Page 4

4

FEEL ALIVE

‘There’s a girl here.’ Lucas stares at the three of us from the hallway. ‘Says her phone is somewhere in this house? Used a tracking app or something.’

Dad frowns. Mum’s face pinches. I feel their confused gazes turn on me.

‘That’s brilliant!’ I say, standing so quickly that I bang the table with my knee. I take the phone out of my pocket and hold it up – purple case, stickers and all. Hiding it in plain sight is the only way. ‘I found this at the bus stop. She dropped it in the queue. I wondered how I’d get it back to her!’

I see frowns. Frowns all around. I look at my brother, scoping for any sign of what she might have told him. ‘Is it a girl about my age?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Denim jacket? Doc Martins?’

‘Yup.’

‘Great! I thought it might be her. Thank God she has GPS tracking.’

Lucas shrugs. ‘She seems nice.’

‘Is she out there now?’

‘Yeah.’

There’s an awkward silence. I really don’t want to meet her again. Or Boss. I definitely don’t want to meet Boss.

‘Why didn’t you leave it with the driver?’ Dad says. I can see the cogs of suspicion start to turn in his brain.

‘Driver was a mean, angry man,’ I say. ‘I didn’t trust him.’

‘Right,’ he says.

‘I’ll sort it,’ I say calmly. ‘One sec—’

‘Eli, don’t you think—’ Before Mum can finish her sentence, I’m in the hall, heading towards the half-open door. I open it fully, but the porch is empty.

Strange. I don’t like games. Games I can’t win.

I step outside, pulling the door shut behind me. ‘Hello?’

I edge down the steps and along the tiled pathway between Mum’s rhododendron bushes. When I get to the gate, I stop and look around.

No one. That’s—

‘Well, you’re a slippery little fucker, aren’t you?’

Oh. Not happy then.

In this moment I feel nothing but apathy. I really should be concerned, or at least surprised. But I’m not. Damn it .

I turn to the shadows behind me, back to the rhododendron bushes. ‘I have one question,’ her voice says shakily. I hear her sniff. ‘Why did you take it?’

She appears out of the darkness and when she enters the light, it’s like I’m seeing someone else. She’s smaller than I remember, softer. A little delicate looking.

Hang on. Is she… Yes, she is. She appears to be crying . Well, that’s… Not what I expected.

And… Nope. I don’t feel sorry for her. Not in the slightest.

She wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve. ‘You’re clearly rich enough. So, why did you take it?’

‘Um… Are you OK?’ I murmur. To … distract. Although I do sort of want to know the answer.

‘What the hell do you care?’ she says, a stringy bit of snot clinging to her upper lip. Her face looks puffy like she’s been crying for a while. Strands of dark curly hair stick to her cheeks. She steps towards me.

‘Um… One second. Is your name Boss? Because I swear—’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘ What? ’

‘I just…’ I glance back towards the road.

‘Answer my question.’ She steps forwards again, until she’s right in front of me. I glance at the front door. ‘ Why did you take it? ’

She pulls her hand from her pocket and points something towards me.

Something sharp flashes in her hand. A blade. A little penknife.

I should be shitting myself right now. But I’m not.

And damn it. Not here . This could all end very badly.

I put my hands up and step backwards away from her because that’s what a scared person would do.

‘ All right, all right .’ I keep my voice to a whisper, trying to lead her away from the front door. But she’s not moving and she’s starting to look fierce again, like the girl who chased me from the bus. And now there’s nowhere to run except at her. But no, because the knife . It’s probably best to be honest and hope that’s enough to make her leave.

‘Um. I…’ I’m usually good at this. Why can’t I think? ‘It was just a … little project.’

She pulls a face. ‘A little project ?’

‘Yeah. I was just trying to … um … feel … something.’

She clenches her empty fist and before I can duck, she smacks me with it right on the side of the head. Wow, that hurt. ‘Feel that ?’

‘Yep.’ I clutch my cheek. Jesus wept, she’s strong. ‘Definitely did.’

‘Piece of shit,’ she says, grabbing her phone from my hand. ‘What kind of excuse is that?’

‘It’s not. I –’ ow, my teeth – ‘I was trying to feel guilt.’

‘To feel guilt ?’

‘Yes. Yep. Correct.’

‘Oh, well, that’s normal .’ Her voice echoes down the street. She needs to be quiet. This could really mess things up for me… ‘And did you?’

‘Um… No.’

She shakes her head. ‘What is wrong with you?’

‘That’s a good question.’ And probably one not best suited to right outside my front door.

‘Yeah, it is.’

‘Could you just… I dunno – maybe try and keep it down a bit?’

‘Keep it down ? Are you for real?’

‘Yeah, just…’ Be polite. ‘Please. Just … please.’ I check the front door again.

‘But you haven’t answered me. Why did you rob me? ’

Because I wanted to feel something. How is she not getting this? ‘Look it’s… I pictured your mum dying and everything.’

Her face suddenly drops. She goes still. ‘ What? ’ she spits. ‘How did you know that?’

No. Don’t tell me. Is she joking?

Oh, God. She’s crying again. What does that feel like?

‘Listen. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise—’

She turns to the house, then back to me, eyes burning. ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘I’m not anyone. I didn’t know about your mum. I swear. It was just made up. Which is weird because… Anyway, doesn’t matter. I was trying to think of something sad that had happened to you, so I’d feel worse.’

Her mouth hangs open. She looks disturbed, offended and totally baffled all at once. And I can’t blame her. ‘That’s deeply psychotic. Are you aware of that?’

‘Yeah. I can see that now.’

‘You can see that now ?’ She snorts.

‘You have your phone back. I always wanted to get it back to you.’

She starts inspecting it. ‘Have you done anything to it?’

‘No. Look, if we’re going to keep talking – which, you know, is cool – could we possibly do this down the road a bit?’

‘No.’

‘OK, fine.’ I watch her scroll through the screen, muttering about doing something terrible to me if I’ve so much as opened it. As she removes the purple case, studying it like she’s trying to find out if I’ve infected it with a lethal dose of Batshit Crazy, I scan the stickers littering the back. A slice of watermelon. A smiley face. A glittery star.

One catches my eye – a cartoon rabbit. But not a nice cartoon. It’s intense, angry. It’s just the head, with big over-ear headphones and black eyes staring right at me, into my soul. Underneath it are the words FEEL ALIVE.

‘What’s your problem?’ Oh, she’s looking at me again. ‘Why are you staring?’

‘I’m not. I just…’

She reattaches the phone case, closes the blade back into the handle of the penknife so it clicks, then pushes past me and steps on to the pavement. I expect her to turn and go, but she doesn’t.

Please, just go. It’s been lovely, but it really is about time.

‘That shark that bit you.’ She points to my scar. ‘Should’ve taken your head off.’

‘Well, that’s mean.’ Also, please whisper like me.

‘Are you serious? You just robbed me.’

‘Shh!’

‘What? Mummy and Daddy can’t know the truth?’

‘Exactly.’ Damn it. I meant to just think that.

She shakes her head again. ‘You really don’t give a shit, do you?’

‘No.’ I do believe honesty is important.

‘Right. I see.’ Something flickers in her eyes. Anger. I recognise it. Galvanising. Propulsive. God, I miss it. ‘I think they should know the truth about their darling son.’ She pushes past me, heading back up the pathway towards the front door. ‘That he’s a complete loony.’

‘Wait!’ I hiss. I grab her arm and she spins round, eyes blazing. ‘Don’t. Please.’ She laughs like I’m pathetic. ‘You can’t.’

She folds her arms. ‘Oh, yeah? Why?’

‘Because, because…’ Oh. Yes . ‘You just pulled a knife on me. I’ll call the police.’

She stiffens. ‘Self-defence,’ she says, but she actually looks a bit scared. She glowers at me. ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty.’

She seems unconvinced. I sigh and sweep my fringe out of my eyes.

‘What’s that?’ she says as the sleeve of my top rides up. She’s pointing at the stick and poke tattoo on the inside of my wrist.

‘It’s…’ This isn’t the time, Nisha. ‘It’s a bird.’

Her face screws up. ‘A bird?’

All right, no need to take that tone. I’m aware it doesn’t look much like one.

Suddenly, a click from the door.

‘Everything OK out here?’ Dad calls from the top of the steps.

I smile. ‘All good!’ I look at Nisha. Police , I mouth.

She frowns, purses her lips, then waves. ‘Hi!’ She’s very over the top, but it’s better than nothing. ‘Your son has been so kind ,’ she says. ‘You must be so proud .’

Her voice echoes down the street. But I’m OK with people hearing that bit.

Dad nods. ‘We are.’

‘Won’t be a minute, Dad.’

‘Don’t be long, Eli. You need an early night before therapy tomorrow.’

Why would he—

He closes the door.

I turn to her and smile. ‘Right, so, glad we cleared this mess up. It was nice to meet you and I’m really genuinely sorry about your mum. Let’s just call it even and leave it at that, yes? You can go now.’

But I can see she’s thinking. ‘Wait.’ She points to the door. ‘Is that the man from the telly?’

‘Um…’

‘He works for the government, right?’

Bollocks. ‘Um…’

She tilts her head. ‘Interesting.’

Deflect. ‘Where do you live?’ I say.

‘Are you stupid? You really think I’m going to tell you where I live?’

Be nice. ‘I could give you a lift home. Or my dad can, if you’re scared of me or whatever.’

‘My boss is here.’ She points down the road to where I see two parking lights on a banged-up Nissan Micra.

Ohhh . ‘Is that Boss?’

‘Huh?’

‘Boss. Is that his name?’

‘Boss is my boss.’

‘Oh, right.’ At least I now know his parents were kind enough not to christen him Boss. I’ll sleep better knowing that. Although I don’t really sleep. Anyway . ‘He seemed quite angry. I’d appreciate you telling Boss not to hunt me down.’

‘He’s not called Boss .’

‘Right.’

‘He’s called Paul.’

Oh, I prefer Boss. Although I’m not sure how much damage a Paul could do. ‘OK. Got you.’

‘Paul wants to fuck you up.’

Change topic. ‘I like your music,’ I say.

‘Huh?’

‘I liked the music. Max Richter. I liked it a lot.’

She looks at me like I’m an entirely new species.

‘I actually prefer no vocals. Just sounds. Do you know Brian Eno?’ I ask as she begins to walk out of the gate. ‘You’d like him.’ I realise that’s a wild stab in the dark (pun intended), but I think she might. ‘ Music for Airports . It’s the best album.’

She doesn’t reply, which I guess is reasonable. She heads towards the Nissan Micra and climbs inside. I edge back into the darkness of the rhododendron bushes as it drives slowly away, past the house. I catch a glimpse of Paul at the wheel. He looks like a science teacher, like all Pauls do. So that’s good.

I head back into the house. When I get inside, Dad is waiting by the lilies.

‘Everything OK, Eli?’

Make yourself look surprised. Happy. Anything.

I pull a face. ‘Yeah! Great.’ I put my thumb up. ‘She called me a saint.’

‘That’s good, son. Quite an eventful time at the bus stop,’ he says. ‘Lots of good deeds you’ve done today.’

‘I’m a doer of good deeds.’

‘You are.’ He looks at me for a little too long. ‘Like I said, I’m proud of you. Your dinner is getting cold.’

He goes up the stairs. When he reaches the top and disappears round the corner, I turn back to the mirror and go to pull my ghost vampire face again. But as I do, I nearly jump. Nearly .

Because as I see my reflection, for a split second, I think it’s someone else entirely.