goodbye, but the door slammed before he could respond. He hadn’t given much thought to it before, but he realised then that he and Jacob had a shared understanding: neither of them liked to talk about their loved ones, because it was as if they no longer existed. He was surprised that Jacob hadn’t quit his job as a funeral director, considering he had to deal with death all the time.

Charlie paced back and forth across the road from Spring Drive, a twisting dirt lane bordered by a stone wall and trees on either side. Perhaps it was the thick maroon blazer and black coat he had on, or that he wouldn’t keep still, but even in the biting January air, he felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck.

Hearing a low rumbling noise, he stopped pacing and turned round. When he saw the yellow, single-decker bus approaching, his heart skipped a beat. High at the top of the flat-faced vehicle were the words “School Bus” in bold, black letters.

The bus pulled up in front of him, and the folding door opened. Behind the wheel sat a frighteningly gaunt black man. Charlie took a deep breath and entered.

‘Noo ’ere’s a new face,’ the driver said in a strong northern accent. ‘W’s yer name, son?’

‘Charlie,’ he replied.

‘Great ter ’ave yeh on board, Charlie. The name’s Ernie. Grab yerself a seat.’

Charlie glanced around the half-full bus and then hurried along the aisle, keeping his head down. Finding an empty seat halfway down the bus, he settled into it. Two girls in front of him looked back and giggled. He felt his cheeks heat up when one of the girls chanted, ‘Carla likes the new boy.’

The bus rumbled along a deserted country lane lined on both sides by a low barbed-wire fence protecting large fields. Hearing a noise, Charlie averted his gaze from the window and observed the two tall boys who had just walked past him from the back of the bus. They stopped three seats ahead of him where a smaller lad sat slumped in his seat. The larger of the two boys sat in the seat behind the small lad and startled him with a whack on the back.

‘Wake up, Sunshine,’ the boy standing up said – the leader most likely from the way his friend watched him with admiration. He had broad shoulders and glossy slicked-back black hair, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He grabbed the lad’s bag and opened it.

‘Give it back,’ the lad murmured, his cry reduced to a mere whisper out of fear.

Charlie looked towards Ernie, who, singing along to the radio, seemed to be in a world of his own.

The leader pulled a book out of the bag. ‘You want it?’ he teased. He raised and dropped his eyebrows at his sidekick, a dark-skinned boy with a shaved head, who got up and opened the window. The leader glanced towards the front of the bus at Ernie, who was still oblivious to the scene behind him, then back at the boy. ‘Go get it.’ He tossed the book out the window.

Charlie clenched his fists and sat forward. Knowing how foolish it would have been to march up to the leader and his giant sidekick, however, he sank back in his seat.

‘That’s my homework,’ the lad cried.

‘Someone’s getting detention,’ the leader taunted. The lad made a move, but the sidekick forced him back into his seat.

‘STOP!’

All the students froze.

Charlie was standing in the aisle, his fists clenched.

The leader dropped the bag and turned to him. ‘You got a problem?’

Charlie didn’t respond. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

‘Yeh kids behave back the’er,’ Ernie called, gazing through the rear-view mirror. The bus slowed as it neared the next stop.

‘Oi, you deaf ? I said have you got a problem?’ the leader repeated, his voice fierce. The proximity between them tightened, but Charlie stood his ground, though he didn’t have much choice for there was nowhere to run.

‘Could you be anymore predictable, Josh?’ a brave voice said.

To Charlie’s relief, the bullies turned away from him. His eyes rested on a girl about four inches shorter than him at 5’2’’ wearing baggy trousers and black converse, and if it were not for her long brunette hair that covered most of her olivetoned face, he might have thought she was a boy. She gave the leader, Josh, a hard look.

‘Funny how bullies only pick on those who won’t fight back,’ the girl went on. ‘Makes you wonder who the real coward is.’ Her mouth twitched as she suppressed a smile. Then her eyes fixed on Charlie.

Feeling sweat gathering beneath his clenched fists, Charlie relaxed his fingers. As he stared into the girl’s big cinnamonbrown eyes, framed by thick lashes, he half smiled, which quickly faded when he heard the leader’s voice in his head.

‘I don’t fight girls,’ the boy named Josh said. ‘If that
is
what you are.’

‘I’ll pretend I’m a boy if you pretend you are,’ the girl shot back. Some students laughed, but when the bullies glared at them, they fell silent. Charlie sat back down, while Josh’s sidekick retreated to the back of the bus.

Josh glared at the girl, his jaw tightened. ‘This ain’t over.’ He backed off, frowning.

Charlie stared at the girl, who was helping the small boy pack his books back into his bag. When she finished, she walked towards the back, stopped next to Charlie, and leaned over. Gazing into her eyes, he felt his heart leap.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said with a smile. ‘He’s a lot less scary than he looks.’

His eyes followed her as she sat one seat behind him on the opposite side, listening to her pocket-sized music player. When she lifted her head and met his gaze, he looked away quickly, heat rising to his cheeks again.

Twenty minutes later, the bus turned down a narrow, treelined road signposted Oakwood High School. Charlie observed the medieval-looking building ahead that looked more like a library than a school, but when the bus veered to the left into the car park, giving him a wider view of the complex, he noticed the modern red brick buildings surrounding the entrance.

As soon as the bus stopped, Charlie made a quick exit, for the bullies kept giving him the evil eye – a sign of unfinished business, no doubt. He moved along the side of the bus, heading around the crowd that had gathered outside the entrance. To avoid scrutiny, he kept his head down as he made his way inside the building. He managed to find the office, a small cream room just right of the entrance, and collected his class schedule and school map.

Arriving two minutes late for his first and least favourite lesson, maths, he found himself the centre of attention, but apart from the prolonged discomfort of having to stand at the front of the class while the overzealous Mr. Springer added his name to the register, he got through it.

His next class, French, he spent with his head ducked behind his book avoiding Mrs. Gregg, who had an annoying trait of picking the least enthusiastic person to answer questions. All he gained from that class was an aching neck.

When the bell rang, he waited for the room to empty before heading to lunch. Chattering teens had already filled most of the tables by the time he entered the canteen. His heart drummed as he searched the large orange room for a place to sit, his tray consisting of a veggie burger, an iced sponge cake, and a cup of orange juice.

Spotting an empty table in the corner lined with windows and a double door that led to the playground, he headed towards it.

As he neared the table, he felt a thud against his back that sent him plummeting forward. His tray slipped out of his hand and flipped over, the entire contents scattering over the floor.

Shocked gasps echoed around the room, and everyone – even the dinner ladies – stopped what they were doing to watch.

Charlie scrambled to his feet and came face-to-face with the bullies from the bus.

Josh sneered. ‘Clumsy, aren’t you?’

Charlie’s pulse quickened and a warm sensation shot through his body. Feeling a tremor beneath his feet, he paused. For a moment, he wondered if he had imagined the ground shaking, but then Josh’s expression changed; confusion replaced the amusement on his face as he glanced down.

Calm down,
a voice in Charlie’s head said. It wasn’t the first time he had heard the voice, so it didn’t alarm him. What puzzled him was the fact that it was a woman’s voice. It always made him feel as if he had two minds.

‘What’s going on here?’ a rasping voice barked.

Charlie glanced at a stout woman holding a mop and a bucket, wearing a blue and white striped apron and a white hairnet. She stood with one hand on her hip, a stern look on her face.

‘Who fancies a trip to the principal’s office?’ the woman asked. ‘’Cause if you think you’re going to fight –’