The Extraordinary Colors of Auden Dare

by Zillah Bethell

  Vivi scowled at Paragon. “What are you saying?”

  But Paragon had planted the seed of an idea and my brain was already running away with it, piecing things together and formulating some sort of a plan.

  Paragon could be useful.

  Vivi shook her head viciously. “No. I don’t think I want to be part of anything nasty. It’s not right.”

  “He did just kick you in the stomach, Vivi.”

  “I don’t care. I still don’t think it’s right.”

  “It doesn’t have to be anything nasty,” Paragon reassured her, but she still shook her head.

  “It’s okay, Vivi,” I soothed. It was true, she wasn’t cut out for revenge. “You don’t have to have anything to do with it. In fact, it’s best if you don’t even know anything about it.”

  CHAPTER 14

  THE TRUTH

  The following evening, rather than hide Paragon away in its underground bunker under the shed at the bottom of the garden, I took it all the way back to Sunny Vale. As the light started to dim, we made our way across to one of the long-abandoned caravans with the cracked glass and the soggy walls. I turned the handle on the door and it opened easily. Stepping inside, I was hit by a fog of cold, stale air and dust that had probably not been disturbed for a number of years.

  The furniture had been left to rot and, at some point, someone had clearly come in and smashed up everything they could get their hands on. Splintered wood and badly snapped and bent plastic were strewn all over the place. Cushions and bedding had been ripped apart, sending fluff and feathers and hunks of polystyrene across the floor. The little gas cooker had been pulled out from its mooring and now lay blocking the passageway to the equally vandalized bedrooms.

  “Hmm,” Paragon said. “This is nice.”

  I turned and looked at its face. “Is that sarcasm?”

  “I suppose. Got a good teacher.”

  I laughed.

  “Okay, now, I’ll be back before sunrise. You wait here and then we’ll put our plan into action. Understand?”

  “Yes, boss.”

  I tugged the top part of Paragon’s coat to one side.

  “You know what, Paragon,” I said before pushing the on/off button.

  “What?”

  “I think I misjudged you at first. Actually, you’re okay. You’re all right.”

  I punched the button and he powered down.

  *   *   *

  In the morning, I scarfed a quinoa bun, patted Sandwich on top of her yawning head, and softly closed the back door behind me. I didn’t want to wake Mum up. She would wonder what I was up to. I didn’t think she’d look too kindly on me sneaking out first thing to play a trick on a school bully, aided and abetted by a poetry-quoting robot.

  Twenty minutes later, I was pulling open the door to the caravan and powering up Paragon.

  “Good morning, Auden,” it said as the lights stuttered to life. It peered down at its chest and gently tapped the one light that still wasn’t working. “Nope. Still nothing. I really don’t know what that is, you know. I wish I did, but I don’t.” Paragon looked up at me. “It still worries me.”

  “Never mind that now. It may just start itself up at some point. I wouldn’t worry. We’ve got a trick to play. Are you ready?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  It was still dark outside, but that was good because I could see so well. Everything was clear to me. Even the smallest of detail. As crisp as it was to a “normal” person in the bright light of day.

  We silently worked our way over the park toward Boyle’s cottage. There were no lights on in any of the caravans. If there was anyone in any of them, then they were still asleep. Even the birds in the trees hadn’t bothered to rouse themselves quite yet, and the early-morning breeze was still trying to summon up its own strength.

  When we reached the cottage, Paragon slowly paced right the way around it before coming back to me.

  “One adult—female—in one bedroom. One young person—male—in the second bedroom. Both sleeping peacefully.”

  It reminded me of a fact that I already knew. That Boyle was an only child. No brothers or sisters. A bit like me. Only not as nice. Or clever. Or handsome, for that matter.

  We went around to the side of the cottage where Boyle was asleep.

  “Okay,” Paragon said. “Now what?”

  “Can you climb up to his window?”

  “Climb? Ha! I’m the king of Climbsville.”

  Suddenly Paragon leaped onto the wall and scurried up like a spider. Within a second or two it was alongside the Boyles’ paint-flaky window.

  “Wow! Now do your voice,” I whispered.

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Now.” I moved out of the way and hid behind a large, stinky plastic bin.

  Paragon levered the window open, pretended to clear its throat, and started to speak.

  “FABIUS BOYLE,” it rasped in a—to be honest—pretty scary voice. Sort of hissy and low. It almost made me shiver. “FABIUS BOYLE!” it continued. “WHERE ARE YOU, FABIUS BOYLE?”

  A snorting from above. From inside the small house I could hear Boyle waking up. “What? Eh? What is it?”

  “FABIUS BOYLE … I AM LOOKING FOR YOU, FABIUS BOYLE.”

  Boyle seemed to kind of squeak.

  “What do you want? Who are you? Mum?!”

  “DO NOT CALL FOR YOUR MOTHER, FABIUS BOYLE. SHE CANNOT HELP YOU NOW.” Another squeak from above. “YOU MUST FACE ME ALONE.”

  “I don’t understand! Who are you? What have I done?”

  “I AM THE PART OF YOUR SOUL THAT FEARS AND HATES.” I scrambled out from behind the bin, dusting myself off, and ran out to about twenty feet away from the cottage, where I turned to face Boyle’s bedroom window. I could still hear Paragon’s and Boyle’s voices.

  “I AM THE ACCUMULATION OF YEARS OF HATRED AND FEAR. FABIUS BOYLE, YOU HAVE SPENT YOUR CHILDHOOD FILLING OTHERS WITH FEAR. NOW THAT FEAR HAS RETURNED TO WREAK ITS HAVOC UPON YOU!”

  “But I don’t understand!” Boyle’s voice was shaking and tearful and I was finding it difficult to keep a straight face.

  “TAKE A LOOK OUT OF YOUR WINDOW AND YOU WILL SEE.”

  Paragon swiftly crawled up the wall to a position directly above the window. A few seconds passed—Boyle clearly debating with himself whether or not he should actually look outside—before the curtains twitched and a petrified face appeared in the open window. When he saw me standing stiffly before him in the darkness of the morning, Boyle almost jumped.

  “Dare?!”

  “YES,” continued Paragon. “I HAVE TAKEN THE FORM OF YOUR MORTAL ENEMY. IT IS TIME TO MEET YOUR FEARS FACE-ON.”

  “What’s going on?”

  I stood still, staring hard and impassively at the window as if I were a ghost.

  “STEP OUTSIDE, FABIUS BOYLE.…”

  “No!”

  “STEP OUTSIDE AND FACE YOUR FEARS. IT IS TIME.”

  “No, it isn’t!”

  “YES, IT IS.”

  “I’m not going out there!”

  “BUT YOU MUST, FABIUS BOYLE. YOU MUST. FOR IF YOU DO NOT, THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES BEFORE THE SUN RISES.”

  “Huh?”

  “YES. CONSEQUENCES!”

  I watched as Boyle tried to manage a fit of uncontrollable gulps.

  “STEP OUTSIDE, FABIUS BOYLE.”

  The face left the window and at precisely the same moment, I saw Paragon clambering to a point above the kitchen door.

  The door opened reluctantly. Then slowly—so incredibly slowly—Boyle came out onto the top step, tugging the belt of his robe tightly around him.

  “What is this?” His voice quavered. A combination of fear and the cold of the very early morning, perhaps? “What’s … going on? Is … is this some kind of joke? Dare? Are you … are you having a little … little joke? Eh?”

  I stood dead still and just stared at Boyle. No reaction on my face. This unsettled him further.


  “Am I dreaming? Is that it? Yes … I think I must be having … a dream.”

  He came down from the steps and stood on the patch of gravel in front of them.

  “That’s all this is … a strange lit—”

  And then Paragon swooped into action.

  Leaning out from the stone wall, Paragon grabbed Boyle on each of his shoulders and lifted him clear of the ground.

  “Aahhhh—” Boyle screamed, and Paragon quickly repositioned one of its hands so that a couple of fingers were clamped over Boyle’s open mouth. Boyle’s legs thrashed wildly and uselessly in the air, and his hands reached up to try to release Paragon’s grip. But Paragon’s grip was so much stronger than Boyle’s, and pretty soon the boy found himself tiring and giving himself up to the situation.

  I came nearer to see Boyle’s eyes staring pleadingly down at me.

  “NOW,” Paragon continued in his scary voice, “YOU HAVE BULLIED AND FRIGHTENED CHILDREN ALL YOUR LIFE. THE TIME TO STOP HAS ARRIVED. WHEN YOU GO BACK TO YOUR SCHOOL YOU WILL NOT BULLY OR ATTACK A SINGLE PERSON. ALL YOUR TEACHERS AND CLASSMATES WILL NOTICE THE REMARKABLE CHANGE IN YOUR DEMEANOR. ANYWAY, YOU NEVER KNOW, SOME OF THEM MIGHT ACTUALLY LEARN TO LIKE YOU AND YOU MIGHT … JUST MIGHT … FIND YOURSELF WITH A FRIEND—A REAL FRIEND—A WHOLE NEW EXPERIENCE FOR YOU, I’M SURE.” Paragon gave Boyle a little shake to make sure he was listening. “OF COURSE, IT IS VERY EASY FOR ME TO CHECK THE RECORDS AT YOUR SCHOOL. IT IS A SIMPLE MATTER OF JUST PLUGGING INTO THE SCHOOL’S ETHERWEB-BASED RECORDS SYSTEM AND FINDING WHAT I WANT. AND IF I SEE YOUR NAME CREEPING UP ON REPORTS OF BULLYING AGAIN … I SHALL BE PAYING YOU ANOTHER VISIT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, FABIUS BOYLE?”

  Boyle gave a tiny nod within Paragon’s large metal hands. The movement was so oddly comical that I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. Boyle noticed me smiling and his forehead crumpled into a sort of half frown.

  “I AM NOW GOING TO PUT YOU BACK ON THE GROUND. BUT REMEMBER ALL I HAVE SAID.”

  Boyle didn’t nod. He just glared at me as Paragon lowered him gently down. As his feet hit the ground, Paragon released him, and Boyle’s head swung upward to see what it was that had just lifted him so easily into the air.

  But Paragon had gone.

  Boyle straightened himself up and tried to regain his breath.

  “What was that?” he murmured, more to himself than to me.

  “That was all your years of scaring people rolled into one,” I said, still unable to stop myself from smirking. It had been satisfying to see this bully dangling in the air, scared and confused. I know I should have felt guilty for having enjoyed it—but I didn’t. Boyle had recently hurt my best friend and it was hard to feel any kind of sympathy.

  “What … what did you just do to me?” He still looked puzzled, but now there was a slight glint of anger in his eyes. “What just grabbed me? What did you do, Dare? How did you do it?”

  “None of that matters,” I answered. “All that matters is that you never bully anyone again. Because if you do … trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  Boyle pulled the top of his robe tighter around his neck. “I don’t understand what just happened. And why are you here like this?”

  I sighed. “I’m here to teach you a lesson. I’m here to stop a bully. After all—” I paused for a second. “Everyone knows that all bullies are cowards.”

  “Huh! That’s good. Coming from you, of all people.”

  I took a step closer. “What do you mean?”

  “You know all about cowards, I’m sure.”

  It was my turn to look confused now. I shook my head and wrinkled up my face to make it clear that I didn’t know what Boyle was talking about.

  “You know. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m getting at.”

  “I don’t.” I retrieved my smirk and cranked it up to try to make Boyle feel foolish.

  “Yes, you do. You know. Lots of people come here to stay. Lots of people from London. My mum talks to them all. They tell her things.”

  “So?”

  Boyle suddenly looked smug. “I’m talking about your dad. Everybody knows about him.”

  My legs stiffened and I was stuck to the spot. “What do you mean?” My smirk had vanished, dwindled away into nothing.

  “He’s a coward. Just like you.”

  “No, he’s not. He’s away fighting in Europe. He’s been away for months.”

  Boyle laughed. “Yeah. He’s been away for months, all right. In prison!”

  Blood seemed to rush around my ears, and I found myself unable to hear anything but Boyle’s grating voice.

  “Found guilty of deserting his post—that’s what they say. Left some other soldiers to die. So they sent him to prison. He’s not abroad fighting at all. Didn’t you know? He’s in a military prison. Somewhere in England. For cowardice.”

  No.

  No. It wasn’t right.

  “You’re a liar!”

  Boyle laughed again. “Well, why don’t you ask your mother? I’m sure she’ll tell you the truth if you ask her nicely.”

  I clenched my fist hard. I wanted to walk the seven or eight paces to Boyle and smash it roughly into the boy’s face. Knock him flat on the grass.

  But I didn’t.

  “Fabius! What’s going on? What’s this noise?” Boyle’s mother—bleary-eyed and half-dressed—appeared in the doorway behind him. “What are you doing?”

  Boyle ignored her, still spitting his venom out toward me. “Ask your mother. Go on. Get her to tell you the truth for once. I dare you!”

  I spun on the spot and sprinted away—the blood still racing around my head.

  “That’s it! Run away!” Boyle shouted behind me. “Be just like your dad!”

  *   *   *

  I kept on running. Over the fields. Along the lanes. My legs pounding away, never slowing. For all I knew, the sun may have been starting to come up. My chest may have been screaming out in pain. The wind may have been cold and penetrating. The birds may have been singing and welcoming in the new day. But I wasn’t listening. I didn’t care.

  All I could think about was my dad.

  My dad!

  Eventually I rounded the corner and came to the lane on which Unicorn Cottage sat. Without slowing, I ran onto the drive and into the house.

  Mum was in the kitchen. When she heard me come in, she quickly turned around and did her scowl face at me.

  “Auden! Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you! I heard the door shut and I came down here and I—”

  “Mum! Tell me…” I was out of breath. “Tell me … about … about Dad.”

  “What?”

  “I want to know.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I want to know the truth!” I shouted. “About Dad. Tell me the truth.”

  She didn’t have to say anything. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know.

  “No!” I cried.

  Mum sat down on one of the wooden chairs, her shoulders small and defeated. Like a balloon that’s lost all its air.

  “I’m sorry, Auden. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought that if we came here we could make a fresh start. Get away from it all. I thought that—”

  But I didn’t want to hear any more.

  I ran back out through the door and into the yard. I ran through the small gap in the hedge and onto the field with the irrigation pyramids. I ran and I ran across the field, my feet pushing hard into the dry crops.

  Far off in the distance, I could see a shape. It was a man standing with his arms outstretched, like he was waiting for me. I sprinted faster and faster toward him, the sweat flicking off my brow. As I got nearer, the arms stretched out even more, opening wide for me, and I pounded toward them.

  I thought of my father, racing me in the park, pushing me on the swings. The games of football. The bedtime stories and the stupid jokes. The tears came flowing down my hot cheeks and I kept on running. I thought of the songs and the rhy
mes and the bicycle rides. The words of advice and the tellings-off.

  My dad.

  My dad, the hero.

  I ran and I ran toward the open arms until finally I fell into them and they wrapped themselves tightly around me, holding me close and swaying me softly, gently into comfort. I flung my own arms around the cold body and squeezed as hard as I could, never ever wanting to let go. Never wanting to go back and face this terrible truth.

  I just wanted this hurt to go away.

  I cried. I cried for so long that my tears felt like grit in my eyes and everything became a grayish smear. I cried until my breaths turned to stutters before finally becoming more even once again.

  And all the while, the arms hushed me. Calmed me. Soothed me. Lulled me into feeling like everything would be all right again. Like everything would be okay.

  I looked up at the flickering lights on the chest. The wires along the arms. The metal grille where the mouth should have been.

  “Shhh,” Paragon said, his hand resting on my head. “Shhh, Audendare.”

  PART FIVE

  PURPLE

  CHAPTER 15

  STARS AND SPARROWS

  “I thought it was a bad idea to try to get back at Boyle.” Vivi squinted through the telescope that pointed out of her bedroom window, over the quad, and into the night sky.

  “I wasn’t trying to get back,” I replied, a tad annoyed. “I was trying to teach Boyle a lesson. After all, he did hurt you.”

  “Oh, so you did it all for me, did you?”

  “Well…” I paused.

  “Quickly, quickly.” She waved at me and then stood back from the telescope. I bent over and put my eye to the eyepiece. “See that star? The one in the middle?” I thought I did. “That’s Antares. It’s part of the constellation Scorpius.” The shining dot in the center of all the blackness seemed to twinkle. “They call it the ‘Rival of Mars.’”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a really deep red in color.”

  I turned and gave her a look. “Well, I couldn’t possibly know about that, could I?”

  “Oh. No. That’s true. Sorry.”

  I imagined my mother flicking the little elastic band around her wrist.