Small Blue Thing (5 page)

Taking a firm grip on the band in one hand, but holding my mobile ready with the other, I turned to check behind me. Nothing. He was still only in the mirror. I couldn’t begin to work out how this was happening: the laws of physics just didn’t allow it. But there he was, smiling gently, almost as if he could read the argument going on in my head.

As if he could read my thoughts…

I dropped the bracelet as if I had been electrocuted, and his face was gone in an instant. Could he read my mind? My cheeks flamed as I considered the implications of that. What exactly had I been thinking?

I took a deep breath. “Stop it,” I told myself sternly, “just finish checking it out.” And, anyway, did it matter if a strange reflection could also read my mind? It wasn’t as if he was real. I looked at the bracelet. I
had
to figure it out. I was sure Josh wasn’t responsible, so that left projection or insanity as my choices. I considered the stone, peering at it from every angle. There was absolutely no way it could generate any power. There was no space for even a tiny battery, so it seemed unlikely that it was projecting an image. The only way to check though was to put it inside something thick, then try again. I rummaged quickly in the pile of junk in the corner of my room, and found an old metal cash box. I dumped the contents on my bed and laid it on the desk.

I sat back down and turned the box so that the lid opened away from me. Really carefully I hooked the bracelet with a pencil and lowered it inside. I closed my eyes tightly for a moment as I felt a small bead of sweat run down my back. This was worse than the exams. Slowly, slowly, I reached around the half-closed box lid
and grasped the bracelet tightly.

In a flash his face was back behind me, reflected in the mirror. Not a projection then. I realised that he was actually looking quite distressed. My heart lurched again at the thought that I was upsetting him in some way. But suddenly he seemed to understand that I could see him again, and his face broke into a huge grin of relief. His beauty astonished me. Every time I looked at him he seemed more flawless than before. His high, straight cheekbones gave him an aristocratic air, and his lips… I sighed to myself looking at his lips. Curved in that inviting smile, his mouth looked strong but soft.

I took in the rest of him. He was wearing a loose white cotton shirt of some sort, open to reveal his throat and the top of his chest, and a heavy black cloak which was tied at his neck in a thick cord. The hood was thrown back, and I could see the strength in his neck and shoulders. If he was just a fantasy I had conjured up, I was doing a remarkably good job.

He watched as I completed my assessment, still smiling, then arched an eyebrow as if in a question. All I could do was smile back, blushing again.

So now I had managed to eliminate all the options but the most frightening one: I was going mad. But the more I looked at him and thought about what I had done, the less likely that seemed, too.

Maybe there was another option. I had never believed in ghosts, and as I thought about it, I realised I didn’t believe in anything irrational, anything that couldn’t be tested. But I
had
tested this, and it was proving that there was something – someone – there that couldn’t be explained by anything I knew or understood. I felt another shiver of fear while I considered the
possibilities. Maybe he was a ghost, or from a different dimension, or even from another planet: suddenly all those ridiculous alternatives became real possibilities.

Fear had crawled through my stomach, making me feel sick. How was I supposed to deal with this?

The expression on my face must have been transparent, as his expression turned from amusement to concern as he watched me. So whatever he was, he had some compassion. I took a few shallow breaths to settle the queasiness. I had so many questions and I needed to start answering them somehow. Where could I begin? I decided to start with the mind-reading.

I sat up straight, looked him in the eye and bellowed in my head – WHO ARE YOU? His expression didn’t flicker. I tried again. WHAT DO YOU WANT? Again there was nothing.

Well, it wasn’t exactly scientific, I thought, but in the absence of any other means of testing it would have to do. He couldn’t read my mind.

I realised as my arm began to cramp that I was still holding on to the bracelet inside the box. Feeling a little silly I pulled it back out and looked at it for a moment. When I looked back at him he was looking down at his own band, which was firmly clamped on to his left wrist. I thought I could see some strange emotion in his eyes: he seemed to hate it. And as I watched him, I realised that my fear was receding, that whatever he was I didn’t really care: I just wanted to be able to see him.

I shifted in my seat and my hold on my bracelet loosened for a second. His image shimmered. His head shot up and I saw a new, pleading look on his face. He shook his head as his lips moved –
No
!
Don
’
t go
,
please
!
My lip-reading wasn’t good but that wasn’t difficult to decipher. His reflection then solidified as I realised
what I had done and I took a firmer grip on it.

It seemed that he was as keen to look at me as I was to look at him. I could hardly believe that his view was as good as mine. I decided to make the most of it and slipped the bracelet back on to my wrist, smiling shyly at him.

His whole body relaxed, his shoulders dropping as a broad grin spread across his face.
Thank you
, he mouthed, his melting eyes finding mine. I was mesmerised, and couldn’t help putting my hand out to touch him. He was so clear in the mirror, just inches from my shoulder with his arm next to mine on the desk. I watched in the reflection as my hand slipped through his arm.

“What are you?” I whispered.

He looked pensive for a second, and started to reply. I couldn’t make out the words so I shook my head. I couldn’t understand anything he was trying to tell me. He started again slowly and I was concentrating so hard that the sound of a bell clanging made me jump.

I looked around me, feeling as if I had just been woken from a dream. My room was still there, still ordinary, but now touched with something wonderful. The demands of real life seemed irrelevant. The old school bell meant it was time for dinner, but I wasn’t remotely interested. The bell rang again and I groaned. “I’ll need to go downstairs for a minute. Will you wait?” I didn’t even stop to think how silly it was to be talking to a reflection. Then he nodded and smiled.

I
’
ll wait
. At least that was easy to lip-read, I thought.

I smiled back, then leapt to my feet and ran downstairs, my mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

Expectation

Dinner seemed to drag on and on. Both my parents were now back home, and as a treat my mum had ordered a takeaway curry. It was my favourite, and was why I hadn’t been summoned earlier to help with the cooking. But today I couldn’t enjoy the chicken tikka masala. I pushed most of it around my plate as I tried to work out how to get back upstairs.

Mum and Dad were both keen to hear how I had got on with my final exam. Grace and I had got back so late last night there hadn’t been time to talk. Josh had also done an exam that afternoon, so there was a long discussion as Mum and Dad tried to prise out of him how well he felt he had answered the questions. I was trying not to fidget too obviously. I had no idea how long the strange phenomenon upstairs was going to last, and I didn’t want to miss a minute more than I had to.

Eventually Josh managed to get away from the table with the excuse of more homework, but they knew that I didn’t need to do any more revision, so I couldn’t disappear so easily. Mum was particularly interested in how I had got on during the art project, and asked to see how it was all going, but all the time I was talking her through my work, I was desperate to get up to my room again.

I was just edging towards the stairs when there was a knock at the front door. “Do get that, Alex,” called Mum, “it’s a surprise.” What had she done now? I opened the door to find one of our
neighbours with their new Labrador puppy. Mum knew I was dying to see it and had obviously fixed this up as a treat. I couldn’t believe the bad timing.

I excused myself for a moment, and ran upstairs to my room. Down the corridor I could hear music from Josh’s room and occasional bursts of laughter. It sounded like he was watching videos of people falling off things and hurting themselves on the Internet again. He clearly wasn’t working too hard. Hopefully he was also making enough noise not to hear me.

I slipped into my room and sat myself down at my desk, ignoring all the clutter and the mess. I looked into the mirror, stroking the band on my wrist. He was there, behind my shoulder, a contented smile on his face. The look then became concerned as he saw my frustration.

“I can’t stay up here at the moment. I need to be with my family downstairs – we have a visitor,” I explained.

He looked philosophical about it.
Tomorrow
, he mouthed.

“No!” I exclaimed, rather too loudly. “I’ll be free in an hour,” I added in a whisper.

He shook his head and looked at his bracelet as if it were a watch.
Tomorrow
.

The music in Josh’s room had stopped and I could hear him coming down the corridor, calling. “Alex? Are you OK?”

The face in the mirror gave one last dazzling smile and was gone, as Josh stuck his head around the door.

“What’s up, Titch? What are you shouting about?”

“Nothing,” I hissed, furious and spinning around from my desk. “Just leave me alone.” He retreated, looking puzzled. I repositioned myself in front of the mirror but there was no sign of him. I was alone again.

“Crap,” I muttered. “Might as well go and meet the puppy then.” Taking one last peek in the mirror, I turned off the lights and headed downstairs.

It was about an hour later when I finally managed to get back upstairs. I wasn’t in the habit of having early nights, but I said I was tired after my exams. Once I was back in my room I shut the door firmly and resumed my seat at the mirror. I was still wearing the band, and I rubbed the stone firmly, just in case that made any difference. Once or twice I thought I saw a shifting shadow in the sparkling depths, but there was no blinding vision in my head, and no figure appearing behind me. He really did mean tomorrow then.

I took off the bracelet to consider it in a bit more detail. It had left a big black mark around my wrist and around the cuff of my shirt. If I wasn’t going to be seeing him again tonight, I reasoned, I could take the opportunity to give the thing a thorough clean.

All the cleaning materials were under the sink. I knew we had some silver cleaner as I had seen Mum use it, but I had no idea how to use it or what it looked like. I started to rummage through the various bottles lined up on the shelf. I kept on moving bottles until I saw a small tin at the back – that was what I wanted. I fished around until I had a cloth as well, and started putting the bottles back in the cupboard. I was nearly done when Mum walked in.

“Alex, whatever are you doing down there? I thought you had gone to bed.”

“I was looking for the silver polish.” I quickly decided that there was no harm in giving her the truth. “I decided I didn’t feel like going to bed, and wanted something soothing to do. I have some things which have tarnished and are making my clothes go black.”

“I wish you had thought about it a little earlier. There are a few things of mine which could do with cleaning, and as you are in the mood…” She tailed off, realising from my look that she was unlikely to get a positive response to that. “Never mind, just be careful that you don’t make too much of a mess.”

“I’ll be OK, Mum,” I promised quickly. “I’ve got some old papers upstairs which I can work on. Goodnight.”

She frowned slightly as she kissed me, somehow suspecting that something wasn’t quite right. “Goodnight, love, see you in the morning. Don’t be up all night playing with that stuff.”

Back in my room I laid an old newspaper across my desk and examined the instructions on the silver cleaner. It didn’t look too hard. The tin was full of wadding of some sort that was soaked with the cleaning stuff, so all I had to do was pull off a chunk and start to smooth it over the band. The wadding quickly went black and more of the silver colour began to shine through. I worked at it really carefully, ensuring that I got into all the crevices. Finally I took the duster and polished the residue of the cleaning stuff off. The silver shone warmly in the light from my desk lamp, and finally I was able to examine it more closely. The bracelet was “C”-shaped, able to fit securely on to my wrist without the need for hinges or fasteners. The stone was oval, about the size of the end of my thumb, and held in place by tiny silver ropes that twisted and turned over and around it. The ropes all merged together at each side to form the rest of the bracelet. The ropes were exquisite – the detail on each was stunning. I quickly rummaged around in the back of my desk drawer and found an old magnifying glass which Mum had confiscated from Josh years ago to stop him and his friends setting fire to things, and which I had promptly liberated because I thought it would be useful for fixing earrings.

I adjusted the light to get a better look, and peered through the lens at the setting. Each silver rope was perfectly made, the individual strands twisted around just like a real cable, but in perfect miniature. And each was subtly different from the last. As I turned the band I could see that the stone wasn’t actually attached to the silver in any way: the ropes formed a sort of cage around it, keeping it secure, but allowing it to rotate a little.

On either side the ropes joined together into a band about as wide as the stone was long, and which on the outside was strangely rough. It looked as if the ropes had been beaten together, and the marks from the hammer were still visible, dimpling the surface. Why make a piece of jewellery which was so fine in one place but almost rustic in another? It didn’t make sense.

Now the silver was clean the stone gleamed darkly, moving slightly in the setting. Its ability to move seemed to enhance the fire inside and the fabulous colours glinted in the light. Although it was mostly blue there were hints of the brightest green, all studded with the flecks of reds, pinks and gold.

The inside of the bracelet was also now clean, and I had a moment of excitement when I thought that I could see some engraving, but the more I squinted at it the more it just looked like shadows in the silver where the ropes had been welded together. I couldn’t make anything out. Grace had been right: there was no hallmark, and no clue as to who had made or owned it.

When I had finished, I laid it gently down on the desk and considered it. How had something so beautiful and innocent-looking conjured up such a strange apparition? I thought about his face, initially so angry looking and then so content. Where was he from? I had so many questions and no way of answering them. I sighed, and started getting ready for bed. The bracelet may have
been clean, but I was now comprehensively filthy, with silver polish and black tarnish all over my hands and up my arms. The shirt wasn’t going to recover in a hurry either. I grabbed my pyjamas and headed for the bathroom where I could hide the shirt in the bottom of the washing basket.

The next morning I slipped the newly cleaned bracelet on after my shower and peered hopefully into the depths of the mirror. I saw nothing, but I could feel my heartbeat increasing at the thought that I would see him in a few hours.

It was a driving lesson day, and so instead of going in on the coach I went in the Mini with Josh. I usually had my driving lessons at lunchtime when it was a little less busy on the road. I wasn’t able to practise on the way to and from school as Josh hadn’t had his licence for long enough to supervise me. He was gutted about that, as he really fancied being able to boss me about officially, but I was quite relieved. So on my driving lesson days he got to take the car to school and park it in my school car park.

He loved driving past all the girls and then casually sauntering over to his school, swinging the car keys from his long fingers. Very few of his classmates had cars, so it really helped his image. Luckily most of them hadn’t seen the actual vehicle.

It wasn’t much of a car. It was old and beaten up and a disgusting custard yellow colour. Mum refused to buy anything worth much for us, and the insurance was already far more than the value of the car. She had promised that when we had both got our licences she would add us to the insurance for her car, but I wasn’t holding my breath. In the meantime I did my best to cover over the custard paint with weird abstract murals in clashing colours, which had the added benefit of winding Josh up.

We were supposed to share the car, as Mum and Dad had
bought it for both of us, but until I passed my test I was stuck with Josh and his superior attitude. He had passed his test first time but my lessons were not going that well. Technically I wasn’t too bad, but I had an unfortunate habit of speeding. I hadn’t even put in to take the practical part of the test yet, and my teacher hadn’t been too encouraging so far.

Josh was ready to leave in good time, as usual, while I was still trying to find all the things I needed for the day. He started drumming his fingers impatiently on the kitchen work surface.

“Come on, Alex, what else do you need to collect? If I had an exam this morning I would have left you by now.” I knew this wasn’t an idle threat. He had abandoned me one morning when I had lost my PE kit. I quickly grabbed my bag and made for the door.

“Ready,” I mumbled, through a last mouthful of toast as I pulled on my jumper.

“About time. You really have no sense of urgency, you know,” he complained as we got into the car. “One day you’ll miss something really important.”

“You sound just like Mum,” I countered, knowing that the comparison would get him quickly off the subject.

The route was busy as usual, but with no major hold-ups, so we were on time.

“See,” I said triumphantly as we drove through the gates. “There was no need for all that fuss after all.”

I should have kept my mouth shut: Josh circled the car park twice before he found a space then squeezed the Mini into a tiny corner, despite my complaints. I had no idea how I would get it out of there at the start of my lesson.

“You need to practise getting out of difficult parking spaces,”
he laughed as he pulled his rucksack out of the back. “And this one has the added benefit that no one can see your dodgy artwork.”

“You are so mean,” I grumbled, hoping that I would be able to get Miss McCabe, my driving teacher, to move it for me.

“You do have your keys, don’t you?”

I checked quickly in my bag. “Yup, all present and correct. See you here just after four.” He waved in acknowledgement as he loped off, jogging gently across the grounds to the gate nearest his playing fields where the early morning kick-about was in progress.

I heaved my bags out of the car, locked it carefully and slowly made my way into school. I couldn’t believe that so many weird things could happen in just twenty-four hours. I sighed gently, looking hopefully at the bracelet. He had promised that he would come back today, so maybe he would appear in any mirror I passed. I was smiling at the thought as I made it to my classroom just in time for registration.

The day’s post-exam programme was pretty dull, and seemed more like ordinary lessons. I spent half the morning trying to catch my reflection in windows and on computer screens, hoping for signs that he might appear, and the other half peering at the stone for any mysterious movement. It stayed stubbornly still, and the more I looked, the longer the morning seemed to stretch.