Dream a Little Dream (The Silver Trilogy) (F) (20 page)

Grayson didn’t join in my laughter. “It wasn’t just that one wish that came true,” he said quietly when at last I was in control of myself again.

The sound of his voice sobered me up at once. “What did you wish for, then?” I asked, sitting back down beside Grayson.

Grayson’s hands were stroking the hooded sweater. “That’s not important. What matters is that it came true.”

There was a knock on the door, and Mom looked around it. She beamed radiantly when she saw us sitting side by side on my bed. “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve made up,” she said. “But, Grayson, didn’t you want to get back to the party? I’m sure your girlfriend is expecting you!”

“Er … yes, that’s right,” said Grayson, getting to his feet. “I ought to have been back ages ago.”

I wondered whether to snatch the hooded sweater away from him again and lock myself in the bathroom with it, or to shout something like, “Hey, wait, that wasn’t all!” But in front of Mom’s watchful eyes that wasn’t really going to work. So I had no option but to follow Grayson out into the corridor. Losing the sweater was a nuisance, but in a few days’ time we’d be living under the same roof and I was too tired this evening anyway to continue my empirical investigations. I was going to brush my teeth quickly and then go to sleep, all at once. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

Mom kissed Grayson good-bye on both cheeks and gave him a box of blueberry muffins. “For the party—after midnight is when parties usually get going,” she said.

“I’ll go down to the front door of the building with you.” I made my way past Mom. “It’s supposed to be locked on the inside after ten in the evening. Can’t be too careful in this part of London. Positively teeming with criminals…”

Grayson grinned, but he didn’t protest. We went downstairs together, and I cast him surreptitious glances. It was a pity he had to go, now that he’d been so free with his information.

“Did your wish have anything to do with Emily?” I couldn’t help asking.

“No. Why?”

I thought it over and decided to try again from another angle. “How high was the probability of your wish coming true anyway?”

“Less than thirty percent,” he replied promptly.

Thirty percent. The chances of a white Christmas in these latitudes were even less. But if it snowed on December 24, did we always assume it was the work of a demon? I wondered whether to put my graphic comparison to Grayson, but we’d already reached the front door. Feeling the cold night air on my bare forearms, I shivered.

Grayson took the car key out of his jeans pocket. “I wouldn’t have thought it, but somehow it did me good to talk to you about all this.” He leaned forward and dropped a light kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for not laughing at me all the time.”

Embarrassed, I cleared my throat. “This is a difficult case, Dr. Watson,” I said in my best Sherlock Holmes voice. “With an exceptionally mysterious component. But I’m sure that there’ll turn out to be a logical explanation for everything in the end.”

“I’d have liked to keep you out of it.” Grayson smiled faintly. “But somehow or other it looks like we’re both involved now.”

Yes, and to be honest I didn’t really mind that too much.

“See you.” Grayson turned to go, and I watched him thoughtfully as he walked away. He wasn’t so bad after all, really.

Halfway to Ernest’s Mercedes he stopped and turned around again. “It was Huntington’s disease,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“My wish.” His fingers were playing nervously with the car key.

I missed a breath.

“My mother died of Huntington’s. And my grandfather and one of my uncles before her.” His voice had changed. It sounded perfectly flat, and he wasn’t looking at me, but kept his head bent. “There was a probability factor of over seventy percent that Florence and I had inherited the Huntington’s mutation as well.”

I could only look at him, shocked.

“For years, Dad refused to let us take the gene test,” he went on hastily. “But Florence and I couldn’t live with the uncertainty, and finally we applied to be tested for it.” He paused for a moment. “
That
was my wish. That Florence and I wouldn’t die of the disease.”

“So you’re both healthy?” When he nodded, I let out a deep breath. I’d have liked to say something nice, something comforting, but I felt terribly helpless. I’d known that his mother died when he and Florence were still very small, but the reason was news to me. “And now you’re wondering whether the result of the test would have been the same if you hadn’t entered into a pact with a demon?”

“Yes” was all he said. “In weak moments I think our health could be the work of the demon. That’s sick, isn’t it?” At last he raised his head and looked me in the eyes. “And then—then I wonder what he’ll take away from me if I break his rules.”

T
ITTLE
-T
ATTLE
B
LOG

The Frognal Academy Tittle-Tattle Blog, with all the latest gossip, the best rumors, and the hottest scandals from our school.

ABOUT ME:

My name is Secrecy—I’m right here among you, and I know
all
your secrets.

9 September, 3 a.m.

Arthur Hamilton’s start-of-the-season party really lived up to the Hamiltons’ reputation for wild parties. The photo shows Nathan Woods of the Frognal Flames chilling out in the pool after five cocktails. Such a shame he forgot to take off his shoes and his clothes first, and remove his cell phone from his pocket. Ah, well, these things happen.… There’s a version of the story going the rounds that says Nathan didn’t jump, he was pushed, and pushed by Madison’s ex, Jasper, who is terribly jealous of Nathan and regrets splitting up with Madison. But then, this version goes back to Madison herself, and she also claims that her hair is naturally red. As if no one could remember that until four years ago she was still a nondescript mongrel blonde.

Will Nathan still be taking Madison to the Autumn Ball? I’ll let you know. As it happens, I’ve already received a nomination for her as Ball Queen. From her little sister’s e-mail account. Oops!

By the way, one of the few middle-school girls at the party was Liv Silver, accompanied by her future stepbrother. I’m pretty sure we’ll also be seeing Liv at the Autumn Ball—the question is, who with?

This is where you’ll find out first, that’s for sure—and very soon, unless I’m much mistaken.

See you soon!

Love from Secrecy

PS—To get you in the mood for the ball, here’s a link to Johann Strauss’s waltz
Homage to Queen Victoria
. Remember how Hazel Pritchard stumbled while dancing last year and brought half the others on the floor down with her?

Tittletattleblog.com

20

“SO WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO
with you, you ugly little toad?” Lindsay tapped her long fake fingernails against each other. “You deserve a lesson, don’t you agree?”

Since that was a purely rhetorical question, I said nothing. I knew exactly what was coming next. I could see gleeful anticipation in Lindsay’s baby-blue eyes. And nothing I said, no amount of begging and pleading, was going to stop her.

“We haven’t squished anyone’s hand in the door for a long time,” said Samantha, who had twisted my arm behind my back and was holding me in a firm grip. Samantha, tall and rather fat, was considered the most dangerous of the gang, because she was the one who usually carried out the punishment. Audrey helped her beat people up by holding the victim in place, and Lindsay generally just watched, but she was the one who decided what kind of torture it was going to be. Least dangerous was probably Abigail, who just kept watch. Like now.

“Wow, yes, let’s squish her hand in the door.” Audrey clapped her hands enthusiastically. Samantha twisted my arm a notch higher, and I had difficulty in suppressing a cry of pain. I’d never felt so helpless in my life.

“Okay,” said Lindsay. “But let’s baptize her first, know what I mean?”

“Wow, yes,” rejoiced Audrey again. “First we’ll dunk her head in the toilet, then we’ll squish her hand in the door.… Are you left-handed or right-handed?”

Samantha laughed out loud. “Makes no difference. It hurts the same on both sides.” She pushed me forward, and Audrey helped her by grabbing my ponytail in one hand and dragging me into the toilet cubicle. As I stumbled past the mirror, I caught a glimpse of my wide, frightened eyes in a face as white as a sheet. I also saw Audrey’s heavily made-up face and Lindsay’s grin of pleasure. And a green door in the tiled wall. Samantha kicked me in the calves so that I fell on my knees right in front of the toilet bowl. Audrey pulled my head back by the hair and giggled. “She’s lucky—the cleaning lady’s just been in here.”

“Depends which is unhealthier, dirt or disinfectant. Any last words before you take a drink?” asked Lindsay.

Samantha kicked me encouragingly in the back, but I said nothing. A sarcastic remark would be a sheer waste of time; Lindsay and her gang didn’t understand sarcasm. They didn’t even know how to spell the word, and to be honest I couldn’t think of anything sarcastic right at that moment. I only wanted to call for my mom. And cry, but I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. I tried resisting with all my might one last time, and Samantha kicked me, so hard this time that against my will I screamed.

I didn’t have a chance.

Samantha’s fat hand was around my neck, pitilessly forcing my head down into the toilet bowl, while her other hand was still twisting my arm.

Suddenly Lindsay stopped laughing, and instead I heard her give a frightened gasp. Someone said, in a cold, angry voice, “Let go of her at once, you beast!” and extraordinarily Samantha did let go of me and stagger back. The blood shot painfully back into my arm as I struggled up.

A tall boy with untidy hair had come to my aid. Henry. He had pushed Lindsay aside and hauled Samantha roughly out of the toilet by her arm. Audrey had fled to the washbasins and was gawping at Henry in confusion. I felt confused too.

There was something wrong about this.

“Where did you spring from all of a sudden?” asked Audrey, and Lindsay said, “This is a girls’ toilet, idiot.” However, they all looked worried, almost afraid. Even Samantha, who’d never usually have let anyone call her a beast with impunity. Beside Henry, she suddenly didn’t look so tall and strong. She was rubbing the arm that he had held and muttering something offensive.

“You really are the end!” Henry’s gray eyes were flashing with anger. “Four against one, and she’s much smaller than any of you. Get out, before I dunk your own ugly mugs in the toilet bowl.”

They didn’t wait for a second warning but turned around and ran for it. I heard them slagging Abigail off outside the door; she was supposed to make sure no one came in. Abigail didn’t seem to know what they were talking about, and said at least seven times, “What guy do you mean?” Then their voices retreated, and all was quiet.

I was leaning against the cubicle wall, still breathing much too fast. Henry stroked my hair back from my forehead, which didn’t exactly help to calm me down.

He was looking at me with concern. “Hey, it’s all right, Liv.”

“But at this point they always dunk my head in the toilet,” I tried to explain. “And you don’t belong here.”

“I know, but I couldn’t stand by and watch what they were doing.” His fingertips ran carefully over my cheek. “My God, what kind of monsters were those?”

“Junior high school monsters,” I said.

“
Junior
high school? But they were enormous.”

“From overeating, because I guess they were already confiscating the other kids’ lunch boxes in elementary school. And since they’re not very bright, they probably had to repeat a year there more than once.” I’d slowly realized how he came to be here. “This is a dream, isn’t it? Because we’re in Berkeley, and I didn’t know you yet in Berkeley.” My knees were giving way with relief. Only a dream, thank goodness. “Of course—the green door! I caught a glimpse of it in the mirror, and I wondered…”

“Why on earth would you dream something like that, Liv?” Henry was still stroking me.

“Because that’s exactly what happened. Three years ago, in Berkeley. Only, no one came to my rescue then.” Instead I’d spent quarter of an hour throwing up my guts. At least that had spared me the door-squishing torture. They’d tried it out a few weeks later on a girl called Erin. I still felt sick when I remembered Erin’s hand.

“So that’s why you look so … young.” Henry smiled. “Cute. The braces on your teeth!”

I ran my tongue over my teeth. I remembered all that metal in my mouth only too well. All the same, I didn’t want to look thirteen in front of Henry.

He whistled through his teeth as my body came closer to its present self. His protective instinct seemed to be dying down, the concern vanished from his face, and he stopped stroking me. With a broad grin, he leaned back on the opposite cubicle wall and folded his arms. “You’ve really grown in the last three years.”