If he’s honest, that’s not his biggest wish. Because, more than anything . . . there’s Emily. Yeah, except it won’t work. Emily must fall in love with Nick. Ha, ha. The messenger already ruled that out.
But . . . perhaps it could work the other way round? You can’t wish for love to develop, but what about wishing for it to end? Should Sarius risk it? He hesitates. It’s not right. But it won’t work anyway. Perhaps it would be better to choose something simple? No.
‘Nick Dunmore wishes that Emily Carver would break up with Eric Wu. He wishes they weren’t a couple any more.’
Silence. The messenger places his long finger on his chin in a reflective gesture.
So? . . . So? Just say you can’t do it!
The messenger doesn’t move a muscle. Is he thinking about it? No, it’s taking too long. Besides, everything is getting darker, even darker. Why? Has something stopped working? No, please, not right now! Sarius tries at least to move himself, but that’s not easy either. It’s as if he were wading through syrup.
When Sarius has already given up, the messenger finally answers.
‘Emily Carver, you say. Good. I will ensure that Emily Carver and Eric Wu are no longer a couple.’
The messenger’s words unleash a torrent of emotions in Nick. Incredulity first, followed by triumphant joy, and – hidden in its shadow – his bad conscience.
‘Really?’
‘You will see, Sarius. Now go. The others are already far ahead of you.’
CHAPTER 16
‘Nick? Nick! For goodness sake, are you okay? Wake up!’
Opening his eyelids was hard enough, but nothing in comparison with the effort it cost him to drag himself upright. Something crashed down onto the desk – the keyboard, which had got stuck to Nick’s cheek. He glanced hastily at the screen. Completely black – luckily.
‘Did you sleep here? Sitting up?’
‘Erm . . . maybe. Probably.’
His mouth felt dry and his temples were throbbing.
‘Don’t tell me you’re turning into a computer junkie, are you? What in the world were you doing all that time?’ Chopping the legs off giant spiders.
‘Chatting. It was fun and I forgot about the time. I’m sorry, Mum. It won’t happen again.’
His mother pushed a lock of hair off his forehead.
‘Can you even go to school in this state? You must be dead tired. Why would you do such a thing, hmm? I thought I could rely on you. You need your sleep, you know how tiring school is —’ ‘It’s okay, I’m fine,’ Nick interrupted her. ‘I’ll have a cold shower, then I’ll be fighting fit.’
The offer to wag school tacit in his mother’s flood of words had a lot going for it, but unfortunately today was the wrong day for it. The spiders had inflicted so much damage on Sarius that in the end he had needed the messenger’s help again, and had accepted some orders. So gaming instead of school wasn’t an option. Apart from that he was brimming with curiosity. He wanted to see Emily and Eric. He wanted to know what was happening. Whether anything was happening.
Nick gazed at the bathroom mirror, checking out the deep imprints the keyboard had left on his face. When had he fallen asleep? He could still remember his orders and how he’d searched with burning eyes for a scrap of paper to write the messenger’s requirements down. He must have nodded off after that.
He showered hot, cold and then hot again, making himself dizzy. The coffee aroma from the kitchen was mingling with the smell of shower gel; the combination nearly turned Nick’s stomach. It could well be that staying home was the best option. But free days were precious. He folded up the scrap of paper on which he’d written down his orders and put it in his wallet. Then he stowed his camera in his schoolbag. He didn’t understand the point of the instructions any better today than last night. But it didn’t matter. Afterwards he would be an Eight.
The memory of his wish stayed with him the whole way to school. Although it was nonsense. In a few days the messenger would wave him over and ask him to wish for something different. Nick needed to be prepared for that – he was going to think up something good. Something sensible. Exactly. So there was no need for him to feel guilty.
On that thought he turned into the street leading to school, where it was unusually quiet. As if someone had used a remote control and turned the volume down. As usual, there were students hanging round by themselves or in small groups in front of the building, but the noise level was minimal. Those who were talking to each other were doing so quietly. Nick spotted two younger girls who were pointedly waiting next to the school gate and trying to make eye contact with everyone who entered. Their body language was unmistakable: We haven’t got it yet.
Emily was standing under a chestnut tree with red autumn leaves. Eric was not with her. That fact made Nick’s heart jump into his throat. Don’t make a fool of yourself. It has nothing to do with your wish. Nothing.
But she wasn’t alone either; she was speaking to Adrian. Young McVay had his arms wrapped round his body, and wasn’t looking at Emily as he spoke. She listened, wiped her hand across her face in an abrupt gesture and turned away.
The impulse to join them was hard to resist, but it was clear to Nick that they would immediately break off their conversation if he even came near them.
In the meantime one of the girls at the school gate had finally succeeded: a boy who played the saxophone in the school orchestra, as far as Nick knew, waved her over, whispered something in her ear. She nodded, he whispered some more, and after a little while pulled a flat object out of his bag . . .
‘Nick?’
The quiet boy, Greg, had snuck up from behind. Nick whipped around, his heart pounding like crazy yet again. Why had he got such a shock?
‘You have to help me, Nick. Please.’
Greg’s bottom lip was shaking slightly, as were his hands, which were holding a blank DVD in its original packaging.
‘I got kicked out last night. But it was a mistake, honest. I have to talk to the messenger, and you have to copy your game for me. Please!’ Involuntarily Nick took a step backwards, away from the DVD that Greg was holding out to him, but Greg immediately stepped closer again.
‘I had got so far, I was a —’
‘I don’t want to hear!’ Nick shouted.
A couple of students who were standing a few paces away turned their heads towards him. Nick marched towards the entrance without another word, but he’d hardly got inside the foyer when Greg grabbed him by the sleeve.
‘I’m telling you it was a mistake! I did everything he wanted, I was only a tiny bit too late, and then he . . .’ Greg bit his lip. ‘At any rate it’s a mistake. Copy your game for me, please. Please!’
Died of unpunctuality, Nick thought uneasily.
‘I can’t; you must know that,’ he said. Was that Colin? Was he looking at him? ‘The rules are clear. You can only play it once. I’m sorry about that.’
‘Yes. Yes! But in my case it was a mistake. That’s why it’s different. How about if I helped you too? We can study Chemistry together. Or I’ll pay for the copy, okay? Twenty quid? Would that be all right?’
Nick walked off and left him. Colin was nearby, leaning casually against the wall and observing the scene.
‘You arsehole,’ Greg screamed after Nick. Suddenly he wasn’t so quiet any more. ‘You sodding arsehole!’
Colin grinned as Nick walked past him.
‘What did Greg want from you?’
‘None of your business.’
‘Looks as if he didn’t get it.’
‘You noticed.’
I should have stayed home, Nick thought as he stood in front of his locker and suddenly couldn’t think what he needed for the first period. Was it the Biology books? Or English? What day was it actually today?
He yawned and said hi to Aisha, who looked straight past him without saying anything. It looked as though someone else had slept badly. She had to have several goes to get the key of her locker in the keyhole.
When she’d finally got the door open and was reaching for her things, a whole pile of books fell out and landed all over the corridor. Someone giggled nastily.
Aisha let her arms hang down and made no move to pick up her stuff.
‘Hey,’ Nick said. ‘Want me to help?’
She shook her head violently and bent down slowly for the first book, but then she didn’t stand up again. She stayed cowering on the floor, with the book pressed into her chest. Her shoulders were shaking.
‘Aren’t you feeling well?’ Nick asked quietly, but got no answer. He looked around for help. Where had the others got to? Jamie, for example, or Brynne. She was always hanging around.
Because he didn’t know what else he should do, Nick collected the books and packed them back in the locker.
Rashid walked up, yawning, didn’t even spare Aisha a glance, and walked away again with his Biology books under his arm.
So it was Biology. Nick tried to catch Aisha’s gaze one last time, but she’d closed her eyes. Feeling bad, but relieved at the same time, he grabbed his stuff and ran after Rashid.
It was hard to stay awake, so hard. Nick rested his chin in his left hand and stared at the board out the front until his eyes watered. Anything rather than look to the right, where Greg was sitting glaring at him. Or to the left, where Emily and Jamie were sharing a desk and whispering urgently to each other. Aisha was there too; she seemed to have got a grip on herself again. There you go.
If he closed his eyes they didn’t sting so badly. Just for a little while. That felt good. Really good. Really —
A painful punch in the ribs nearly pushed him off his chair.
‘Don’t doze off, you idiot,’ Colin hissed. ‘We’re not supposed to be noticed. Or had you forgotten?’
‘What? No . . .’
‘Whatever. Pull yourself together.’
‘Don’t hit me again, got it?’
Colin raised his eyebrows in amusement. ‘Yes, Ma’am.’
Nick struggled through that lesson and the next. In the recess that followed he stood in the queue in front of the coffee vending machine. Someone tapped him on the back. It was Brynne. He’d hardly turned round before she gave him a peck on the cheek.
‘It was nice yesterday afternoon,’ she murmured.
‘Yes. Nice.’ Nick made a show of yawning so she’d be more likely to take his lack of enthusiasm for tiredness. Nevertheless Brynne’s smile cooled.
‘Are you desperate for coffee, too?’ Nick asked, trying to find a harmless topic, but Brynne didn’t get the chance to answer. A piercing scream silenced every conversation.
Aisha stood in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by a growing cluster of people, and clung to Emily. Eric Wu stood in front of them both with a stunned expression.
‘Don’t touch me! Never again!’ Aisha screeched.
Nick abandoned his place in the coffee queue and pushed his way through the increasingly dense crowd of spectators, as if he were a doctor in a hurry to get to the scene of the accident. His mouth was dry.
Aisha had buried her face in Emily’s shoulder and was sobbing.
‘I’m sure you’re mistaken,’ Emily said quietly. She stroked Aisha’s head, accidentally pushing her headscarf back. ‘It must have been someone else.’
‘No. I’m positive. It was him. After Literature Club he wanted to walk me to the Tube, and he said that the path through the little park was much nicer . . .’ Her sobs were getting louder.
Emily tried to pull the headscarf back to its original position with trembling fingers, but soon gave up.
‘He ri . . . pped . . . my . . . shirt and tou . . . ched me all o . . . ver.’ Only broken syllables were coming out of Aisha’s mouth. She rolled up her sleeve and showed a bluish-red bruise on her elbow. ‘There!’ she stammered.
Nick bit his lips until it hurt. This has nothing to do with me. Of course not. Not so soon, no.
‘But none of this is true,’ Eric cried out. He was pale and could hardly stop shaking his head. ‘It’s not true.’
‘I saw you both leaving together,’ Rashid said.
‘I did too,’ Alex chimed in.
Emily stared at Girl Guide number two with narrowed eyes. ‘Well that’s interesting. You’re not in the Literature Club, either of you.’
‘So? There are other things that can keep people back after school,’ Alex retorted.
Emily’s gaze travelled back and forth between Alex, Eric and the sobbing Aisha.
‘She’s lying,’ Eric said, louder this time.
Aisha whirled around. ‘That’s what men always say afterwards, isn’t it?’
‘What do men always say?’ Mr Watson pushed his way through the crowd of students, pressing a thermos and a half-eaten sandwich into Alex’s hand as he passed. ‘Aisha? What happened?’ He put his hand on her shoulder, but Aisha moved away from him and pressed even closer to Emily.
‘Don’t touch me.’
‘As you wish. Sorry. Everyone else, please go to your classes. The next period is about to start.’
No-one moved an inch, only Eric took a step forward.
‘Aisha claims I . . . groped her in the park yesterday. She has a blue bruise on her elbow that’s supposed to be from me. But not a word of it is true.’
Aisha howled louder. ‘He tried to . . . rape . . . me. He tore my skirt and pushed me onto the ground . . .’
‘I can’t see how that could be true,’ Emily whispered. Carefully but firmly she removed Aisha’s cramped fingers from her shirt and moved away from the crying girl. Aisha, deprived of her human barricade, crouched down on the floor and threw her hands up in front of her face.
I didn’t want this. Nick clenched his ice-cold hands into fists. Not like this. I don’t have anything to do with this, honest.
But what if it was true? Eric could actually have molested Aisha, and the messenger could have found out about it last night. That would explain why he could make such grand promises so easily.
Mr Watson, who’d been rendered speechless, was slowly regaining his composure. ‘That’s a very serious accusation, Aisha.’
‘Not a word is true! I swear it!’ Something akin to desperation could be heard in Eric’s voice for the first time. ‘It’s totally insane!’
‘We certainly won’t clear it up here in front of everyone,’ Mr Watson said. ‘Aisha, Eric – come with me.’
Both of them followed him, each of them intent on keeping the greatest possible distance from the other.
They’d hardly left before loud discussion broke out in the corridor.
‘I think she’s lying!’
‘Why should she?’
‘Eric is no angel, that’s what I always thought.’
‘Wanted to get his hand up the Turkish chick’s skirt.’
‘That’s rubbish, she’s off her head.’
‘Hey, wicked scandal!’
‘Will Watson get the cops? I mean, they haven’t been here for a few days.’
In the meantime Nick hadn’t taken his eyes off Emily. She was standing there, lost in thought, smoothing out the tear-stained patch on her shoulder.
I should go over to her now, Nick thought. Engage her in conversation. Comfort her.
But before he’d gathered enough courage to take the first step, he spotted Jamie approaching Emily. They exchanged a few sentences, then went up the stairs together.
The next period was Maths – that was all Nick needed. But at least he’d remembered what class he had without having to think about it, and he didn’t feel tired any more either. Aisha’s performance had been more effective than a double espresso.
At lunchtime Jamie waylaid him in front of the canteen. ‘How are you?’
Aha – the first normal sentence that Jamie had directed at him in ages. It was sure to be a trap.
‘Fine. How about you?’
‘I’m worried,’ Jamie said and made a face to match. Brow well and truly furrowed. ‘That thing today with Eric . . . What do you thi
nk made her do that to him? He’s completely shattered; Mr Watson sent him home.’
Nick suppressed the impulse to run away.
‘What made her do that? Hmm, let me think. Maybe the fact that he put his hand up her skirt?’
‘You don’t believe that for a minute.’
‘Oh – but you believe Aisha would blacken his name, just like that? Did you see how she was bawling? And her bruise?’
‘I think,’ said Jamie, ‘that someone is interested in putting Eric out of action. He’s no fan of your game, remember?’
‘What a load of rubbish!’ Nick pushed past Jamie into the canteen. ‘Ever since that gravestone letter you’ve been completely paranoid.’
He took a tray from the stack, and suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Jamie had followed him in, and he looked as if he was about to burst into tears.
‘Do you know what else has happened? Somebody hid a gun and some ammunition in the schoolyard. Behind the rubbish bins. The principal says it can’t have been any of the students, but he doesn’t want any press around the place.’
Nick asked for a serve of fish and chips. Both looked anaemic and soggy.
‘But Jamie knows better, of course,’ he snapped. ‘Jamie knows that the evil computer-gamers are behind it.’ He bit his lip and plonked a bottle of cola down on his tray. Enough of this conversation.
‘Jamie thinks a few things are odd,’ Jamie answered, staying markedly calm. ‘I talked to Mr Watson, and he says a professional would have been smarter. Hidden the guns better, and not stuck them in an old cigar box behind the bins.
‘Aha. Maybe Mr Watson is in fact Dr Watson. And you’re trying to be Sherlock Holmes. Leave me in peace, Jamie. I’ve got nothing to do with any guns, or any attempted rapes either.’
‘And someone wrote some sort of code or message on the box as well,’ Jamie continued, as if he hadn’t heard Nick. ‘That’s like a kind of game, isn’t it? A few numbers and a weird word, not Galaxis, but something similar.’
Crash!
Nick was as shocked at the crashing sound as the others in the canteen. He hadn’t noticed that he had let go of his tray.
Galaris.
It all fitted. The cigar box, the word, the numbers that were his date of birth. No, please.