Hello Darkness (11 page)

The Shank drilled a hole in my skull and had a quick look around. Then he glanced down at the papers on his desk.

“This morning I received a note suggesting that I would find something interesting in a certain locker. When I went to check, I found you adjacent to the locker in question, with a look on your face that exceeded even your generally high background level of guilt. Shortly afterwards, I was informed that the school guinea pigs were not in their cage. Despite your well-known
problems
, Middleton, I am told that you are not a stupid boy. So why don’t you use that brain of yours and tell me what deductions
you
would draw from those facts?”

It was my turn to pause. I tried to get everything straight, but the inside of my head was like a washing machine, with the animals, the people, the places churning in a mush of grey suds. By a huge effort of will, I made it stop, and sorted through the laundry.

“I’d say it was a set-up. Whoever nabbed the pigs tried to plant them on some patsy. A patsy with the initials J. M. But either they were too dumb to get it right, or the guys they put on the job were too dumb.”

“And why would anyone want to implicate you in this? You don’t think that smacks of paranoia?” The Shank’s tone softened a little and he added, “We’ve been here before, John.”

“Sure. The eternal recurrence.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just something someone said… But it’s not paranoia when they’re really trying to get you.”

Again the Shank bored into me. Again he found nothing but an empty space.

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, Middleton, but I know you’re at the heart of it. Turn your pockets out.”

“What, you think I’d be walking about with dead guinea pigs in my pockets?”

“Just do what I say.”

I flapped and slapped, showing the Shank I was clean. He didn’t notice the couple of white hairs that fluttered down to the carpet.

“Proves nothing,” he said. “You could have dumped the bodies anywhere.”

“That would be the smart move.”

The Shank rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He looked and sounded tired.

“Today is Wednesday. At 12 p.m. on Friday I will be holding an all-school assembly. If this situation has been cleared up by then, the purpose of the assembly will be to wish the Drama Club the very best of luck with the performances of
The Wizard of Oz
. If no resolution has occurred, then the school will hear that the performances, scheduled for the following Friday and Saturday nights, have been cancelled because of you. I derive no pleasure, no pleasure whatsoever, from this.”

“I bet,” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean that something stinks here. There’s something corrupt and rotten, and the rottenness goes down to the core.”

“Get out of here, Middleton.”

“I’m gone.”

As I was leaving I heard what sounded like a click. It was the Shank’s brain changing gear.

“Wait, dead. You said ‘dead’. How do you know the guinea pigs are dead?”

For once I was stumped. I cursed myself for being such a dumb-ass.

“Just a guess. Based on the pattern.”

“The pattern?”

“Yeah, you know, like the picture of the skull on a death’s-head moth. The pattern of stuff dying.”

And I got out of there while that one was still rolling around in his cerebral cortex.

At the end of the staff corridor, I almost bumped into Hart. My head was still back in the Shank’s office, or I’d have checked out where he was going. As it was, we both raised our chins in greeting, and then I was lost in the churning humanity of the school, as one lesson ended and the next began.

I know I should have tried to make my move on the Dwarf, but somehow the rest of the day contracted into a point, consumed itself, vanished. My mind was a black hole sucking in everything, matter, light, even time.

Things only snapped back into focus as I trudged out of school that afternoon. Every kid was being frisked at the gates. When I was through, I looked back to see Paine getting patted down by a nervous prefect. He beamed beatifically at me, gave a little tinkling wave like Oliver Hardy, then put his hand to his mouth, as if he’d just let slip an accidental burp.

A guinea-pig-flavoured burp.

THE
house was still empty. I checked the phone for messages. Just one. I hit play.

“Meds!”

That was it. Nothing more. My mum’s voice had an edge of hysteria. Nothing new there. Crazy school, crazy home. I was the sane centre of a mad world.

I picked up the dispenser from the top of the fridge and gave it a rattle. I was two days behind now. I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to take all the ones I’d missed. Or would that OD me? I could call my shrink… But the thing is, I felt good. Well, OK, not
that
good, but not crazy. The shrink had said that sometimes it’s a one-off, what happened to me. Sometimes… Anyway, taking pills when you don’t need them, that has to be nuts, doesn’t it?

I went to the bathroom and stared at my face in the mirror. There were black smudges under my eyes, but apart from that my face was as colourless as a meal of boiled fish in white sauce.

Tough day.

I went into my room and fell onto the bed. I didn’t even take my shoes off. There was something nagging at the outer rim of my consciousness. Something I was supposed to do. Or not do. The Dwarf. My pills. Other things. I rested my eyes for a few seconds. When I opened them again, two hours had slipped by. I had a taste like burnt hair in my mouth and the feeling that someone had taken out my brain and replaced it with scrunched-up aluminium foil.

I brushed my teeth and then went down to the kitchen and ate a can of peaches. That helped. It always helps. The house was eerily quiet. It was something more than just the absence of noise. The silence felt like an actual presence, something that had flowed like an inert gas into the rooms. The thought of the stifling gas made my throat tighten, and I knew that there was only one place to go.

Up on the roof, I waited for Cat to come.

I knew she would.

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmm,”
she said.

I opened the sardines. She poked her nose quickly in and out.

“Not hungry tonight?”

“Already ate. Been checking out the neighbourhood. That old lady at number 14…”

“You ate the old lady?”

“Funny.”

“I work at it.”

Of course I knew that cats couldn’t really talk, and that I was imagining words in the random cat noises that she made, but her voice made me feel better, somehow. I guess I was missing my family.

“So, tell me, how are things at school?” she asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

“You can’t tell a cat what it wants.”

She jumped onto my lap. It made me start. I looked down. It was a long way.

“School’s fine. Struggling a bit with maths and physics, sailing through English lit and history.”

“Yeah, like
that’s
what I meant.”

“OK then. You asked for it. There’s trouble. Some sicko is bumping off the school pets. I’ve been on the scene once too often, so the Shank – that’s the Deputy Head – has me down as a suspect. But the Principal – Mr Vole – well, he’s three-quarters senile, but he’s basically OK, and he’s got me trying to figure out who’s behind it all. But things are getting murkier. Someone’s trying to frame me. Or maybe just scare me off. Or perhaps just mess with my head. I don’t know. And then there are the Queens—”

“The
what
?”

“The Drama Queens – you know, the theatre club.”

“OK.”

“Well, they’re mixed up in this, and the Queen Mum – don’t ask – well, she’s on my back as well. And when I went to the Lardies to try to find out who had hired Big Donna to sing me to sleep, all I got was a faceful of hot flab and a ticket to go visit the Dwarf.”

“Dwarf?”

“That’s what we call the school caretaker. Evil little dude lives in the Underworld.”

“The Underworld…? This dwarf lives in Hell?”

“It’s a figure of speech. The Underworld is the basement area beneath the Interzone. The ass-end of the ass.”

The cat snickered. Couldn’t tell if she was laughing
with
or laughing
at
.

“I see now why you look tired. Any good news?”

“Well, someone’s trying to help me. There’s a girl—”

“I thought so. There’s always a girl.”

“Zofia.”

“Hey, a zed name. I like a zed name.”

“Funny, that’s just what
I
said. Well, I helped her out when those two stiff guinea pigs showed up in her locker… OK, I see I’m losing you here, Cat.”

“It is all a bit far-fetched. I guess you’ve got a lively imagination.”

I grunted and pulled the crumpled Warrant out of my trouser pocket. “What about this, then?”

“Means nothing to me. I can’t read. Oh, do you hear that?”

“What?”

“Phone. Better answer it.”

“It’s only Mum.”

“Not this time, I don’t think.”

“Psychic?”

“Feline intuition. Go, tiger.”

Then the cat leapt up and over the roof like Spring-heeled Jack, and I scrambled for the phone.

HER
: “Hi.”

It took me a couple of seconds to place the voice.

Me: “Hi.”

Her: “You take some tracking down.”

Me: “You’re quite the sleuth. How did you…?”

Her: “I’d rather not reveal my methods. A girl needs a little mystery.”

Me: “I suppose I should thank you for—”

Her: “Thank me? I don’t get it. No, I called to see if … well, do you ever go out?”

Me: “Under cover of dark. Sometimes.”

Her: “I thought maybe I could buy you a coffee…”

Me: “Well, maybe you can.”

Her: “And maybe you could also tell me what the hell’s going on.”

Me: “I’ll tell you what I know, but the truth is that it doesn’t add up to much.”

Her: “That’ll do. Starbucks?”

Me: “Sure.”

Her: “Eight – is that enough time to switch to your night plumage?”

Me: “Eight’s good.”

Click
.

I had a grin on my face, and a date with a zed name.

At one minute to eight I pushed through the door of the Starbucks on the high street.

With a little choke, I saw that Zofia was already at the glass counter. She looked like a black flamingo. She was wearing a long skirt, the colour of night, and a tight jacket with something lacy happening at the wrists and neck. Very Morticia Addams. In a good way.

I walked over and rested my hand lightly on her back. She turned and smiled and I felt that short, sharp punch in the guts that beauty gives you sometimes by way of “hello”. Her skin was pale and perfect and covered, as far as I could tell, the whole of her body.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“I just arrived.”

I bought her a coffee – she wanted some weird mix with cinnamon and vanilla. I ordered mine black. I hate black coffee, but I thought it might impress her.

I led Zofia over to a quiet booth against the wall. The place was dotted with idlers reading newspapers or gazing into space, which meant that there wasn’t quite enough of a buzz to disguise the slightly embarrassing silence when we sat down.

It was Zofia who filled it.

“You sounded surprised when I called.”

“Yeah, well, it was. A surprise, I mean.”

“A nice one?”

“Four-balls-in-the-lottery nice.”

I threw her my second-best smile. I wanted to keep something in reserve for emergencies.

“I just wanted to say … what you did … at the lockers. It was cool.”

“I’m a cool kid,” I said, and crossed my eyes and did something stupid with my mouth.

It made her laugh. Suddenly we were having fun. And we carried on having fun while we sipped our drinks. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a normal, light-hearted, jokey, flirty conversation like this. Zofia may have looked like gloom come to life, but soon those purple lips of hers went up through the gears from pout to smile to grin.

But there were things that needed to be said, on both sides. And so I asked Zofia about her old school, and what had happened there.

She stared into her cup for a while and I thought I’d blown it. Then she spoke:

“It was just… It was nothing. Look, there was this teacher there. Mr Cram. He was weird, you know…?”

“Not really.”

“With girls. He used to stand too close to you. And there was something about the way he looked at you…”

“OK, weird like
that
.”

“He didn’t touch us, but he was still creepy. And then he had a stroke and died.”

“Whoa!”

“And then one of the teachers found a little model made out of clay in my desk.”

“So what?”

“In the shape of a man.”

“Oh.”

“There were pins stuck in it.”

“Voodoo?”

She shrugged.

“Someone … planted it?” I said, wanting to sound like I was on her side. Hell, I was on her side.

There was a pause and then she nodded. She gazed at the floor with those green, catlike eyes of hers.

“I guess, yeah. Someone’s idea of a joke.”

“But you got chucked out?”

“I wasn’t formally expelled, but it was obvious I couldn’t stay there any longer. Not when the papers got hold of it.”

Then it was her turn.

“So, that’s me and my troubles. I hear you’ve had you own.”

“Yeah. Maybe I should have changed schools too.”

Most of the kids knew that I’d had what was described as an “episode”. I tried to find the right way to put it.

“I’m not a psycho, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“It was just…” What the hell was it? “It was a year ago. I got stressed out by stuff at home. My mum and dad were arguing a lot. And I … I saw things that weren’t really there. No, not quite that. I started to see things that were there in a different way. Or something like that. I started to see
meanings
in ordinary stuff.”