“An hour? It can’t be. Come on, you can stay out a bit longer. Let’s go for a drink.”
She smiled but stood up anyway. “I can’t. Not today. But you can take me out another time, if you like?”
Ryan felt a flutter in his chest. “How about Friday?”
“Sure, what shall we do?”
“It’s Saintsday,” he said and then cursed inwardly as he remembered that John had already asked him to go.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. It’s just my little brother. He wants me to go with him. But don’t worry, I’ll tell him I can’t make it.”
“No,” Alia said sharply. “You mustn’t do that. Not for me.”
“How about afterwards then? We could go for a drink?”
“I’d like that.”
He walked her back to the house, pausing at the big metal skip outside her yard.
“Fancy a quick dip?” Alia grinned. “For old times’ sake?”
“Oddly enough, I think I’m okay.”
As her eyes lighted on the front door though, Alia’s expression turned serious and her shoulders dipped. Ryan put a hand to her arm.
“So I’ll see you at the parade?”
She flinched but forced a smile. “Definitely. Can’t wait.” Then she sloshed back through the dirty water and into her house.
The sun was falling on the way back through Straybeck and as the sky grew darker, so too did Ryan’s mood. He was regretting his choice of venue for meeting Alia. The whole idea of Saintsday went against everything he believed in. Brynne had made him go last year. Said that he needed to see the truth of the city with his own eyes. When the prisoners were lined up behind the fire though, Ryan knew he had seen enough.
His thoughts fell back to the video of his father and how he had watched him betray the group he was involved in. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became and by the time he had reached the front door, he was ready for a fight. Ryan waited in the hallway for longer than was necessary, silently daring his dad to say something. No one spoke though and the house remained silent.
Ryan went upstairs and slammed his bedroom door. At the far side of the room was a loose floorboard and he went to it now, coaxing it upwards with one fingernail. He placed the pamphlets from Brynne into the space and then drew out a black notebook which he had got from a buyall months ago. He knew Brynne would be furious if he found out, but Ryan had been using it as a journal, writing down his most intimate thoughts. He replaced the floorboard and sat on the bed to read through the first few pages.
He had begun with such thought and care. Then, as the weeks passed and the need to exorcise his thoughts grew, the writing transformed into a scrawl of angry words. When he reached the description of Caylin’s death, Ryan quickly turned the page. He found a pen on the floor and on a fresh sheet of paper began to write.
Today I saw a man betray his friends for money.
As usual, once the first line was written, the words flowed quickly. He recounted the footage and how his dad had sworn allegiance to the Government to save his own life. He wrote until the words were exhausted and when he was finished, a furious black text shouted back at him. He read it through, feeling satisfied by the anger. With a nod of his head, Ryan closed the book and placed it back beneath the floorboards.
Chapter 13
There were only ten minutes left of Alia’s first week at Straybeck Central. The school was identical to her old one, in as much as there were buildings and teachers. Apart from that, it was different in every way imaginable. At Straybeck Academy she would have had three years of schooling ahead of her. Only then would the law firms, financiers and secretarial colleges send their reps to fight for the best scholars. That dream had drifted out of reach like smoke from a window and this was now her final year of schooling.
She was sitting in the main hall surrounded by the five hundred or so seniors; pupils from the top two years at school. They were rude and rough and it was fair to say that Alia hated them already. The girls were wild and flirted shamelessly with the boys who in turn swaggered through the corridors like they were on the factory floor. They shouted and swore and fought in the yards while the teachers did nothing about it.
The headmistress, Mrs Reaton, suddenly appeared and Alia was pleased to see that she at least inspired some fear in the majority of students. Upon her arrival, a hush settled over the hall and most students sank down in their seats.
“Good afternoon students,” Mrs Reaton said. She was a bullish lady with a face that looked like moulded clay. Her hair was sparse and hung in an unruly mess from her head, further adding to the fearsome appearance.
“Today I will be talking about a truly remarkable story from our country’s history. I’m sure you all know of what I’m speaking,” she said, raising one eyebrow doubtfully. “It is, of course, forty years since Our Leader became the hero of the Outland Wars.”
Without thinking, Alia began to applaud and was mortified to hear her solitary claps echo around the hall. It would have been the expected response at Straybeck Academy. The other students would have raced to be the first one clapping. Here though, all heads swivelled in their seats to find the culprit and a mocking laughter rippled through the students. Alia’s face turned bright red while Mrs Reaton screeched for silence.
“As I was saying,” she swept her hair to one side with a well-practiced flick, “after taking the fight to our enemies in the Northern Mountains, Our Leader found himself outnumbered by a force of those ruthless half-breeds. Instead of retreat, he seized command from the cowardly generals and - under his inspired leadership - the gunnermen rallied once more. Together they secured the safety of our lands from the Gabblers for a generation to come.” Reaton surveyed the hall while everyone did their best to avoid her gaze.
“I think the Premier’s bravery and heroism is a lesson to us all. We will never encounter challenges as significant as those faced by him in that battle. However, if we remember his bravery and selflessness when making our own decisions, then his wisdom will help us to choose the right path.”
The students were thoroughly uninspired by the headmistress’s speech and a numb silence hung over the hall. Reaton seemed unaware of their bored faces though and continued without pause.
“In other matters, I’m pleased to announce that the refurbished Informer Station has been a huge success. We have already made more referrals than this time last year and earlier this week I received a letter from the head of the Investigation Section in Karasard.”
Mrs Reaton produced an envelope from the inside pocket of her suit jacket. She read a short and bland missive from the Investigations Section which Alia remembered Mr Kinley reading out in assembly the week before she had left Straybeck Academy. It thanked the school for continuing their patriotic duty in rooting out anti-Government behaviour in Straybeck and Karasard. Any pride she had felt upon first hearing the words was washed away by the knowledge that it had probably gone to all the schools in the city.
For Mrs Reaton though, there was evidently nothing that could surpass the letter’s importance because as soon as it was read, she ended the assembly. They recited the school prayer, thanking God and Premier Talis for their health, wealth and the world around them. Alia mumbled through the words as best she could and then found herself filing out behind the other children. As she made her way towards the front office, two boys from the assembly bundled past her.
“New girl,” one of them called while the other slapped the back of her head.
“Hey,” she shouted, but no one cared and she just plodded on towards the main office. The window hatch was closed when she got there, so Alia pressed her head up against the glass to look inside. The receptionists already had their coats on and one was stacking up the diaries and registers while another secured some coins into a safe. Alia tapped one knuckle on the window and saw a blurry shape walk towards her.
“Yes,” the woman snapped as she slid the window open. She glanced
at the emblem on Alia’s jumper and a momentary flicker of recognition seemed to pass over her face.
“Hi. I’m Alia Turner. I’ve just moved to the school this week.” She paused, expecting a welcome, but the receptionist stared back, stone-faced.
“I was told to come here and sort out some uniform. I’ve only got the stuff from my old school.” She gestured to the sweater she was wearing.
The receptionist gave her an appraising look, her eye settling once again on the Aspire to Greatness badge that was sewn into Alia’s sweater. She gave a short, unpleasant laugh but decided not to share the joke. “Your old school may have been able to provide free uniforms, but we don’t do that here.”
“I don’t need much,” Alia said quietly, hating that she even had to ask. “But my tutor said there may be some lost property or something? Just to get me started for this week.”
The receptionist gave a shrill laugh and turned to the other woman in the office.
“Just to get her started,” she repeated mockingly. “How the mighty have fallen, ay? Well there isn’t any lost property and you’ll just have to buy your uniform like everyone else.”
When she tried to slide the glass shut, Alia blocked it with her fingers. She leaned in close to make sure that no one else could hear.
“I don’t have any money.”
The receptionist’s face was full of scorn and she too dropped her voice to a whisper. “Your family made its fortune while the rest of us broke our backs in the factories. You’ll get no handouts from me.”
She slammed the partition shut, leaving Alia in a stunned silence. She couldn’t believe that a complete stranger could be so angry with her. Tears prickled in the corner of each eye but Alia pushed them away with the back of her hand. She shouldered her rucksack once again and walked back through school towards the knife gates.
In the junior buildings, John’s lesson was also coming to an end. As the bell rang, his teacher sank into her chair and the students piled out of the classroom.
“Stack your chairs,” she called wearily.
John bumped back against the tide and lifted his chair onto the desk. No one else had bothered so he gave the teacher a quick smile and then ran back through the door. His friend Danny Saunders, was waiting out of sight and clipped his heels when he ran past. John went sprawling into the crowd of children.
“Enjoy your trip?” Danny laughed.
“Funny.” They fell into step and John counted off the time in his head. Less than four hours to go until Saintsday. “How big do you think the fire will be?”
Danny shrugged irritably. “Stop going on about it. It’ll be shit anyway.”
He’d been like that all day. Usually he’d be saying how the parade was going to be the biggest and best ever. But now that John was going, Danny had decided the whole event was going to be a waste of time.
“Where are you going to stand?”
“At the front,” Danny bragged, “but don’t you try it. Last year they put the ropes too close and someone got burns all over their face. You wouldn’t be able to stand it.”
“Yes I could,” John said.
“How do you know, you’ve never been.”
“Yes I have.”
“When? About ten years ago? Big deal. I bet they didn’t even have any convicts to kill when you were there.”
“Yes they did, they had loads.” Although as soon as he said it, John realised he’d totally forgotten about that part of the parade. He had a sudden memory of the fireworks exploding overhead while the firelight danced over a line of emaciated faces.
Putting it from his mind, John jostled down the corridor until he reached a knot of children waiting outside the detention rooms. He caught a momentary glimpse of a black jumper in amongst the sea of blue and craned his neck for a better view.
“It’s her,” he said, knocking Danny on the arm. “That girl.”
They had first spotted her two days ago from the science lab window. Her uniform was the same colour as the Academy kids, and she had a way about her that seemed out of place. Even now, she was like a tourist as she passed through the packed corridor.
“Watch this,” Danny said, sticking his fingers in his mouth. He blew a shrill whistle that pierced the clamour causing a sudden silence.
Mr Matthews bristled from the doorway of his classroom. “Who was that?” he shouted. The silence continued and John filed past with his eyes on the floor. “The next one to speak, stays an hour.” Mr Matthews called, eyeballing anyone who dared to lookup.
Danny waited until they rounded the corner. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Did she look round?”
“I don’t know.”
Up ahead a jam had formed at the knife gates and they joined the queuing students. John squeezed forwards between two seniors and chuckled as the gap closed before Danny could get through. He shuffled forwards a few more paces and saw the black-jumper girl struggling to move through the crowd. He ducked low and gained a few more places until he was standing beside her. They inched forwards and John felt his arm pressing against hers. Out the corner of his eye he saw that she might only be a year older than him.
She reached the gates before him, clutching her rucksack in front like a shield. John watched the other students push her aside. When it was his turn to go through, he braced his feet and bent his back to the crowd, waving her into the gap. She scurried under the knife gate, holding her ID to the school guard who nodded irritably.
John was shoved in the back of his head for holding up the queue, but managed to dodge through the gate before he received any real payback. On the other side, the girl had waited for him.
“Thanks,” she said.
He shrugged, suddenly tongue-tied. “No problem.”
They walked towards the main road, moving past the small pocket of students that were waiting outside a sleek black building. It was a perfect cube and appeared to have risen from the ground rather than been built.
“Is that the Informer Station?” the girl said.
John nodded and dropped his voice. “Last year someone informed on a teacher and they got dragged out of school by the gunnermen.”
“How awful.”
“Shh,” he warned. They walked in silence until they were clear of the Informer Station. Eventually John pointed at the strange crest on the girl’s jumper. “Why are you wearing that?”
“It’s my old school,” she said. “I’ve only just moved here.”
“Where from?”
Before she could answer, John felt a weight on his back and fell to the floor as Danny jumped on top of him. The girl drifted away while John struggled to his feet and rubbed the mud from his knees. “What did you do that for?”
“Ooh,” Danny cooed. “What’s the matter? Did I embarrass you in front of your girlfriend?”
“Shut up.”
John turned around to let her know that he hadn’t said anything about her being his girlfriend, but she had already moved away and disappeared beyond the school gate.
A few hours later, John was back home and sitting on his bed, sulking. “You said you were going to come with us.”
Ryan was lying on the bottom bunk with his fingers laced behind his head and a hard expression on his face. “So? You can still go without me.”
“But you promised. And now it’s nearly seven o’clock. We’re going to the miss the fire being lit.”
“So go then. I’m not stopping you.”
“I’m not going without you. It won’t be the same.” He had known something like this would happen. Everything had been going too well for it to last.
“It’s not because of you,” Ryan sighed. “I just don’t like Saintsday anymore. Besides, I don’t want to be seen anywhere with him.”
“He’s not as bad as you think,” John said quietly. The image of his dad lying on the pavement, both legs broken, hadn’t been far from his thoughts lately.
Ryan just laughed though. “Trust me
. You don’t know everything I know.”
John was confused by that. Because if Ryan knew about the raid at the safe-house and how their dad was tortured, why would he still be angry? To his surprise, his brother gave a deep sigh and pushed himself off the bed.
“Fine. But I’m only staying an hour.”
“An hour? They won’t even have done the fireworks by then.”
“Do you want me to come or not?” he snapped. “I’ll stop as long as the fireworks and then I’m going to meet someone.”
John froze. He knew the only person Ryan could be meeting at that time of night was the man from the underground station. The one that had threatened to kill him.
“Don’t meet him, Ryan. Stay with us.”
“Who says it’s a he?” He took his ID and some copper coins from the desk before grabbing John by the ankles and dragging him down the bed.
“Get off you big goon,” he laughed. Ryan kept pulling until he was hanging by his fingertips to the top rung of the ladder.
“Goon am I?” Ryan teased.
“Ryan pleeease,” he squealed, his whole body suspended five feet in the air.
“Ryan’s not here. It’s just a big goon.”
“You’re not a goon,” John squealed.
“Who is then?”
“It’s me. I’m a goon.”
Ryan lowered his brother’s legs to the safety of the ladder. John was immediately running for the stairs. “Goon.”
By the time they had wrestled their way to the hallway, both were laughing and Ryan was back to his old self. Then their dad appeared and the room went cold.
“You two ready?”
“Yep.”
Ryan didn’t answer. He snatched his jacket from the banister and opened the front door. John sneaked a look at his dad in the mirror. His face was old and sad.
“I’ll lock up,” Eliza said quietly as she appeared beside him. Out on the street, Ryan had already set off towards the park. John waited on the edge of the pavement, torn between his parents and his brother.
“Go on,” Robb said. “We’ll catch up.”
Straybeck Rising: Calloway Blood: Book one (Calloway Blood 1) Page 8
