What We Hide (10 page)

“I know you,” she says. “Something happened.”

“Nothing, I swear. Thank you for inviting me, Kurse.”

“Did … did … you try something on with Luke?”

I start laughing so hard I nearly choke, only that reminds me of her mother spluttering cake so I stop.

“Nah,” I say. “I think your brother is a bit light on his feet. How could he resist me otherwise?”

I’m making a joke, but Kirsten’s eyes go skinny.

So then I know it’s true and she knows too.

But she doesn’t know everything.

illington vs. zoffton: cannon fodder

AN UNFINISHED SCRIPT
by Percy Graham

OPENING SHOT
is of a television showing the logo and playing the theme music for the BBC nightly news, cutting to an anchorman beginning his report. Behind him are blurred photos of school buildings as he mentions them, intercut with shots of worried parents and teachers
.

ANCHORMAN

Our top story this evening concerns the disappearance of schoolboys from several educational establishments throughout the British Isles. Whole groups of boys seem to have evaporated into thin air in the past several days. There are now more than one hundred missing youth between the ages of fourteen and eighteen and NO trace whatsoever to indicate what is behind this disturbing epidemic. We expect to have an update on the morning broadcast.

In other news …

CUT TO:

INT.: KIPLING DORMITORY AT ILLINGTON HALL SCHOOL

Six boys lie in their beds. It is an hour past bedtime and most are asleep, but PERCY is reading with a flashlight. A blinding brightness blasts through the window followed by a glowing gaseous mist that seeps in around the window frames. PERCY jumps from his bed, croaking an alarm, but even as his dorm mates stir, it is too late. The gas overcomes every boy in the room and one by one they turn to speckled forms and fade into nothingness
.

CUT TO:

INT.:
undetermined time of day because this is a planet with two suns. Setting is a military laboratory on the planet Zoffton. Enormous picture windows overlook a dense tropical jungle. In front of the windows are ultra-techno-telescopes attached to beeping machines that generate data being transcribed by white-jacketed clerks and scientists who all have a third eye planted in the centre of their foreheads and extralong earlobes
.

One by one, the schoolboys from Kipling dorm rematerialize on a circular platform in the centre of the laboratory. They are bewildered, sleepy, wear various pyjamas or boxer/T-shirt combinations. ADRIAN is naked
.

The Zofftonites gather, some with clipboards, some with cameras or other recording devices not known on Earth
.

ADRIAN

What the frick?

BOYS

(cluster together, facing the alien examiners)

Where are we? What’s going on? Oh my god! They’ve got three eyes!
etc
.

PERCY

There was a … like, a poison gas, it came through the windows, all kind of … pink.

ADRIAN

(glaring at one of the peering Zofftonites)

What are you staring at? Never seen such a wondrous member, eh? Takes three eyes to see the whole thing!

ZOFFTONITE

xxkXX#00) () ()xxxch##0))))xx

HENRY

What’s he saying?

ADRIAN steps out threateningly toward Zofftonites. They chatter to each other but are not alarmed. ADRIAN encounters an invisible force field and stumbles back. The boys are prisoners
.

ADRIAN

What do you want?

NICO

What are we here for?

NO-FACE

What are you going to do to us?

The Zoffton scientists pass smoothly through the force field and begin to examine the boys, mumbling in their language, making notes on electronic devices. Then they leave through the invisible barrier with no hesitation
.

A heap of clothing materializes in the centre of the platform. Basic military uniforms: green-grey trousers, T-shirt, and pocketed jacket. A cap for each boy. Boots. Utility belts. The boys dress
.

General muttering: What are we doing here? And where is here?

Boys are prodded into a line and herded off platform through a passage to a weapons room lined with racks of firearms, knives, and other unfamiliar but obviously deadly weapons. There is one Zofftonite at a desk, ready to assist in their selections
.

ADRIAN

This is more like it!

NICO

You lot made a mistake. We didn’t sign up for this.… 

PERCY

We’re Quakers.

ADRIAN

They don’t bloody care, mate.

NO-FACE

I’m not a Quaker.

He brushes his fingers over rows of gleaming weaponry
.

ADRIAN

If you’re not, then I’m not.

He also examines weapons more keenly
.

NICO

Knockout gas I get. But how were we transported?

PERCY

Do they know they’ve kidnapped Quakers?

We’re not going to pick up weapons!

ARMORY ZOFFTONITE

xx##0)) ((00#xxx- - #&() (&xx—

NICO

They want us to be soldiers.

PERCY

We don’t know how to shoot guns! We don’t know anything about this! Being in a war …

NICO

I don’t think that matters.

NO-FACE

So we’re supposed to choose our weapons?

We can pick
any
thing?

ADRIAN

(picking up a machine gun)

I’ll blow their fecking brains out.

HENRY

If they have brains.

PERCY

They obviously have bigger brains than we do.

ADRIAN and NO-FACE choose weapons. ARMORY ZOFFTON selects weapons for reluctant boys. As each is armed, he turns to speckles and fades out
.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE JUNGLE

Boys rematerialize in a cluster. They are in a clearing surrounded by thickly overgrown trees, vines, massive blossoms, etc. Persistent bird and animal cries punctuate scene
.

BOYS

What the hell? Where are we?
etc
.

PERCY

We’re in the tropics.

NICO

Hotter than Greece.

ADRIAN

I could use a drink, mate.

NO-FACE

Look in the packs.

NICO

Maybe they’ve given us water.

They shrug out of packs and take a look. Each has a canteen. Each opens, takes a swig, spits violently
.

NO-FACE

Tastes like piss!

ADRIAN

It IS!

He upends the canteen and a yellow stream pours out
.

HENRY

Still better than school tea!

A flash of light and an explosion nearby. Boys jump in panic, throw themselves to the ground like they’ve seen in movies
.

BOYS

What the HELL? Somebody’s shooting at us! Oh my god!
etc
.

Gunfire and explosions continue nearby, coming closer. Boys grovel on the ground, crawling for cover amongst the roots and blossoms
.

PERCY

Wait! Look! They’re—
points up to where military lab windows are glinting in sunshine
—WATCHING US!

ADRIAN

              (hollering at windows)

We’re British flipping subjects, mate! You can’t just zap us to some damn war zone in some other universe and then observe us for your own bloody entertainment!

NICO

Apparently they can.

PERCY

We’re cannon fodder for aliens.

Welcome to war.

luke

Brenda told him there’d been a boy in town, sending hello. Luke shrugged as if,
What are you on about?

But it had to be him, right? Had to be.

Luke had been waiting and waiting for this, not realizing how much. The name had been caught between his mouth and the pillow in a dark room with the door shut. Now he could
do
something, get dressed with a reason on Saturday morning, stop hiding at school and go find Robbie.
Robbie
. It had to be a message, using Brenda. Luke wondered, should he have asked her more questions, because even a few hours later his curiosity would be obvious, shout that he cared.

At the tea urn, no one else nearby, he said to Brenda, “That kid who said hey in town?”

“Watch it!” Brenda snapped down the lever. “You’re about to spill over!”

Luke’s mug was full, stewed tea foamy and lapping at the brim.

“What were you saying?”

Now it was not casual at all, Oona there waiting with her cup.

“Nothing,” said Luke.

Getting dressed was harder than usual. At home, his sister would say “Cool” or “You’re wearing that?” as the measure of Luke’s fashion sense. On his own when it mattered? Hopeless.

Jeans—no choice there—but flared or not so much? He tried to remember the hem of Robbie’s jeans. Which T-shirt? If he put on one with a band’s name on it, what if Robbie didn’t like the band? This was stupid, this was what girls did. The grey T-shirt, then. Keep it simple. Only it was blustery out and he’d need a jacket.

“Are you coming or not?” Adrian thwacked his arm. “Limo’s waiting.”

Gnarly Mr. Eggers had promised a one-way lift for anyone willing to sit next to rakes and bushels of manure in the back of the pickup. Was Luke going to stink as well as look stupid?

They passed a group of girls near the edge of town, including Kirsten and her lot, who all turned around when he waved, and waggled their bums, laughing like loonies. Losing Adrian and Nico took no time. To be honest, they lost Luke, but he didn’t mind being dropped.

He stood alone on a corner in a remote Yorkshire village, his chest so full of hope and nerves that he could scarcely breathe, but with a ludicrous vacancy where a plan should
be. Had he expected Robbie to stroll up out of nowhere, to clasp Luke’s face in his hands and give him a soft, smoke-flavored kiss?
Move. Go somewhere
.

It was the same cashier in the shop where he’d nicked the mints, making Luke feel bold, standing by the magazines for ages. Long enough to read a silly “What Kind of Friend Are You?” quiz from start to finish, crap like,
You are walking along the street and you see your boyfriend sitting in a café with a really sexy bird. Do you: (a) go in to holler at him, and tell her to keep her hands off; (b) pretend you don’t see but get revenge by playing the same game at a later date; (c) join them at the table to see what happens; (d) ignore them completely and never speak to him again
.

Luke checked the cover.
Jackie
magazine. His sister read this crap. He’d seen it before but never looked inside, why would he? Girls followed this advice? There were never any magazines about … the kind of boy Luke was. Or possibly there were, but where would he find them? Not for sale at Bigelow’s or Loney Tobacco.

Tobacco
. The taste of Robbie.

He was wasting time.
Get on with it
.

Luke paused for a second on the step where they’d met. He even looked at the doorbell, but now what?

Chip shop?

He should have gone there first.

At the picnic table outside, Robbie sat astride one of the benches, laughing, waving around a cigarette while he told some joke.

Bloody shock, having him suddenly there. Luke about keeled over. He forced his eyes to move from Robbie to the other boys. Jesus. Skinheads? Skulls nearly shaved, big boots, seriously tough-looking blokes. He almost turned around, would never have seen Robbie again, never even come back to town. For half a second he imagined himself at the window table in the library on a Saturday afternoon, tracing skeletons from the medical dictionary in the utter peace of a deserted school.