What I Saw Page 2

  I peer across the concrete and lawn, trying to make out figures in the shadows, but there’s no movement. Maybe it was my imagination.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ I whisper.

  Rhett’s raised hand cuts off anything else I might have said. We both strain to listen over the gusting wind but the only sound is the music from inside. Inside, where Bree is probably looking for me. Jonny might even have arrived.

  A flush of heat, a lot like guilt, washes over me when I think of my no-show long-distance boyfriend. I shake it off. It’s not as though I planned to be out here with Rhett. And nothing’s happened, except me making a fool of myself.

  ‘You said you’d be my date.’ The girl’s voice is a whine on the next gust of wind, distorted by distance and the bad music behind us. ‘You said you loved me.’

  Her words echo through me. It’s not so different to what I’d say to Jonny, if he was here.

  ‘Baby, we’re together now.’ The boy’s voice is almost impossible to make out, except that I’m listening so hard I’m not even breathing. It’s slimy and creepy and I want to tell her to run as far and as fast from him as she can, but my lips stay pressed together and I don’t move.

  Rhett is equally still beside me.

  Does he hear the sleaze in the guy’s voice? Or is it the kind of line he’d use? Uses? I’ve never seen Rhett talk to any girl other than his sister and then only to tell her off or escort her home. He doesn’t loiter around school much at all. Bree once said she’d heard he was in a gang.

  There’s laughter and the scrape of several shoes on concrete as two figures in suits emerge from around the side of the art centre and walk beneath one of the few lights. They’re unsteady on their feet. A stumble becomes a push, and then a wrestle. Drunk footballers, I bet.

  And they’re about to wander into the path of the couple we overheard.

  ‘Glad you could make it.’ The boy greets the others with a friendly slap on the shoulder. ‘Told you she’d be waiting for me.’

  My belly lurches. They arranged this? The girl says something, but it’s impossible to hear over the wind.

  There’s laughter. And then the girl’s voice, suddenly clear now as the wind drops: ‘Let me go.’

  CHAPTER

  2

  Rhett

  What the fuck? That’s Scarlett’s voice.

  I’m on my feet and striding towards it before I can think about whether it’s a good idea. Damn it to hell. I told her she shouldn’t have come.

  ‘No—’ Her cry splits the night.

  My chest constricts. I’m running. The pounding of my sneakers on the concrete matches the thudding of my heart. The past blurs with the present. I have to help her. I have to.

  ‘I’m coming,’ I shout. But a gust of wind whips the words from my mouth and not one of the boys in penguin suits turns my way. Not one of them moves an inch.

  I close the distance with my hands already balled into fists.

  Scarlett’s tiny compared to the boys. Pressed back against the wall, her eyes wide and her make-up streaked, she sees me before they do. Her head moves. A shake. Telling me she can handle it.

  Could have fooled me.

  She’s surrounded by half the football team and the biggest, dumbest oaf of them all, Hayden Chapman, has his ape hand on her shoulder. My little sister’s pale shoulder. He’s talking to her, coaxing.

  I reach the smallest of the three boys first, shoving him aside to get to Hayden. ‘Leave her alone.’

  Hayden turns. His shirt is untucked, sleeves rolled up. He grins, revealing expensive teeth, white and shining in the dim light. ‘You want to play too?’

  The others laugh. The sound is a hammer drill down my spine.

  Scarlett shakes her head again, sharper this time. ‘I can handle this.’ It’s a warning and a reminder.

  I ignore her.

  Hayden drops his hand from Scarlett and forms a meaty fist. He takes a staggering step my way as the other two close in behind me. I can feel their hot breath on the back of my neck.

  ‘This has nothing to do with you,’ he says.

  I force my shoulders to relax. Keep a desperate leash on my temper. I nod at Scarlett. ‘Actually, it does. My sister said no.’

  Hayden takes another step my way and his lip curls. ‘But tramps like her always mean yes.’

  I ignore the words, fight the red haze telling me to stop him speaking at any cost. I’m in control. I focus on my sister cowering against the wall. ‘Run. Now.’

  She doesn’t listen. She never listens. Instead of using the gap that’s opened up behind Hayden, she takes a hesitant step closer and wraps her hands around his bicep, still thinking she can save this. ‘Don’t be mad,’ she murmurs.

  ‘I’m not mad,’ he growls.

  She nods, placating him. ‘Send the others away and Rhett will go too. Please don’t fight.’

  Hayden shakes her off, sending her to the ground with one shrug. He smirks as she lands in the mud and dirty water seeps up the white lace creation she spent so long hand-stitching. His beady eyes return to me, watching for my reaction. ‘She likes it,’ he says without looking at Scarlett.

  Scarlett is still on the ground. She seems frozen and makes no move to get up. Fear shines in her eyes, but it’s not directed towards the arsehole who just shoved her. It’s me she’s scared of, my temper. She wants to protect her precious Hayden, even now.

  For a second I imagine the feeling of the cartilage and bone in his nose collapsing beneath my fist. But I’m not going to hit him. A fight with this dickhead will only get me into trouble. And Scarlett’s still watching.

  ‘If you let her go, I’ll walk away.’ The words stick in my throat, but I say them anyway.

  The idiots behind me edge closer, waiting for the signal to attack. Hayden laughs. His friends echo him. ‘You’ll walk away. Like you have a choice.’ He waves at the figures behind me. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, you and your whore sister are outnumbered.’

  I clench my teeth together and breathe through my nose, then deliberately uncurl my hands. ‘I don’t want to fight you.’

  ‘Scared, huh?’

  ‘No.’

  My steady answer isn’t what he was looking for. He nods at his pals and they grab my arms, twisting them behind my back. The boys are sweaty, and rank with the odour of cheap cologne. One yanks my arm above my shoulder so high it brings tears to my eyes.

  Scarlett moves at last. She pushes herself up off the ground, and when Hayden looks her way she says, ‘I’m okay,’ as if he wasn’t the reason she was on the ground in the first place. She looks at me. ‘Rhett, don’t fight them. Just let it go, please?’

  It’s not like I have a hell of a lot of choice. ‘As soon as you leave.’

  Hayden grabs her arm. He’s clumsy and she winces, trying to get free. ‘That hurts.’

  When he doesn’t release his grip, her eyes narrow in a glare that should terrify him, but he’s too busy smirking at me to notice.

  I take a deep breath, employing one of the anger management techniques I was once forced to memorise, and count backwards from ten. ‘Let. Her. Go.’

  Hayden shifts. He might have been hungry for sex before, but now the gleam in his eyes is all about violence. The desire to inflict pain distorts his mouth and bulges from his bloodshot eyes. I’m not walking away from this without a fight. Unless … I think of the girl I left behind in the shadows. Callie Jones. The school captain is just the kind of goody-two-shoes who would go get a teacher at the first sign of a fight. Surely. Maybe someone will come and finish this before it starts.

  ‘No,’ says Hayden. He releases Scarlett’s arm and slides his hand over her shoulder instead. ‘Like mother, like daughter,’ he sneers. ‘Maybe I’ll try the senior version once I’ve finished with your sister. Your mum probably has a few extra tricks from experience.’

  Scarlett’s face crumples and she ducks out from under Hayden’s touch. ‘You jerk.’

  I’ve already taken a ste
p forward before I catch myself. Damn.

  He laughs. ‘And like father, like son.’

  This time I don’t react. He’s not telling me anything I haven’t said to my reflection a million times.

  He steps closer, leaving Scarlett behind him, fuming. His mates crowd in behind me.

  I exhale hard, forcing tense muscles to loosen in readiness. Balancing evenly on the balls of my feet, I wait for Hayden to throw the first punch. Whatever happens from here, I’m not going to be accused of starting this.

  Just finishing it.

  Hayden hesitates. He’s so sure of his win he’s savouring the anticipation.

  The boy to my left holds my wrist, his hands slippery with sweat. In their excitement they’ve loosened their hold. ‘Hit him,’ he squeaks.

  I focus on Hayden, waiting for his move. There it is. A nod at his mate, a ridiculous wind-up that telegraphs his intention, and a lumbering swing at my head. I weave sideways and pull my arms free. His fist scrapes my shoulder. I let his momentum carry him forward and plant a satisfying blow to his kidneys.

  Then it’s on.

  Hayden roars at the impact. Comes at me with both arms swinging. I dodge.

  He snarls. ‘Kill him.’

  I feel the blow coming. A movement of air. A coward’s hit from behind. I drop my right knee, shift my weight out of range. Hours of training in the ring make it automatic. A real boxer would compensate and follow my movement. But these are only drunk footballers. Something flies past my ear, just as Hayden’s face looms in my vision.

  There’s a crack of bone.

  A grunt.

  Hayden drops like he’s been snipered.

  Then silence. No-one moves. The idiot behind me is breathing in excitable gasps. The idiot who’s just knocked out his friend.

  ‘What the fuck did you do that for?’ The other boy, Timmy, a dark-haired version of Hayden, is the first to speak. He shoves the culprit in the chest. The kid falls on his backside. He sits there in the mud, cradling his hand. A child in a suit trying to act like he’s a man.

  Real men don’t brawl. I hear my boss Javier’s lecture, as clear as if he’s opposite me in the ring, daring me to quit. But I don’t bother to pass my boss’s wisdom on to the kid.

  That punch was meant for me.

  I take three steps to leave before I notice my sister kneeling at Hayden’s side. She didn’t leave when the fighting started. Why am I not surprised? She’s the only one checking on him, calling his name, while the boy on the ground swears at Timmy.

  ‘Scarlett.’ I wait for her to look up. ‘It’s time for us to go.’ She ignores me, as usual. I take another step towards freedom and then turn back and crouch beside her.

  ‘Let’s go. This isn’t our problem.’

  ‘He’s not waking up,’ she whispers.

  I roll him onto his side, struggling with the dead weight. Despite the low light, the swelling of his left cheek is obvious. I slap his other cheek lightly but there’s no response.

  Shit.

  I look over at the bickering boys. ‘Hey. Call an ambulance.’

  I hear Timmy on his phone behind me as I’m trying to remember every bit of first-aid I’ve ever seen on TV.

  The kid who threw the punch is talking to himself. Crying. Drunken sobs interspersed with wiping away snot. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to. Sorry.’

  I can’t think. ‘Shut up.’

  It works. Scarlett leans close and presses her ear to Hayden’s chest. Her big eyes look up at me. ‘He’s breathing.’

  ‘The ambulance is on its way.’ Timmy stands above us. Legs wide apart, arms crossed. ‘They said to make sure his airway’s clear.’

  I eyeball Hayden’s open mouth. ‘How?’

  Timmy shrugs. ‘Don’t know. Battery died.’

  He doesn’t move to help. There’s only one thing for it. I tug at Hayden’s jaw and stick my fingers inside his wet, warm food-hole, trying not to gag. Scarlett watches on, concern making her pale.

  ‘If he bites me, I’ll never forgive you.’

  She ignores me.

  I feel around, then wipe my hand on Hayden’s shirt, not unhappy with the mark I leave behind. ‘Nothing as far as I can tell.’

  ‘What are you kids doing?’ The barked question comes from near the stairs. It’s the school principal, Mr Anderson—Ando—moving at a speed I would have thought impossible for someone of his girth.

  The muscles across my back tighten like I’m swinging from a rope. Scarlett’s hand on my wrist tells me to keep quiet but I don’t need to be told.

  He stops by Hayden’s feet. ‘What happened here?’

  ‘He’s unconscious,’ says Scarlett.

  Ando’s jaw drops. He leans over Hayden’s still form, blinking dumbly.

  ‘The ambulance is coming,’ I offer quietly.

  ‘An ambulance? What did you kids do? Have you been drinking?’ His nose twitches as he takes in me and my sister. ‘Barker. I should have known this would have something to do with you.’

  The kid on the ground stares between me and the principal. And I actually see the second hope comes to him. His eyes clear and the lines creasing his forehead smooth. He points with a shaking hand. At me.

  ‘He did it. He hit him.’

  ‘No.’ I stand. Stare Ando down. ‘I didn’t.’ I want to sound strong but the steel band of fear around my chest makes the words a wheeze.

  Scarlett is at my side. ‘Rhett’s telling the truth.’

  Ando looks to Timmy, the only other witness here. He hesitates. The other kid pleads with him silently, but I’m not going to beg.

  ‘It was Rhett.’

  I should have known. Hang around to help and get screwed by everyone.

  Any further inquisition is interrupted by the ambulance. It speeds through the school, sirens blaring. Two paramedics hop out and head straight for Hayden. They move together in a kind of dance, one checking his pulse, the other his airway, with far less revulsion than when I did it. However, she’s wearing gloves.

  One of the officers approaches. ‘What happened here?’

  No-one speaks.

  ‘We want to help your friend. Were there drugs involved?’

  Timmy glances at Ando, who’s not paying us any attention. ‘No drugs. Just a couple of drinks and a fight. It was one punch.’

  The ambulance officer shakes his head. ‘One is enough.’ He returns to his colleagues.

  A crowd has gathered by now. Students in their fancy clothes push and shove to try to see what’s happening. There’s a hum of conversation.

  ‘It’s Hayden.’ Whoever speaks is shushed by a glare from a teacher.

  There’s a cry. A dark-haired girl in a green dress pushes her way through the crowd. It’s Bree Madden, Hayden’s girlfriend. Tears shine on her cheeks as she stumbles across the concrete before throwing herself at the stretcher. She presses against his unconscious body before the ambulance people edge her away.

  My thoughts return to Callie Jones. She’s usually attached to Bree, but she’s been noticeably absent this whole time. Maybe it’s all a bit messy for the Ice Princess.

  Within minutes, Hayden is being loaded into the back of the ambulance. The male paramedic crosses to where we stand, separate from the rest of the students and staff. ‘What exactly happened here?’ he asks. It’s a general question, but he’s looking to the principal for answers.

  Ando pauses. He might not like me much but he’s smart. He won’t make an accusation that won’t stick. ‘The school will be looking into it.’

  The paramedic frowns. ‘The police will have to be involved.’

  The bulge in Ando’s throat rises and falls rapidly. I know he’s wondering what effect this will have on the school. In a town like ours, reputation is everything.

  And correct procedure doesn’t always have to be followed. Not if you know someone.

  Ando steps forward and puts a friendly arm around the paramedic’s shoulder, leading him away from the rest of us.

  �
��Trust me. Sergeant Peters is already on his way out here. He’s a good friend. You put in your report and I’ll talk directly to him about the matter.’

  The young guy hesitates, looks over his shoulder at us. ‘Someone needs to speak to the witnesses.’

  Ando turns him back towards the waiting ambulance. ‘You concentrate on getting that injured child to hospital. I’ll take it from here.’

  The paramedic holds his ground. But only for a moment. The arrival of a police car with flashing lights and siren blaring seems to decide him. That and his partner calling for him to hurry. Moments later the ambulance is gone, and Bree with it.

  ‘She wangled a ride,’ Scarlett murmurs an answer to my unspoken question. ‘She must be devastated.’ There’s a hitch in her voice and I squeeze her closer before letting her go.

  I’m bracing for an inquisition from Sergeant Peters. It’s not like it’ll be our first conversation. But my mental preparation is wasted when Ando corners him at the car. They shake hands, speak in low voices, and then a minute later the car drives off into the night.

  The hope I didn’t realise I’d been holding, that there might actually be a proper investigation, vanishes with the tail-lights. My gut lands somewhere near my runners. I should have known. I hate this town.

  Ando focuses on the gathered crowd. He adopts an air of solemnity, so different to his anger of moments ago, showing the school’s reputation to be his only real concern. He clears his throat. ‘There’s been a terrible accident here tonight.’ His head swivels, embracing all present in his gaze. ‘The school will be doing everything it can to determine exactly what happened. For now, the dance is over. Please leave the school grounds and go home. Anyone who believes they have something to contribute to the investigation, please come to my office first thing Monday.’

  With Hayden gone and the lights on in the gym, students begin to disperse even before Ando finishes speaking.

  ‘Monday?’ I sputter.

  Ando turns back. ‘Do you have a problem with that, Mr Barker?’

  Timmy and the kid have been talking softly, probably deciding on the story that will stitch me up.