Finding Sky (7 page)

‘He always does this,’ complained Zoe, ‘gets so far then backs away. He had Aspen beat and now …!’

And now they were fighting back. Zed shrugged and relinquished the pitching spot to a team mate, leaving him the honour of finishing off Aspen.

He could have done it. I knew that in my bones. Zed could have fried them but he chose to back off. Like Zoe said, it was maddening.

‘Why does he do that?’ I wondered out loud.

‘Do what?’ Tina crumpled up the programme and chucked it in the bin. ‘Draw back from the kill you mean?’

I nodded.

‘He loses interest. Maybe his heart’s just not in it. The teachers are always telling him he’s too arrogant to work on his inconsistency.’

‘Maybe.’

But I wasn’t so sure. He still played well, but I’m sure there was an extra edge he wasn’t showing anyone. He was purposely keeping his play slightly blunted. I wanted to know why.

Wrickenridge beat Aspen but the man of the match went to a player in the visiting side. Zed melted away into the crowd around the captains, not seeking any attention. He accepted an enthusiastic hug from Hannah of the long legs but swiftly detached and moved on to shake hands with the opposing team. I knew about playing just to be a part of something—that was what an orchestra was about, not the individuals—but yet his unwillingness to stand out struck me as odd. He could have been the soloist, but he settled for second fiddle.

‘Drive you home?’ offered Tina. ‘I’m giving Zoe and Nelson a lift.’

The others lived at the other end of town from me and she was always picking me up and dropping me off. And with only two seats, it was more than a squeeze—it was illegal. Besides, it might not do her any harm as she would drop Zoe first and then be alone with Nelson …

‘It’s OK. I’d like to walk. I’m going to pick up some groceries for Sally.’

‘OK. See you tomorrow.’

The cars were queuing to get out of the car park. I stood back as the Aspen bus drew out, taking a wide swing to clear the corner. I then set off, leaving the crowds behind. The further I walked, the quieter it became. Mrs Hoffman scurried past, heading down the hill—Judge Merciless on a mission, shining slightly with a self-righteous blue. I rubbed my eyes and thankfully she went back to normal. She waved but fortunately was on the other side of the street so I did not have to stop and chat. Kingsley the mechanic drove by in his truck and tooted his horn.

In the store, Leanne, the sturdily built assistant who I had got to know over the past few weeks since the dill sauce episode, grilled me for a replay of the match as she packed my shopping. It continually surprised me how much local people cared about the fortunes of the school team. They treated it like Man U, not a bunch of teenage amateurs.

‘How you finding school?’ Leanne packed the eggs away carefully on top of the bag.

‘It’s good.’ I grabbed a new graphic novel from the rack and tossed it into the basket. My parents made a point of despising them, which was probably why I liked them so much.

‘I’ve been hearing nice things about you, Sky. You’ve a reputation for being very sweet. Mrs Hoffman has taken quite a shine to you.’

Yeah, a blue shine according to my batty brain. ‘Oh, well, she’s … she’s … ’

‘Unstoppable. Like a heat-seeking missile. But it’s better to be on her good side than her bad,’ Leanne said sagely then ushered me out. ‘You should head back before it gets dark, you hear?’

Shadows stretched across the road like big ink stains seeping into the ground. I felt cold in my light jacket and increased my pace. Wrickenridge was always vulnerable to the sudden changes of weather, the reality of life in the mountains. It was like living next door to our old neighbour in Richmond who had been a particularly cantankerous old man. I’d never known when his mood would change—one moment bathing me in grandfatherly sunny smiles, the next spitting out a hail of insults. Just now a light fall of sleet began to fall, splatting the pavement with coin-sized patches of slush, making it slippery underfoot.

As I turned down a quiet street, I heard someone approaching at a run behind me. It was probably just a jogger but still I couldn’t help the nervous leap in my pulse. In London, I would have been really worried; but Wrickenridge just didn’t feel the kind of place for a mugger to hang out. I clutched the handles of the shopping bag, planning to use it as a weapon just in case.

‘Sky!’ A hand landed on my shoulder. I swung the bag with a yelp—only to find Zed behind me. He caught the bag before it hit him.

‘You almost gave me a heart attack!’ I pressed my hand to my chest.

‘Sorry. I thought I told you that you should take care walking home alone after dark.’

‘You mean some boy might jump out and give me the scare of my life?’

He gave a flicker of a smile, reminding me of his alter ego, Wolfman. ‘You never know. All kinds of odd people in the mountains.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly proved your point.’

The smile became a grin. ‘Here, let me take that.’ He eased the bag from my fingers. ‘I’ll walk you home.’

What was this? Had he had a character transplant? ‘No need.’

‘I want to.’

‘And you always get your way?’

‘Nearly always.’

We walked on for a little while. I cast around for safe topics but everything I thought of sounded lame. I was uncomfortable in such close proximity to him after all my wild imaginings about him—I never knew if he was going to maul me or play nice.

He broke the silence first. ‘So when were you going to tell me you’re a savant?’

How’s that for a conversation stopper? ‘A what?’

He halted me under a street lamp. Flurries of sleet slid through the pool of light then winked out in the darkness. He turned up the collar of my jacket.

‘You must realize how amazing it is.’ His eyes fixed on mine—their colour intriguing, unusual to one of his Hispanic appearance. I’d tag them as borderline between blue and green. The colour of the Eyrie River on a sunny day.

Still, I couldn’t understand the expression they held now. ‘How amazing is what?’

He laughed; the sound rumbled deep in his chest. ‘I see. You’re punishing me for being a jackass. But you have to understand that I didn’t know it was you. I thought I was warning some ditzy stranger to prevent her being knifed.’

I pushed his hands off my collar. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I had this premonition a few nights before we met at the ghost town—you get them too?’

This conversation was beyond weird. I shook my head.

‘You running down the street in the dark—a knife—screams—blood. I had to warn you—just in case it would do any good.’

O-K. I thought I had problems but
he
was seriously disturbed. I had to get away from him. ‘Um … Zed, thanks for worrying about me but I’d better get back now.’

‘Yeah, as if that’s going to happen. Sky, you’re my soulfinder, my partner—you can’t just walk away from me.’

‘I can’t?’

‘You must have felt it too. I knew as soon as you answered me—it was like, I don’t know how to say this, like the fog lifting. I could really
see
you.’ He ran a finger down my cheek. I shivered. ‘Do you know what the odds of us finding each other are?’

‘Whoa. Go back a little. Soulfinder?’

‘Yeah.’ He grinned and tugged me closer. ‘No half life existence for us. It’s taken me a few days to get over the shock and I’ve been waiting to speak to you so I can break the news to my folks.’

He had to be winding me up. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him back. ‘Zed, I’ve not a clue what you are talking about. But if you expect me to … to … I don’t know what you expect, but it’s not happening. You don’t like me; I don’t like you. Get over it.’

He was incredulous. ‘
Get over it?
Savants wait all their lives to find the one and you think I can get over it?’

‘Why not? I don’t even know what a savant is!’

He thumped his chest. ‘I’m one.’ He prodded me. ‘You’re one. Your gifts, Sky—they make you a savant. You must get that at least.’

I’d plotted stupid stuff in my head, but this was way beyond anything I could have thought up. I took a step back. ‘Can I have the shopping bag, please?’

‘What? That’s it? We make the most astounding discovery of our lives and you’re just going to go home?’

I took a quick look round, hoping to see someone. Mrs Hoffman would do. My parents even better. ‘Um … yes. Looks like it.’

‘You can’t!’

‘Just watch me.’

I tugged the bag from his fingers and hurried the last few yards to my house.

‘Sky, you can’t ignore this!’ He stood under the street lamp, sleet settling in his hair, hands fisted at his side. ‘You’re mine—you have to be.’

‘No. I. Don’t.’

I slammed the front door.

 

I couldn’t sleep that night. Hardly surprising seeing what had happened out on the street with Zed. Arrogant jerk. Thinking he could just announce that I was his and I would fall into his arms. I might fancy him but that didn’t mean I liked him. He was cold, abrupt, and rude. He’d crush me in five minutes if I was so foolish as to go out with him.

And as for all that soulfinder stuff—well, that was just bizarre.

And what the heck was a savant?

I got out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown, too restless to lie in bed turning the conversation over and over in my mind. There was so much I didn’t understand but I was afraid to ask for an explanation. That premonition stuff had been plain creepy—he had me half believing him. But I didn’t want to change my life just because a guy dreamt something might happen to me. What next? He could say I had to wear only orange or risk getting run over by a bus? Would I go to school looking like a tangerine on his say-so? No, it was all just a ploy to get me doing what he wanted.

Which was what?

The back of my neck prickled. The conviction grew that I wasn’t alone. Nervous now, I moved to the window and gingerly drew back the curtain,
Psycho
-style music shrieking in my head.

‘Sheesh!’ Heart in my mouth, I found myself face to face with Zed. I literally had to bite my tongue to stop myself screaming. He’d climbed the apple tree and was sitting outside my room, straddling the branch. I threw open the window. ‘What are you doing there?’ I hissed. ‘Get down, go away.’

‘Invite me in.’ He levered himself along the limb.

‘Stop—get down!’ Panicking, I wondered if I should call Simon.

‘No, don’t get your dad. I need to talk to you.’

I flapped my hands at him. ‘Go away! I don’t want you here.’

‘I know.’ He gave up on the idea of forcing his way into my room. ‘Sky, why don’t you know you’re a savant?’

I contemplated slamming the window on this weird Romeo-and-Juliet scene. ‘I can’t answer that when I don’t understand the question.’

‘You heard me speaking to you—in your head. You didn’t just follow my hint, you heard words.’

‘I … I … ’

You answered me.

I stared at him. He was doing it again—telepathy, wasn’t it called? No, no, I was projecting—this wasn’t happening.

‘All savants can do it.’

‘I’m not hearing anything. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.’

‘I can see that and I have to know why.’

Confused, the only strategy I could come up with was denial. I had to get him out of my apple tree. ‘I’m sure that’s very fascinating but it’s late and I want to sleep. So … um … goodnight, Zed. Let’s talk about this some other time.’ Like never.

‘You won’t even give me a hearing?’ He folded his arms.

‘Why should I?’

‘Because I’m your soulfinder.’

‘Stop that. I don’t understand you. You’re nothing to me. You’re rude, cold, you don’t even like me and have taken every opportunity to criticize me.’

He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘So that’s what you think of me?’

I nodded. ‘Maybe this is, I dunno, your latest plot to humiliate me in some way—pretending you want me.’

‘You really don’t like me, do you?’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Great, my soulfinder doesn’t understand the first thing about me.’

I folded my arms to hide the fact that I was trembling. ‘What’s there to understand? Jerks are pretty easy to read.’

Frustrated at my repeated rebuffs, he made a move towards me.

I took a step back. ‘Get out of my tree.’ My finger was shaking as I pointed to the gate.

To my surprise, he didn’t refuse, just studied my face, then nodded. ‘OK. But this isn’t over, Sky. We’ve got to talk.’

‘Get out.’

‘I’m going.’ With that, he dropped to the ground and disappeared into the night.

With a sob of relief, I slammed the window shut and collapsed on the bed. Tugging the duvet around me, I curled up, wondering what exactly was happening here.

And what I was going to do about it.

That night the dream came again, but this time with more details. I remembered the hunger—I’d barely had anything to eat for days except crisps and chocolate. They left me feeling sick. My knees were grubby and my hair matted on the side I preferred to lie on at night. My mouth felt sore, my lip swollen where it was cut on the inside. Sitting on the grass verge, I felt empty of anything but fear, a churning sense of panic in my stomach that I could only conquer by concentrating on the daisies. They were so white, even in the darkness they glowed against the grass, petals folded. I hugged my knees, gathering myself up like one of them.

I didn’t like the smell here—dog, car fumes, and litter. And a bonfire. I hated fire. The roar of the motorway droned on; the traffic sounded angry and rushed, no time for a lost little girl.

I waited.

Then the dream changed. This time it wasn’t a lady in a headscarf who came up to me—it was Zed. He stood over me and held out a hand.

‘You’re mine,’ he said. ‘I’ve come to claim you.’

I woke, heart pounding, just as dawn broke behind the mountains.

The next few days at school were a slow torture. Compared to the first weeks where I hardly ever saw him, I now ran across Zed at every turn. I could feel his brooding gaze as I walked through the dining hall or passed along the corridor. I begged Tina for lifts home and even dropped in on Mrs Hoffman when I got back so as not to be alone in the house. Zed was making me a prisoner. It was one thing to hanker after Wolfman from afar; it was entirely different to find him zeroing in on you.

Saturday morning and there was a knock on the door early. Simon and Sally were still in bed, so I went to answer it, mug of tea in hand, expecting it to be a delivery for the studio.

It was Zed, holding a massive bunch of flowers. He thrust it at me before I could shut the door on him.

‘Let’s start again.’ He held out a hand. ‘Hi, I’m Zed Benedict. And you are?’

I grappled with the flowers—they were my favourite colours—purple and blue.

‘Go on—this is the easy part. “I am Sky Bright and I’m from England.”’ He put on such a ridiculous accent I felt some of my reluctance folding under the urge to laugh.

‘I do not speak like that.’

‘Sure you do. Go on.’

‘Hi, I’m Sky Bright. I’m from Richmond, England.’

‘Now you say, “Wow, what lovely flowers. How about coming in for a nice cup of tea?”’

That accent had to go. I threw a look over my shoulder, wondering if Sally or Simon would come down.

‘They’re asleep.’ Zed nodded into the house. ‘So?’

‘Well, they are lovely flowers.’ Perhaps we did have to talk. Here was better than school. I stepped out of the way. ‘Coffee?’ He didn’t seem the sort for a cup of PG Tips.

‘If you insist.’ He smiled, a shade nervously for him, and entered.

‘Come through to the kitchen.’ I busied myself switching on the kettle and finding a vase for the flowers. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? I messed up. I want to say sorry.’

I tipped the plant food into the water. ‘These are a good start.’ Actually, it was the first time anyone had ever given me flowers. I felt less nervous in daytime, knowing my parents were just upstairs. I could cope with this conversation if he felt the urge to apologize. Tina would probably think it worthy of its own newsflash if she knew that the great Zed Benedict had stooped to humble himself to a girl.

Zed juggled with the cafetière. ‘How does this thing work?’

I took it from him and showed him how much coffee to put in. ‘You’re not very at home in a kitchen?’

‘Family of boys,’ he said as if that explained it. ‘We’ve a coffee maker—does great filter coffee.’

‘And she’s called your mum.’

He laughed. ‘No way. She gets waited on hand and foot in our house.’

OK, I could do this. We were having a normal conversation about normal things.

He took his mug and sat at the breakfast bar. ‘So tell me something about yourself. I play drums and guitar. How about you?’

‘Piano, sax, and guitar.’

‘See, we can talk without me freaking out on you.’

‘Yeah.’ I chanced a look at him; he was watching me like a bear crouched over a hole in the ice, ready to hook a salmon. ‘You … you like all music, or just jazz?’

‘All, but I like the freedom to improvise.’ He patted a place next to him on the bench. I sat down, keeping a space between us. ‘I like to cut free of what has to be. For me it’s a kind of free fall with the notes as the parachute.’

‘I like that too.’

‘It’s musicians’ music. Not so straightforward as some but really repays when you get into it.’ He gave me a look, asking me to understand there was another meaning below his surface words. ‘I mean, you’ve got to be really confident to launch into an off-the-cuff solo and not make a fool of yourself. Everyone can make mistakes when they rush something, go in too early.’

‘I suppose.’

‘You really didn’t know.’

Oh God, he was going to raise that savant stuff again.

He shook his head. ‘And you’ve not the faintest idea why I warned you that day. You think I’ve been trying to scare you.’

‘Weren’t you? All that stuff about knives and blood.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ He rubbed his thumb across my knuckles, clenched on the table between us. ‘It’s funny sitting with you. I get so much from you, like you’re broadcasting on all frequencies.’

I frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

He stretched his long legs out, gently bumping mine. ‘It’s difficult to explain. I’m sorry I’ve been rude to you.’

‘Rude? I just thought that you had some weird allergic reaction to economy-sized English girls.’

He looked me over. ‘Is that what you are?’

‘Um … yeah.’ I stared at my feet. ‘Still waiting for that growth spurt Sally’s been promising since I was fourteen.’

‘Your height’s perfect. I come from a family of giant redwoods; a bonsai makes a pleasant change.’

Bonsai! If I’d known him better I would have dug him in the ribs for that one. Too shy, I let it pass. ‘So you’re not going to explain what’s been the problem with me?’

‘Not today. I’ve messed it up once; I’m not going to risk spoiling it a second time by rushing. This is too important.’ He picked up my hand and punched himself in the side with it. ‘There—I deserved that.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘Yep, that’s me.’ But still he didn’t explain how he knew I’d wanted to do that.

Zed released my hand. ‘OK, I’ll head out now. I don’t want to push my luck. It was good meeting you, Sky. See you around.’

I didn’t trust this reformed-bad-boy behaviour, but Zed clearly wasn’t letting this go. On Monday at the end of school, he was waiting for me by Tina’s car.

‘Hi, Tina, how’s it going?’

Tina stared at him, then looked at me, eyebrow quirked. ‘Fine, Zed. You?’

‘Great. Sky, ready to go home?’ He held out a motorbike helmet.

‘Tina’s giving me a lift.’

‘I’m sure she won’t mind if I do that. I want to make sure Sky gets home, OK, Tina?’

Tina looked as if she did mind, not least because she didn’t trust Zed any more than I. ‘I said I’d take Sky.’

He held the helmet out to me. ‘Please?’

Zed Benedict saying ‘please’. Icicles were forming in Hell. And he was offering to fulfil one of my private fantasies: me riding out of school on the back of a hot bike. I knew it was a kind of cliché, but this rocked.

‘Sky?’ asked Tina, worried now.

I suppose such humility should be encouraged. ‘It’s OK. Thanks, Tina. I’ll go with Zed.’ I took the helmet.

‘If you’re sure.’ She bunched her dreadlocks back, a gesture that I knew meant she was uncomfortable.

Not really. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah.’ Her last look left me in no doubt that I was going to get a grilling on what happened after she left.

Zed led me over to his bike. We were attracting quite a few astonished stares from the students milling about.

‘I’ve never ridden one of these before,’ I admitted as I climbed on behind him.

‘The secret is to hold on tight.’

I couldn’t see his face but I would’ve sworn he was grinning. I slid forward and looped my arms around his waist, my legs brushing his hips. Easing out of the car park, he turned the bike up the hill. As he pushed up the speed, I tightened my grip. I felt a brief caress of his hand on mine—a reassuring touch.

‘Doing OK back there?’

‘Fine.’

‘Want to go a bit further? I can take you up into the mountains. There’s about thirty minutes of light left.’

‘Maybe just a little way.’

He went past the turning to my house and up the road. It became a switchback. There was little beyond here, only a few hunting cabins and a couple of isolated chalets. He pulled up on a promontory with a view back down the valley. The sun was setting ahead of us, bathing everything in a buttery gold light that gave an illusion of warmth despite the cold.

Parking the bike, he helped me dismount and let me admire the view in peace for a few minutes. The overnight frost still hung on in shady patches, the leaves, edged with white, crunchy underfoot. I could see for miles—the mountains which I had ignored all day thrusting themselves back into my conscious thoughts, reminding me of my insignificance in comparison to them.