Jamie looked stunned.
‘You’re taking it the wrong way —’
‘Am I? I don’t think so! You’re offended because I’m spending time on something that doesn’t interest you! As if I ever stopped you from joining in.’
All the colour had drained out of Jamie’s face. ‘You’re talking such drivel, Nick. I’m just happy that you’ve got out of something nasty and dangerous.’
‘Oh yes, of course. Jamie knows all about it. Jamie is oh, so clever, Jamie is above it all, huh? And Nick is too stupid to realise. You can get stuffed, honest. Just shove off!’
Without another word Jamie turned around and walked over to his bike.
Nick watched him, furious that he couldn’t continue his outburst, and at the same time wounded because . . . because – he didn’t exactly know either. Because Jamie wasn’t on his side?
He exhaled deeply and made his way to the Tube station, watching Jamie out of the corner of his eye. He was obviously pretty mad too; he was pedalling flat out, at any rate, and he whizzed down the street past Nick.
Nick continued in the opposite direction, not sparing Jamie another glance. He’d soon be at Finn’s place, he’d borrow the laptop and sort things out. He didn’t even register the thud at first, or the blaring of horns. It was only when cars drew to a standstill next to him and one of the drivers got out that he realised something was wrong. He turned.
The traffic jam stretched from the intersection three hundred metres after the school, right up to the Tube station that Nick had nearly reached.
‘There must have been an accident,’ the man next to the car said.
Nick didn’t know how he knew. All at once everything in him became as cold as ice. He’d begun to run without noticing. His bag fell off his shoulder onto the footpath. He dashed over there, blind to everything but the road, the intersection, and all the people standing there.
‘. . . didn’t brake at all.’
‘But there was a red light!’
‘. . . don’t understand it.’
‘Oh, how terrible . . .’
‘Don’t look, Debbie . . .’
He ran past the bus stop, shoving a few of the waiting people out of the way. He struck his shoulder on a lamppost, raced on, heard the shocked voices as if through cottonwool; his own breath drowned out everything else, was louder than the approaching ambulance siren.
There was the intersection. There was the bike. And there was, dear God, there was . . .
‘Jamie!’
He punched his way through the crowd, he had to get through, had to reach Jamie, had to twist his leg round the right way . . .
‘Jamie!’
So much blood. Nick’s body suddenly gave way, he sank to his knees next to his friend. Jamie.
‘Keep away, young man. The ambulance is almost here.’
‘But . . .’ Nick’s breaths were coming in jerky sobs. ‘But . . .’
‘You can’t do anything now. Don’t touch! Someone take the boy away!’
Hands on his shoulders. Shake them off. Hands dragging him up.
Lash out. Thrash. Yell.
The ambulance. Blue flashing light, fluoro yellow jackets. ‘Shallow breathing.’
A stretcher.
‘Please . . . please, he can’t die!’
‘I think this one needs attention too, he’s suffering from shock.’
‘Please.’
Howling. From the ambulance, inside Nick. Please.
Hands on his shoulders. Shake them off.
Stroking his hair. Look up. Emily.
They gave him something to drink and he swallowed. Emily sat by him; her hands shook slightly when she took the bottle from him. Several times he opened his mouth to ask Emily something, but all that came out of his throat was dry sobbing.
He curled up, heard himself whimper, felt Emily’s arm around his shoulders. She didn’t say anything, just gently held him close.
She wouldn’t do that if she knew the truth.
When Nick became aware of his surroundings again the onlookers had already dispersed. Emily was still sitting next to him. It took all his strength to smile at her.
All he felt was guilt. He’d made him mad; that’s why Jamie hadn’t braked at the intersection. Nick hated himself.
He didn’t want to go home. The thought of sitting around and waiting was ghastly. He couldn’t stay here either. Bashing his head against a wall seemed pretty attractive in comparison.
‘I’ve got your things here, I hope that’s all of them.’
Where had Adrian suddenly appeared from? He held Nick’s filthy bag out to him. Nick looked it blankly. He didn’t want his bag, he didn’t want anything else to drink either. He wanted only one thing: to turn back time and have the conversation with Jamie over again. Not to let him get on his bike. Not to be such a complete arsehole.
‘Thanks,’ Emily said instead of Nick and took the bag from Adrian.
‘Do you know how Jamie is?’ he whispered. ‘Did anyone say anything?’ Nick couldn’t get a word out. He could feel Emily shaking her head by his side.
‘The police are over there interviewing witnesses. If one of you saw how it happened, I’m sure they’d be glad if you talked to them.’
‘I didn’t see it,’ Nick whispered. ‘I only heard it, and then . . .’ He didn’t say any more, because the tears were already starting again.
Adrian nodded. His gaze was hard to interpret; it was understanding, and at the same time professional, like a psychologist’s.
‘I didn’t see anything either,’ Emily said quietly. ‘But I think Brynne was standing quite nearby. They couldn’t interview her, she was given a sedative and she’s barely responding.’
I am so afraid. So afraid. Nick threw his hands up to his face, dug his fingernails into his scalp. The pain helped, it was much better than the other pain, which Nick could hardly bear. The good pain gave him an idea.
‘Does anyone know where they took Jamie?’
‘To the Whittington, I think,’ Emily said. ‘Someone mentioned the Whittington. But that might not be right.’
Nick jumped up without another word, swayed a little because things went black, then felt Emily’s arm supporting him.
‘I’m going to Jamie.’ His voice was hardly more than a croak. ‘I have to know how he is.’
Emily went with him. They got out of the Tube at Archway. Nick was freezing; the trip to the hospital seemed to be taking forever. He was glad that Emily didn’t say anything or ask anything; he needed all his strength to put one foot in front of the other. His fear grew with every step. They’d arrive at the hospital and someone would tell them that unfortunately it hadn’t been possible to save Jamie’s life. That he’d died in the ambulance. Nick couldn’t breathe. He stopped in front of the wall of glass at the entrance and rested his hands on his knees. He felt dizzy.
‘They will have taken him to Emergency,’ Emily said. ‘It’s further round the back.’
‘But Reception must be here. I’ll go ask.’
Nick hurried into the foyer. The walk to the inquiries counter was like the walk to the scaffold. The thin blonde woman who gave out information there would decide Nick’s future life. The thought turned his stomach.
‘Good afternoon. Has a Jamie Cox been admitted here?’
She studied him through narrow glasses.
‘Are you a relative?’
‘Jamie Cox. It was a traffic accident. I have to know how he is. Please.’
The blonde gave a tight smile. ‘We are only allowed to give information to relatives. Are you related to Mr Cox?’
‘We’re friends. Best mates.’
‘In that case, I’m sorry.’
Nick didn’t so much walk out of the hospital as drag himself out. His sentence had been postponed. How was he going to endure it? How could anyone expect him to endure it?
Emily led him to the small patch of green that lay a little distance from the hospital. The ground was cold and sli
ghtly damp; Nick took off his jacket so they had something they could sit on.
‘I can’t go home,’ he said. ‘Not till I know how Jamie is.’
They were silent for a while, watching the cars as they drove past.
‘We could ring the school,’ Emily suggested. ‘They might know the latest.’
‘No, not the school.’ Nick’s stomach tensed again. ‘I wonder if his parents know?’
‘They must. They would have rung them. If he’s still alive.’ Emily plucked a blade of grass and stared hard at the bus stop opposite. ‘They only come in person if someone is dead. Two of them come; it’s probably too hard to do that sort of thing on your own. They ask for your name, and then they tell you how sorry they are . . .’
Nick looked at her sideways, but said nothing. She smiled painfully. ‘My brother. It was a long time ago though.’
‘Was it an accident as well?’
Emily’s face hardened. ‘Yes. An accident. The police said at the time that it was suicide, but that’s complete and utter drivel.’
Another clump of grass fell victim to Emily’s fingers. Nick bit his lip. He didn’t know if he should ask anything else or just leave it. Probably neither was right.
‘He was such a good swimmer,’ Emily whispered. ‘He wouldn’t have jumped into the water to kill himself.’
Nick put an arm around her shoulders without fearing that she would push him away. Neither of them would push the other away. They embraced, not like lovers, but like two people who need to hold on to something.
It was Emily who saw Jamie’s father coming out of the hospital. He looked so frantic that Nick didn’t want to approach him, but Emily saw it differently. She sprinted after Mr Cox and stopped him. Nick couldn’t hear what they were saying. Mr Cox wiped his hands over his eyes several times, and spread his arms out in a helpless gesture that made Nick’s heart sink. Emily nodded several times, and squeezed Jamie’s father’s hand tightly for a long time in parting before she returned to Nick.
‘He’s alive. He suffered a cardiac arrest in the ambulance and they had to resuscitate him, but now he’s fairly stable, his father says.’
The words cardiac arrest had made Nick’s own heart trip. ‘Stable, you say. That’s good.’
‘Not really good. They’ve put him in an induced coma. He’s so badly injured. His left leg is broken in several places, and his hip too. And he has brain trauma.’ She looked away, past Nick. ‘It’s possible that there will be some lasting effects. If he survives.’
‘What lasting effects? What do you mean lasting effects?’
She pushed her hair off her brow. ‘That he could have a lasting brain injury.’
The wave of relief that had borne Nick for a few seconds ebbed away. Brain damage. No. No way. He pushed the thought right away from him. That wasn’t going to happen, because it wasn’t allowed to happen.
‘Can we visit him?’
‘Unfortunately not. He’s in Intensive Care. He’s not even conscious; he wouldn’t know that we were there. We just have to wait.’
Nick waited for the next two days, and it felt like hell. Incessantly. It didn’t matter what else he was doing – eating, studying, talking to people – in reality he was waiting for the news that Jamie was awake and that he would make a complete recovery. Only occasionally did his thoughts wander, and pictures flashed up – the Arena, big Goggle-Eyes, BloodWork with his giant axe. Most often it was the messenger as he’d looked that last time, when his yellow eyes turned red. It was torture. He couldn’t think of Erebos while Jamie was lying in a coma. But the pictures returned over and over again.
It was the weekend; he didn’t even have school to distract him. Every time the phone rang Nick jumped, torn between panic and hope. ‘Shove off.’ Those were the last words he’d hurled at Jamie; every time he thought of that he cringed inwardly. Don’t shove off, Jamie, please don’t shove off.
On Monday Jamie was the number one topic at school, of course. Everyone had seen something or heard something and wanted to talk about it. Only those who had actually been nearby at the time maintained a gloomy silence. Brynne especially, who was almost unrecognisable without make-up. On the day of the accident she’d been taken to hospital too; there was a rumour that she had needed counselling.
No-one was talking about Eric and Aisha any more. Nick had the impression that Aisha was more relieved about it than Eric.
To all appearances the afternoon outside the hospital hadn’t changed anything between Nick and Emily. They didn’t sit next to each other in class, or share a table at lunch. But something was different. It was small glances, a smile that lingered or an encouraging nod. Emily had never made that kind of gesture to Nick before. For Nick they were the only bright spots in a grim, seemingly never-ending ocean of waiting.
Finally on Tuesday there was news. Mr Watson announced it in English class. ‘Jamie’s parents rang. He’s out of danger. But he is still being kept in an induced coma. The doctors don’t know for how long at the moment. This is great news nevertheless. I can’t tell you how glad I am.’
The relief in the room was palpable, like a breath of wind. Some people clapped, Colin jumped up and did a little dance. Nick wanted to fling his arms around Emily’s neck, but restricted himself to exchanging a long look with her. Joyful, but with an element of uncertainty remaining. Mr Watson hadn’t said anything about whether the risk of brain damage had been averted.
CHAPTER 23
In the next free period Nick was sitting by himself in one of the study rooms trying to memorise chemical formulas. The door to the corridor was open, and he happened to look up as Colin was walking past. Very quietly, very carefully. So carefully that Nick’s curiosity was instantly aroused. He pushed his chair back and stood, almost without making a sound. He saw Colin sneak along the corridor, then turn left. Nick followed him. Was there a secret meeting somewhere?
Colin crept down the stairs. It looked as if he was heading for the coat racks. Not a bad place for a meeting at this time of day. Nick stayed behind him, at a generous distance, nearly lost track of him and then spotted him again – by the staircase to the student coat racks, just as he’d thought. Nick could see that he was going along the rows of coats and jackets, searching. Then he stopped. From Nick’s position he couldn’t exactly see what Colin was doing among all the clothing, and he couldn’t go any closer without being noticed. He squinted his eyes and thought he saw a flash of bright orange. Very briefly. Seconds later Colin headed back and Nick beat a hasty retreat, hid in the nearest toilets and counted to fifty. Colin had to be gone by now.
Nick found the splash of colour among the school clothing almost immediately. The fluoro orange badge adorned a smallish jacket, probably belonging to a girl. What had Colin been doing with it?
Nick had a good look round before he stuck his hand in the jacket pocket. His fingers touched a neatly folded piece of paper. A love letter? Then it wouldn’t be any of Nick’s business. But maybe it was a message. Whatever, he was far too curious to back out now. He pulled out the piece of paper and unfolded it.
A drawing of a gravestone:
DARLEEN PEMBER
DIED FROM LACK OF INSIGHT.
MAY SHE REST IN PEACE.
Something clicked in Nick’s brain. Jamie had received a letter like this too. Perhaps . . . Nick shoved the thought away immediately, but it came back. Like a balloon that you try to push under water.
Perhaps Jamie hadn’t ridden across the intersection without braking because he was angry and careless. Perhaps he had braked, or at least tried to. He had shown Nick the letter with the gravestone. A threat Nick hadn’t taken seriously. Jamie had, though. And now . . .
Cutting the brakes on someone’s bike or spiking someone’s tea with an overdose of heart medication – they weren’t such very different things.
Colin. Colin was handing out death notes. Was he carrying them out too?
Without stopping to think, Nick stormed up the stairs, and rac
ed across the corridor that led to the canteen – Colin was strolling along up ahead as if nothing had happened.
‘You arsehole!’ Nick leapt on him from behind and he staggered. They both went down.
‘Nick? Nick, are you crazy?’
Instead of answering, Nick shoved the letter in Colin’s face, rubbed it into his cheeks, his nose, his eyes.
‘Recognise that? Do you? Ever seen that before?’
‘Get off me, you idiot! What is that?’
‘You bastard!’
They were making too much of a racket; people were already coming out of the canteen. Nick let go of Colin, and they both scrambled to their feet.
‘Darleen Pember, huh? Is she about to have an accident too?’
Colin stared at the letter – clearly the penny had dropped now. ‘Give that to me now!’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘You can’t just take it away . . . I have to —’
He rushed at Nick, but he anticipated it, and dodged. He tore the letter down the middle with enormous relish, ripped it into tiny pieces and shoved them into Colin’s hand. ‘There. You can put that in Darleen’s jacket pocket. I’ll tell her who it came from.’
Colin’s face reflected a mixture of hatred and helplessness. ‘You can’t do that.’
‘So now you’re getting scared, huh? Your mate with the yellow eyes won’t be at all happy.’
‘Be quiet!’
‘There’s a couple of levels gone straightaway.’ Out of the corner of his eye Nick saw the Girl Guides approaching, attracted by the argument like vultures to carrion. Dan was grinning from ear to ear, whereas Alex appeared unsure.
‘It was you who did that to Jamie. Admit it. You’ve got him on your conscience. I saw your letter to him. Was it worth it? Did you get a wicked little pair of boots?’
Colin’s nostrils were quivering. He took a step towards Nick. His fists were clenched so hard that Nick could see the veins in his arms standing out.
‘You’re going to regret this,’ he said, then turned and left.
* * *
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