Ostrich Boys (4 page)

Kenny and Sim were still at the kitchen window. I had to lean over the sink to reach it and open it a crack.

“What’re you fannying about at?” Sim hissed. “We’ve just seen his dad’s car. He’ll be home any minute.”

“He’s
already
home,” I hissed back.

“So hurry up, then.” He pointed at Ross on the table. “Come on, pass him through.”

“And he’s been to the police station.”

Sim recoiled. “What?” He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, where they were held fast by his Velcro hair. “What for?”

“Don’t know. But I bet I can guess.”

Kenny was at Sim’s shoulder. “That’s it, then. We shouldn’t do it. Let’s just go. Leave Ross. I’m telling you: we’ll just get in even more trouble.”

I shushed him. I could hear footfalls in the room above. “No,” I whispered. “We’ve got to do this. But maybe we can get Caroline to help.”

Sim wasn’t happy. “Really bad idea, Blake.”

“She’s really cut up,” I said. “I can tell just by the way she’s talking how bad she feels. I mean, genuinely. And I reckon she’d probably want to come with us.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not doing it if she is,” Kenny said, almost climbing in through the window to make his point. “So she can’t. Tell her she can’t.
I’ll
tell her if you want.”

Sim shoved him out the way, warning him with a glare to keep his voice down. “What about what she did to him last week? Remember? In front of everybody at school? She wasn’t all that cut up taking the piss out of him then, was she?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, but …”

“If she wasn’t his sister she’d be just as bad as Fowler and Munro.”

Kenny got his nose in again. “After what she did, I bet she’s half the reason Nina dumped him.”

I knew that wasn’t true, but I also knew I couldn’t explain why not either.

“She won’t understand,” Sim said. “She was there at the funeral same as everyone else, and she didn’t do anything, did she? No one’s gonna do anything because no one else knew him like we did. So no one else is gonna understand.”

I nodded. Maybe he was right.

He slipped his sunglasses back down into place. “Look, if we don’t go now, we get done for the graffiti. And then we’re never gonna be able to do this. I’ve already told my mum I’m staying at Kenny’s tonight, and he’s said he’s staying at mine—we’re already doing it. Just get Ross and let’s go.”

“Yeah, Blake,” Kenny said. “Come on, it’s nearly ten.” He pushed his watch in my face. “The train goes at half-past.”

I checked over my shoulder again. “Okay, but how am I supposed to sneak him out now his dad’s here?”

“Just pass him through.”

“I’ve got to get out too, don’t forget. I can’t still be here when they come back and see Ross isn’t.”

“Climb through with him.” Sim stepped back to give me room.

“Can you fit?” Kenny asked. Which wasn’t particularly fair.

“Of course I can
fit,”
I hissed. “But I’ll make a hell of a lot of noise doing it.” I pointed out the crockery and glasses in and around the sink that I was bound to smash trying to climb over. “I’m gonna have to leg it out the front door while they’re upstairs. Wait for me on the corner, okay?” I turned back to the table to grab Ross.

But Kenny stopped me. “Do we need all of him? Can’t you just scoop some out? No one’s going to notice if there’s just a scoopful missing.”

Sim and I weren’t impressed.

“Are you sick?” Sim asked. “And what’re we meant to carry a ‘scoopful’ in, anyway?”

Kenny shrugged. “There must be some Tupperware somewhere. He had a lunch box, didn’t he?”

“D’you really think he’d want bits of him here, bits of him there?” I remembered my earlier thoughts, wondered if we’d be able to tell whether we’d taken some arm or leg or whatever. “No way am I gonna get into this much trouble just so we can end up with his big toe!”

Kenny was ready to argue again, but I heard footsteps coming back down the stairs and waved at him to shut the hell up. I swore, realizing it was too late to pass the urn through without getting trapped in here. “Now what am I meant to do?” I said.

They both shrugged.

I swore again. “Just meet me on the corner in five minutes, okay? And get ready to run.”

They nodded. Then ducked their heads quicker than if someone was aiming a gun at them. Caroline had walked back into the kitchen, with Mr. Fell behind her.

Yesterday at the funeral was the first time I’d seen him since Ross’s accident, and there had been a weird little bit of me worried he might resent me for still being alive when his son was dead. I’d just avoided him. And now I was scared he’d hate me for spraying Ross’s name on people’s doors and cars. But he smiled at me, came over and shook my hand, pumped it hard. “Blake, good to see you. Wonderful of you to come round.”

I didn’t know how to reply. So I said something stupid. “I, er, just opened the window a bit. I wanted to let some air in.” Anything to distract him from the guilty flush on my face.

“It is a bit stuffy, isn’t it?” he said. “Push it all the way up if you want. We seem to keep barricading ourselves in at the moment.”

I opened the window as high as it would go, and leaned over far enough to see Kenny and Sim scrambling away through the flower bed on their hands and knees, dragging our rucksacks through the dry earth behind them. When I turned back Caroline was sitting at the table, holding Ross in both hands again. Mr. Fell was pouring himself a glass of orange juice. He offered me some but I shook my head.
If he was going to get mad at me about our graffiti he was going an odd way about it. I guessed he didn’t know what we’d done—not yet, anyway. I couldn’t work out why he’d been to see the police.

He was a tidily shabby man, always wearing what appeared to be the same baggy cords and old-fashioned cardigan with patches on the elbows—although Ross had told us he had a wardrobe full of them. He had a thick but neat, graying beard and half-moon glasses on a chain around his neck. Like Ross, he wanted to be a writer, and I supposed dressing like one was halfway toward actually being one. He was the opposite of Ross’s mum, who never seemed to be able to switch off her bossy-lecturer mode, even when at home. She spoke to everybody like they “could try harder.” And this past year Ross had somehow got it into his head that he was adopted. No way did he think he had any of the same genes as either of his parents. He’d made a long, long list of all his differences. The shared ambition with his dad being the
only
similarity.

“Penny says to say hello,” Mr. Fell told me, nodding his head at the bedroom above, where Mrs. Fell had confined herself since Ross’s death. Caroline had already told me that the funeral yesterday was the only time her mum had left the house this past week. “She’s sorry she can’t get up to see you. Doctor’s got her on so many pills she’s beginning to rattle. She’s still … still struggling, unfortunately.”

He was talking to me in a particularly adult manner, as
if confiding in me. I nodded in what I hoped looked like an understanding way and wondered how on earth I was going to prize my best friend out of his daughter’s grasp.

“I’m glad you came round, Blake. I’ve been meaning to get in touch because there’s something I’d like to ask you.” He’d been staring at his orange juice but now he looked straight at me. There was a worry in his eyes that I didn’t understand. “I’m not quite sure how to put this … but how did Ross seem to you? In the days running up to his accident, I mean.”

I was confused. I looked from him to Caroline. She kept her eyes on Ross.

“Okay. I think.”

Mr. Fell nodded, scratched his nose. “Anything bothering him? That you know of? Anything in particular that he might have told you?”

I thought about Mr. Fowler, Munro, Nina. Caroline was quite defiant in her not looking at me, and I also thought about the way she’d taunted her brother, embarrassing him in front of most of the school last week.

I said, “Just school and stuff, I suppose.”

Mr. Fell kept nodding and even gave me a brief smile. “The usual things you lot have to put up with?”

“Well, yeah. I suppose so.” I wasn’t lying, I just wasn’t going into detail.

“He didn’t seem … anxious?”

I couldn’t see where this was leading. “I don’t think so.”

Mr. Fell was silent. He drank his orange juice in one long gulp and sighed.

“Can I ask why?”

He looked up at me again, surprised. “Yes, of course. Of course you can.” But it took him a while before he answered. He stared hard at Ross’s urn—like it was a crossword, sudoku and Rubik’s Cube all rolled into one.

“The police, well, they needed to talk to me about something—something that hadn’t really crossed my mind.” His eyes flicked between his daughter and me. “Anybody’s mind, for that matter. But it has very much upset us—Caroline, Penny and myself.” It still took him an effort to spit it out. “It’s the driver of the car that hit Ross who’s brought the matter up. He seems to think Ross may have purposely caused the accident. That he intended to ride into the car. On purpose.”

I still didn’t get it. I waited for him to explain.

He lifted his glass to drink again, but there was only the tiniest of drops left. It took an age for it to dribble along the inside of the glass to his open mouth. All I could do was sit there and watch. At last he put the glass down on the counter.

“He was your friend, Blake. I’m sure he talked about lots of things with you that he’d never dream of telling his mum and me. I’d very much appreciate your honesty. Do you think Ross could have taken his own life?”

I felt like I’d been punched. The air was knocked out of me.

“No!” I said it immediately, didn’t even have to think about it.

Then, when I was able to think for a second or two: “No. No way. That’s …” I shook my head as hard as I could. “No.”

Mr. Fell’s eyes searched mine.

“No,” I repeated.

He seemed to snap out of himself. He stood upright. “Good. Exactly. That’s exactly the way I feel too.” He gave me a clenched smile. “Thank you for that. I think I can understand why the driver would rather believe … But Penny, it’s upset her terribly, I’m afraid.”

“Ross wouldn’t have,” I said. Not just to Mr. Fell and Caroline, but to myself as well.

“Good. Thank you, Blake. Thank you.” His smile widened behind his beard as he fortified himself. He nodded at me. “And wonderful to see you again. Tell Kenny and Sim they’re both welcome here anytime too. Tell them to be sure to come and see us. We want to keep up with what you’re up to, don’t we?”

I gave the urn a guilty glance.

“This house would feel even stranger without the three of you getting under our feet.” He was talking far too much and was in a hurry to move on, wanting the subject changed. “In fact, tell Kenny I need his help, can you? A favor. He’s the one who’s good with the old computers, isn’t he? Mine’s gone a bit loopy, you see, and whisked my novel away
somewhere. I’m sure it’s still lurking in the damn thing, hidden in a file God knows where. But Kenny’ll be the one to sort me out, won’t he? Yes, he’s the chap. A good few years I’ve been working on that novel and I’m not going to give up on it now, by God.” His laugh was too loud.

I nodded vaguely. I was fighting to get my head around what he’d asked me about Ross and didn’t give a toss about his precious novel or broken computer. He’d lit a fuse in my head; I could feel its hot fizz and sputter.

“So, well, let yourself out when you’re ready.” He came over and shook my hand again. “Good to see you, Blake. Good to see you’re well.” And he held on a little too long for comfort. I saw his eyes were wet, shiny, and I had to look away, scared and embarrassed he might cry in front of me.

When at last he let go, he said, “Caroline, love, would you bring a fresh jug of water for your mother? I’ll see if I can get her up for a bit.” Then he ducked out of the kitchen and headed back upstairs.

It seemed to be a real effort for Caroline to let go of the urn. She took a clear plastic jug from one of the cupboards and moved over to the sink.

“Did you hear this thing about Ross too?” I asked.

“It’s a lie.” She ran the tap, filled the jug with cold water. “My mum’s really suffered since Ross’s accident, and this has made her even worse. Of course the driver doesn’t want it to be his fault. I’ve tried telling them, but my dad wanted to ask you too.”

I could feel myself getting angry. Maybe if he knew his son as well as I did he would never have had to. I looked at Ross on the table.

Caroline stepped toward the door through to the hall. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Blinking and focusing on what I was meant to be doing here, I realized this was my last chance to steal Ross. And I even reached out for the urn in my eagerness, like I was reaching for the biggest slice of pizza. Caroline saw me and hesitated at the door. I whipped my hand back but it was too late, she was already suspicious, and the guilty blush on my face didn’t help matters.

“Blake?” She took a step toward me, as though she was going to take the urn herself.

So I picked it up before she got the chance.

She was confused. “What are you doing?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “We’re doing it for Ross, I promise.”

She stood in the doorway, frowning. Her bewilderment cranked up my guilt another notch or two. She was blocking my way.

I repeated how sorry I was, tried squeezing past her into the hall. She wasn’t going to let me get by. But as I pushed against her I knocked the jug in her hand, splashing icy water over both of us. It was a shock in the stuffy house; we leaped away from each other. I turned for the front door.

“Blake? What’re you …?” Her voice rose in alarm.

Mr. and Mrs. Fell were on the landing at the top of the stairs. Mrs. Fell was wearing a long dressing gown and leaning on Mr. Fell’s arm as if she was ten times older than what she really was. I’d always thought of her as strict and spiky—had always been kind of glad she wasn’t my mum. She didn’t look like a short-tempered lecturer this morning, however. She looked more like a ghost than the woman I remembered as Ross’s mother.

I ran for the front door at the end of the hall, clutching that urn so tightly I worried I might shatter it.