Mercy Point Page 14

  ‘Don’t daydream, bello,’ his mother said. ‘Finish up or you’ll be late!’

  ‘I’m never late for school, Ma,’ he said. ‘I’m early every single day.’

  ‘I’ll have to see that to believe it!’ his father called.

  His family was forgetting he wasn’t one of them. It was his parents who were always racing around at the last minute looking for their keys. It was Gina and Connie who would beg for a lift because they’d lost track of time. Not him. He was always at school at least ten minutes early.

  He went to the sink to rinse off his plate. His mother’s red leather handbag was on the counter, open. Her phone was on top of the piles of junk she kept inside it. His father hummed as he cooked, his back to Fabian, folding over the simmering eggs. All he would have to do was reach in, grab it then put it in his pocket. Then they could use it to tell Michael’s father about the meeting. Don’t overthink it, just do it, show Michael you’re a real man, he thought, and just like that he grasped the cold silver phone in his hand and shoved it into his pocket, his heart hammering.

  As he unlocked his bike from the side gate, he started feeling guilty. What if his mother got a really important phone call? What if she was late to work because she was looking for it and one of her patients needed her? And, worst of all, what if she figured out it was him?

  ‘Bet you’ve had a better breakfast than me, Jeff,’ a voice said. It was Michael’s voice. Fabian had bent down to undo his helmet from his bike’s front wheel, so Michael must not have seen him over the fence. He straightened up slightly, peering over the wooden palings. Michael was sitting on his back steps, patting Fabian’s cat. It was a cold, still morning and Michael’s voice cut through the silence in the air.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘it’ll be okay. I’ll work it out somehow.’

  Fabian had never heard Michael’s voice sound like that before. It was soft and gentle, and filled with so much sadness. Fabian ducked down again. He had a feeling Michael wouldn’t appreciate an audience right now. He heard a sigh, then the squeak of Michael’s back door open and close as he went inside. Fabian pulled up his hood over his helmet and jumped onto his bike, rubbing his hands together, which were turning slightly grey from the cold. He got on his bike and pushed off, not sure exactly what to think about what he had just seen.

  Time moved slowly. All day he was conscious of his mother’s phone in his bag. He’d turned it off so no one would call, but still it felt so wrong to have it in his possession. Finally it was society and culture, the last class of the day. After this, they’d be going to Michael’s house. The plan would be put into action and there would be no turning back.

  He sat in his regular seat near the front and pulled out his books. Michael came in a few minutes later and took his usual spot, directly across from where Emma sat. He noticed the way Michael’s eyes kept flicking over to her. Just as Mrs Van Leuen was about to start the lesson, Tessie walked in. She looked different. It took him a second to realise what was different. She was wearing a yellow T-shirt. Now he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her wear a bright colour. Fabian smiled at her, but expected her to keep walking like she usually did, to the very back of the class. Instead, she plonked down next to him.

  Leaning over, she whispered in his ear, ‘I think I dreamed about sexy vampires last night.’

  Fabian clamped his hand over his mouth to stop from snorting with laughter as Mrs Van Leuen began talking.

  ‘Okay, now before we forget, can everyone get their essays? No excuses, I’ve reminded you about this all week.’

  The teacher went to the other side of the class and began making her way around to pick up their essays. As Fabian reached into his bag to grab his essay, which he’d completed only half-heartedly last night after work, he felt his phone vibrate.

  M.Dot: Oh no! I totally forgot about it!

  Fabian looked at him, then over to Emma, who was very conspicuously looking into her lap.

  PumpkinDreams: Run.

  He watched as Emma threw her phone back into her bag and looked up at the teacher. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Van Leuen.’

  Mrs Van Leuen turned to Emma, which meant her back was facing Michael. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I just had a question about the essay?’

  Emma’s expression was the picture of innocence. Fabian looked over at Michael and gave him a look. Go, he mouthed. Michael seemed like he could hardly believe it.

  ‘Yes,’ Mrs Van Leuen said again, folding her arms in front of her. When Emma had a question, it could often end in a debate that went on for ages.

  Michael silently pushed back his chair and stood.

  ‘Sorry?’ Emma looked at the teacher like she was insane.

  ‘What?’ Mrs Van Leuen said impatiently.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The question?’

  Michael squeezed Fabian’s shoulder as he passed and stealthily slipped out the door. By then, all of the class was noticing what was happening. They were looking incredulously between Emma and Michael. None more so than Tom and Rain.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, it doesn’t matter.’

  Mrs Van Leuen shook her head, looking seriously confused. She took Emma’s essay out of her hand and continued around the rest of the class. After only a few seconds, she noticed Michael’s empty seat.

  ‘Where’s Michael?’

  For a moment, the whole class was silent. Then Tessie straightened and said, ‘He’s off sick today.’

  ‘What do you mean? He was here just a minute ago.’

  Fabian looked at the teacher as though she was crazy. ‘No, he hasn’t been in all day.’

  ‘I heard he’s got scabies,’ Emma said from across the room.

  Mrs Van Leuen looked at Tom, who was sitting next to Michael’s empty seat.

  ‘Is that right, Tom?’

  Tom looked around at them all, looking dumber than usual. Eventually, he looked back up at the teacher.

  ‘Yeah, he’s got scabies, Miss.’

  Mrs Van Leuen looked suspiciously around at them all, then nodded and collected the rest of the essays. When she went back to her desk, Fabian noticed her reach up and touch her forehead with her hand, looking like she was worried she might be going mad. Fabian looked over at Emma, who was grinning down at her empty desk.

  ‘What the hell?’ he heard Rain whisper to Emma. ‘I thought you hated Michael.’

  ‘I do.’

  But she was still smiling.

  CHAPTER 17

  MICHAEL

  Michael was relieved that Pig Man wasn’t home. He usually worked until at least six, but there was always the risk that he’d have a boozy lunch and ditch the rest of his work day. It’d been happening more and more frequently lately, and it seemed just his style that it would happen on the one day that Michael desperately needed the house to be empty. Luckily, when Michael had turned into his street, he’d seen no car in the drive.

  Unlocking his front door, he was still smiling. Not just because his father was gone, but because of what had just happened in society and culture. The others had stood up for him, rallied around him. Not just that, they’d done it in front of everyone.

  Rubbing his hands together, he tried not to look at them. It wasn’t cold in here — his father made sure the house was climate controlled so it was always exactly twenty-three degrees — but his fingers still had that weird bluish tinge. It worried him a little, though he hated to admit it. He wished he could have a doctor look at his hands, but he’d have to ask his dad for that, and his dad would only laugh at him and call him a pansy. It was probably nothing anyway.

  He walked aimlessly around his house, trying to think of ways to make it look more homely for the others. Maybe he could put up a family portrait. Yeah right, that would be a laugh. He doubted there would be a photo in existence that didn’t show the truth: him sulking, his dad angry, and his mum looking vacant.

  He’d considered cleaning his room, but it was too much effort. It was past
the point of no return now; he’d just keep the door closed. Reaching the kitchen, he noticed that the tutoring receipt was still on the fridge, stuck up with a solitary magnet. He opened the freezer and put the piece of paper inside.

  As he closed the freezer, it happened. It was as if when the light inside the freezer went out, so did his eyesight. He was plunged into complete darkness.

  Clutching for the freezer door, he opened it, hoping for one crazy second that his vision would turn back on with the light, but it didn’t.

  It was happening again.

  He smashed his hand against the door. This was scaring the hell out of him!

  He took a step forward and stumbled like an idiot. His heart was in his throat and his hands trembled in front of him as he took another wobbly step.

  But there was nothing. Nothing but blackness in front of him. Maybe it would never go away. He swore loudly, as though he could scare his vision into coming back.

  The doorbell rang, and the twinkling chimes felt as though they were filling his head. Maybe it was Emma. She would know what to do. Just hearing her voice would help right now. He took a shaky step towards the sound of the chimes and just like that the white door appeared, along with the cream carpet and flashing blue security pad. For no reason, he could see again. In three quick steps he was at the door, expecting to see Emma’s face. He pulled open the door.

  ‘Hey, man,’ said Sam.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, disappointment flooding through him.

  ‘You alright?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ He realised he was blocking the door, so he took a step back. ‘Come in.’

  ‘Thanks, dude.’

  As Sam brushed past him, he wanted to gag at the stench of stale BO. It was disgusting. When was the last time the guy had showered?

  ‘Wow, your house is awesome!’ said Sam, looking around as if he was in some sort of mansion.

  ‘Not really,’ Michael said, walking into the kitchen. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to make himself feel normal again.

  He heard Sam follow him. Great, not only was he going blind, but he also had to hang out with this moron.

  ‘I’m a bit early,’ said Sam, as though he knew what Michael was thinking.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Hey, what happened to your freezer?’

  Michael whirled around. There was a dent in the middle of the shiny façade of the freezer. It must have been from where he had hit it just before. It wasn’t huge, but it stood out from the rest of the immaculate house. His stomach sank. His father would kill him.

  ‘I dunno,’ he said, trying to keep his tone even. It’s okay, don’t panic, he told himself. He would just stick the tutoring receipt back on top of it. That would hide it from his dad for at least a week or so. But he knew what would happen when his dad did eventually see it. He tried not to think about it, but that familiar heaviness squirmed in his stomach.

  He sat down. He needed to chill before the rest of the group got here. It wouldn’t be easy with this idiot loitering around though. He looked at Sam, who had sunk into one of his kitchen chairs like he owned the place, and wished again that he wasn’t around. Michael wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t trust Sam. It was probably because he was so infuriatingly positive all the time. It definitely wasn’t because of how buddy-buddy he was getting with Emma.

  What was Sam staring at anyway? He was looking at the loaf of bread on the chopping board as if it were treasure. Weird.

  ‘So, have you been sleeping in a tent or something?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Yeah, it’s pretty ace,’ Sam replied, clearly not getting what Michael was trying to imply.

  ‘Must be crap not having a bathroom or a shower or anything, right?’ he added; this guy didn’t get subtlety.

  ‘Nah, it’s alright, man,’ he said, looking down at the bread again.

  If he wanted to stink, then there was nothing Michael could do. He wondered if Emma noticed it. They sat in silence for a while. It must be pretty crap living in a tent, but at least Sam didn’t have anyone telling him what to do all the time. Although there would be no TV there, no fridge or oven. Actually, how did Sam even get food? From the look of his dirty old clothes, he didn’t look like he had a lot of money. He looked at Sam, staring at the bread.

  ‘I’m going to make a sandwich. Do you want one?’ he asked.

  ‘Okay, man, that would be sick!’

  Michael got up and made a cheese sandwich, cutting it in half like his mum used to. Putting it on a plate, he slid it over to Sam and started making another one. It was weird making food for someone else; he’d never done it before. Once he finished making the second sandwich, he noticed that Sam had already finished his.

  ‘God, man, you inhaled that!’ he said.

  Sam shrugged, picking the crumbs off his plate with a finger. Michael sighed. He had to do something, this guy was just too pathetic.

  ‘You know, I have so many clothes I never even wear if you want to borrow some. We’re probably the same size. Plus, you’re welcome to take a shower. The other guys probably won’t be here for a while.’

  ‘Really?’ Sam asked.

  Michael shrugged. ‘There’re towels in there you can use.’

  Sam grinned at him, then went up the stairs. Once Michael heard the water running, he followed. God, what had he got himself into? This guy was like a stray dog and now Michael was feeding him. He’d probably come back all the time now. What would Pig Man think of that? Probably that Michael had gone soft, which might be true.

  He grabbed his worst pair of jeans and a couple of ugly T-shirts that his mum had bought him but he’d never worn and put them by the bathroom door.

  Really, he was doing this for himself. At least now he wouldn’t have to smell that guy’s BO for a while.

  By the time the doorbell rang, Sam was dressed head to toe in Michael’s clothes and eating his sandwich in the kitchen.

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t want it?’ Sam asked.

  ‘It’s fine. I’ll go let the others in.’

  He went over to the front door, nerves twisting his stomach. The idea of them being in his house, seeing how he lived and judging him made him wish he’d never invited them around. He hesitated in front of the door. He could always just not let them in. They’d think he was a jerk, although that would be nothing new.

  The doorbell rang again. He reached forward and pulled the door open. Emma, Fabian and Tessie were waiting outside.

  ‘Hey, guys,’ he said, ‘come in.’

  They all looked a bit reluctant, but walked in anyway.

  ‘Missed you in society and culture,’ Tessie said with a smile.

  ‘Yeah,’ Emma added, ‘just so you know, Mrs Van Leuen now thinks you have scabies.’

  He grinned. ‘Couldn’t you have chosen a more attractive illness?’

  ‘It had to seem authentic.’

  ‘Sam’s here already,’ he said, leading them into the kitchen.

  It felt weird playing host with them. If someone had told him a month ago that these people would be hanging around at his house right now, he would have scoffed. In the kitchen, there were two empty plates but no Sam.

  ‘Where’d he go?’ he asked. He had better not expect Michael to wash up for him.

  ‘Aw, look, he’s outside playing with your cat, Michael!’ said Emma, pointing through the kitchen window, where Sam had squatted down to pat Jeffrey. Emma went outside and he followed.

  ‘That’s not my cat,’ said Michael, trailing her.

  ‘He’s mine,’ said Fabian from behind him.

  ‘What’s his name?’ asked Tessie.

  ‘Jeffrey. My mum named him after her accountant. She thinks they look alike.’

  Tessie snorted a laugh.

  ‘He’s an ace cat, mate,’ said Sam as Jeffrey leaned towards his hand for another pat. Traitor.

  ‘Hello, Jeffie,’ said Emma, kneeling down. ‘You’re a cutey, aren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know why he
’s hanging around here,’ Michael said, just as Jeffrey began lacing between his legs. ‘Come on, we have stuff to do.’

  He couldn’t help but notice Fabian looking at him. ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Fabian, and for the very first time Fabian smiled right at him.

  CHAPTER 18

  EMMA

  Emma had never been in a house like Michael’s before. It took her a while to figure out what was so different about it. Why it made the hairs on her arms stand up and why she felt like she should talk in a lowered voice. For one, it was the extreme tidiness of it. Emma’s house was neat, but it was nothing like this. This house looked like a display home, as if no one even lived here. The thing that really set it apart, that took her a few minutes to figure out, were the walls. They were empty. There was not even one piece of art, not one family picture. It wasn’t how she imagined Michael’s house to look. Not that she’d ever really thought about it.

  ‘Your house is so tidy,’ she couldn’t help saying out loud.

  ‘Dad got a cleaner after Mum left,’ he said, not looking at her.

  Emma stopped herself from gasping. She had no idea Michael’s mum had left. She wanted to say something, but didn’t know what.

  ‘C’mon,’ he said and led them up the stairs and into a room at the back of the house. Inside was a large spotless desk with a humming black computer on top. It smelled extra clean in here; the zingy lemon scent of cleaning spray stung her nostrils. Michael sat down in front of the computer and the rest of the group crowded around him. Emma made sure her clothes didn’t touch anything; she felt like Michael’s dad might be able to tell somehow that they had been in there. Michael opened up a new email.