Page 28

“Oh, Saint Billie Joe Armstrong.” Neon presses his hands together and holds them up to the poster of Green Day that Mr Ross keeps pinned above his desk. “Grant us some inspiration.”

It’s Thursday lunchtime and we’re holding a rehearsal for the open-mic night in one of the music classrooms. It’s not turning out the way we’d hoped.

Jamie tried out her stand-up routine, but she kept going blank and forgetting the punchlines.

Tilly’s poems were really good but her voice was weirdly flat, like she was reading out a shopping list. Caitlin and Hannah were similar – all the steps of their routine were in place, but the performance wouldn’t pop.

It has to be because of the Blanks. They’re snuffing out everyone’s spark.

The only person who doesn’t seem to be affected by them is Neon. He bops round the room, singing and throwing out ideas for songs that he and I could sing together, but none of them feels right.

“How about ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’?” he asks, pointing to the poster. “That’s a good one.”

I don’t know the song. I’m not sure how Neon does. Maybe Mr Ross has recommended him all that old punk-pop he likes so much.

“We can try it,” I say, “but it sounds a bit depressing.”

Neon takes a guitar down from the wall. “Yeah, maybe we need something more upbeat. Something that will get the crowd going.”

I swallow and try to ignore the nerves gnawing at my stomach.

I really need this to go well, especially since Neon has roped loads of people from school into coming on Saturday – more than will be able to fit in the bookshop, probably.

It’s not only that I want to prove to everyone who saw me chicken out the first time that I really can do it: I want to prove it to myself too.

“Why don’t you just do ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’?” Caitlin asks. “You guys practised so much for Friday Showcase, you might as well perform it again.”

“I don’t know.” I sit on the desk beside Tilly, trying to block out the memory of all those faces staring at me as I hurried off the stage. “It might remind me of last time and make my nerves worse.”

“That’s true.” Neon nods as he twirls the tuning pegs. “Plus, we don’t want people to think we’re a Journey cover band.”

I take out my phone and go through my Favourites playlist for ideas.

We try a few songs from musicals again, another couple that are constantly on the radio right now, but nothing seems to fit.

I don’t know if it’s because of the Blanks, if they’re sapping my ability to think outside the box, or if my nerves are getting in the way.

But the longer we go without finding the right song, the further my confidence wanes.

“Maybe this is a bad idea.” My shoulders slump as I slide my phone back into my pocket. “I’ll probably croak like I did last time anyway.”

“No!” Neon shouts. “You’re going to be amazing. I can feel it.”

Suddenly a loud scream rings through the corridor.

Hannah glances round, but the rest of us don’t even react.

It’s probably one of the younger kids mucking about.

But then a high-pitched shriek is added to the first, and a third and a fourth, and then a chorus of heavy, rapid footsteps goes thundering past.

“Get out!” A teacher’s voice, loud and panicked. “Everyone out, now!”

Tilly and I exchange wide-eyed looks and rush to the door.

A wave of people go sprinting past, some screaming, some pale-faced with terror.

I step outside and an ice-cold current of fear moves through my whole body.

Standing at the other end of the corridor is an animal the size of a bull.

It has the form of a wolf, but its eyes are red and its shaggy fur is the brownish green of muddied grass.

Beside me, Tilly draws in a sharp breath.

“That’s a cù-sìth,” she whispers, pronouncing it ‘coo-shee’. “It’s a sign of death.”

The animal paces in confused circles, growling and snapping its enormous jaws.

The doors leading to the main hallway are shut, but I can hear panicked shouts behind them.

Seeing the animal, Caitlin and Hannah scream and push past me into the corridor, then think better of it and duck back into the classroom to hide.

Elsie tries to pull us inside so she can lock the door, but Neon shakes his head.

“Dude, we can’t let that thing roam around the school! It’s going to scare people to death.”

He takes a step towards the animal. The cù-sìth raises its head and growls, revealing yellowish fangs that make my breath catch in my throat.

One of the Maths teachers, Mr Anghel, comes running down the corridor, his usually ruddy face almost green.

He shouts at Neon to get back, but Neon keeps walking towards the cù-sìth.

After days of inaction, my imagination finally kicks into gear.

The end of this scene plays out before my eyes: Neon tackling a beast three times his size and being ripped to shreds outside the Home Economics classroom.

“You need to get out of here,” Neon tells the cù-sìth, raising his voice to be heard above its snarls. “They don’t know what you are. They’ll kill you.”

The beast snaps its jaws at Neon, but his words seem to get through: after a moment, it shrinks back against the wall, its growls fading to a whisper.

Neon kneels down beside it and gingerly puts one hand on its snout.

Mr Anghel’s eyes are enormous behind his thick glasses, but he collects himself and hisses at us to follow him to the fire escape.

Tilly ushers Jamie and Elsie out, then tells Caitlin and Hannah to follow, but I can’t leave Neon.

“Time to go, buddy,” he tells the creature. “You don’t belong here.”

Neon strokes the cù-sìth’s snout. My heart leaps into my throat, but the animal lowers its head and closes its eyes.

When it disappears, it’s much more sudden than when the Blanks made the character in the park vanish yesterday.

One minute it’s there, and the next Neon’s hand is stretched towards nothing but open air.

“That’s it,” says Neon, though the cù-sìth is no longer here to hear him. “Time to go.”

The headteacher decides to close school for the rest of the day while they deal with the issue, though, by the time the animal-rescue team arrives, there’s no trace of any wolf and the incident has morphed into a rumour.

I call Carrie and ask her to come and pick Neon and me up a little early, and fifteen minutes later her yellow Beetle comes round the corner.

I head towards it while Neon dawdles behind with Russell and Hari, who are asking him to retell the story of how he single-handedly faced down a wolf – they were at football practice and missed the whole thing.

“Hello, you!” Carrie’s face breaks into a bright smile when she sees me. She leans across the car to open the passenger-side door. “Are you coming back with us?”

“If that’s OK.” I slide in beside her. “We really need to practise for our open-mic night on Saturday. We had a rehearsal at lunch, but it got cut short. We haven’t even picked a song yet.”

“Oh, Tamara has a huge record collection in the lounge. You’re sure to find something in there.” Carrie’s eyes light up. “Do you need more acts? I’m happy to play a few tunes on my theremin if it’ll help the bookshop.”

I have no idea what a theremin is but, judging by our rehearsal, our event needs all the help it can get. “That would be great.”

Neon runs through the school gates, his bag bumping against his back.

He’s almost at the car when Matt Lewis and a few other kids in our year shout his name.

He shoots Carrie an apologetic smile and hangs back to talk to them.

Carrie smiles as she watches him jog along the pavement, holding his bag over his head to shield his hair from the rain.

“You know, it’s been really nice getting to know Neon,” she says softly. “I never wanted my own children. I’m not a baby person – far too much poop and crying for my liking. But I always liked the idea of having an older kid around. Someone I can have a proper conversation with.”

“He likes you a lot,” I say, smiling. “I think you remind him of his mum.”

Carrie glances at me, her eyebrows raised. “So you based her character on me, is that what you’re saying?”

“No! Well – maybe a bit.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Carrie says with a laugh. “Well, I’m flattered. I’m glad I can help you two out. I really do think you should talk to your mums about this, though. Monika’s a writer, and Liv owns a bookshop. Surely, if anyone is going to understand, it’ll be them.”

Neon pulls open the door and climbs into the back seat. As Carrie drives off, a wave of exhaustion comes crashing over me. I lean back against the headrest, watching fat raindrops race down the windowpane while Neon fills Carrie in on what happened with the cù-sìth at school.

After a few streets, Carrie hits the brakes. I sit up, and my stomach flips when I see why she’s stopped.

“That’s them, isn’t it?” Carrie raises a trembling finger. “The Blanks.”

All I can do is nod. There are five of them this time.

All different heights and body shapes, all wearing different clothes, but all exactly alike in their sad pale emptiness.

The barren ovals of their faces turn to us.

One Blank takes a step towards the car, and then another. They know Neon is here. They sense it.

“What do we do?” I whisper.

Carrie shakes her head. “I don’t know. I … I can’t think.”

Her face is changing. The light in her eyes fades; her mouth droops; her shoulders sag as she grips the steering wheel. It’s like the personality is draining out of her. I don’t understand it – I’ve been closer to the Blanks than she is now, and they’ve never affected me this badly.

“Carrie!” Neon gives her shoulder a light shake. “Think of Aurora, Carrie.”

That brings some of the spark back into her eyes. Carrie looks at me, still frowning in confusion, but eventually gives a small nod. Outside, the Blanks are still advancing. Their arms rise and their hands reach towards us, the fingers as pale and thin as bones.

Carrie swallows. “They’re not … people , are they? They’re not alive?”

“No,” Neon says in a low, tight voice. “They’re nothing.”

With that, Carrie slams her foot on the accelerator.

The tyres squeal as the car races towards the Blanks.

In the space of a few seconds, their colourless figures grow larger and larger, filling the entire windscreen.

A second before the car comes into contact with them, they scatter into the darkness.

When I look behind me, they’re nowhere to be seen.