Rain In My Heart (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

              With the exception ofByron, it felt like everyone els
e’
s family were okay except mine.  I know it sounds silly, but it felt unfair, like I was being picked on.  Leon tried to reassure me.  He said h
e’
d watched loads of real-life rescue programmes and that people always get found or saved in the end.  He said h
e’
d keep his fingers crossed.  But to be honest, I was hurting too much to take notice.  I was torn between pestering my mum for updates or saving my battery and waiting for her to call me.  Weirdly, the one person who seemed to 'get' my state of mind was Byron.

            
 ‘
Keep busy
,’
he said, like he could tell I was worrying myself into a mess.

              He was right. I needed distraction.  I needed to do something productive.  I decided to carry on with the mural.  I took a tin of pencils and started drawing along the back wall.  I threw myself into the task, focused hard.  When I was done, I stood up and realised Byron had been standing behind me the whole time, with his headphones. 

              I smiled, but he did
n’
t react.

            
 ‘
What are you listening to
?’
I asked, out of politeness.

              He took the headphones off and handed them to me.  I placed one of the speakers over my ear.  It was beep-beep plink-plink - some kind of obscure electro trance.

            
 ‘
I
t’
s
different
,’
I said, giving the headphones back.

            
 ‘
I
t’
s what I like
,’
he replied.
 ‘
Music made by machines.  Nothingsentimental.  Yo
u’
ll hear about your dad and sistersoon,
I’
m sure.  But, you know, I think your so-called best friend could have been more considerate.  She was very rude to you, was
n’
t she
?
’

              I blinked, disarmed by his bluntness.

            
 ‘
You mean Gemma
?
’

            
 ‘
Bit of a one-way street?  You give, she takes
.
’

            
 ‘
Um
-
’

            
 ‘
Sh
e’
s selfish.  When she gets upset, you cuddle her.  When
you're
upset, she goes off into a cupboard with her giant boyfriend - '

            I looked around. Sure enough, Greg and Gemma were nowhere to be seen, but a bright glow was coming from the entrance to the supply cupboard.

            
 ‘
Sh
e’
s okay
,’
I argued, feeling like I should defend her.
 ‘
Sh
e’
s just...sh
e’
s going through something.  Her parents split up. It really messed with her head
.
’

‘
Yes, I knowthat
.
’

‘
You do
?
’

‘
The whole town knows.  Mr Dyc
e’
s seedy chip-shop-lady love affair.  Very embarrassing for all concerned.  But it does
n’
t mean Gemma has to be hateful towardseveryone else, does it?  You of all people, because yo
u’
re always so nice to her
.
’

‘
That's a bit harsh.  Gemma is
n’
t
hateful
towards me.  We have our ups and downs, but we've been best friends since primary school - '

‘
Maybe so, but sh
e’
s got HATE in her soul
.
’

It shocked me - the presumptuousness, the arrogance of his tone.  Granted, it probably was
n’
t much fun, being the only loner in a herd of cool kids.   And someone like Gemma Dyce, with her sly glances and sarcastic cusses, made it all the more challenging.  But really, who was he to say she was full of hate?

‘
Sh
e’
s fine
,’
I argued
.‘
Gemm
a’
s
fine
.
’

‘
Sh
e’
s insecure
,’
said Byron.
 ‘
And bitter.  Sh
e’
s the bitterest person
I’
ve ever encountere
d–
apart from every single member of my own family, of course
.
’

‘
Why are you being so critical
?
’

‘
Because Gemma is
n’
t a true friend and yet you waste all your energy on her.  Do
n’
t you see?  She's a fake, a phoney.  She buys a neon plastic skull necklace from Clair
e’
s Accessories and decides this makes her a Goth.  Phoney as hell.  Le
t’
s face it, a real Goth would buy their skull necklace from a seedy alleyway in Soho.  In fact, a real Goth would probably suck the flesh from Gemma Dyc
e’
s head, stick her skull on a pin, and wear that instead
-
’

I gasped.  And laughed.  Maybe it was the outrageousness of the remark or just sheer exasperation?  Either way, the laughter kept coming.  I covered my mouth, tried to stop.  It seemed wrong, like I was betraying my best friend.  But at the same time, I felt liberated.  I'd never 'got' Gemma's sudden switch to Goth style, but I'd been too polite to say anything.  Before I could respond to Byron's rant, however, Leon and Curtis stormed over.

‘
What are your headphones attached to
?
’ said Curtis accusingly, jabbinga finger towards Byro
n’
s trouser pocket.

            
 ‘
My phone
.
’

            
 ‘
Show me
.
’

              Reluctantly, Byron took out his handset, held it up.  Curtis bulked.

            
 ‘
You mean w
e’
ve all been panicking about wasting battery life and yo
u’
ve had a full-charge all along
?
’

              Byron shrugged. 

            
 ‘
My phone, my business
.
’

            
 ‘
Well, just so you know, i
t’
s now been decided thatwe put all the phones together, so that they're accessible to everyone
,’
said Leon.  'Hand it over.'

'Um,
no
.
’

              Curtis glared at him.  The awkwardness bulged.

            
 ‘
For real?  Are you
deliberately
being a mutant
?
’

            
 ‘
Hey,
I’
m sure i
t’
s just some misunderstanding
,’
I said, trying to smooth the way.
 ‘
Yo
u’
ll give up your phone, wo
n’
t you, Byron?  In case of an emergency or something
-
’

              Byron looked at me, then at Leon and Curtis.

            
 ‘
If I feel like it
.
’

Thankfully, the stand-off was disturbed by Greg.  H
e’
d been tinkering with Miss Nevi
s’
s computer, trying to get through the security pass codes, to gain Internet access.

‘I’
ve done it!
I’
m online
!’
he announced.

The confrontation was abandoned.  We all rushed to the computer.

‘
Nice one
!’
said Curtis.

‘
Now we can send emails, check for information
.
’

‘
Good work, mate
,’
said Leon.

Gemma wrapped her arms around Gre
g’
s shoulders.  She was much calmer now. Ten minutes of cuddling Greg in a cupboard had done the trick.

‘
You should get onto one of those news forums
,’
she said.
 ‘
See if ther
e’
s anything about wha
t’
s happened
.
’

Greg tapped the keyboard. 
His
keyboard now.  H
e’
d claimed ownership. Immediately, the screen came up with a news page.  We listened while Greg read:

‘
Unprecedented flash flooding in the Hurst Valley Area.  Heavy rainfall has resulted in significant riverbank breach.  Scenes of chaos as torrents destroy homes and shops. Reports of widespread damage and injury.  Many people unaccounted for.   Emergency services are starting to arrive on the scene, but the rescue effort is being hampered by deteriorating weather conditions
.
’

‘
Whoa
,’
said Curtis.
 ‘
This is bad
.
’

My mind span. 
Unprecedented.  People unaccounted for. 
My dad.  My sister.

Chapter Twelve

‘
See if you can find any safety information
,’
said Leon
.‘
You know, some kind of website about what to do when there's a flood.'

Greg typed again.  He quickly found websites about flooding and safety, but as he clicked through, his face turned pale.

            
 ‘
What do you think h
e’
s found
?’
whispered Byron, only to me.
 ‘
The website of
doom
?
’

              I think he was trying to be funny, but I didn't laugh.  It was
n’
t the time for jokes.  And after the comments he'd made about my friendship with Gemma, and the argument over the phone, his presence was making me feel uneasy.  I moved away, stood closer to Leon.

‘
We're screwed
,’
said Greg, reading down the list of flood hazards. 'There's no way w
e’
re going to survive all this.'

Greg had a habit of seeing the worst in things, but maybe this time he had a point.  I stared through the window.  The treetops thrashed in the wind.  Thunderclouds were moving in.  Tha
t’
s all we needed, the weather getting worse rather than better.

Moments later, my phone buzzed.  A text from my mum:

Ella safe, trapped in nail bar.  Dad found.  Injured, but not serious. Will call soon, so stay by phone.  Please keep safe.  W
e’
re doing what we can. Mum. XXX

The relief was instant, massive.  Some good news within the gloom.  It felt as if I was floating, five-stone lighter.

‘
The
y’
re okay
!’
I cried, sharing my joy.
 ‘
My dad and my sister are okay!  And my mu
m’
s trying to organise our rescue - '

Leon flung his arms around me.

‘
Tha
t’
s great news
,’
he said jubilantly.
‘
Twenty minutes tops.  I reckon twenty minutes until we hear sirens.  A giant fire engine will come ploughing through the water, then w
e’
ll be out of here
.
’

Curtis and Greg cheered.  Even Gemma looked pleased, genuinely pleased.  She offered her pinky, linked it with mine.  I wanted Byron to see, to give him proof that, beneath her issues, Gemma had a good side.  But in the middle of all the excitement, with everyone swarming round me, all the fuss, all the hugs,h
e’
d disappeared.

An hour later, the rain and wind was still battering the window
s
an
d
there was no sight or sign of anyone, let alone a fire engine.  My stomach had started to ache with hunger, and although I did
n’
t need to go yet, I was starting to wonder where and how
I’
d pee.  There were no toilets in Vis A.  The nearest block was along the link corridor in the main school building, but that would require wading - and my clothes had only just dried.  I took them from the rack, went into the supply cupboard and changed.

As I came out, I noticed Byron creeping about by the pottery wheels.  For a moment, I worried h
e’
d been spying on me getting dressed, then I realised he was oblivious to my presence.  He was pushing something with his feet, trying to nudge it into a corner behind some slip buckets. I coughed.             

‘
All right
?’
I said.

              He looked up, startled.

            'Yes, fine,' he said.

            He brushed his hands and came out of the corner, pushed past me like I was in his way.

‘
You know, your hai
r’
s lost all its straightness
,’
he said.

I blinked. Was this supposed to be an insult?  Had I upset him in some way? I was totally confused.

            
 ‘
Straight hair does
n’
t suit you anyway,' he continued.  'And, let's face it, one afternoon of neat hair isn't going to make Leon fall in love with you - '

            
 ‘
Leon
?
’

            
 ‘
Tha
t’
s who you straightened it for, is
n’
t it
?
’

            
 ‘
I - um
-
’

              Once again, h
e’
d caught me out.  H
e’
d only just met me, yet h
e’
d practically read my mind.  What was it h
e’
d said, abou
t‘
sensory acuit
y’
? I was
n’
t sure whether to be offended or amazed.

            
 ‘
I would
n’
t get too hung up on what Leon thinks, anyway
,’
he added.
 ‘
From what I gather, he is
n’
t picky.  H
e’
ll chase anything with a pulse.  You could do better
.
’

              I was so flustered by his comments, I couldn't think straight.  In the end, I walked away.  I did
n’
t know what else to do. I returned to the others, who were still discussing potential escape routes, and slipped back into the flock, stood as close to Leon as I could without looking like a weirdo.

          
 ‘
Even if rescue is on its way
,’
said Leon, in the manner of an army commander
,‘
we still need a Plan B.  Curtis, you check the internal door at the bottom of the stair well, the one that leads to the link corridor, see if ther
e’
s a way we can get into the rest of the school, for toilets and snack machines.  Greg, you keep checking the Internet for updates, and Gemma, you start gathering useful items
.
’

‘
Like what
?
’

‘
I do
n’
t know.  Tools?  Gaffer tape?  Rope?  Rope would be good
.
’

Gemma shrugged and walked off.

‘
Where am I going to find
rope
?’
she muttered.
 ‘
This is an art room, not a naval base
.
’

Leon did
n’
t have a task for me, but when he was done organising, he caught my eye.

‘
Any ideas
?’
he said.

‘
Er, rafts?' I replied, smiling.  'At least you seem to know what you're doing.'

‘
Well, my brother used to take me on wilderness weekends when I was younger.  We learned survival skills, but it was ki
d’
s stuff, like, I do
n’
t know, how to make twig dens or how to bake a potato on a fire - '

‘
Twig dens?  You never know.  Could be useful if the school washes away and we have to survive in the open air
?
’

‘
True.  I've heard the foundations are
n’
t very good
.
’

‘I’
ll stick with you then
.
’

‘
Wise move.  My twig dens are the best
.
’

We both laughed.

‘
Do you think w
e’
ll be okay
?’
I said.

He looked to the window then back at me.

‘
Sure
,’
he said.
 ‘
W
e’
ll be out of here before you know it
.
’

Our gazes locked.  I could
n’
t say for certain, but it seemed like he was thinking the same thing as me: w
e’
ll get out of here and then w
e’
ll have to go our separate ways.