Chris shifts on the step, like the stone hurts him. He presses his thumbnail into the wood of the banister. ‘Everyone’d see us.’
‘That’s OK.’
‘They’d . . . you know. Like, they’d slag us. Both of us. They’d think we were going to . . .’
Selena says, ‘I don’t care.’
‘I know,’ Chris says, and there’s a wry laugh in his voice, like the joke’s on him. ‘I know you don’t. I do, though. I don’t want people thinking that.’ He hears himself. ‘No, I mean— Shit. I don’t mean I don’t want people thinking we’re together. I’d be totally fine with that, it’s not like I’m embarrassed or – I mean, not just fine, it would be better than just—’
He’s knotting himself up. Selena says, laughing at him, ‘It’s OK. I know what you mean.’
Chris takes a breath. He says simply, ‘I don’t want it to be like that. Like me and Joanne going into the Field to . . . whatever. I want it to be like this.’
His hand going up. The hall, smoky gold. The small flutters of air in the darkness, far above their heads.
‘If we meet outside the Court after school, I’m going to make a balls of it. I’ll say something stupid to make the guys laugh, or else we’ll go somewhere to talk and everyone’ll watch us go and I’ll have, like, not one single thing to say. Or else the guys’ll slag me, afterwards, and I’ll say something . . . you know. Dirty. I wish I wouldn’t, but I will.’
Selena says, ‘Can you get out of school at night?’
She hears the hiss of caught breath in the air all around her. She wants to say back, It’s OK, I know what I’m doing, but she knows it wouldn’t be true.
Chris’s eyebrows go up. ‘At night? No way. You can? Seriously?’
Selena says, ‘I’ll give you my number. If you find a way, text me.’
‘No,’ he says, instantly. ‘Maybe it’s different here, but the guys go through each other’s phones all the time, looking for . . . well. Stuff. The Brothers do it too. I’ll find a way to get in touch. Just not like that. OK?’
Selena nods. ‘About getting out,’ Chris says. ‘One of my mates. He might be able to figure something out.’
‘Ask him.’
Chris says, ‘I’ll make him.’
Selena says, ‘Don’t tell him why. And till then, don’t talk to me. If we see each other around the Court or something, we’ll act like we don’t even know each other; like before. Otherwise it’ll all get ruined.’
Chris nods. He says, obscurely and out to the hall but Selena understands, ‘Thanks.’
Miss Long bangs the door open. ‘Selena! You, whatsyourname! Inside. Now.’ This time she stays there, staring.
Chris jumps up and holds out a hand to Selena. She doesn’t take it. She stands up, feeling the movement spin little eddies up into the high darkness. She smiles at Chris and says, ‘See you soon.’ Then she moves around him, carefully so not even the hem of her dress brushes up against him, and goes back into the gym. The handprint, wrapped around her arm, is still glowing.
Chapter 17
‘Search time,’ Conway said. ‘And if we’re stuck in here . . .’ She shoved the sash window up.
A whirl of breeze shot in, carried the mess of body sprays away. Outside, the light was cooling and the sky was turning pale. It was almost evening.
‘One more second of that stink,’ Conway said, ‘I was gonna puke my ring.’
The stir-crazy was starting to needle at her. I felt it too. We’d been in those rooms a long time.
Conway pulled the wardrobe open, said ‘Fuck me,’ at the amount or the labels. Started running her hands down hanging dresses. I went for the beds, Gemma’s first. Pulled back the bedclothes, shook them out, patted down the mattress. Not just checking for big lumps of phone or old book, the way I had been the first time. This time we were after something that could be as small as a SIM card.
‘The door,’ Conway said. ‘What was up with that?’
I’d have only loved to leave that. But the way she’d been straight in there, got my back on whatever I hadn’t told her; I heard myself say, ‘When you were off talking to Alison, I thought I saw someone behind the door. Thought it could be someone trying to get up the guts to talk to us, but by the time I opened the door there was no one there. So, when I saw something behind there again . . .’
‘You went for it.’ I waited for the slagging – And you went full-on, fair play to you, you’d’ve been all ready to save the day if one of the kids had built herself a nuke in Physics class – but she said, ‘The first time, while I was out. You positive there was someone there?’
I flipped the mattress up to check the bottom. Said, ‘Nah.’
Conway squeezed her way down a puffy jacket. ‘Yeah. We had the same thing last year, a few times: thought we saw something, nothing there. Something about this place, I don’t know. Costello had this theory about the windows being different in old buildings: they’re not the same shapes and sizes as what you get now, not placed the same way. So the light comes in at different angles, and if you catch something in the corner of your eye, it’s gonna look wrong.’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows.’
I said, ‘If it’s that, it could be why people keep seeing Chris’s ghost.’
‘The kids are used to this light, but. And an actual ghost? Is that what you saw?’
‘Nah. Bit of shadow, just.’
‘Exactly. They’re seeing Chris because they want to. Feeding off each other, trying to impress each other, give each other something good.’ She shoved the jacket back into the wardrobe. ‘They need to get out more, this lot. They spend too much time together.’
Nothing down behind Gemma’s bedside table, nothing under the drawer. ‘At this age, that’s what it’s about.’
‘Yeah, they’re not gonna be this age forever. When it hits them that there’s a great big world out there, they’re gonna get the shock of their lives.’