The Weight of Souls (5 page)

I looked down to pick some more cucumber from my sandwich and a shadow fell over me.

I caught my breath; had I missed a ghost?

No. I forced my shoulders to relax, ghosts don’t cast shadows.

I glanced up. It was the boy from earlier: Alan.

“Hey,” I grunted, but he said nothing and didn’t move. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath and crouched next to me. “Sorry about this,” he whispered.

“Huh?” I had time to get my legs half under me, but that just had me off balance when he shoved me, hard. I teetered for a second then fell on my side, dropping my lunch into the dust and twisting my wrist under my hip. Shock froze me for a moment, long enough for him to grab my bag and run for it.

“What just happened?” I shouted; then I leaped up and sprinted after him.

My feet flew across the concrete and my skirt flipped up to my thighs. I could run, so
the stupid kid didn’t stand a chance. Despite my confusion I was almost enjoying the chase. Alan cut across the grass, heading for the athletics track. My bag bumped against his back, shedding pens and books like Hansel in the forest. I’d pick them up later. Right now I wanted my hands on the little toad.

All my attention was on the fleeing junior; the redness on his neck, the hammer of his trainers on the hard-packed earth. Around us our classmates were stopping what they were doing and pointing, starting to laugh. I didn’t care.

I was almost caught up with him when I passed the storage shed next to the long jump pit.

My foot caught on something that hadn’t been there when Alan scampered past. I careered forward, my arms spinning as I tried to keep my balance. Then a brutal shove caught me from behind and I literally flew off my feet.

I smashed face first into the sandpit.

I didn’t even have time to cry out. The grains abraded my face like sandpaper and crammed my mouth and nose. They stung my chest like carpet burn, and padded out my shirt. My already-twisted wrist shrieked with pain and I lay there stunned and unable to move, wondering what had happened.

Then something hit my back and I pushed myself up, spitting grit. Alan stood above me, shaking my bag upside down to empty it. Once more the Lillets spilled out, this time pattering onto my bare legs.

Rage almost blinded me and my ears rang, but still I could hear the laughter. I turned and there they were, James and Harley, holding onto each other so they weren’t floored by their own hilarity. Over by the track Justin and Tamsin stood holding hands and grinning like idiots.

I flashed to Alan in the common room with Justin’s gang trying to get him to do something.

That did it.

I flew out of the sandpit, shedding fine grains like a rattlesnake. I covered the ground in seconds and threw myself at Justin, wrapping my hands around his throat.

I still had sand in my mouth, so I spat it at him while cursing and trying to throttle the superior look off his face.

Distantly I heard Tamsin shrieking and hands closed around my upper arms, pulling me free.

“You think this is funny?” I yelled. “You still think it’s funny?”

Everything had gone red. I kicked and fought against whoever had me in his grip.

“Calm down, Tay.” It was Pete’s voice in my ear with the name he hadn’t used in years. Where had he come from? I drooped in his hold and looked around. The whole school had to be watching.

My scratched skin started to throb and my cheeks burned.

“Can’t control herself.” Tamsin’s delighted voice blowtorched through my daze. “Typical foreigner. Just attacked us for no reason.”

I was about to blow sky high when I heard Miss Carroll. “No reason, Tamsin? Then why are her things all over the sandpit? Justin, obviously she blames you and I’m sure she has good cause. I’m getting sick of having to do this, but both of you come with me to see Mr Barnes. Again.”

 

5

 

A LOT OF OPPORTUNITIES

 

The corridor outside Mr Barnes’ office smelled of Dettol and vomit. I hunched on the hard chair with my bag between my legs. A trail of sand had followed me in and now poured from the flap and pooled at my feet. I’d shaken out as much as I could before coming inside, but it was everywhere. My bra itched like crazy.

Way more annoyingly, Justin wasn’t the slightest bit rumpled. I hadn’t even managed to mess up his tie. It remained in its usual loosened knot, an inch below his top button. Along with everything about Justin it was a little too relaxed, but remained just the right side of messy. Everywhere Justin went he looked at home.

I ground my teeth. His legs were stretched out in front of him, his ankles crossed just as they had been on the bus. His arms were loosely folded and he was leaning his head against the artwork behind his chair. His hair too, was just the right side of messy, a touch too long, it was starting to curl at the ends and he had to push it aside to glance over at me, brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

“So, what’re you going to say?” He smirked. “That I was watching some year nine stuff you in the sandpit, so you decided I needed a beat down?”

“Don’t even!” My fists had curled already and he’d only needed a single sentence. “I know you put him up to it. I heard you all.”

“You saw us talking to Alan, but that was it.” He checked his fingernails as if he was about to go for a manicure.

“Then why did he apologise before he pushed me over? I’m not stupid. I don’t know what hold you have over him, but there must be something.”

Justin shrugged. “When Mr Barnes brings him in, I’m sure he’ll mention it if I, as you say, ‘have something’ on him.” His fingers made air quotes and I wanted to break them off and stuff them down his throat.

I sat on my hands.

“You’re a dick,” I muttered.

“Yeah?” Justin actually looked away, flicking a grain of sand from his blazer. “I didn’t do anything to you, Taylor.”

“You don’t have to,” I snarled. “You just point the dogs in the right direction. It’s always been that way. Why me? That’s what I want to know. Are you a racist? Is that what I should tell Mr Barnes?”

Justin’s cool eyes widened for a moment and he snorted. Then he leaned back in his chair. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“My first day in this dump. You don’t remember what you did.”

“What
I
did?”

His first day at school was the day I met the clown; the end of my normal life. I thought I remembered everything about those terrifying hours, but my memories of Justin were vague. On that day he was just the new boy.

With a bitter little smile Justin shook his head. He resumed leaning on the mural and ignored me.

“Come on then, what did I do to you?”

He shrugged. “It obviously isn’t that important, not if you don’t even remember.”

“It obviously
is
that important.”

“Leave it, Oh.”

I was groping about for a way to make him tell me what I’d done when the memory clarified.

 

I headed for my usual seat but someone was already there – a new boy. He sat with his back to the room, looking out of my window, so all I could see was his neatly clipped hair, almost as dark as mine, and his thin brown fingers playing restlessly with a pencil.
 

“Hey.” The boy turned and our eyes met. My first feeling was disappointment. He wasn’t black like Pete, or even half-and-half, like me; he was just a boy with a deep tan. His eyes were brown, like mine, but they flickered nervously, taking in my clenched fists and the sight of Pete and Hannah standing behind me. I narrowed my eyes. “That’s my seat.”
 

He bit his lip and said nothing. I glanced at the teacher. Mr Barnes wasn’t looking at us so I squared my shoulders.
 

“You’re new, so you don’t know. But that’s my seat. Harley’s not here today, why don’t you go and sit next to James?”
 

In his place across the classroom James heard his name, and leaned back to study us until my hackles rose. Finally he used one toe to push the empty seat back: a silent invitation to the new boy.
 

But the new boy gripped the table. He wasn’t going anywhere.
 

I pressed my lips together. “Look, today’s my birthday and I’d really like to sit in my own seat near my mates.” I tried a smile.
 

The boy licked his lips. “It’s your birthday?”
 

“I’m ten.”
 

He looked out the window a final time then sighed and raised his voice loud enough for the rest of the class to hear. “Well seeing as it’s your birthday.” When he moved past the three of us he looked as if he really was doing me a favour.
 

 

At the end of the lesson I was right behind Pete when the necklace Hannah had given me slithered into my vest.
 

I fixed the loose clasp as the classroom emptied around me.
 

When I had it refastened I stood, then paused with the strangest feeling that someone was watching me. My eyes went to the corner of the playground.
 

I leaned closer to the window and saw something bright moving in the shadows. As I stared, a single crimson balloon appeared from the back of the building. It hung for a moment in a breath of still air then danced across the playground. No one looked up to watch it fly. Not one single child.
 

 

I walked quickly down the corridor. This was the third balloon I’d seen since the clown had appeared at the end of my street. I assumed he was some sort of naff birthday treat from Mum and Dad but his eerie silence had creeped me out and I had been grateful to jump on the bus and leave him behind. Now I was beginning to loathe the sight of balloons. Did it mean he had followed me to school?
 

I flung the double doors open and almost crashed into the new boy. James had him half pinned against the wall.
 

“Come on – truth or dare? You’ve got to choose.”
 

Justin’s face was pale under his tan and he was clutching his bag like a lifebelt.
 

“Just go with dare,” I muttered. “How bad can it be?”
 

Justin looked grateful as I sped past but I wasn’t thinking about him any more, I was thinking about the balloons I had been seeing all day. Balloons the colour of blood.
 

 

Was that what he was upset about? That I hadn’t helped him when James had him pinned.

I lowered my brows, trying to place him more firmly in my recollection of that day.

 

Mrs Pickard cleared her throat meaningfully and I glowered at the paper in front of me. We were meant to be writing a poem called
Myself
. I picked up my pen.
 

“Today is my birthday,” I wrote. “I am ten.”
 

Something made me look up. Justin was sitting bolt upright, pen clenched in his fist. “What’s up with the new boy?” I whispered.
 

Pete shrugged and Hannah turned in her chair.
 

Justin stood slowly. He looked anxiously at James who nodded.
 

“What’s the matter, Justin?” Mrs Pickard looked concerned.
 

Justin swallowed audibly. “I-I want to change seats, please.”
 

“Change seats? What on earth for?” Mrs Pickard peered at his chair.
 

Justin shuffled his feet. “I-it’s the smell,” he muttered.
 

“Smell?” Mrs Pickard wrinkled her nose. “I can’t smell anything.”
 

“It’s your smell.” Despite his harsh words, Justin looked miserable. “I can’t stand the stink and I need to move.” He swallowed again. “Have you tried deodorant?”
 

Mrs Pickard’s mouth fell open and she immediately gathered her cardigan around herself.
 

“Shut up, Pete.” I hissed as the class began to snigger. James was laughing so hard he could barely keep his seat.
 

Justin looked wretched as Mrs Pickard fled from the room with tears in her eyes.
 

“Nice one!” James called. “You win.”
 

Justin turned and glared at me but I ignored him; there was a red balloon sliding along the window.
 

 

It was true that I had told Justin to take the dare, which probably got him in a great deal of trouble, but James was the one who had forced him to do it. Why was he mad at me? I opened my mouth to ask him and the office door opened.

“Miss Oh and Mr Hargreaves. Do come in. Again.”

 

“This is getting old, Miss Oh.” Mr Barnes shuffled papers on his desk and glared at me over his glasses. Did he think that made him look intelligent, intimidating? It just made me think he needed bifocals. The twit.

“I know that you have suffered a
significant
loss.” He paused respectfully. “But that was three years ago now and you have been given enough leeway.” He dropped the papers and slapped the desk with his palms. “
Enough
, do you understand?”

“Wait a minute,” I gasped as if the air in the room was thin. “How is this
my
fault? I was attacked. Look at me.” I gave a little kick and sand spattered the carpet.

“That’s as may be, Miss Oh, and I will be talking to the perpetrator afterwards. However, Mr Hargreaves was
not
your attacker, was he? I have witnesses who say you launched yourself at him with no provocation whatsoever.”

“He put him up to it. I heard.”

Mr Barnes raised his bushy eyebrows. “You specifically heard Mr Hargreaves tell Mr Fisher to steal your bag and push you in the sandpit?”