Loop (6 page)

And it's not easy putting up with a throwback like Rolf Aaronson, either.

It came to a head when he caught Jamie talking to me at lunchtime behind the library.

I knew there was a problem when Jamie stopped talking in mid-sentence and just stared over my shoulder.

‘Jamie,' I began, ‘what is —?' But I didn't get any further.

Rolf didn't say anything. He just walked straight up to Jamie with his fists clenching, and Jamie froze like a deer in the headlights. (For those of you unfamiliar with Earth idiom, a deer is a large mammal with beautiful brown eyes, a gentle soul, and almost no brain – which explains why it freezes when being run down by speeding vehicles, instead of stepping off the road.)

Except for the ‘no brain' part, Jamie quite resembled a deer, so I knew what would happen if Rolf got any closer. (I had also broken protocol and monitored his thoughts – not a totally pleasant experience.)

I looked around to check that no one was looking, then I applied the mind-lock. He froze with his fist raised and a thin string of spittle hanging from his bottom lip.

‘Quick,' I whispered to Jamie. ‘Before anyone comes, lie him down on the floor and stand over him.'

He hesitated, but only for a second.

‘Good, now try to look dangerous. I'm implanting a false memory. It should convince him, but only if you look the part. You have to pretend you've just used martial arts on him.'

‘What?'

‘He has to think you're dangerous, so he will believe the memory. And so he won't pick on you again.'

Jamie barely had time to stand with his legs apart, looking down at Rolf, before a group of Year Eights came round the corner of the library.

‘Fists!'
I whispered, and I saw him tense up, bending his arms slightly and curling his hands into two loose fists. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, which I thought was a nice touch.

As the group of kids stopped to take in the strange sight of someone – especially someone like Jamie – standing over ‘the Hammer', I released the mind-lock and watched Rolf raise his arms in front of his face.

He was really scared. I think I might have overdone the detail in the implant. There were tears in his eyes as he scrabbled to his feet and ran away towards the toilets.

‘Touch anyone again and you'll answer to me!' Jamie shouted after him.

Within seconds he was surrounded by admiring kids, all asking questions at once.

Whatever else he might be, Jamie is a quick thinker.

‘You have to promise not to tell anyone,' he said. ‘If my Sensei found out I'd used the secrets of the Dragon brotherhood on someone so unworthy, there would be serious consequences. We aren't supposed to use them except in emergencies. Can you keep a secret?'

They all nodded and promised, but I knew they wouldn't be able to. And so did Jamie – which was why he'd made them promise, of course.

By the end of the day it was all over the school. Rolf Aaronson's reign of terror was over, and Jamie was a hero, though no one actually mentioned it in his presence. After all, you don't want to risk upsetting the kid who made ‘the Hammer' cry.

I was happy for him. Not only were his grades improving, but he had respect, and no one was going to pick on him again. Ever.

On the way home he held my hand. It was nice.

Having a native boyfriend isn't totally against regulations, but it is frowned upon at head-office. It makes it harder to let go when your assignment is up.

Of course, having a boyfriend can save your life too, as I was about to find out.

We were riding our bikes out by the old quarry, the one out the back of town. For once we weren't observing anything in particular, we were just riding. It wasn't far from where my dad had hidden the spaceship. I was staring at the blue sky, thinking about whether I should show the spaceship to Jamie, when there was a warning yell from behind me.

I realised that I was going too fast down the hill, and Earth bikes have such primitive brakes that I just knew I wouldn't be able to stop before reaching the edge of the quarry.

That was when I started yelling too. The edge was getting closer and the bike was going faster and there wasn't anything I could do.

Then there was a flash of bike and body beside me. Jamie was pedalling as hard as he could, and just as he reached me he leaned his bike over on its side and slid it into my wheels. I felt myself falling, and we slid in the dirt, a tangle of legs, arms, bodies and bikes.

It stopped me. I slid to a halt centimetres from the edge.

Jamie wasn't so lucky. I heard him cry out, then he disappeared over the edge.

My heart stopped.

But then I heard him calling. ‘Cassie,' he shouted. ‘Help!'

I crawled to the edge. He was hanging on to a small ledge about two metres down, with about a hundred feet of nothing between him and the rocks at the bottom.

There was only one thing to do.

I ran to where the ship was hidden, de-activated the force-shield and climbed in. Then I started her up and took off towards the quarry.

It's a small ship but powerful, and it has all the necessary equipment, including the latest traction-beam. In no time he was back on safe ground.

‘Thanks,' he said, brushing the dirt from his clothes. ‘I could feel myself slipping. I don't …'

His face changed and he stopped mid-sentence. I turned and saw Mrs Preston and her poodle standing there staring at me – and at the spaceship.

She was barking. The poodle, that is.

That was the moment I realised that in all the commotion I'd lost my wig.

Jamie's story

This time there was no choice.

By evening Cassie's house was empty and there was no evidence that anyone had ever been there.

And I'd lost my best friend.

It wasn't so bad, she said. They didn't punish you for blowing your cover if you did it to save someone's life. So their Class One rating was safe. It was just impossible to stay any longer. She thanked me for saving her life, kissed me, and held my hand for a long time.

Then they were gone.

Mrs Preston was busy telling everyone what had happened and reminding them that you can't trust anyone with violet eyes. But I denied everything she said, and people decided that she was finally cracking up, like they'd been expecting for years.

It was harder to explain away the fact that Cassie's family moved so suddenly, but it wasn't anyone's business so I didn't even try.

Still, it was lonely not having her around.

At least it was until the new people moved in.

They have a girl my age, too. She's really pretty and she has the bluest eyes.

Keira.

I took them over some scones last night and the weirdest thing happened.

She opened the door, looked at me and said, ‘Hello, Jamie.'

I was speechless, wondering who could have told her my name, when she went on, ‘Cassie sends her love.'

I stood there doing goldfish imitations.

‘But …' was all I could manage to say.

She smiled and rubbed at her eye, like she had something in it.

‘Great idea, these,' she said. ‘But they take a bit of getting used to.'

On her finger, she had something that looked like a small blue dot.

I looked up at her.

Do you know how bizarre a person looks with one blue eye and one violet one?

IN NOVEMBER

They are able who think they are able.

Virgil

My brother Mick just got a new 7.1 modular surround sound system for his bedroom. He's got his CD, his TV, his DVD and his iPod running through it. Not to mention his stupid digital sequencer.

Now, I don't suppose that's such a big deal in a lot of houses, but in ours it is.

It's not the system itself that's the big deal. It's just that he doesn't seem to realise it has a volume control.

He's into dance music, which means the sub thumps like a jackhammer right through the house, and no one else can do anything they want – like watching TV or playing their own music … or
thinking.

I didn't bother saying anything to him. What's the point? If he's in a good mood he just ignores his little sister, and if he's in a bad mood and I mention the volume he's just as likely to turn it up until the windows rattle.

At least he doesn't hit me. Francine's brother does, and she hates him.

I don't hate Mick. I even quite like him at times – when he's in a good mood, like when he has a new girlfriend. At times like that he even smiles.

I don't even mind the music so much. But Mum does.

She can't help it.

Her idea of entertainment is Bette Midler or sixties rock 'n' roll – the type they play on the ‘golden oldies' FM stations. She's even been known to play those ‘relaxation' CDs. You know, the ones with the quiet music and the sound of waves or bird-songs in the background.

So, she screams at him.

Not straightaway, of course. First, she asks him quietly if he'd mind turning it down. But he can't hear her, because the music's too loud.

So, she shouts at him. Still no good.

So, she screams at him.

And of course, he screams back. Things like, ‘Why are you always screaming at me? I'm not deaf, you know!' Stuff like that.

You'd think they didn't like each other or something.

The reason I'm telling you all this is because Mick didn't run away.

Even though he's always fighting with Mum, and Dad too, when he's home, he still kisses them both when he goes out or before he goes to bed; even when his friends are around.

Mick didn't run away.

But Chris did.

Chris is Sasha's brother, and if there was anyone you'd bet
wouldn't
run away, it would have been him.

He always did well at school. Not just well – freakish. He read three or four books a week, topped Maths, Science and History. He was good at just about everything. And his parents were totally proud of him.

Sometimes I thought Sasha might be a bit jealous of him. Of the way her parents were always boasting about him. She never said anything, of course. Sasha wouldn't. But you could see it in her eyes sometimes.

Sasha wasn't dumb herself, but she wasn't Chris. And she wasn't the type to put her head down and her life on hold and study like he did. She likes to enjoy herself too much.

Besides, we were only in Year Nine. There was plenty of time for serious stuff when we hit Year Ten. Maybe.

Chris was in Year Twelve when he disappeared. And it was big news at school and in our street.

The rumours had him kidnapped for ransom, taking drugs at Kings Cross and a hundred other ridiculous things, which just proved that no one had a clue where he really was or why he'd just disappear.

I asked Mick what he thought. After all, they were good mates. Chris didn't have too many close friends – he worked too hard – but we'd lived in the same street all our lives, and you had to get a bit close in that time.

Besides, Chris helped Mick with his homework sometimes, like when there was a big basketball match on and it had to be done in a hurry. So I figured if anyone knew the real truth, Mick would.

Maybe he did, but he wasn't letting on. When I asked him what he knew, he turned his system up really loud and told me to get out.

He didn't use those exact words, of course, but that's what he meant. You get used to translating when you've got a brother who's two and a half years older than you and hormonal and bad-tempered most of the time.

I suppose it was about a week after Chris disappeared that I noticed Mick acting weird. I mean weird even for him.

At first I just thought he had a new girlfriend. I walked in on him in the study while he was on the phone, and he shut up completely until I left the room. There was nothing too unusual in that, but I guess it was the way he was speaking, sort of whispering but really loud, like he was worked up and he didn't want to shout.

‘It's not going to work,' he was saying. ‘I can't …'

But that was all I heard.

Then he started bolting his bedroom door. No one in our house ever does that. Whatever he was doing in there, he didn't want anyone walking in on him while he was doing it.

I don't think Mum noticed. If she did, she wasn't saying anything.

So I did a bit of spying.

When he was out, I sneaked into his room. You can't lock the door from the outside, so there was no way he could keep me out.

It's funny. I've been in his room a hundred times when he was out and I never thought anything of it. Everything in our house is open and we've never kept any secrets. At least, not up until now. But this time it was different.

I didn't know what I was looking for, but if he went to all the trouble of locking his door, he wasn't going to leave whatever he'd been doing out in the open for anyone to see.

Where would he hide something? There weren't a lot of hiding places in that room.

The robe … nothing; just clothes and the smell of old sneakers.

Under the bed.

There it was: his big sports bag, stuffed in as far as he could push it. It lived behind the door. Why would he go to the trouble of pushing it under there?

I checked it out.

It was full of clothes and food – the kind that doesn't go off, cans and stuff like that.

Was he planning to disappear too? Or …

I pushed the bag back where I'd found it and ran to phone Sasha.

Have you ever tried following someone without them knowing you're there? It's not as easy as it looks on TV. Especially when you're looking out to make sure no one sees you who might ask why you're not at school in the middle of the morning.

The hardest part was when Mick decided to catch the train.

We had to wait until he actually got on before we ran out from where we were hiding and jumped into the next carriage. Then we had to watch him through the window in the connecting door, so we'd know when he was ready to get off.

Luckily, he was reading one of his basketball magazines, so he hardly looked up.

I didn't notice the name of the station when he finally did get off. I was too busy watching his back, waiting for the right moment to jump off and run for cover.

Anyway, we made it, and from then on it wasn't so hard following him. We passed down a couple of streets and around a couple of corners and suddenly we were in a park. Not a big one. Just a few trees and an old rusty swing-set. And a boy standing beside the fence.

‘Chris!'

That was Sasha.

I saw her brother's head snap around at the sound of her voice. Mick stopped and turned to face us. He looked confused.

Chris sounded angry … or hurt.

‘What are they doing here? I thought I said —'

‘How do I know? They must have followed me,' Mick cut in, staring at me with one of those ‘killer looks' he's famous for in our T house.

‘It's not his fault.' Sasha had moved up to face her brother. She reached out to touch his sleeve. He went to pull away, but stopped himself. ‘We figured that if anyone knew where you were, Mick did, so when Claire found all that stuff in his bag —'

‘You went through my stuff?' Mick had turned to me when Sash mentioned my name. I didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say.

‘Look, it doesn't matter. It's too late to worry about it. They're here.' Chris didn't sound too angry. ‘The question is, what are we going to do now?'

For a moment there was silence, then Sasha spoke. Her voice was quiet and gentle.

‘Why, Chris? What's wrong? Why did you have to —'

‘Escape?' Chris finished the question for her.

‘Is that what it is? What was there to “escape” from? Are you in some kind of trouble?'

He just looked at her.

Of course he was in ‘some kind of trouble'. Or he wouldn't be playing secret agents in some park miles from home.

After about a minute he sat down on the grass and began speaking.

‘Do you have any idea what it's like to be me?' He didn't expect an answer, and no one tried to give him one. He went on.

‘All my life I've worked as hard as I knew how. For my teachers, for Mum and Dad … for me even. And I can't do it any more. But try stopping …'

I got the feeling he wasn't really talking to us. He was talking to himself, trying to get things in order.

‘Don't you see? I was trapped. In November it's all over. They already have everything planned for me. All my subjects, uni, everything. But I can't do it. Not any more.'

I looked at Sasha. She looked as confused as I was. This was Chris. Chris could do anything. Everyone knew that.

We were in Year Nine, what did we know?

He was talking again.

‘Do you remember the summer science school they sent me to?' I didn't, but Sash and Mick both nodded, so I didn't say anything. ‘That was when I realised. Hard work isn't going to be enough. Some of the kids there … They just did everything so easily. I can do well, but I can't ever compete with them. I'm going to let them all down. They want too much from me.'

Suddenly I understood. Here we were getting ready for Year Ten and that was bad enough, but no one expected great things from us. What was it like to be the one everyone looked up to?

He stood up again.

‘The more I try, the less I take in. I feel like I'm burning out.'

‘Did you try talking to them?' Mick spoke for the first time in ages.

‘To who? My parents? The teachers? Of course I did. But they don't hear. They have this picture in their head, and they don't see anything that doesn't fit in with it. I couldn't …' He ran out of words. ‘Look, it's just something I have to work out for myself.'

‘And what about
us
?' Sasha turned on him. ‘OK, so it's hard, but you can't just dump us. How do you think Mum feels, or Dad? Or me? We can talk to them. They'll understand. We can make them. It doesn't have to be like this.'

Sash and I are the same age, and I've always been bigger than her. She looked so small, standing in front of him, but there was something about her at that moment that seemed much older than me.

He looked at her, then he shook his head. ‘Not yet. I'm not ready. I have to sort it out.'

He picked up the bag.

‘And what if you
don't
sort it out?' Sash was crying now, my age again.

He looked at her.

‘I'm sorry.' Then he turned to go.

We both started out after him, but suddenly Mick's hands were holding us back. I tried to break free, but his arms were stronger than both of us.

I kicked at him and so did Sasha, but he didn't let go. He wasn't angry. He just held us until Chris had disappeared into the maze of streets behind the park.

When he finally let go, there was no point in following. Chris was gone.

‘He has to work it out for himself.'

I'd never seen Mick so quiet. He was still my brother, but all the bull was missing. I realised suddenly that he had grown up.

And I hadn't even noticed.

‘Let's get back to the train,' he said, and he started walking. He knew we'd follow.

I was at Sasha's house a week later when Chris came home.

Our parents knew all about the park and what he'd said and what we'd done.

They were angry with us, of course. Especially with Mick. They grounded him, but he just took it and stayed in his room playing his music and saying nothing.

He didn't know where Chris was. That was why they'd met at the park: so he wouldn't know.

He just told our parents what he'd told us. ‘He has to work it out for himself.'

I guess Mick was right. I guess Chris did work it out for himself.

But his parents must have done some working out too.

It must be hard to realise that what you want for your kid isn't what he wants. I guess it's easy to push too hard. To expect too much.

Anyway, Chris walked into the kitchen where his mum was. I heard the crash of a plate on the tiles. And I knew it was time to leave before the soppy stuff started.

I waved goodbye to Sash and headed home.

Chris was back. Now they could talk and sort things out.

As I walked home, I thought about all we don't know about people. Like Chris. Who would have guessed it?

Or Mick. He isn't such a meat-head after all.

Next year things will start to get serious at school.

But it's not all that frightening. Not really.

I never realised before how great it is to be just plain average …