Rain In My Heart (9 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Three meters.  I swear.  He was blown a clear three meters from the computer table. 

            
 ‘
Greg
!
’
 
Gemma screamed.
 ‘
GREG
!
’

              She ran to his side.  The distress in her voice was awful.

              Some force, it must have taken, to send a huge gangly boy across the room like that.  His arms and legs were splayed.  His neck and shoulders were at a funny angle, where h
e’
d hit the chairs.  The worse thing was that there was smoke coming from his hands, char marks on his fingers.  

            
 ‘
Mate!' said Curtis, horrified.
 ‘
Mate, I'm sorry.  Wake up
!
’

              They lay him down flat.  Gemma started gasping, shaking all over.

‘
Do something
!
’ she screamed.
 ‘
Help him
!
’

              I did
n’
t know what I could do for Greg, but I knew I could help her.  I gave her a hug, held her hands, reassured her.

            
 ‘
H
e’
ll be all right
,’
I said.

              I never felt like such a liar in my whole life.  The rain surged again and the sound on the windows was deafening. It was like we were standing beneath a firing range.  Gemma got to her feet and raged.

            
 ‘
Why the hell ca
n’
t it JUST STOP RAINING
?
’

              Her fists clenched.  I held them tighter, cupped them in mine, and eventually she broke into sobs.  However tough she seemed on the outside, she was soft inside, scared of everything going wrong.

            
 ‘
H
e’
s moving
!’
Leon cried.

              We tensed and watched.  Greg began to stir.  He lifted his head and opened his eyes.  Leon and Curtis held his shoulders, helped him to sit up.  He looked completely dazed.

            
 ‘
What the hell happened to you
?
’ said Curtis, with an expression that was likeguilt and fear and relief mixed into one.
 ‘
One minute you're there, the next minute yo
u’
re over here.  Seriously, that was some sic air!  You should get a skate board
!
’

            
 
Gemma threw her arms around Gre
g’
s shoulders, smothered him with affection.  They kissed, rubbed noses.  This time, I didn't begrudge them for it. 

            
 ‘
That was mad
,’
said Leon, patting Greg on the back. 

              Greg leaned forward and examined the burns on his fingers.

            
 ‘
I got a shock, I guess, from the computer.  It was when I touched the power cable on the monitor
-
’

              Leon stood up, looked around.

            
 ‘
What if it happens again
?’
he said.
 ‘
I do
n’
t think we should touch anything electrical.  No one touch anything
.
’

‘
That goes for you too, Byr
o’,’
said Curtis
.‘
No touchy electrickery, got it
?
’

            
 ‘
Yes, thank you
,’
said Byron, stepping into the light. 

He was the only person who had
n’
t rushed to Gre
g’
s side.  I wondered if he felt awkward, not really knowing him, not being part of our group.  Or was it deliberate, like the way he'd walked away from Gemma when she was crying?

‘
Nothing electric
,’
he repeated.
 ‘
No touching.  Advice noted.  And i
t’
s wise.  I mean, when floodwater gets into the mains i
t’
s lethal.  By now, the generator is probably immersed, which means the whole school is live.  Definitely a safety hazard
.
’

            
 ‘
What
?’
said Leon.

            
 ‘
I said, definitely a safety hazard
.
’

            
 ‘
I get that.  What
I’
m saying is, if you knew about this risk of electric shocks, why did
n’
t you speak up before?  Why did
n’
t you warn us?  Greg could have been killed
!
’

              Byron shrugged.

            
 ‘
You never asked
,’
he said dismissively.
 ‘
And even if I
had
mentioned it, can you honestly say you would have listened
?
’

            
 ‘
You nob-head
!’
shouted Curtis.
 ‘
Our mate, Greg, nearly got fried and all you can do is shrug and whinge and complain that we do
n’
t listen!  Who
are
you anyway?  Why are you
here
?  I tell you what, you were
n’
t invited
-
’

            
 ‘
No one was invited
,’
said Greg groggily.
 ‘
We were made to come, remember?'

            
 ‘
But
he
wasn't,' said Curtis, jabbing a finger in Byron's direction. 'Our detention had nothing to do with him.  He's here of his own free will. 
Weirdo
.  They arrest stalkers, you know?'

            'I'm not a stalker,' said Byron.

            'Oh, yeah?  You're stalking Miss Nevis, otherwise why would you be here?'

            Byron didn't say anything.  Curtis threw his hands in the air.

            'This is all mash-up
!
’ he said
.‘
I ca
n’
t believe
I’
m trapped in some skanky art room, with crazy electric hot wires and poisoned water and no food and King of The Freakin' Odd Squad lurking round every corner
.
’

              He flicked Byron in the chest and stomped off.   Byron just stood there.  I could see the hurt in his eyes.  He was right about one thing.  Even if he
had
mentioned the risk of electric shocks, they wouldn't have listened to him.  And there was no doubt he was odd, but no one wants to be told that, do they?  And as for stalking Miss Nevis?  The boys in my form group were always going on about having crushes on teachers, which teachers they thought were hot, what the
y’
d like to do to them - which was
n’
t the same as stalking.

            
 ‘
We ca
n’
t keep arguing
,’
I said, trying to catch Leon's eye: the Dream Team takes control.
 ‘
Le
t’
s just be grateful for the fact that Greg is okay.  We have a roof over our heads.  We're dry.  We've got heat and light.  We simply need to stay calm and look out for each other.'

           'Definitely,' said Leon.  'Rather than argue, let's be practical.  Hunger is clearly an issue, so let's do another search.  Greg and I will try to break through the door to the link corridor.  Kate, Gemma - you have another hunt around the art room.  Maybe Miss Nevis left a packet of biscuits or something?'

         With renewed optimism, we set to work.  It felt good to be purposeful.  Leon was right - leadership was necessary.  As soon as people were organised and occupied, there was no bickering.   Gemma and I went through every drawer in Miss Nevis's desk.  We found some stale chewing gum and a boiled sweet, but that was it. Unfortunately, Leon and Greg had no luck with the door.

           'It's one of those super heavy fire doors,' said Leon.  'Even a man-mountain like Greg couldn't bust it, especially with the water pushing against it.'

           It was tough.  We all knew that on the other side of that door, we'd have access to vending machines, water fountains, and an entire canteen full of food.

            'Maybe if we all chipped in?' said Greg. 'The weight of six of us might do the trick?'

'Worth a try,' said Leon.

He clapped his hands.

          'Come on, people!  Let's bust this door!'

He said it like we could do anything, like it was all going to be okay.  His positivity was endearing. If I'd fancied him before, I was in awe of him now. And whether his love-life wa
s‘
complicate
d’
or not, I knew I was in love.  I suddenly wanted to tell him, wanted to let him know just how much I thought of him, felt my emotions bloom and glow.

And then, in an instant, everything went black.

PART TWO  - THE DARK

Chapter Sixteen

              The lights in the town went down first.  Street lamps. Shop signs.  Living room lights. Section by section they blacked out: vump vump vump.  We watched it happen, and like a wave, we knew it was coming for us.

The darkness.

            
 ‘
No one move
!’
said Leon.

‘
I ca
n’
t see a thing
!’
Gemma hollered.
 ‘
What's going on
?
’

‘
Power cut
!’
said Greg. 

I held my arms in front of my face, but I could barely see them. I could hear the others fumbling, knocking into furniture.  Greg swore.  Gemma accused someone of treading on her foot.  Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

‘
Close your eyes
,
’ whispered a voice - Bryo
n’
s.
 ‘
Scrunch them up then look again.  I
t’
ll help your optic nerve to adjust
.
’

              I shut my eyes tight, blinked, rubbed them, and gradually began to see shapes and shadows.  Although it was only dusk, the thundery sky had robbed the last of the daylight.  It was dark enough.

            
 ‘
Candles
,’
I said.
 ‘
I think there are candles in the supply cupboard.  Miss Nevis kept them in a tin.  She used the wax for batik work.  I know where they are, I think
.
’

            
 ‘I’
ll help you look
,’
said Byron.

              Leon marched in front of him.

            
 ‘
No
,’
he said, barging Byron out of the way.  '
I'll
help.'

            Together, Leon and I navigated the room's obstacles and headed towards the cupboard.  We found the tin beneath a pile of tissue paper.  There were only four candles inside and one of them was pretty much a stump, but it was better than nothing.  Curtis, naturally, had a lighter on him.  I lit the first candle.  Gemma offered up another, but Leon snatched it away.

‘
We ca
n’
t burn them all
,’
he said
.‘
We need to ration.  One at a time.  We might have a whole night to get through, remember.  How long do you reckon each one lasts for
?
’

I hesitated.

‘
When I was doing batik lessons
,’
I said
,‘
I think one candle lasted two hours
.
’

            
 ‘
In that case
,’
said Leon - I could almost hear the sums whirring round his head
-‘
w
e’
ve got seven hours at most
.
’

              He placed the lid on the tin, with the rest of the candles inside, and tucked it under his arm.

            
 ‘
Do
n’
t you trust us
?’
said Gemma.

            
 ‘
I just think they need to go somewhere safe, somewhere central.  And the phones - anyone wh
o’
s got battery left needs to unlock their pass-codes and put their phones on Miss Nevis's desk. If vital items are in a central location, w
e’
ll know where to find them in an emergency
.
’

            
 ‘
Like, this is
n’
t already an emergency
?’
said Greg.

‘
You know what I mean. Phones, everyone.  Come on
.
’

            
 ‘
That includes you, Byro'
,’
said Curtis, scowling.