‘Thanks,’I said warily.‘Thanks for the concern.'
All I could think was how did he even know about Marshall? Sure, it had been the town gossip over the summer, but Byron didn’t strike me as the type of person people gossiped to.
Chapter Twenty
We started to burn the next candle. I sat as close to it as I could, desperate to absorb its warmth. It was properly dark now –and cold. The rain and wind whipped around the windows and didn’t stop for a second. In the distance, we heard alarms and sirens, reminding us that our town was in crisis. Once or twice we heard a helicopter, which sparked hope that we were about to be saved. When the sound got further away, everyone acted like they hadn’t heard it in the first place.
At one point, I nearly fell asleep. I was so drained and hungry and thirsty, I no longer felt hungry and thirsty. I just felt numb. The boys went off with one of the other candles to see if they could find useful things. I lay with my head on Leon’s hoodie, closed my eyes and drifted away. I awoke moments later when I heard Gemma sobbing.
‘You okay?’I said softly.
‘I can’t do this any more,' she said. 'I really need to get home.'
Her face was wet with tears.
‘You still worried about Rascal?’
As soon as I said this, she started to shake. Her legs and arms locked rigid. It was scary. I looked for Greg, but she grabbed my hands.
‘Kate,’ she gasped. ‘I’m in trouble.’
This wasn’t what I was expecting her to say.
‘Trouble?’
‘I’ve done something stupid, something awful. I can't say. I’ve just gotto get home.’
‘I’m sure Rascal’s okay, Gem. He’ll be with a neighbour or something -’
‘But I lied,’she whispered, hanging her head with shame. ‘I’m not worried about Rascal. I couldn’t care less about Rascal. It’s Molly -’
Suddenly, I knew what she was going to say,that she’d left her little sister, Molly - who was only eight -that she’d left her alone. Alone in the flood.
‘I was supposed to be babysitting all day,’she whimpered. ‘My mum made me promise. I didn't tell her about the detention. I knew if I did, she'd just phone the school and get me out of it. But I wanted to see Greg. I wanted to hang out with him. So I did a deal with Mol. I said she could have my allowance if she didn’t tell. She was happy with that. She’s quite capable of looking after herself...under normal circumstances.’
She began to sob again. I felt sick. The thought of little Molly, alone in the dark, in the filthy water…
‘Oh, Gemma,’I said, unable to hide my dismay. ‘What have you done? She's only eight!'
‘You’ll help me, wont you?’she said desperately. ‘You'll help? I heard the boys talking about jumping from a window, trying to get to the ridge at the back where the fourth years hang out. It’s the nearest bit of land that hasn’t been submerged. The boys thought it might be too risky–there's a big drop. But I don’t know, I think it’s worth a go -’
I couldn’t believe what she was suggesting. We were on the third floor. The drop was huge, not to mention the raging torrent at the bottom. And the ridge was hardly a place to head for. It was covered in brambles and thorn bushes. I wanted to do something for her, but there was no way I was leaping from a third floor window, to escape into god knows what.
‘If the boys don’t think it’s safe,’I said,‘I don’t think we should try it.’
My reluctance made her angry.
‘But Molly needs me! Don't let me down, Kate! You've got to help me get out!'
'Let’s try phoning around again,’I suggested.‘I'll talk to my mum. Or Greg’s dad. I’ll get Greg -’
‘No,’she snapped. ‘Don’t tell Greg. Or your mum. Or anyone. No one knows what I’ve done. My mum'll kill me if she finds out. And Greg, too. If he discovers I left Molly on her own, that's it. He'll dump me for good. He already thinks I don't look out for her properly. He said so the other day when we were arguing. Promise me you won't say anything to him.'
'What's wrong with you?' I demanded.
I couldn't believe her selfishness, couldn't believe that she was determined to put her boyfriend’s opinion of her before the welfare of her little sister. What was it Byron had said, about people being selective with the truth? Suddenly, it felt like the entire room was tangled with deceit. I started to wonder who I could truly trust.
'You say Molly's in trouble and needs you, but you're not prepared to put your neck on the line to help her!'
Gemma started shushing me.
'It's not my fault,' she hissed. 'I didn't know a flood was coming! I didn't ask for this! I just want things to go right with Greg. What's wrong with that? My life was crap until I met him. He's the only good thing I've got.'
Thanks.
I was just about to serve more of my dismay, when the room exploded with cheers. Happy, bouncy whoops and cheers. My heart leaped into my mouth. Were they cheering because we about to be rescued? Was this it?
In the shadows, I saw Curtis and Leon leaping onto Byron’s back, ruffling his hair and laughing.
‘Boy done good!’said Curtis.
‘So, so good!’added Leon.
‘You da man, Byro!’
And then I saw, in their hands, beers. Beers and chocolate and bags of crisps. That’s what they were cheering about. Alcohol and snacks. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Chapter Twenty One
For the next hour, Byron was treated like some kind of demigod. He claimed he’d stumbled over the food and drink while looking for warm clothing in the supply cupboard. He even showed us the bag it was in, a Hurst College PE sack.
‘I knew she'd have a secret stash,’said Curtis. ‘Naughty-naughty, Miss Nevis.’
In a weird way, I was grateful. The‘find’had a hugely uplifting effect. Gemma and I left our argument behind. The mood brightened. Every mouthful, every sip felt reviving. But to me, somehow, it all seemed a bit too neat. I mean, one minute we were desperate and hungry and anxious, the next, we were rolling in beer and crisps. Something didn't feel right. Something didn't fit. I recalled how shifty Byron had seemed earlier when I'd caught him creeping round the pottery wheels, how he'd been shoving something into the corner. Coincidence?
He came towards me, chinked his beer bottle with mine.
'Feeling better, Kate?' he asked. 'You've got some colour in your face again. There's nothing quite like satisfying an empty stomach is there?'
'No. I guess not. The beer's making me a little lightheaded though - '
'Right. Yes, that's what it does. Alcohol blurs clear thought. Do you, er, do you drink alcohol often?'
'Not really. It depends who I'm with.'
'Is it fun?'
'Sometimes.'
I couldn't tell for certain, but it was as if Byron was trying to flirt with me. It was awkward. I kind of preferred it when he was being difficult. Thankfully, we were interrupted by Curtis. He clapped us on the shoulders. The drink had put him in a playful mood.
‘Let's have a game,' he said. 'Truth or Dare. For a laugh. It'll pass the time. Who wants to go first?'’
'You,' said Greg. 'Since it's your idea.'
'Well, I pick dare, obviously.'
Curtis proceeded to perform a list of silly tasks provided for him by Leon and Greg. He stripped to his waist, stood in the squall beneath the broken window, and sang 'Singing' In The Rain' at the top of his voice. Then he tried to ignite his own fart. He revelled in the attention, the stupidity of it all.
'Who's next?' he said, as his energy finally flagged. 'What about you, Byro?'
Byron leaned back on his elbows, acted like he hadn’t heard.
‘What's it to be?’Curtis pestered. ‘Truth? Or dare?’
‘I don’t know this game,’said Byron. 'I don't know how to play. Count me out.'
Curtis laughed. ‘No exemptions. And the rules are simple. We give you a choice, then depending on what you pick, we give you a challe
nge. It’s up to you. Do you want to spill the beans or make a dick of yourself?’
‘Who wins?’
‘It’s not a win/lose thing,' said Leon.
‘In that case,’said Byron coolly,‘I pick truth.’
Leon and Curtis looked at each other. Byron waited.
‘Okay, got one. Your challenge is to tell us why you're here, why you're really here?'
'I told you already. I heard Miss Nevis was planning a mural and I wanted to help.'
He looked at me as he said this, like he was checking for my reaction.
Leon shook his head.
'Something tells me you’re leaving out a few significant details,' he said.
'Kissy-kissy, Miss Nevis,' goaded Curtis.
They fell about laughing.
'Maybe I could ask you a truth, Leon?' said Byron.
Leon shrugged.
'Be my guest.'
'How many girls have you had unprotected sex with in the last month?'
Leon squirmed. So did I.
'None,' he said sharply, folding his arms, eyes hard on Byron. 'This is lame. Someone give me a dare.'
‘Kiss Katy,' said Curtis, with a wink.
I should have known. I buried my face and cringed. The alcohol was muddying my thoughts. Did I trust Leon? Or not? Did I want to kiss him? The one thing I certainly knew was that I didn’t want to do it in front of everyone, in such a forced, artificial way. It was childish, like we were fourteen again, playing spin-the-bottle in Gemma’s mum’s garage. Before I could argue, however, he crawled over, leaned towards me. I could smell his skin, the wax in his hair. Our eyes met.
'With tongues,’ said Curtis - this was sport to him.
‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,’Leon whispered. ‘Not for Curtis’s amusement anyhow. Let's just pretend.'
We held our faces close. My heart thumped like crazy. I wanted him to kiss me, SO MUCH, but at the same time, I was terrified. In the end, I allowed him give me a tiny peck on the cheek then pulled away.
‘Cop out!’said Curtis.
But that was it. That was as far as I was going. For now.
Once the buzz of Truth or Dare faded, Leon came up to me again.
'That wasa cop out, you know?’ he whispered, eyes bright.
‘Well, what were you expecting?’I replied.‘Full-on snogging? Followed by a lap dance?’
I blushed. Then we both fell about laughing. Despite Byron's warning, I knew I still fancied Leon like crazy. I couldn't help myself. He slipped his hands around my waist and the sensation made me soar. I lay backwards, placed my head on his chest, felt like all my worries were melting. It had to be good. It had to be true. Seconds later, Leon nodded over my shoulder.
‘We've got company,’he said.
I automatically assumed he meant Byron, then saw Gemma standing above us. Her face was white and her eyes were startled, like she'd had a shock. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
‘I - I - I - I -’
‘Gem? What’s the matter?’
I looked down at her hands. I could see she was holding one of the phones, just about, because her fingers were trembling so much. She beckoned me over, took me into a corner. I figured she must have received some information about Molly. Was it bad news?
'What is it?' I begged. 'What's happened?'
‘Just look,’she whimpered, pointing to the screen on the phone. ‘You have to look -’
Chapter Twenty Two
I stared at the screen.
'What do you know about your new favourite person?’ Gemma demanded.
Not this again.
‘Have you ever, like, hung out with him before?’
‘No,’I said defensively. ‘You’d know if I had, Gem. Byron isnot my friend. And he’s definitelynot my boyfriend. I don’t know him any better than anyone else. I just feel a bit sorry for him, that’s all. But why does everyone have to assume we’re mates now? I’ve never had anything to do with him before today.’
‘Nothing?’
‘Nothing. Never.’
She looked at her feet.
‘I stole his phone,’she said,‘when he wasn’t watching. I knew he had a whole battery charge and I wanted to see if I could make a call to my neighbour, to find out if she'd seen Molly, but the signal was crap. I was about to put it back, and then...look, it was wrong of me, okay, but while I had the phone, I, you know, just thought I’d browse -’
‘Gem! That’s so out of order! How would you like it if someone started going through your phone?'
‘I know. I know. The thing is, I’m kind of glad I didlook -’
She flicked her tongue stud, sucked her cheeks.
‘He has photos,’she said.
‘So? Everyone has photos on their phone.’
‘No. I mean, photos. Of us. Hundreds and HUNDREDS of photos of us.’
‘Huh? Are you sure?’
‘Oh, yes. Everywhere we’ve been the last few months. Central Bowl. The Hurst Centre. Marilyn Park. You name it, he’s got pictures of it. You, me, Greg, even Leon and Curtis, we all play a starring role.’
It took a moment for me to process.
‘Why would he have photos of us?’I said. ‘He doesn’t know us. He doesn’t hang around with us. You must have picked up the wrong phone - '
I examined the silver and black handset, caught a memory.
'This isn't Byron's phone,' I said. 'Byron's phone is...is there.'
I pointed to the silver oblong lying on Miss Nevis's desk, the one I'd seen Byron pick up and answer earlier.
Gemma shook her head.
'Wake up, Kate. That's Leon's phone - '
I looked again and realised she was right. My unease deepened further. Byron had taken a call from Leon's phone, pretended it was his. He'd actually pretended it was his.
‘And it's not just photos,’said Gemma. ‘There are notes. He’s made notes on each of us, details about what we wear, how we talk, the little things we do. Like, he said something about me chewing my tongue stud when I’m pissed off, or that you go red on your neck when you’re embarrassed. Know what I mean? Personal stuff. Why would anyone write that down?’
‘Maybe...maybe it’s harmless?’I said, uncertain, remembering Byron’s thing about‘sensory acuity’.‘Maybe it's just his way figuring people out?’
‘Are you kidding? It’s sick. See for yourself....'
She took the phone off me, began to scroll. There they were, plain as day, not just a few, but hundredsof photos. Frame by frame, every moment, every detail, all the minutiae of our lives captured and recorded. There was even video footage of Curtis’s first day driving, the entire sequence of his blunders. I remembered our conversation about it, how Byron had known all the details. My bones shivered cold. Suddenly it all made sense - the fact that he'd been so opinionated abut Gemma and Leon, that he'd seemed to know everything that had been going on in our lives. He'd been watching us, watching for months.
There was Gemma shopping for jeans; Curtis having a row with one of the doormen at the Hurst Centre; everyone going to the cinema; hanging out at the park; loads of pictures of us in The Pit. And the bowling trip. The bowling trip, the one when Leon and I first started talking, when I first started to like him. It was like recalling a memory, seeing events of my recent past, but seeing them through someone else’s eyes.
Gemma then flicked over to the notes, pages of notes, hundreds of observations about our actions and mannerisms, the things we said, how we said them, what we did, where we went. But the title was the thing that disturbed me the most: PROJECT KATE AND CO.
‘Oh, god,’I said, covering my mouth, dropping the phone to the table.
Gemma held my gaze.
‘Now there's anotherreason for us to get out of here quickly,’she said. ‘We don’t know what he’s up to, but we sure as hell know it’s not normal. And it involves us.’
‘But it couldbe innocent,’I argued, unsure whether I believed myself. ‘I’ve
been chatting with him. He’s just a bit…jealous, lonely. Perhaps he’s been trying to, I don’t know, get to know us?’
‘By stalkingus? That’s not what innocent people do. He’s a crazy boy, Kate. Like, what is it he's planning? We can’t trust him. We have to leave.’
‘But-’
‘You can’t defendhim, Kate. I know you like giving people second, third, fourth and fifth chances and all that, but this time you have to listen to me. We can’t have another Marshall Finch situation on our hands. You’ve seen the pictures for yourself. That freak isn’t right. He’s up to something. He's asicko.’
‘Yes,’I said.
‘We need to tell the others,’she added. ‘But carefully. We don’t want Byron catching on. We don’t want him to know that we know. It might set him off. I’ll tell Curtis and Greg. You tell lover boy over there.’
‘Yes,’I said, sinking.
Chapter Twenty Three
Gemma went to find Greg and Curtis while I stayed by the desk. For as long as no one noticed me in the shadows, I scrolled through Byron's phone again. There was something magnetic about the photos - all the care, the trouble he'd gone to, to record our activity. Why? What did he want? What was so special about us?
He'd obviously followed us from place to place, kept track of our whereabouts. Lots of the photos were taken in The Pit, the open-plan central lobby of the school building, where most of the sixth form hung out. No wonder he’d known about Marshall's endless text messages. He'd been there.
I couldn't recall seeing him. His face had been familiar when he'd first entered the art room, with his sweaty, red cheeks and muddy boots, but I hadn't been able to place it. He must have kept well hidden. Or had I simply failed to notice him? After all, he'd said it himself: no one pays attention to the nondescript loner.
As I switched off the phone and placed it back on the table, I realised I wanted to see past the shock. I wanted to understand. As freaky as Byron was, was he actually a threat? My instincts told me he needed my compassion more than my outrage. He'd been pretty honest about a lot of things, almost like he'd been trying to help me, warn me, open my eyes to other people's deceptions. It had seemed like he was on my side.
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