Storm and Stone (7 page)

‘What are you doing out of class, Raven?’ The head teacher paused on her way through the lobby, a party of parents of prospective pupils in tow.

‘It’s my free period so I was calling Gina’s father, Mrs Bain.’ Another note had arrived; this time they’d gone for a gravestone with her name on it and Raven had been desperate to ask Gina’s advice what to do. Stupid thing had been responsible for her nightmare. She hated feeling scared in a place that had once seemed a perfect refuge.

The head teacher did not look thrilled by this news but with strangers at her side could not make an issue of it. She turned to them, like a defence barrister using Raven as her exhibit A. ‘We like our students to be able to keep in close contact with family and friends. Mobiles are allowed, naturally, but this phone is also available for their use.’

One of the fathers stepped forward, a cheerful man with a crop of straw-like hair. ‘How do you like the school, if you don’t mind me asking?’

Raven glanced over at the stony face of Mrs Bain. Just at the moment she loathed Westron but it would be suicidal to say that in front of the head teacher. ‘It’s fine.’ If you don’t mind attacks in the girls’ changing rooms and threatening anonymous letters.

‘Friendly? My Georgina is a little shy. I’m looking for a school where she will fit in.’

‘As you’ll see in the prospectus, we can offer many extra character building courses at our annex to help with problems like that,’ said Mrs Bain, holding up a glossy folder.

‘I don’t see shyness as a problem,’ the father said stiffly. ‘I just want to know if she’ll be happy here.’ Raven wanted to give him a cheer. ‘Will she enjoy it?’

‘She’ll do OK.’ Raven couldn’t say something she didn’t believe—she hated lying. She looked to the head teacher for permission to leave.

Mrs Bain scowled at her cool endorsement. ‘Hurry along, Raven. The bell for the next lesson is about to ring.’ Mrs Bain turned her back but continued in a loud voice. ‘Raven is one of our scholarship pupils. We have bursaries for a number of special cases. We see it as part of our giving back to the community. The vast majority of our students, however, come from the very best backgrounds. We think that this is one of the principal considerations for many parents who send their children here. We can guarantee that they will mix with others from the very highest echelons of society.’

Snob. Raven walked quickly down the corridor out of sight and checked her timetable. Dance next. She wondered what excuse Kieran would give today for not doing any actual dancing. He was going to mess up her assessment and she had been hoping to take it for A level. That was going to stop. In the mood she was in, either he produced the goods or danced solo.

All business, Raven launched her plan at the beginning of the class. ‘Miss Hollis, Gina’s still not back. I think Kieran and I will have to choreograph a new routine. Can we use one of the music practice rooms if they’re free?’ The music block had a number of large, sound-proofed rooms for orchestral practice. Raven was determined to pin Kieran down and she preferred to do it somewhere private.

‘Good idea, Raven. Got your music?’

Raven held up the CD.

‘Off you go then. I’ll pop over in fifteen minutes and see how you are getting on.’

‘C’mon, Sudoku.’ She held the door open for him.

‘You’re very assertive today.’ Kieran picked up his bag. It was bulging open with heavy tomes on—Raven read the titles—number theory and astronomy, as well as a pad with closely written but beautifully accurate handwriting. Her scrawl would look laughable next to his. ‘I thought I was supposed to lead in dance.’

Not if he was leading them into a blind alley.

‘I don’t see the point of time wasting when you can cut straight to the chase.’ Raven poked her head round one door in the music block. ‘Good—this one’s available.’ She switched on the CD player and slid in the disk, nervous about what she was about to do now the moment had arrived. He had already detected that her surface confidence had cracks, one of the many reasons he disturbed her. ‘OK, now let me lay my cards on the table. I want to know if you can dance or if you’ve been messing about since you arrived.’

His eyes went to the door.

‘Uh-huh, no escape—not today.’ Was she really being this bold? Go her. ‘I’m counting on getting a good mark in this exam so I can do this course next year. If you rain on my parade I’ll not be happy.’

‘
Your
parade?’

I will not fold, I will not fold.
‘Ours, if you pull your weight.’

‘I can’t see that being a problem. It’s only Dance.’ Kieran did some stretches and abdominal crunches. Raven had to remind herself not to get sidetracked from her aim. ‘You’re treating this class, Raven, like it’s rocket science.’

She saw the trap before she fell in; he was baiting her to say ‘it’s not rocket science’ so he could give her one of his supercilious looks. ‘Fine, if you don’t want to be here, just leave.’ She waved at the door.

‘I never said that.’

‘No, you just behave as if all this is beneath you. You’re really irritating me.’

‘I never would have guessed.’ He was smirking now.

She bunched her hair back in frustration, his eyes following her hands again in that unnerving way of his. ‘What can you do, Ace? It’s clear we have to start again on this routine anyway so we might as well play to your strengths.’

‘My strengths?’

‘You do have some, right? I saw you do a Sudoku puzzle in seconds flat so you clearly have quite a brain. Dancers need to be quick thinking, understand patterns, so that’s good.’

‘I’m glad you think I have some strengths.’ He sounded so superior she wanted to kick him.

‘Being the genius that you are, I’m sure you already appreciate that music is like Maths.’

‘Yes, in many important respects.’

‘Do you play an instrument?’

‘Piano.’

She could imagine that—he had the long artistic fingers. She shoved away the thought that she had always found people with a musical skill incredibly attractive. ‘That’s good. The piece is “Shake it out”: do you know it?’

He wandered over to the grand piano at the far end of the room and played a melody—something by Mozart, she thought, though she didn’t know its name. ‘I don’t listen to much contemporary music.’

Why was that not a surprise? ‘It’s got great lyrics. Let’s listen together and see what strikes you.’

Kieran closed his eyes for the duration of the song, looking like a person deep in meditation. She let the track play to the end. ‘So? What do you think?’

Kieran proceeded to give an analysis of the key signature, the structure, and even the sound engineering. Raven dropped her head on her hands.

‘What about the gutsy singing, the ballad building to an explosion of sound, the emotional content?’

Kieran shrugged.

‘What kind of emotion do you think the song is trying to convey?’ Raven would have found his ducking of any feeling-related language fascinating if it weren’t inconvenient. ‘OK, look, she’s singing about being in a bad relationship—a romance that breaks her down, one she has to shake free—a kind of rebirth.’ Raven’s mind darted through the possibilities. ‘Yep, that’s good—that’s strong. You can be the emotionally repressed guy; I can be the girl who gets away.’

‘I’m the what?’ He did not look pleased by her casting.

‘The guy who is like the devil on her back, weighing her down. Now, let’s put some moves together that convey that—like our motif in this piece.’ She shook her arms and legs to loosen the muscles. ‘OK, what do you think of this move?’ Humming the chorus, she did a combination of back arch moving into a slow walkover handstand, going into a pirouette.

Kieran’s eyes glistened with what might have been appreciation. ‘You’re very athletic.’

‘I’ve enjoyed doing gymnastics since I was little.’ Her skin prickled with awareness of him; she had to admit he had a surprisingly well toned body for a genius—biceps, triceps, and six-pack all visible under his tight black T-shirt. She wasn’t going to look at them—she wasn’t. ‘Maybe that’s why I like dance. Got a problem with that? Have a go.’

‘OK, I will. It looks easy enough.’ With a put-upon sigh, he attacked the floor, springing over, failing to spot as he turned and ending up with a wobbly stance. He looked taken aback that it hadn’t gone well.

Raven folded her arms. ‘Don’t tell me, big guy: you have no sense of balance?’

‘I understand balance.’ He put his hands on his hips, running over the move he had just made, perplexed. ‘It’s supposed to be easy.’

‘Easy?’ Raven had never seen such incompetence from someone doing Dance—he clearly hadn’t even done the basics. He had to be doing this as a joke—messing with her future. She forgot about being shy with him. ‘You don’t know the first thing about how to move, do you? You’ve been lying to me!’

‘Obviously I don’t yet understand it. Not your kind of dance, at least.’

‘So what kind of dance is your kind of dance then?’

Annoyed too, he folded his arms and stared over her head, eyes fixed on a poster displaying the various parts of an orchestra.

‘Hey! Are you listening to me?’ She knew she was getting too confrontational with him but his remoteness was infuriating. ‘I need you to work with me here. You can’t be completely useless at everything; you must be able to move a little!’

He clutched his fingers on his elbows, looking as remote as Mars.

‘Please, give me something to go on. Ballroom, maybe? Isn’t that what you posh kids learn? Or … or Latin?’ Hell, no. He had no passion for that. ‘Hip-hop?’ That too sounded ridiculous so she committed the fatal error of laughing.

His expression became even more distant. ‘Do your own dance, Raven. Tell the teacher, I quit.’ He picked up his bag.

No! She didn’t want to be the only one doing a solo. ‘What? You’re giving up, just like that?’

He walked out—an answer of sorts.

‘Aargh!’ Raven stood in the middle of the empty room, wishing she had something handy to throw. She kicked the piano stool. She really shouldn’t have lost her temper like that; she now felt about an inch high. The annoying thing was she probably even owed him an apology and saying sorry to Mr Arrogant was about as attractive as eating bush tucker. One thing she had learnt was that he didn’t take failing at something well; she shouldn’t have rubbed it in.

Zapping the music back on with the remote, she worked off her temper by dancing alone.

Joe burst into the room. ‘Are you OK, Key? Raven told the teacher you felt ill—left class early. Everyone in the Sixth Form Common Room is asking me what’s wrong.’ He glanced at the screen in front of Kieran. ‘What’s that? You’ve got access to the academic results of all the students. You find something?’

Kieran tapped a few keys, temper seething.

‘Key, you’re worrying me, bro. Say something.’

‘There’s a sequence.’ Kieran strove for cool and rational; if he kept talking maybe he wouldn’t have to face up to failing. ‘The students that we’ve noted as absent—when they come back, they all improve in their performance.’

‘So, what are you saying? Whatever is happening to them while they are away does not harm, but helps? Like they are getting extra tuition or something?’

‘I cannot support that conclusion at this time; I’m simply giving you the facts. Denzil Hardcastle—crashed out of his GCSEs, thanks to a preference for joyriding rather than studying. Left with all A*s in his A levels. Talented but volatile footballer, Mohammed Khan, went from police caution for violent disorder to school team captain. Anger issues solved, he was headhunted by Chelsea to play for their junior team. Jenny-May Parker caught in possession of Class A drugs, came back with a squeaky clean attitude and is now at Harvard studying Law.’ Kieran called their profiles up in rapid succession, jabbing the keyboard with restless fingers. ‘They are the most obvious examples but all of the students show some level of improvement in one or more areas of their school record. All their parents are down on our list.’

‘That’s interesting.’ Joe was looking at him strangely, like Kieran was an unexploded bomb he was working out how to defuse.

‘Cross referenced to our mission data, you’ll find that all of them connect to some recent corrupt behaviour from their parents—a contract granted when others in the field had the edge, a political decision that swayed against expectations, a promotion that seemed out of context.’

‘So the students start acting normally and their parents are the ones freaking out?’

‘I’ll have to keep digging but I don’t think anyone is acting within usual parameters.’

‘Agreed.’ Joe hovered beside him, trying to see his face. ‘Key, what’s up?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Now that’s just not true, bro.’

‘I walked out of Dance, OK? I wasn’t ill.’

‘Walked out? But you never give up on anything!’

‘Then your joke misfired.’ Kieran erased his search history and closed down the computer. ‘I’m not some dancing bear to be tormented for your kicks and giggles.’

‘Key, we never meant it like that. It was supposed to be … well, funny. You’re so perfect all the time, so sure of yourself, that we thought you’d stumble along and look … ’ Joe shrugged. ‘You know.’

‘Like a total prat. I do, so “ha-ha”. You guys just crease me up with your sense of humour.’ He’d been made to look an idiot—and in front of Raven. The corrosive power of his rage ate at his usual control. ‘I’m going out. Don’t follow me.’

Joe held up his hands. ‘OK, OK. Where are you going?’

‘That is none of your business.’

‘When will you be back?’

‘Who says I’m coming back?’

Kieran felt good slamming the door on Joe. It wasn’t rational but he enjoyed the vicious drama of the moment. He turned into the school gardens, taking rapid, even strides down the yew hedge walk. OK, OK, enough. He needed his control or he couldn’t think straight. He had to regain his grip, deny that Raven had got under his skin. He reached for his mental retreat to calm down, thinking through the collection of newly discovered mathematical equations he had read on the University of Cambridge website. He immediately felt much better. Once calm, he would work out how he had come to fail at something for the first time in his life.