Spark (30 page)

Aiden pulls away.

“Sorry.” I shake off the disorientation and try for a breezy laugh. “You’re just the person I was hoping to see. How’s it going?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been conscripted to PA for Dick, since he’s been ‘incapacitated’.”

The mention of Richard coincides with an immediate spike in my pins and needles. Hostility grips me and I struggle to process my body’s fight instinct. “But I saw him this morning.”

“Apparently, he needs ‘support’ till he’s fully recovered.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say, reddening. “They can’t make you do that.”

“I pretty much don’t have a choice unless I want to ‘undermine my contractual obligations’. Not that I don’t like your work, but the nose job hasn’t improved his personality.” Aiden shrugs and shifts from foot to foot. “I’ve got history.”

“Wait a second.” At that moment, Richard appears at the bend in the corridor, stopping to talk to two other boys. We both stare at him and frustration burns me up. How can I read the bandwidth now? I won’t know who I’m reacting to. I clear my throat and rush on. “You helped Kaylee that night at the ball, right?”

He tenses. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He rubs the back of his neck, blinking rapidly, then jams his fist back in his pocket. “I’m not trying to protect
him
. He could make life very difficult for Kaylee.”

“I get it. I’m glad you were there for her.”

His eyes flick from wall to ceiling to floor. “I’m not a stalker.”

“I wasn’t suggesting–”

“I only followed them because she could barely walk and I know what he’s like.”

Did Aiden stop to assault Kitty on his way to check on Kaylee? The idea seems ludicrous. I study his face, my chest tight with uncertainty. I can’t tell if the subject or his proximity to Kitty agitates him. “Must have been scary.”

“She was crying. I didn’t really think, I just dragged him off her. He ran for it.”

Richard ran for it. Where to?

Did he unleash his frustration on Kitty as she passed the side of the house? The scene paints itself too easily. I watch him at the end of the corridor, managing to look cocky even with his black eyes and taped nose. “But you didn’t tell the cops?”

“She begged me not to.” He grinds his teeth and small beads of sweat appear above his lip. “Maybe I shouldn’t have listened.”

We both sigh in the same way at the same time and look at each other.

“And I have to apologise to him.”

“Dignity’s not everything.” Aiden gives a grim nod. “I’m going before Dick makes me carry his books.”

Richard walks towards us. Aiden slopes away, looking more depressed than when I stopped him. I would have felt guilty if I could have felt anything clearly. Kitty appears from the restroom and the leap of adrenaline contracts the muscles in my arms and legs.

She frowns. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Richard seems to walk in slow motion, the bruising around his eyes pronounced. He swings his pack to one shoulder and pauses to eyeball me. “See you Friday.”

Miriam’s strike flashes in my mind but my defence comes too slow. She wrenches my arm, flinging me over her head. I land on my back with a terrific
oof
, winded, gasping. At least heat and exertion mask my embarrassment – Jamie stands at the edge of the blue mat.

“You’re not concentrating.” Miriam bends over me, grabs my hand and hauls me up.

“Kung fu is hard,” I moan.

“Kung fu is a tool.”

“I’m a beginner.”

“You’re a genetically engineered weapon,” Miriam says. “You’ve already learned more in two days than a civ could manage in months of daily training. Quit your bellyaching and tune in.”

Kitty sniggers on the swivel chair, glancing up from Miriam’s desk where she fiddles with her phone. I’m glad she acknowledges me, even if it’s to laugh. I screw my nose up at her to keep it light.

“It’s purely psychological,” Miriam says. “You’ve been blocking like a pro for weeks. Your speed is outstanding, your somersaults are almost as good as mine. You beat the crap out of the sparing dummy and throw knives like a damn sniper. There’s no reason you can’t master this. Now, you registered my intent in the bandwidth before it came.”

“Yeah.” I lean, hands on thighs, trying to get more air. “But I’m too slow.”

“You’re thinking about defence instead of attack,” Jamie says.

I glance up, surprised he spoke; I thought stony silence was his bag now.

“Exactly.” Miriam smiles, an encouraging, let’s smooth things out smile. I can’t tell if she’s being generous or smug, given she must be thrilled we’ve broken up. “When you look to strike rather than ward, precognition not only allows you to access your opponent’s intent but it releases your attack impulse. Forget about avoiding pain. You don’t care if you get hurt. You care about overpowering your opponent.”

I jerk upright. “I’m not afraid of getting hurt.”

Miriam narrows her eyes. “Then you’re afraid of hurting me.”

I open my mouth to argue and then close it.

“Fight Jamie.” She shrugs. “He’s a tank.”

I turn my back so Jamie won’t see my face, giving Miriam a baleful glare.

“You two can put aside your differences for training.”

“I’m not …
I
don’t care.” I blush. “Fine.”

Jamie steps onto the mat. I try to concentrate on loosening my knees and assuming the relaxed stance Miriam taught me, but I’m distracted, anticipating Jamie’s scent, his strong arms, the way his muscles move beneath his skin. All the things I’d deprived myself of over the last two days. My hands tremble, like low blood sugar tremors, which is ridiculous. Jamie’s not a drug; I don’t need a fix.

Stop staring at his mouth, you pervert
.

“Ready?” Jamie asks.

The bow of his top lip, the full curve of the lower
.

I swallow and nod.

Jamie’s body blurs and the bandwidth opens up. I see the strike of his arm before it comes and my block is ready; sense the sweep of his leg before he turns and I leap; read the swing of his elbow and arch my back bringing my leg up and over in a roundhouse kick, catching him in the shoulder blade. Our eyes connect in that moment, and something flares in my chest. We separate and I turn to Miriam. “He’s letting me win!”

His mouth twitches. Almost a smile.

Condescending bastard!

I don’t wait.

I lunge.

Miriam’s right, as soon as I take the initiative it’s all there. Jamie’s intent arriving with my supplied strategy like the prongs of a zip knitting together, question and answer, strike and defence. We move back and forth across the mat, sometimes tumbling, sometimes leaving the ground, the sound of skin and bone, thudding, slapping, jarring, thumping. I’m sloppy, but my advantage lies in lightness and flexibility – soaring, diving, spinning and then striking.

Jamie flips backwards, twisting in the air. I picture how he hopes to land and roll away. I spring, bringing my knees high in the upward trajectory, dropping squarely onto his back, driving him into the mat with a crunching thud.

I smile, seeing that Kitty has turned to watch, but then she flips upside down and I lose all my oxygen again.

Jamie pins me, both arms above my head, his weight grinding my hips into the floor, his eyes boring into mine.

“All right, all right,” Miriam says. “We get the point.”

“G-Day”. That’s what the Bishop has taken to calling my appointment with the governor. After school we have an entourage of supporters on our way to Jamie’s car. Gil squeezes into a
Not without a mint
T-shirt, several sizes too small. I still have no clue what my approach will be, but people keep insisting on giving me advice.

“Don’t be intimidated, Van.” Gil walks beside me, his meaty arm strapped round my shoulders. “Look the son of a bitch in the eye, say ‘Sorry’ and leave it at that.”

Pete nods. “Don’t grovel.”

“Sweet Cherry Pie doesn’t grovel,” Gil says.

“Seriously?” I mutter, “I prefer Van.”

“Let us know how it goes, okay?” Lila pats my arm. Imogen smiles. I’m a little overwhelmed to see how they’ve all taken me under their wing.

I barely register the thirty-minute drive to Concord. Next thing, we’ve pulled up in the parking lot of a diner. We kill time over burgers and fries, conversation stilted, none of us in the mood to really talk, with things awkward between me and Kitty, and worse between me and Jamie. I spend most of the time hyper-aware of my knees, only inches from his beneath the table. By the time we have to meet Miriam and Leonard, the sun is beginning to set.

Then I find myself outside the car, behind the security gate in the governor’s office parking lot. Miriam, already beside me, fidgets with her handbag; no doubt riding with Leonard was uncomfortable. He sets a wide warm hand on my shoulder, filling the vacant dad space inside me with an achy sort of yearning. “Evangeline, you look beautiful – and tall. Very situation-appropriate.”

I’m not sure my lips will work to form sentences, but at least I’ve dressed carefully, changing my high-tops in the car for black stilettos. A risk if it means pursuing Kitty’s Stray, but I’m banking on being in a well-guarded place with witnesses to discourage that possibility.

“Just remember,” Leonard says, “Charles doesn’t want to press charges. He wants to intimidate you and make his point. Getting us to drive out here to his office instead of coming in to meet at school, making the appointment at a ridiculous hour – it’s all to remind you that everything is at his convenience. But you, my girl, need not be intimidated. You’re not here to see a governor. You’re here to see an unpleasant boy’s father who’s upset about losing face.”

“That bit still sounds scary.”

Leonard grins and brings me into his arms, like a dad would. It feels weird and kind of wonderful. “I’m here for you, Evie. We all are.” I catch Jamie’s eye over Leonard’s shoulder. He averts his gaze, frowning instead towards the office.

“You’ll be fine,” Kitty chimes in, making a play at cheerfulness for my sake. “Just think, if the governor pushes you too far, you can always break his nose.” It isn’t well received by the others. “Joking.” She hunches her shoulders. “Obviously.”

We follow Leonard to the entrance. Jamie walks by his dad, and I have a moment of weakness, wishing he was beside me. We enter the foyer, dark, conservative and plush. Leonard announces my arrival to the receptionist. She pushes buttons on her keyboard and nods us towards the elevator. “He’s expecting you.” Her eyes sparkle at Leonard and widen when she sees Jamie. Neither father nor son notice.

None of us speak in the elevator and when the door chimes it seems to open with dreamlike slowness. Jamie holds the door, letting us file out. As I pass, he presses his lips together, not quite a smile.

The moment I step into the reception hall, my senses ignite. An unpleasant chemical odour reminds me of the Stray and Richard’s bad breath. Adrenaline charges and my muscles cramp. Unthinking, I grip Jamie’s arm and turn to find his frown.

“You feel something?” he whispers.

I let him go. “I can’t tell.”

Now is not the time for an episode
.

I can’t feel my legs as we make our way up the wide hall.

I focus on the tether.

She’s safe. You’re with her. It’s okay
.

I try to feel for danger, alert for any shadow in my mind, but I can’t tell if I’m reacting to my own stress or signals in the bandwidth. I note exits and windows with latches, and objects that could be used as defensive weapons: a heavy lamp stand, an expensive-looking vase. I scan for potential assailants. I recognise Aiden, standing behind a desk. Another young man leans towards him, flapping his hands at Aiden’s legs. A guard stands by the large double doors that must be the governor’s office.

He’ll have a gun. I could get that gun.

Rein it in
.

We stop at the desk. Aiden turns, his face strained.

“Sorry, Aiden,” the hand-flapping aide says and straightens up. “I’ll get you a cloth.” He makes to go but stops and stares at me, his lips parting, eyes gormlessly blank.

Aiden clears his throat. “David? I’d appreciate that cloth.” I can smell the spilled coffee and see where it has drenched the hem of Aiden’s blazer and soaked through the thigh of his pants.

“Of course, sorry. I’m on it.” David gives us a sheepish smile and darts away.

“Mr Gallagher.” Red-faced, Aiden comes out from the desk to greet Leonard with his coffee wet hands still dripping. “Please excuse the state of me. Third degree burns. I promise it’s not a habit.”

Leonard nods, his laugh generous. “Aiden, good to see you.”

Obviously, they share some sort of private joke, but now that I have Kitty beside me and Aiden before me, I have both ears on the bandwidth. The static rings loud and my anxiety stays sky-high. He looks handsome and aside from the stain, well put together in his suit. But he also looks agitated, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his hands.

Kitty’s smile reminds me of the receptionist downstairs. She views him as a hero after what he did for Kaylee. It spins me out to imagine what she would say if she knew Aiden rode high on my list.