The Ability (Ability, The) (28 page)

Ron and John made their way over to the goal line at the other end from the flag.

“I’ll go first,” said Ron. “Person to reach the target in the shortest time wins, agreed?”

“Agreed,” said John, and the two men shook hands.

“Ready?” asked Ron, turning to Daisy. Daisy nodded.

“Three . . . two . . . one . . . go!”
she shouted.

Ron ran off to the left and threw himself on the ground, landing catlike on all fours, and then rolled three times before ducking down behind a large bin that was being pelted by the balls that Sebastian was firing off from his position at the other end of the pitch. Ron’s eyes darted about, and then he suddenly jumped up and ran, zigzagging his way across to the right side of the field. He turned his head and saw that a ball coming from Lexi’s pile was within inches of hitting his leg. Drawing from his years of martial-arts training, Ron jumped up, pulling his knees into his chest, and then, having avoided the ball, fell to the ground with a roll. He leaped up, ran a few yards, and then did a backflip to avoid another hit.

As Ron made his way from one obstacle to the next, Chris, who was last in the line, got ready to attack. He looked down at the pile of balls and concentrated his mind on them. Immediately the balls all rose up from the ground and arranged themselves in a neat line, hovering gently. Chris waited, watching the balls, until Ron appeared from behind an obstacle next to him. Beside him, Philip was firing balls furiously at Ron—who managed to avoid every one—and then the last ball disappeared and Chris took over.

Chris, with a determined look on his face, began his onslaught, firing the balls one by one with as much force as he could let his mind imagine.

“Come on, Chris—get him!”
shouted Rex.

The balls flew fast and furious, smashing into the obstacles, but not one managed to hit Ron, who was ducking, diving, rolling, and leaping from one side of the pitch to the other. Finally there was only one ball left. Chris waited as Ron ran toward the flag and then released the ball, watching as it flew in a straight line. Ron turned his head just in time and jumped over it, then flew forward onto the ground, arms outstretched, fingers touching the base of the flag.

“Forty-eight seconds!”
called Daisy.

Ron jumped up and smiled. He ran over to John, who had watched the entire episode with his arms folded and no expression on his face.

“You can give up now, if you want to save yourself the humiliation,” said Ron.

“I’ll give it a go,” said John. “Just to check, the winner
is the quickest person to get to the flag from here—is that right, Ron?”

“That’s right, John.”

John turned to face the flag and waited as Chris, Rex, Lexi, Philip, and Sebastian retrieved all the balls using their Ability. Once the balls were all hovering in the air, John turned to Daisy and nodded his head.

“Three . . . two . . . one . . . go!”
shouted Daisy.

Chris watched from the corner of his eye as John began to walk in a straight line toward the flag. Sebastian fired off the first ball, but John didn’t even look round to see where it was heading. Instead John maintained a steady stride and continued walking straight ahead, not even flinching as the ball smacked into his shoulder.

Watching from the sidelines, Ron’s face dropped as the barrage of balls flew in John’s direction and then bounced off his gigantic frame until he became just a blurred mass of colorful dots moving slowly and steadily without a break in pace or direction. Moments later John reached the other side, and as the last ball hit him, he calmly placed his hand on the flag.

“Sixteen seconds!”
called Daisy.

John turned around and smiled as Ron ran over to him, bright red and fuming.

“You
cheated
,” said Ron, furious.

“I don’t think you’ll find that to be true, Ron,” said John calmly. “You were very specific—winner is the first person to reach the flag. You didn’t mention the balls.”

“I didn’t need to mention the balls; it was obvious,” protested Ron.

“That’s precisely the kind of thinking that gets people killed, Ron,” said John.

Ron looked as if he were about to explode with frustration. He clenched his teeth and, without saying anything to anybody, stormed off.

“Thanks for all your help,” said John, turning to face the pupils.

“No problem!” said Rex. “That was
amazing
! Let us know if you come up with any other bets.”

“Will do,” said John, giving a small salute. “Right, Ron, so what you making me for dinner tonight? Remember, it’s got to be three courses,” he called out as Ron disappeared around the hill.

John waved and walked off to catch up with Ron, leaving Chris and the others laughing.

That Sunday, while most other children were enjoying their day off school, the pupils of Myers Holt were working hard in Ms. Lamb’s lesson after an exhausting hour in the Dome running an obstacle course that Mr. Green had set up for them. As Ms. Lamb tapped her desk with a ruler to keep time, they all recited, in unison, the order of the buildings on the mind map, but, though this was something they did every day, Chris kept losing track. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Wake up, boy!” shouted Ms. Lamb, slamming her hand hard down on Chris’s desk.

Chris jumped.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” said Chris, desperately trying to remember where they were.

“What room is next?” said Ms. Lamb, glaring down at him.

“I . . . uh . . . ,” hesitated Chris. He looked around for help.

Surprise,
mouthed Philip.

“Oh, yeah, the next building is Surprise and Confusion,” said Chris, turning back to Ms. Lamb.

Ms. Lamb didn’t look impressed.

“And what street is that on?”

“Emotions Avenue,” said Chris. Ms. Lamb walked away from his desk.

“After Surprise and Confusion we come to the building housing the memories of what?”

“Jealousy,” said the children in unison.

“Very well, continue from there,” said Ms. Lamb. She started tapping her desk with the ruler and counted the children in: “Three . . . two . . . one.”

“Embarrassment . . . Pain . . . Happiness . . . Excitement and Joy . . . Fears and Phobias . . .”

“Turn left!”

“People Street . . . Family . . . Brief Encounters . . . Old Acquaintances . . . Famous People . . . Strangers . . .”

As he recited the names of the buildings, Chris’s mind began to wander once more toward thoughts of Frank at the pawnbroker’s, waiting for him to turn up, and how angry he would be at having placed his trust in him. Chris had been determined to keep his promise, but as the day had neared, his resolve had begun to wane, and the reality of sneaking out was unnerving to him.

In the Map Room, after lunch, he confessed his uncertainty to Philip, who was quick to agree with him.

“You could get thrown out of here if you get caught. It’s not worth it,” whispered Philip.

“What are you two whispering about?” said Lexi, looking over from the sofa.

“Nothing,” said Chris abruptly.

“All right, keep your hair on—not interested anyway,” said Lexi, turning back to the television.

“I just feel bad—I promised him I’d be there. He lent me money,” whispered Chris.

“What did you borrow money from him for?” asked Philip.

Chris had forgotten that, apart from Daisy, they all believed he was rich. “It’s a long story,” said Chris. “The thing is, I never break a promise—” Chris suddenly heard a ringing in his ears. As quickly as he could, he began to recite “London Bridge Is Falling Down” in his head. The ringing stopped immediately.

“What promise did you break?” asked Lexi. Chris and Philip looked around at her, and she smiled mischievously. “No point in having the Ability if you’re not going to use it. You’ll have to stop me quicker than that. So, what’s the promise?”

“What promise?” asked Sebastian, walking over from the pool table.

Chris hesitated, but before he had a chance to think of an answer, Philip jumped in.

“He promised his mum he’d eat five pieces of fruit every day, but he forgot to do it yesterday,” explained Philip.

Chris looked at Philip and gave him a
what are you talking about?
look. Philip shrugged.

“Best I could do,” said Philip under his breath.

“We won’t tell if you don’t, mummy’s boy,” said Rex, from across the room.

“Right, yeah, thanks,” said Chris.

“No, no!” said Sebastian, walking over to them. “A man is only as good as his word. And you never must break promises to your mother—she gave you life. I go procure
ten
pieces of fruit for you now; then you will make up your promise.” Sebastian walked out of the room.

“It doesn’t matter if you didn’t mean to break the promise,” said Daisy kindly, looking up from the book she was reading. “Just start again today.”

Chris thought for a moment. “No, Sebastian’s right. I gave my word. I’ve got to do it.”

“All right, if you’re sure,” said Philip.

“This should be fun to watch,” said Rex as Sebastian walked back into the room with two bunches of bananas.

•  •  •

That evening, after a dinner that Chris barely touched—his stomach still full of bananas—Chris told the rest of the group that he was too tired to join them in the Map Room for their film night and that he was going to bed. He went into his bedroom, grabbed a pile of clothes from his wardrobe, climbed up to his bed, and then stuffed them all under his duvet, arranging them carefully so that it looked like he was under the covers, asleep. He tiptoed down the hallway—unnecessarily, given that the Map Room door was closed and the loud soundtrack of explosions and cars screeching from Rex’s chosen film filled the air. Chris opened the door into the entrance hall and walked past the
elevator down another hallway until he reached the first door. He knocked loudly.

“Come in!” said John’s voice.

Chris turned the handle, but as he did so, he felt himself become suddenly very nervous. It was one thing sneaking out, he thought, but it was another thing entirely to have to lie to Ron and John to do it. He was about to change his mind, and then, convincing himself that it was just a small lie that was needed to do something good, he entered Ron and John’s quarters for the first time.

Inside, he found that John and Ron were in the middle of a game of cards. The room was small and sparsely furnished. In one corner, next to a closed door, was a filing cabinet with a television showing an old black-and-white war film, and next to it were two lockers—one decorated with certificates and the other plastered with hundreds of pictures of a white poodle. Chris was pretty sure he could work out who each locker belonged to. Looking up, Chris saw a row of screens that were linked to the security cameras. Chris quickly scanned them and noted the two he was most concerned about—the one showing the entrance foyer and the other showing a dark picture of the street outside.

“Everything all right, Chris?” said John, putting the cards he was holding down on the small wooden table.

“I think so,” said Chris, hoping they wouldn’t notice his face turning red. “It’s just . . .”

“What?” asked Ron, jumping up.

“I heard a strange noise coming from the Dome. I think there might be someone in there.”

Chris was grateful not to have to say anything more as Ron jumped up from the table and pulled a truncheon out from the utility belt he was wearing. “Probably a break-in, John, let’s go.”

“Don’t get excited, Ron; it’s probably just a pipe,” said John, who nevertheless stood up. “Go back to the Map Room with the others and don’t worry about anything,” he said to Chris. “We’ll have a look. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Thanks,” said Chris, feeling terrible.
At least
, he thought,
they’ll probably never find out
.

He followed Ron and John out of their room and watched as they sped off toward the Dome; then, as soon as they disappeared from view, Chris quickly ran over to the elevator and pressed the button. The doors opened, and Chris entered the kitchen. He pressed his thumb to the handle of the kettle, and the doors closed behind him.

Knowing that he probably didn’t have very long before Ron and John returned to their room, Chris stepped out of the elevator when the doors opened at street level and ran over to the front door. He opened it and stepped out. Immediately he was hit by the piercing cold of the winter air and drew in a sharp breath. He looked down at his bare arms and realized how inappropriately he was dressed, but he knew it was too late to go back down for a jacket. Unsure if it would work, Chris closed his eyes and imagined himself getting warmer, and almost immediately he felt his temperature rise as if the harsh wind had transformed into warm rays of sun hitting his skin. He looked around to check that the coast was clear, then ran down the steps and along the pavement in the direction of Oxford Street.

•  •  •

“Going to the beach?” asked the taxi driver, looking at Chris in the rearview mirror.