The Mortal Knife (2 page)

‘Can't let you off till the next stop.' The driver might as well have been a robot for all the emotion he showed. He sounded utterly world-weary, like a man incapable of being surprised; a man who'd heard every story in the history of the world and who already knew the punchline to every joke ever told.

Adam glared at him. ‘I need to get off the bus. Seriously. I have to get off!' The passengers in the front few seats were lowering their newspapers and staring at him with dull irritation. His audience gave Adam an idea. He raised his voice. ‘I'm going to be sick. I have some sort of bug I think. You know that winter vomiting thing?' He gave an Oscar-worthy retch and groan. It wasn't as hard as he thought it would be; the adrenalin had his stomach rolling and flipping.

The driver flinched as far back in his seat as physically possible, his deadpan expression replaced with one of complete disgust. He slammed the brake on and the door popped open. Adam was off and running before the bus had even come to a standstill.

There was no time to think about what he was going to do. Adam ran like the hounds of hell were chasing him. He could hear his heart thudding in his ears and his feet pounding on the pavement. His schoolbag was slowing him down, so he threw it over a hedge into someone's garden and kept going. He turned a corner and saw the zebra crossing in the distance. A figure was visible further up the road, moving towards him. He pelted on.

The crossing was getting closer. Adam was gasping for breath now. He hadn't run this far in ages. He had a vague sense that he probably needed to get a bit fitter if he was going to keep doing this whole saving people thing. That was the bit they never told you in comics or films – being a hero wasn't easy. Unless you'd come from another planet or been bitten by a radioactive bug you were probably going to need to hit the gym every so often.

He was close enough to see the girl now. He could also see how she was going to die. Her head was bent over her phone and she wasn't looking ahead. Worse, in the distance Adam could see a line of cars and behind them the white van. The girl was reaching the corner of Hawthorn Avenue and turning into the street. Adam tried to wave but she was too absorbed in her playlist. He gave a wheezing groan and forced his legs to go to his version of warp speed.

He tried calling her but she had her headphones on. He realised, with an awful, sickening churn, that he wasn't going to reach her in time. She couldn't see him and couldn't hear him. She was walking in a dream and the white van was almost at the end of the street.

Adam veered round the corner, just as the white van reached the other corner. The girl was almost at the kerb, ready to step into the road, lost in a daze, and the van was accelerating, the driver chatting and laughing on his mobile, and everything was too slow and too fast and there was no time to think so Adam ran straight across the road and threw himself at the girl.

And, like a real superhero, for just a second it felt like he was flying.

Amyriad of sensations blurred together in quick succession for Adam. Wind whistled past his ears, closely followed by the long, shocking blare of a horn. His hands closed on slim shoulders in a woollen blazer and he saw the blonde-haired girl's mouth fall open in shock. A startled squeak emerged from her mouth and her breath blew hot on his cheek. There was a brief moment of imbalance as Adam and the girl tussled together, almost falling under the wheels of the van, until the momentum took them backwards onto the pavement and into a painful tangle of limbs.

Adam fell on his left arm and shoulder but managed to absorb the blonde girl's weight. She landed in a cat-like half-crouch, staggering forward, almost falling over Adam. He found himself lying on his back staring up into her face just an arm's length from his own.

She was totally unharmed. She was also hopping mad. She ripped her headphones off, swore at Adam and pulled free of his grip. ‘Get off me!' She staggered to her feet and backed away from him.

Adam held his hands up in the air, wincing at the bolt of pain that shot up his left side. ‘It's OK! I'm not trying to hurt you!'

The girl snorted and called him something very rude. ‘
You
hurt
me
? Don't come near me, creep! I do ju-jitsu!'

There was a thud of metal as the door of the white van slammed closed. The driver, a burly middle-aged man, marched over and glared down at Adam. ‘What the hell are you doing, you little twerp? Are you trying to get yourself killed?' He glanced from Adam's prone form to the blonde-haired girl, noticing her angry expression. ‘What's wrong, love? Did he attack you?' He pointed a stubby and vehement finger in Adam's face. ‘Did you try to attack her?'

Adam blinked up at them, temporarily speechless. He hadn't expected a round of applause – after all, the van driver didn't
know
he'd almost killed the girl. Still, he hadn't expected the pair of them to join forces and beat him to a pulp either! He tried to sit up, wincing. ‘Look, I wasn't attacking anybody.' He wasn't sure what was hurting him more – the bad landing or the injustice of the whole sorry situation!

The van driver gave him a disgusted look. ‘They should lock people like you up.' The girl was standing beside the van man with her arms folded, shaking her head.

The unfairness of it all was threatening to make Adam blurt out something outrageous – like the truth. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. It made his ribs hurt. ‘Look, I'm really sorry. I was only messing around. I thought you were someone else.'

‘Yeah, right,' the girl said with a scowl. ‘Just stay away from me.' She turned and crossed the road unharmed, heading off down Hawthorn Avenue, presumably in the direction of her school.

The van driver glared at Adam. ‘Just you stay down there and count to one hundred before you walk anywhere near that young lady.' He climbed back in the van and drove off slowly, as if to make the point he was keeping an eye on things.

Adam let the white van recede from view and struggled painfully to his feet. He had risked his own life to save someone else's. He didn't expect a medal. He didn't even expect thanks. He just didn't want to be called a creep for doing something good. He tried to summon up a warm glow, knowing he had saved a life but all he could feel was the warm glow of the massive bruise growing down his left arm. Sometimes doing the right thing sucked.

He scowled and limped off to reclaim his schoolbag.

No matter what else had happened, Adam always felt a lightening in his spirits as he walked up the long, stony driveway to Bonehill Charitable School. He could tell that not all of his classmates felt the same sense of good fortune as he watched them drag their feet towards the main building.

Bonehill was an old school, founded by an eccentric philanthropist more than a century ago and maintained by a trust. Places were awarded by lottery, which meant that the catchment covered a huge area and attracted students from all backgrounds. It was seen as a good school by people in the know, not that Adam's family had any clue what a ‘good school' was. These things weren't important in the Luman world because no self-respecting Luman would be seen dead at school at Adam's age.

Adam didn't care. This was where he felt happiest, most at ease in his own skin. He had his friends, he was studying subjects he enjoyed and now he had Melissa as well. His heart hopped about a little thinking of her. How should he play things? She was in his form class and would be in registration. Kissing her had definitely been a step in the right direction! He didn't think he could actually call her his girlfriend just yet but if he didn't mess things up he might be able to soon enough.

Of course every silver lining had a cloud and the cloud was lurking by the front door into the main building. Mr Bulber, aka The Bulb, was standing at the top of the steps surveying his domain. A former professional wrestler turned teacher, The Bulb had somehow managed to finagle his way into the position of head teacher. His son Michael Bulber took full advantage of his father's position by terrorising the school at his leisure, earning himself the nickname ‘the Beast'.

Adam scowled just thinking about his nemesis. The Beast had always been a menacing presence in school but a couple of run-ins with him outside of school had shown him that Michael Bulber had a dark side few people knew about. Typically Adam had managed to fall for the one girl the Beast held a torch for. The fact that Melissa had only been out with him a few times and couldn't stand him didn't deter the Beast in any way from pursuing her – or treating Adam as a love rival.

The Bulb shared in his son's dislike for Adam, although for different reasons – namely that Adam was clever. The Bulb didn't like clever boys. He liked boys who thought school was all about enjoying manly activities like wrestling. He especially detested geeks or anyone who liked science, computers, manga or Orc and Elf role-playing games – which placed Adam and his friends squarely at the top of his hit list.

Still, they had recently put their skills to good use. After The Bulb had cancelled a planned school trip to Japan, they had created a fake Japanese sensei who promised to teach The Bulb secret ninja wrestling moves, as long as he performed a few challenges first. They had put The Bulb in some mortifying situations – and managed to get the Japan trip reinstated in the process.

‘Morning, sir,' Adam muttered as he slid past. It was hard not to smirk.

‘You're late, Mortson!' The Bulb turned his cold stare on Adam, looking him up and down. ‘And what's wrong with your blazer? Get yourself brushed down and get to class!' Adam scarpered towards his form room, happy to have escaped detention.

At the door, he paused, suddenly feeling nervous at the thought of seeing Melissa. There were still a few fellow stragglers in the corridor, so a full-on preen was out of the question but he
did
dust off his mucky blazer, squash his sandy hair under control and sling his bag on his unbruised shoulder in a more nonchalant manner.

He was as ready as he was ever going to be. He rolled his shoulders back, took a deep breath and strode into the classroom.

Two lessons later, Adam was slinking towards the library in a state of deep depression, all his good feelings long since evaporated. Why had he been so keen to get back here? Was he mad?

He wasn't sure what he'd expected but it hadn't been Melissa greeting him with nothing more than a cool nod. He had stared at her beseechingly across his form room while his form tutor, Mr Fenton, ranted incoherently about incomplete homework leading inexorably to failed exams, unemployment and the lunatic asylum. Melissa studiously ignored Adam throughout, chewing her lip and doodling on the back of her pencil case. He could feel his heart cracking and warm goo running down the inside of his chest towards his stomach. His internal choir was wailing gospel style,
Why, oh why, Melissa, why?
He could still taste the memory of her strawberry lip balm.

At breaktime he slouched through the library doors and mooched towards his usual table. His friends were in their usual spots, doing their usual things: Archie was sketching a scantily clad manga chick; Spike was on his laptop (no doubt hacking into the Pentagon or similar); and Dan was hovering between the two, devouring a pile of nuts and being irritating.

It was Dan who noticed him first. He grinned up through a horrible mouthful of crushed Brazil nuts. ‘All right Adam? How's it going?'

Somehow Adam managed to avoid rending his own clothes and beating his chest in anguish. ‘Yeah, all right.' He wasn't all right. How could they not see? How could they not see the jagged splinters of his heart bursting out through his skin?

Archie turned his sketchpad round for Adam to admire. ‘Here she is. My ninja babe. This is the woman of my dreams. And now that we're going to Japan I'm actually going to get to meet her.' He leered at his picture and tucked it carefully away in his bag.

‘Of course we might not have to go to Japan to see a ninja,' Dan muttered. He waggled his eyebrows and nodded at Adam meaningfully.

Adam stared at him, confused. Whatever the meaning was it was lost on him. ‘Did you have a good holiday?'

Archie groaned. ‘Don't ask him that. Seriously. You don't want to know.'

Dan gave him a withering look, then turned to Adam with the kind of expression normally reserved for orphans in black and white films. ‘I wouldn't say it was good but it was certainly  …  eventful.'

‘Don't say I didn't warn you,' Archie muttered.

‘What happened?'

Dan drew in a long, shuddering breath. ‘Nothing much. Except I pretty much nearly died.'

Adam blinked. Whatever he'd been expecting Dan to say it hadn't been that. ‘Oh, right. Well, you know, glad you're still here.'

Dan seemed disappointed at his reaction. ‘Yeah, I am! But only just!' He gave a knowing nod at Adam. ‘Another thirty seconds and it would have been a whole different story!'

Archie sighed and closed his sketchpad. ‘Just tell him what happened and get it over with.'

Dan scowled. ‘You should be more sympathetic! I'm having an existential crisis. My mum said I'm having to come to terms with my own mortality. I have to go to counselling and act stuff out with dolls.'

Archie gave a dirty snigger. ‘Yeah I'll bet you do, perv.'

Adam eyed Dan curiously. ‘Your mum's some kind of therapist, isn't she?' At Dan's nod he shuddered. It would be bad enough to have your mum psychoanalysing you all the time, but Dan's dad was a dentist. His nickname was the Dark Lord, not least because of his unhealthy interest in spy cameras. Dentist and psychotherapist. It was like the worst parental job combination in history – agony on every level.

‘Just tell him what happened.' Spike spoke for the first time since Adam had sat down. He didn't even look up, frowning in concentration as he stared at his laptop screen.

‘I'll tell you all right!' Dan said. ‘I went to Trafalgar Square for the Septic Kisses concert the day that bomber blew himself up – and I got a photo of him just before it happened!'