The Mute and the Liar (8 page)

Smack.

The
door
swung
straight
into
a
figure
on
the
other
side,
who
cried
out
in
pain,
followed
by
a
long
series
of
swearwords,
and
then
appeared
to
start
kicking
the
door
to
make
it
pay
for
hurting
him.
Apparently,
by
the
sounds
of
his
shouting,
that
didn’t
help;
instead
it
just
hurt
him
even more.

Taking
a
deep
breath,
standing
tall,
hugging
the
notebook
with
one
hand
and
brandishing
the
cactus
above
my
head
with
the
other,
I
slipped
into
the
room.

Keeled
over
in front
of
me
was
The
Ringleader.

What
annoyed
me
the
most
was
that
hanging
off
the
end
of
his
hand
was
a
bag of
lettuce.
Or
should
I
say
my
bag of
lettuce.

He
was
going
to
steal my
bag
of
lettuce!

Good
thing
I
got
to
the
crime
scene just
in
time.

He
jumped
up
when
he
saw
me,
but
clutched
his
leg,
and
winced
a
little.
A
look
of
irritation
sculpted
itself
onto
his
freckled
face.
I
didn’t
expect
his
reaction.
I
thought
he
might
shout,
scramble
away,
cower
before
the
life-
threatening cactus...

He just
looked
a
little
annoyed.

“
Why have you got
to
be
so
damn
punctual?
”

*****

Wait,
what?

The
words
finally
sunk
in,
and
I
suddenly
felt
angry.
I
wanted
him
to
run
away,
beg
for
mercy,
scream
and
pray
for
forgiveness
at
exactly
the
same
time.
I
did
not
want
him
to
complain
about
me coming
home
on time.
He
had
no
right
to
be
complaining.
If
anyone
was
to
be
complaining,
it
should
have
been me
-
he was the one who had broken into my house!

“
Well,
this
is
just
absolutely
brilliant,
”
he
murmured
to
himself.
“
You’re
already here, and all I’ve
stolen
so
far
is
some
bloody
salad.
”

He
let
go
of
his
leg
and
straightened
up,
before
stepping
closer
to
me.
I
suddenly
noticed
he
was
a
few
inches
taller
than
me,
and
his
white
t-shirt
clung tightly
to
his
muscular
body.

He’s
strong.

That
was
the
stupid
thought
that
gripped
me.
It
was
the
only
thing
I
was
thinking
about.
I
was
not
thinking
about
how
a
stranger
had
broken
into
my
house.
Not
about
how
a
smirking,
salad-stealing
hooligan
had
broken
into
my
house.

Wow. Hooligan.
What
an
awesome
word.

Dammit,
now
I’m
thinking
about
the
word
‘hooligan’
and
not
thinking
about
how
a
real one
has
just broken
into
my
house.

Maybe
I
hadn’t
thought
this
through…

My
mind
raced
through
all
the
possible
solutions
to
this
problem.
My
phone
was
in
my
school
bag
upstairs.
Obviously,
I
didn’t
call
anyone,
but
it
was
just
so
I
could
contact
father
if
I
was
in
trouble.
I
was
pretty
sure
I
was
in
trouble
right
now.

I
could
run
upstairs
and
text
father.
That
was
one
idea
that
popped
into
my
mind.
But
then
I
remembered
that
father
is
at
work
and
his
workplace
is
quite
a
distance
away.
He
can’t
get
home
in
less
than
an
hour.
Frantically,
I
searched
around
the
room,
and
caught
sight
of
a
coat
hanger
lying
on
a
chair
nearby.
I
could
poke the
criminal’s
eyes
out…

But
before
I
had
a
chance
to
even
think
about
this
option,
he
took
another
step closer
to
me.

Instinctively,
I
shielded
myself
with
the
cactus.
He
looked
at
it
and
grinned.

“
You
were
going
to
attack me
with
that?
”
he
said
incredulously,
and
when
he saw my serious
expression,
he shattered
into
laughter.

I stood
there
whilst he
laughed
at me
for
what felt
like
months.

I
could feel anger
burning right through me.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

He
calmed
down,
waited
for
a
few
seconds,
then
suddenly
shot
into
laughter
once
more.

That
did
it.

I
slapped
the
cactus
over
his
head.
That
got
him
to
stop
laughing.

“
Ouch!
What
was
that
for?
he
grimaced,
clutching his head and
wincing.

“
Anyway, l
et’s get the
awkward introduction stage out of the way. You’re
Alicia. And I’m
a
thief. Pleased to meet you.
”

He
held
out
his
hand
to
shake
mine,
but
I
stared
at
it
like
it
w
a
s
a
fat,
hairy
tarantula.

“
So...
how
are
you
?
”
he
says
pleasantly,
as
though
we
are
old
friends
meeting
up
for
a
cup
of
tea.
I
try
to
give
him
a
blank
look,
but
I
can
feel
the
look
of
fear
crawling
uncontrollably
all
over
my
face.
A
long,
painful
silence
followed.
You
could
almost
hear
tumbleweed
rolling
across
the
corridor.