In a Split Second

by Sophie McKenzie

  “For goodness’ sake, you’re pathetic,” muttered Parveen. She turned to Nat. “Both of you.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about but then that was often the case with Parveen, who was serially grouchy about practically everything. Anyway, it was stupid to worry about Charlie. My own mission was going to be far harder to pull off; I should focus on that.

  “Are you there?” Taylor’s voice sounded in my ear.

  “Yes, sir,” Parveen muttered.

  “Yes, sir,” George said.

  “Nat?”

  “Yes, sir.” I shook myself. “Did Charlie do okay?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Taylor said. “She got on the underground with Aaron Latimer so we lost contact. He wanted to see her home. It’s good, makes it more likely he’ll want to be friends.”

  “More than friends, I bet.” George chuckled.

  “Focus, guys,” Taylor warned.

  I said nothing. I didn’t like the fact Charlie was still with Aaron and cut off from Taylor’s support. On the other hand, Aaron wasn’t one of the bad guys. I was about to meet some of those. And I was going to need all my wits about me to deal with them.

  We walked on. It had been a mild day, but as darkness closed in, the air grew colder. I shivered in my thin jacket. I had changed out of my school uniform before meeting up with the others. Parveen had done the same. George, who had dropped out of school more than two years ago, was in his trademark combats and T-shirt, despite the weather. We reached the rundown alley just off Caledonian Road where Taylor had told us to wait. The alley walls were high. No one could see in from either side. The stink of rotting meat filled the air from a nearby garbage bag, its contents spilling onto the grubby concrete ground.

  Another fifteen minutes passed and my thoughts strayed again to Charlie. She must be almost home by now. Was she still with Aaron? Suppose he tried to kiss her? Suppose Charlie kissed him back? I couldn’t bear the thought of it. Which was ridiculous. I’d already kissed Charlie myself then pulled away. I’d made my decision about her.

  “Nat, are you listening to me?” Taylor’s irritated voice sounded through my earpiece.

  “Er, yes, sir,” I said.

  “Good. Our inside man tells me WhiteRaven is on her way to the meeting. She’ll be passing the alley in about ten seconds. Get started.”

  “Yes, sir.” WhiteRaven was the Goth-looking woman I’d seen at the League of Iron meeting I’d gone to before. Taylor said she was a central member of the group—so had almost certainly been involved in planning the Canal street market bomb.

  “Go on, Par,” George said.

  “Okay, okay.” Parveen started groaning and clutching at her stomach. She rubbed her hand on the dirty ground, then smeared some of the dust on her face. “No,” she cried, “stop, please.”

  “Louder,” whispered George.

  “Make it sound real,” I added.

  Parveen made a face. “Well attack me, then,” she muttered.

  “Fine.” I stepped forward and gave Par a gentle shove in the stomach. It was the lightest of taps, barely making contact, but Par doubled over, yelping with fake pain.

  “Serves you right, you stupid Paki bitch,” George shouted.

  I glanced to the top of the alley. No sign yet of WhiteRaven, but she must be about to appear. I edged closer to Par again and shoved her shoulder. She collapsed onto the floor.

  “Don’t hurt me,” she begged.

  She sounded completely convincing. A wave of nausea washed over me. How could people do this for real?

  “Why shouldn’t we hurt you?” George snarled.

  “Yeah, you’re nothing,” I shouted. “Not even really human. Like an animal.”

  “No, please.” Parveen curled up on the ground. She was sobbing, her hands over her face.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see WhiteRaven come into view. She stood a couple of yards away, watching us. I aimed a careful kick at Parveen’s thigh, making sure I pulled my boot short of actually thudding into her.

  “What you need is a freakin’ lesson,” I yelled.

  “More,” Taylor urged in his ear. “Make it bigger.”

  I swore loudly then carried on, timing each curse with each kick of my boot.

  “Stupid bitch.” George joined in the kicking, aiming his foot over and over at Par’s stomach. She writhed and groaned with each strike. Her pain and fear were totally believable, even though I was close enough to see George was barely touching her.

  “What’s going on?” WhiteRaven called.

  I turned. She was walking over. This was it.

  “Get lost,” I shouted.

  Beside me, George stopped his pretend kicking of Parveen and clenched his fists. “We’re not doing anything wrong,” he mumbled.

  “What did she do?” WhiteRaven asked.

  I steeled myself. “She was born,” I spat. “Then she had the nerve to ask us for a light.”

  George nodded. “Yeah, stupid bitch.”

  WhiteRaven laughed. I held my breath. The biggest risk of our mission was that the League members who found us might want to join in our attack on Parveen. Much to my relief, however, WhiteRaven wasn’t focusing on Parveen.

  She seemed more interested in me. “Haven’t I seen you before?” she asked.

  “Don’t know,” I said, “I did go to one League meeting but I haven’t been for a while. . . .”

  “Why’s that?” WhiteRaven’s small, dark eyes bored into me.

  “Wasn’t sure it was my thing,” I went on. “But I heard about tonight. It’s in some place called Totton House, isn’t it?” I glanced at Parveen, who was now crawling away from us. Fake blood—from the sachet Taylor had given her to bite on—trickled from her lip. “This bitch got in our way.”

  “You’re doing well,” Taylor whispered in my ear. “Give WhiteRaven a chance to think about you.”

  I held my breath. A beat passed. WhiteRaven folded her arms. “So, do you think the League is your ‘thing’ now?”

  I glanced at Parveen. She was on her feet and staggering away holding her stomach.

  “Yeah, I do,” I said. “I didn’t really get it before, but I do now.”

  “Are you in the League?” George said. Unlike the kicks, which he’d faked convincingly, his tone of admiration sounded slightly forced to my ears. Would WhiteRaven notice?

  “I am.” She cast George a quick, dismissive glance, then turned to me again.

  “How did you hear there was a meeting?” she asked.

  “Same way as before,” I said with a shrug. “Forums.”

  “Good,” Taylor breathed in his ear. “Now shut up and let her decide.”

  At the end of the alley, Parveen was limping away out of sight. George was watching her, but I kept my gaze on WhiteRaven’s face.

  “Okay, you can come in with me,” she said.

  “Really?” Again, George’s enthusiasm sounded a little overdone to my ears.

  “Yeah, really,” WhiteRaven sneered. “We only use usernames inside. You got yours?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I’m AngelOfFire.” I indicated George. “This is Rioter.”

  “Right, I’m WhiteRaven.” She offered us a thin-lipped smile. “Come on, then, if you’re coming. We’ll see what Saxon66 has to say about you. Decide if you’ll make it as League members.”

  “That’s great, thank you,” George said.

  Again, I winced at the fake enthusiasm in his voice. I hoped George wasn’t making WhiteRaven wary. She didn’t look like she suspected us of trying to infiltrate the League, but there was no way I could know for sure.

  CHARLIE

  Aaron chatted away as we left the tube and walked along Park Street to the Nutmeg Café. It was almost six and I found my thoughts straying again to Nat. Parveen had been right that Nat and George’s mission—to fake a racist attack on her and convince the League of Iron to let them join a meeting—was far harder than mine.

  Was Nat okay? Had he and George gotten
into the League? Did anyone there suspect them? I knew that the meeting was to start at six, so presumably their faked beating of poor Par had either succeeded by now or it hadn’t.

  “Hey, Charlie?” Aaron’s voice drew me back to the present moment. “Before we go inside, I just want to say I’m sorry about your mum.”

  “Oh.” I felt awkward. Back at the memorial service Aaron clearly hadn’t known who I was which meant someone must have told him since. “How did you find out?”

  “I checked the press cuttings in Dad’s home office afterward,” Aaron said matter-of-factly. “Why didn’t you tell me at the service?”

  I shrugged. “You didn’t ask. You seemed more interested in impressing me than anything else.”

  “Ouch.” Aaron made a face. “I’m sorry if I was rude or . . . or thoughtless or whatever.” He paused. “I asked about you afterward too. You live with your aunt and uncle, don’t you?”

  I nodded.

  We were almost at the Nutmeg Café. Several of the small cafés and shops on this road had shut down in the past year and most doorways were filled with tramps. We passed an old woman with straggly hair, asleep under a bit of old blanket. Was Par writhing on the ground right now, still pretending to be hurt? Or had all three of them been exposed as frauds? Was Nat okay, or was he lying, beaten, somewhere?

  “So who are you meeting at this café?” Aaron asked.

  “I don’t know exactly who’ll be here,” I said, feeling distracted. “Jas, I guess. Her brother’s in a coma from the same bomb that killed my mum.” I threw him a sharp look. “Just in case you feel like being less rude and thoughtless today.”

  “Right, okay, sorry.” Aaron shrank into himself a little, hunching over and folding his arms.

  I inwardly cursed myself. What was I doing? I was supposed to be flirting, getting Aaron to invite me to his stupid party. I braced myself, ready for Taylor to mutter something about my attitude in my ear. But Taylor didn’t speak. It suddenly occurred to me he was almost certainly listening in to whatever Nat, George, and Parveen were doing. He was leaving me to my own devices, trusting I would bring back the invitation we needed. And I shouldn’t let him down. Not because I particularly cared about the League’s plot to assassinate Aaron’s dad, but because foiling it would bring me another step closer to getting my revenge on the League. I took a deep breath and turned to Aaron.

  “I’m sorry,” I said with a rueful smile. “I just get really uncomfortable when people talk about Mum. It’s not your fault.”

  “No worries.” Aaron grinned. “I get it.”

  We reached the Nutmeg Café. Rosa and several of her friends were sitting by the window. That was all I needed. At least Jas and our friends were here too, toward the back of the café.

  “This is it,” I said, and pushed open the door.

  After the chilly late-afternoon air, the Nutmeg Café was warm and inviting, rich with the scents of toffee and cinnamon and buzzing with excited chatter. It was my favorite place for Jas and me to meet, mainly because the hot chocolate was delicious and the young guy who ran the place gave discounts on every drink. Rosa spotted me immediately. She came rushing over, one of her giggly friends in tow.

  “Hi, Charlie, wow, is that makeup?”

  I winced. I’d forgotten about the eyeliner Par had made me put on.

  Rosa turned to Aaron. For goodness’ sake, she was practically batting her eyelashes at him. “And who is this?”

  I gritted my teeth. Rosa was clearly trying to sound all seductive and sophisticated but she was coming across as a total idiot. Swallowing the impulse to tell her this, I tried to speak as calmly as I could.

  “This is Aaron. We met at the memorial service the other day, then bumped into each other just now.”

  “Oh, how awful. I was there too. It was really moving.” Rosa’s face crumpled with concern. Her silly friend whose name was Milly or Minnie or something copied her expression. Now the pair of them looked like someone had just drowned their pet kittens. I shuddered with embarrassment. “Were you related to one of the victims too?” Rosa asked.

  Aaron’s rosy cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “Er, no,” he said. “I was there because my dad was there, er, for his job.”

  “Aaron’s dad is the mayor of london,” I added.

  Rosa’s eyes now widened into circles, the concern on her face morphing into the kind of look she normally reserved for her favorite boy band.

  “Wow,” she said.

  “Yeah, totally, wow,” Milly/Minnie added fervently.

  This time I couldn’t resist. “I don’t know why you’re both so impressed,” I snapped. “He’s just somebody’s son, it’s not like he won a gold medal at the Olympics.”

  Too harsh, Charlie.

  An awkward silence descended. Rosa and Milly/Minnie looked completely offended. Aaron was now an even deeper shade of red. I bit my lip, wishing I were anywhere but here. My thoughts skittered to Nat. Was he inside the League of Iron yet? Was he okay? It struck me that I‘d rather be facing a bunch of racist thugs than the situation I was in now.

  I stared at the floor.

  Aaron cleared his throat. “Can I buy anyone a drink? I have a gold medal at spending my allowance.”

  I forced myself to look up. Aaron’s face was still flushed, but he was grinning, the dimple showing in his cheek. I had to admit he was pretty cool for not being offended by me.

  “Hey, I’m sorry.”

  “No need for that.” Aaron waved his hand. His eyes sparkled. “I’ve been told a lot worse.”

  “Well, I’d love a caramel cappuccino,” Rosa said. “Thank you, Aaron.” She took his arm and walked him to the counter.

  I followed, telling myself to be more careful with what I said.

  Just act nice, I told myself. How hard can it be?

  The end of the counter was near the back of the café, where Jas and two of our friends were sitting. Jas sidled up as Rosa pointed out a display of iced cupcakes to Aaron.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hi.” Jas grinned. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You look gorgeous with that makeup on. Come over, we’re sitting in the corner.”

  “Thanks, er, I had to bring someone,” I said, pointing to Aaron.

  Jas’s eyes widened. “Where did you find him?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Just bumped into him. We’ve met him before.”

  “Yeah, at the memorial service,” Jas said. “I remember. Is he going to come and sit with us?”

  “I guess, if I can get Rosa away from him.” I lowered my voice. “I’m not into him, okay? But he’s actually really nice.”

  “Okay.” Jas nodded, then scuttled off to her table. Aaron was at the counter, still talking with Rosa, but he was looking around, taking in the whole café. I hurried over, determined to reclaim him.

  “Our table’s at the back,” I said pointedly.

  “But I’ve asked Aaron to sit with us.” Rosa pouted.

  I was on the verge of snapping at her again, but Aaron spoke before I had a chance.

  “I came here with Charlie, so I should really sit with her. Maybe you could join us?”

  Rosa looked at me hopefully.

  “Sorry, but there’s not much room.” For a moment I wasn’t sure Rosa would take the hint, then she turned on her heel and stalked off to Milly/Minnie and their friends.

  Gail’s warning about trying to get along better with Rosa flashed into my mind. Well, there was nothing I could do about it. I had to get Aaron to invite me to his party and he was hardly likely to do so with Rosa hanging on his every word.

  To my relief, Aaron didn’t seem all that bothered I’d blown Rosa off. He quickly put in an order for some drinks. They arrived all together at the end of the counter. I immediately snatched up Rosa and Milly/Minnie’s caramel caps and took them over. I expected Aaron would still be waiting when I returned to the counter, but he was already sitting at the t
able with Jas, her two friends, and both our hot chocolates. I hurried over and sat down.

  Aaron was smiling at something Jas had said. She was laughing, self-conscious even for Jas. I felt a stab of guilt, for imposing Aaron on the group. I liked Jas and it really wasn’t fair to inflict him on her. On the other hand, Aaron was actually being quite charming, asking her about the black-and-cream check coat she was wearing over her school uniform. I knew she’d made it herself, and when Aaron found out, he sounded genuinely impressed, complimenting her with a surprising level of fashion knowledge.

  “It’s kind of Prada, with a dash of Kate Spade,” he said. “But then it’s totally original too.”

  I stared at him. So did Jas.

  “My mum wears a lot of designers so I’ve picked a few things up,” he said modestly. “She usually asks me to help her choose what she wears to functions. My dad’s too busy.”

  “Does she ever wear Versace?” Jas asked.

  “Actually, there is one evening dress . . . ,” Aaron said.

  I sat back, letting the two of them chatter on. A few minutes later, Jas’s two friends left and, after politely saying good-bye to them, Aaron turned back to Jas and asked her something about school. In a minute I’d try to bring the subject around to birthdays and parties. My thoughts drifted to Nat again. It was a quarter past six now and I was itching to find out what was happening in that League of Iron meeting and whether he and the others were okay. I couldn’t send Nat a text while he was in the middle of an operation, but if all had gone according to plan, Parveen should be free now. She could tell me if Nat and George were inside the meeting at least.

  I sent a quick text, then got up and headed for the bathroom. Par replied even before I reached it.

  They’re in. All good, esp my fake blood. ;)

  I smiled to myself as I went into the ladies’ room. Well, that was a relief, at least. I took my time in the bathroom, washing the makeup off my face as best I could. I didn’t care what Aaron thought, I didn’t like how I felt with all that eyeliner. It just wasn’t me. I came out into the café, intending to get Aaron talking about his birthday party immediately but when I got back to the table he was gone.

  I looked around, but there was no sign of his tousled fair hair anywhere in the café.