‘How can we prove he’s innocent if we don’t know whether he’s guilty?’ Everyone looks at me then looks away, except GMT.
‘Guys, we have to BELIEVE he’s innocent and work from there.’
‘We filmed the theft.’ Big Ben gets the Chronophone out of his rucksack.
Now it’s GMT and Kwesi’s turn to look surprised. ‘So we DO have evidence. Thought you got to the museum AFTER the theft. Your teacher didn’t . . .’
She and Kwesi concentrate on the film. They play it back slowly, frame by frame. At the end, they look at each other. They look worried.
‘Do you think it’s MC2?’ I say.
‘It looks like TWO people.’ She didn’t answer my question.
‘He could have had an accomplice.’ An accomplice is someone who helps to commit a crime.
‘Or one person twice.’ Everyone looks at Big Ben now. ‘They did the theft then leapt back again. But why?’
GMT looks deep in thought, her eyebrows pulled down to her eyes. ‘They moved like lightning. Even on slow mode it’s too blurred to tell. They look kinda androgynous. Could be anyone.’
Kwesi claps his hands twice to get our attention. He draws ∞ in the air to signify the Infinity-Glass; clasps opposite wrists to show handcuffs; and raises his left fist for solidarity. We must visit MC2 and work out a way to set him free.
But how?
It’s 4 o’clock and we’re standing outside Do-Time, the prison for Leaplings. Like all other Leapling buildings, it’s hidden from public view. It’s even more private than our school: you can’t walk up to it; you have to LEAP to outside the main entrance. I thought it would be a grey building with lots of barbed wire but it’s more like a giant white sugar cube. Although it’s a prison, the whiteness makes me feel calm.
GMT explains that the building’s coated with extra-strong Anti-Leap so the prisoners can’t escape. They also make sure visitors can’t smuggle anything in to help a breakout. We have to go through all sorts of checks like we’re at an airport, and they put our bags into lockers. At least it’s much cooler than outside. When they take Big Ben’s rucksack, I’m worried he’ll have a meltdown because they’re quite rude. A meltdown’s when autistic people get overwhelmed with emotions and lose control. Big Ben’s meltdowns are always physical: his body shakes and he throws chairs. But some autistic people have shutdowns instead, like me. I don’t scream or shout, I lose the ability to speak and have to find a quiet space to recover. I used to hide under the table for hours. But Big Ben doesn’t have a meltdown here. When I check his face, I see he’s counting to a thousand to help himself calm down. He’s coping really well. It’s important we all get to see MC2.
We’re lucky to be allowed to see him at all. Most visitors have to wait days before they can visit prisoners. But as MC2 is under 5-leap and doesn’t have any family members, we’re allowed in. That sounds like they’re being kind but they’re not; the Leapling system’s tough on crime. They SAY innocent until proven guilty but as MC2 has been in trouble before, he’ll be kept in prison until the trial. If he’s found guilty, he’ll stay in Do-Time for years!
We only have half an hour to see him and some of that has been taken up with walking down long white corridors with a prison warden with lots of keys jangling from his back pocket. The Young Offenders Wing is the furthest away from the entrance.
MC2 is sitting on a chair in a square white room with a square window with bars on it that he can talk through. We have to sit in the adjoining room so we can’t help him escape. The prison warden sits on a chair in our room; it must be very uncomfortable sitting on so many keys! MC2 looks exhausted. His antennae dreads have drooped, he’s wearing a beige overall instead of his usual graffiti tracksuit and he barely looks up as we come in. When Kwesi raises his left fist to the bars, his infinity tattoo in full view, MC2 raises his in slow motion. I have a flashback of the moment we rescued Kwesi from the Time Squad Centre in 2100. Now their roles are reversed.
GMT’s having trouble remaining seated. ‘MC. We’ll get you outta this place.’
MC2 shrugs and looks down at the floor. I feel sad for him and shocked. I’ve never seen him like this before. I’m not sure whether he’s tongue-tied like I get when I’m so upset I CAN’T talk or if he’s refusing to talk because he’s guilty.
Kwesi draws in the air: ∞. MC2 shakes his head. GMT’s pacing.
‘MC, we know you’re innocent.’
We don’t know he’s innocent, but I don’t say anything because I don’t want GMT to be angry if I contradict her, or MC2 to get sad or angry that I think he’s guilty. I find it hard seeing MC2so quiet, like someone sucked all his energy away. Then I have a brainwave.
‘Maybe he wants 1-2-1? All of us at once is too much.’
That’s how I feel when I’m stressed and need to shut down. It overwhelms me and makes it worse when too many people try to help. MC2 has ADHD, he’s not autistic, but when his brain focuses on too many things at the same time, he gets overwhelmed too. Plus, it must have been scary being arrested, whether he was guilty or not. No wonder he’s exhausted. I look at MC2. I THINK he nods. Kwesi starts signing again and the three of us move to the back of the room and face the wall to give them privacy. GMT checks her metallic watch.
‘Each of us got five minutes max,’ she says.
She still can’t keep still; I wish I could do running round the track right now to feel calm but I can’t desert my friends.
‘If he tells us where the Infinity-Glass is, we could take it back to the museum and they might let him out,’ I say.
‘Honeybee, he doesn’t know where it is.’
‘He might tell Kwesi.’
We can’t help looking over our shoulders to see Kwesi signing and MC2 signing back with jerky movements, like he’s angry. I quickly turn my head back to face the wall. It doesn’t look good. If he’s arguing with his best friend, he’s not going to communicate with the rest of us.
When Kwesi’s five minutes are up, he walks back to the wall shaking his head, frowning like an old man. GMT’s next. I try not to listen in because it’s meant to be private but I can’t help but hear. GMT’s talking too much and too quickly. Maybe she does that when she’s upset. The problem is, even if MC2 wanted to respond, he wouldn’t have a chance. Not surprisingly, she comes back shaking her head too. Then it’s Big Ben’s turn. I’m curious what he’ll say. He often thinks in numbers rather than words.
‘Do you want to speak with your hands?’
Big Ben knows what it’s like when you can’t use verbal language so he’s trying to give MC2 another way to communicate. ADHD’s different to autism, though some people have both. MC2 usually talks or body blinks too much. But he obviously doesn’t want to try speaking with his hands because Big Ben speaks again.
‘Do you want to speak in numbers?’
Silence again. Then a very low mumble even I can’t hear. What did he say? Big Ben bounds across the room, his legs looking longer than ever.
‘1752,’ he says.
‘That’s a whole year!’ I say. ‘We don’t know the date or place or anything.’
I look back at MC2. He’s looking at Kwesi and Kwesi shakes his head vigorously. Something’s going on. Maybe 1752 is a better clue than I thought and that’s what they were arguing about.
Now it’s my turn. I sit on the chair and turn my head to focus on the left of the window so I’m not staring straight at MC2 and he’s not staring straight at me. I take a deep breath like I’m about to push out of the blocks for the 100 metres.
‘What does 1752 MEAN?’
I look at him out of the corner of my eyes and he blinks several times like the old MC2. That makes me happy but I hope he’s not going to burst into a rap. It would be impossible to remember the words and we need all the clues we can get.
‘France is 1752,’ he says, in a voice that sounds like it’s underwater.
Then his eyes go blank again and I know he’s not going to speak any more. It wouldn�
�t be fair to try to make him. I go back to the group.
‘He said France is 1752. Does it mean we have to go to France?’
GMT and Kwesi shrug their shoulders; the prison warden clears his throat. It’s time to leave. When we say goodbye to MC2 in turns, he looks sad. I hold up my hand to wave at him. He holds up his hand and points at me and Big Ben. I frown but Big Ben’s smiling.
‘He wants you and me to solve it.’
‘Are you sure he means that? And why us? Kwesi and GMT are closer to him and older and—’
‘He pointed at us. This is our second assignment. And we’ll be Level 2.’
‘I don’t want to go to France. I want to see the Eiffel Tower but not yet.’
We’re walking back down the corridor. Kwesi seems happier now. GMT’s more relaxed to have a corridor to walk down rather than being stuck in a room, but she’s not happy. It must have been difficult that MC2 didn’t speak to her.
When we’ve collected our bags, Kwesi takes out his Chronophone and makes us all do the same. He taps into it so fast I can barely see his fingers. A split second later, all our phones buzz. I look at my screen. Kwesi’s sent us a message:
Got to work. Meet again soon. Don’t do nothing without me.
We touch fists with him and he disappears into thin air.
I check my watch: 16:40. I need to go home. Grandma will be back from her cleaning job by 17:30 and I have to cook beans for dinner. They’ve been soaked and boiled but they need time to absorb the stew. Big Ben needs to go home too. But GMT’s in no hurry to get back to the late 1960s.
‘You guys wanna hang out?’
‘We can’t. I have to cook and Big Ben has to go home or his mum will worry.’
‘OK, honeybee. But we need to meet later. Things just got tricky. It’s Kwesi and MC; I saw what they were signing. We gotta discuss that and—’
‘Can’t you tell us now?’
‘Too complicated. Can we meet at your flat, Elle? You, me and Big Ben. Didn’t you say your Grandma’s out tonight?’
‘Yes, she has her extra cleaning job. But Kwesi texted don’t do nothing without me. It’s not fair to meet up behind his back.’
‘I know. But you haven’t heard what they were signing.’
She’s right. We don’t know what Kwesi or MC2 signed to each other but we know what he said: France is 1752.
If we work out what that means, we might be able to set him free.
Chapter 04:00
CONFESSION OF A CAT BURGLAR
When GMT knocks on the outside door at exactly 8 o’clock and I go down the stairs to let her in, Grandma shouts from our flat loud enough for all the other occupants of The Mush-Rooms to hear.
‘GT, you are welcome! I am very pleased with you.’
She means pleased to see you and she always gets GMT’s name wrong. She smiles as we walk into the flat and turns on the fan which makes a whirring noise. I don’t know which is worse, excess heat or the irritating noise. GMT’s wearing a velvet kaftan which is a long, loose tunic covered in swirly patterns in purple and blue and she’s carrying a matching purple holdall. I love the way she dresses but if I wore clothes like that, everyone would stare at me and I’d be embarrassed, even if I looked good. When people stare at me, I FEEL them looking, like their eyes are laser beams.
GMT’s only been round a couple of times since the leap birthday party but Grandma always remembers she’s vegetarian and offers her whatever we have on the stove. Tonight, it’s black-eyed beans cooked in a stew made of tomatoes, onions and scotch bonnet peppers with boiled green plantain. I ate mine with Grandma earlier, concentrating on the damp patch on the wall so I didn’t get overwhelmed by the different colours, but I enjoyed the food. Now, Grandma watches GMT eating, fixates on the swirly patterns on her sleeve.
‘You dress very well. Please, I beg, take Elle to the boutique. She needs new clothes. Look her trouser in dispute with her trainer. And she refuses to wear brassiere!’
Grandma’s right. I HAVE grown a lot the past few months. I DO need new clothes, and I want to try different colours, not just white, but I’m not quite ready. I wish Grandma would get over her obsession with bras. I don’t need one. GMT knows this and smiles.
‘Ma’am, it sure is the longest day but the shops are closed now. Elle and I just wanna hang out. I mean, chat.’
‘That is good. Elle needs more talk, less running. Don’t chat till midnight or you’ll turn into a toad.’
Grandma gets her stories muddled up but she’s smiling so this time it must be a joke. She’s about to say something else when we hear more knocking outside. Big Ben! Grandma goes into the bedroom to change into fresh clothes while I answer the door.
‘So what were they signing?’ I stare into the white tablecloth and try not to focus on the stains.
‘MC wants you and Big Ben to take on the case, starting with leaping back to the crime scene this morning; Kwesi says no.’
Big Ben pauses several seconds. ‘I want to be Level 2.’
‘I don’t want to go to France,’ I say. ‘Not without a grown-up. It’s even more dangerous than going back in time to the museum this morning to stop the theft. You said it was too dangerous yourself!’
Big Ben nods. ‘It WAS. But the odds changed. Now MC2 is arrested.’
‘He’s right, honeybee.’ GMT gets up from her chair and starts pacing. ‘I’m with MC on this one. He’s the one behind bars. And it has to be you and Big Ben. Kwesi’s working now; he doesn’t have the time.’
‘What about you? You just hang out at festivals and you don’t go to school so you’ve got the most time!’
I walk over to the tap and pour everyone a glass of water. I don’t want to look at GMT in case she’s cross. I’m worried I sounded rude.
‘It’s complicated,’ she says.
‘You said that before. Are you worried Kwesi will be angry we met up without him?’
‘Yeah. Kwesi’s clever. I wonder why he doesn’t want you to leap? Something doesn’t add up. I guess he thinks you and Big Ben could get into trouble if anyone finds out you leaped back in time. You’re only 3-leap +1.’
‘It’s not illegal,’ says Big Ben.
GMT faces us. ‘BB’s right. You just need to leap back to this morning and—’
‘Stop the theft.’ I finish her sentence for her. ‘But how can we do that if the past is fixed?’
‘It is,’ says GMT. ‘You can’t STOP the theft cos it already happened. But you can try to get the Glass back.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The past IS fixed. The thief stole the Glass; someone witnessed the theft then leapt back in time to get the Glass back. Probably you, Elle.’ She sits back down and takes a long swig of her water.
I frown just thinking about it. Then I’m reminded of Maria’s tree: the past being the fixed roots. My anxiety is making me worry about messing with space–time. ‘So if I leap back in time to TRY to stop the theft, that’s what actually happened.’
Big Ben’s smiling. ‘Logical.’
‘You got it, Elle; it’s up to you. You gotta leap back to the museum then leap after the thief. Big Ben should be on standby in case of problems.’
‘What if MC2 was the second person, trying to stop the theft, and failed and feels ashamed and that’s why he’s not speaking?’
Big Ben’s shaking his head vigorously. ‘What if it’s the same person?’
‘Why would the thief come back?’ GMT pauses. ‘No. I think there were two people. Speaking of . . .’
She unzips her purple swirly holdall and pulls out what looks like a black tracksuit. But when she separates it, I realise it’s not a top and a bottom: it’s two black all-in-ones. Cat burglar outfits! She lays them on the table; they look odd, like shedded human skins on the white background, and I shudder. Big Ben looks at me and raises his eyebrows. I wonder if he’s thinking what I’m thinking. GMT reads our minds.
‘You’ll both have to wear these for the mission. The best sk
insuits not yet invented. “Total disguise, even the eyes”, says the advert, but you can breathe real good.’
I say, ‘I can’t wear tight clothes!’
and Big Ben says, ‘Not logical. It won’t fit.’
at exactly the same time.
GMT wipes her brow. ‘Guys, Elle can’t do this alone. Too dangerous. Big Ben’s gotta be on standby but he still has to be in disguise.’ She holds up one of the catsuits. ‘It’ll stretch.’
‘There’s stretch and stre-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-tch!’ I say. ‘And I’ve got a better idea: you wear it, GMT. It’ll fit YOU. You can come on standby and—’
‘NO!’
Something’s wrong. GMT doesn’t look like chilled-out GMT any more. She looks scared. Surely she can’t be scared of leaping; she leaps all over the timeline! Big Ben and I get up from our chairs. If GMT’s having a meltdown, she needs space. She doesn’t want the sensory overload of TWO of us trying to help. But she makes a movement with her hands; she wants us to stay in our seats. When she speaks, she sounds like she’s squeezing each word out, one by one.
‘Guys. I . . . can’t . . .’
‘Why not? Do you hate tight clothes, too?’ I say. ‘And where did you get them, the cat burglar shop?’
‘No. I guess . . . it’s time you knew.’
‘Knew what?’ we say, together.
There’s a very long pause. ‘MC never stole nothing. It was me!’
‘You stole the Infinity-Glass?’ My mouth is a capital O.
‘No. The watches, in the past and the future. It was me who stole the watches; MC only sold them.’
And suddenly it all makes sense. That’s why GMT was so sure MC wasn’t a thief. Because it was HER all along. And these must be the outfits they wore as partners in crime. I look at her through narrowed eyes.
The Time-Thief Page 3
