Xinder Rises Read online

  Fitzpatrick quietly made his way over. ‘Come on, Danny, it can’t be that bad. You look terrible. I can help if you want ... if we’re still friends?’

  Danny shrugged. ‘Sure. Sorry about the outburst. Been a bad morning, that’s all.’

  ‘Sounds terrible—’

  ‘You have no idea,’ Danny replied. ‘Really. If I told you, you would never, ever believe me.’

  ‘Try me.’

  Danny sighed. ‘Nah. You’ll only laugh.’

  ‘Go on. I promise I won’t tell a soul.’

  ‘Look, Fitzy, we’ve been there.’

  ‘If you don’t talk to someone, it just gets bottled up. My shrink told me that.’

  Danny fingered his pen. What did he have to lose? ‘You won’t believe me,’ he heard himself say.

  ‘I promise you I won’t judge. I’ll just listen. That’s what friends are for, right?’

  Danny exhaled. ‘OK,’ he began. ‘If you really want to know, last night I was visited by something that, as far as I could tell, was a ghost.’

  ‘A ghost?’ Fitzpatrick coughed. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Really.’ Danny fired back. ‘I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.’

  Fitzpatrick eyed him suspiciously and raised his hands. ‘OK. A ghost ... carry on.’

  Danny rubbed his forehead. ‘Well, this ghost promised me stuff if I met up with him.’

  ‘Yeah? What did you say?’

  ‘I think I kind of agreed. I was half asleep. What would you do?

  ‘I’d probably agree too,’ Fitzpatrick said. ‘Was it a nice ghost or a nasty ghost?’

  ‘Bit of both, I think. It was wielding a knife, but at the same time I’m pretty sure it wanted to help.’

  ‘Well that’s alright,’ Fitzpatrick said, sounding like an authority on the subject. ‘So, the ghost had a knife and it didn’t kill you. That’s a start.’

  Danny hadn’t thought of this.

  ‘Any idea where you’re hooking up?’

  ‘That’s the problem. I can’t remember. I thought it was a dream, so I agreed to everything and said the first thing that came into my head.’

  ‘What makes you think it wasn’t a dream?’

  Danny pointed at the coat. ‘This.’

  Fitzpatrick looked at it. ‘An overcoat! Bleeding heck, Danny.’ Fitzpatrick wondered if Danny hadn’t entirely lost his marbles.

  ‘I know,’ Danny said, quickly realising it must sound idiotic, ‘but I swear it’s the same coat the ghost was wearing. I remember those buttons with the snake up a tree.’

  Fitzpatrick thrust out his jaw and furrowed his brow. ‘How do you know it isn’t Old Whatsisface’s?’

  ‘Sap,’ Danny said. ‘His name is "Sap".’

  ‘Yeah right, chill your boots,’ Fitzpatrick said, holding the coat up. ‘I mean it’s pretty big – about his size – are you sure he wasn’t ... giving it to you? You know, offloading it before he took it to the charity shop.’

  Danny shook his head. ‘No, definitely not. Sap only has patched up clothes, certainly not an overcoat like this one. Anyway, there’s more.’

  ‘More?’ Fitzpatrick raised his eyebrows. ‘Blimey. I mean, great.’

  Danny turned his head up. ‘Look at these. Cuts from the blade of the knife I was telling you about—’

  ‘From the ghost?’

  Danny nodded.

  Fitzpatrick inspected Danny’s face. ‘Nah, I don’t believe you. You could have got those from a bramble or a branch when you ran to school yesterday.’

  Danny shook his head. ‘No, honest to God, look how neat they are. The ghost definitely arrived in the middle of the night.’

  ‘You’re one hundred percent sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Fitzpatrick guffawed. ‘Look, Danny, everyone knows ghosts don’t carry things like knives or hit people.’

  ‘This one did.’

  Fitzpatrick struggled to contain his laughter. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Danny, but it doesn’t stack up. Why would a ghost want to harm you?’

  Danny thought for a second. ‘To prove it was real.’ Danny felt in the coat pocket and slowly withdrew the knife, shielding it from prying eyes.

  ‘Here. Look.’

  Fitzpatrick’s eyes fell to the gap under the desk where Danny held the knife. He swore under his breath.

  ‘Blimey, Danny, that’s a beauty,’ he said. He could hardly prise his eyes away. ‘So, what did this ghost say?’

  ‘That’s where it gets blurry,’ Danny began. ‘He said he was on a mission to save his mother. He said that she was going to die, and that I had to help protect her at any cost.’

  ‘Epic. He sounds alright to me,’ Fitzpatrick said. ‘I’d do anything to protect my mother.’

  Danny realised he’d hit a raw nerve. ‘Sorry, Fitzy. I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Chill, Danny, I know you didn’t mean anything by it.’ Fitzpatrick was fully intrigued. ‘So, was there anything in it for you?’

  ‘Well, as I said, I think he talked about a partnership of some sort. That’s the part I can’t remember. I would find out at this meeting, I suppose, not that I can go.’ Danny laughed and turned a little red. ‘I think I agreed to meet it bang in the middle of the football match.’

  Fitzpatrick chuckled. ‘Blimey. Even with the dead, your planning skills are crap.’

  Danny screwed up his face. ‘Somewhere along the line, he went on about power and strength, or something,’ he said, scratching the desk. ‘Maybe it’s in my head from a general lack of sleep?’

  Fitzpatrick was intrigued, but also concerned about his friend. If Danny’s story was completely made up, this was nigh on madness. You had to hand it to them, though; these Delaux kids were damn interesting.

  Danny studied Fitzpatrick’s face, and quickly reached a conclusion. ‘You think it’s bollocks, don’t you?’ He put his head in his hands. ‘I’ve been sucked in, haven’t I?’

  Fitzpatrick shrugged. ‘Probably your old Sappy friend playing a joke or something—’

  ‘Or I’ve been hallucinating from one of his bitter apples?’ Danny added.

  ‘Yeah,’ Fitzpatrick said, as though this would have been perfectly normal. He’d heard about the old man’s curious apple collection. ‘Probably one of those apples. I can’t believe you didn’t see it all along.’ He slapped Danny on the back. ‘You ought to be getting along, don’t want to miss your warm-up.’

  Danny cocked his head and looked at his watch. ‘RATS! Is that the time?’ He rushed his things together. ‘Hey, Fitzy, thanks for the chat. Please don’t think I’ve turned into a nutter.’ He slung the bag strap over his shoulder. ‘Promise me, don’t tell anyone about this.’

  ‘You lot are all nutters,’ Fitzpatrick said. ‘But you, Danny, are the only one worth your salt.’

  Danny noted that the look in Fitzy’s eyes had turned harder. Maybe his thoughts had moved on to his sisters.

  Danny ran to the door. ‘See you later.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Fitzpatrick shook his head.

  If it wasn’t strange scientific experiments, or an infatuation with ghosts, or girls being brilliant at games designed for men, then it was some other random thing in the Delaux family. Extraordinary disorganisation, say, or manic recklessness, or unbelievably old helpers and missing parents.

  Mr Steele reappeared. ‘Time to lock up,’ he said. ‘Please gather your things as the school won’t re-open until after half term. Take everything you need.’

  Chairs scraped against the floor as the remaining students stood up. Fitzpatrick slipped into his overcoat and gathered the contents of his desk, dropping them haphazardly into his bag. He tucked in his chair and headed towards the door.

  ‘Fitzpatrick,’ Mr Steele called out, ‘haven’t you forgotten something?’

  Fitzpatrick looked puzzled.

  ‘Your coat?’

  ‘That? It’s Danny’s,’ he said, too quickly. ‘But, er, don’t worry, I’m seeing him later. I’ll take it
for him.’

  At that moment, he saw the slip of paper covered with Danny’s scrawny handwriting.

  Fitzpatrick scanned it for a second, and noticed the underlined location. It must be where he was meeting this so-called ghost.

  He folded it and crammed it into his pocket.

  ‘Jolly good,’ Mr Steele said running his hand over his chin. ‘Have a nice break, Fitzpatrick. It’s good to see you’ve decided to watch the game, after all. That’s the spirit we like to see in you.’

  Danny

  Danny tore down the corridor, almost colliding with a bevy of girls.

  Anika stood in the middle of the pack, holding centre stage.

  He reddened. ‘Ani, shouldn’t we be getting ready?’

  ‘We’ve got plenty of time,’ she said, studying her watch. ‘It’s only just gone ten. At least half an hour before we need to change.’

  Danny blushed even more and shook his wrist. Stupid watch. ‘Yes. Sure. Right.’ It wasn’t going well. Individually the girls were fine, but as a group they scared him to death.

  ‘I’m going to see if I can find Olivia. Want to join me?’ Danny said.

  ‘No. Not really.’

  Danny’s face went purple. ‘Please,’ he squeaked.

  Anika caught his eye. ‘OK, Ladies,’ she said, ‘I’m off to do battle with those big, bad, beastly boys, and kick the damn house down.’ They shrieked their approval. ‘Wish me luck.’

  Each of the girls made a big play of kissing her on her cheek, before breaking into a chant.

  ‘GO, GO Ani Delaux! GO, GO Ani Delaux! GO, GO Ani Delaux! Go Ani! Go Ani! GO Ani...’

  Anika put one hand in the air as she waltzed away, wiggling her hips and fluffing up her wavy blonde hair.

  As the twins turned the corner the chanting changed to the old Queen anthem: ‘A-D-L, A-D-L, A-D-L – SHE WILL, SHE WILL, ROCK YOU!’

  ‘You’re awfully glum-faced, what have you done now?’

  Danny groaned. ‘Oh, Ani, I think I’ve done something insanely foolish. I told Fitzpatrick about my nightmare. I don’t know why I did it. He’ll probably tell everyone, like he usually does.’ Danny caressed his temples with his fingers. ‘It’s social suicide.’

  ‘Yup.’ Anika pinched him playfully on the cheek. ‘When will you ever learn? He’s a moron. You’re best off keeping well away from him.’

  They found Olivia in the physics lab with Sas. They were running over an experiment, their heads buried in calculations while an assortment of rubbery tubes and glass devices lay strewn over the counter.

  Anika was full of bounce. ‘Ready to go, girls?’ she said.

  Her jollity didn’t really have the same effect on the science students.

  ‘Anika,’ Olivia said, in her most serious tone. ‘I want you to wear these, in your boots.’

  Anika looked at her in amazement. ‘On my boobs?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. In your football boots.’

  She fingered the rubbery, gooey material that Olivia handed to her. ‘What is it?’

  Olivia peeled off her lab glasses. ‘In short, it’s a de-energising unit that we’ve created.’

  ‘A what-erising-unit?’ Anika said. ‘Why?’

  ‘Just in case, that’s why.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Just do it, will you,’ Olivia demanded. ‘One for each boot.’ She handed her a second one. ‘You too, Danny.’

  Danny studied it. ‘What’s it for?’

  Olivia squealed. ‘In case either of you gets struck by lightning. It might help you not fry, that’s all.’

  Danny stuck the strips to the insoles in his boots. ‘Aren’t you’re taking this a bit far—’

  A huge roll of thunder shook the building rattling the windows. They looked at each other.

  Olivia raised her eyebrows. ‘No, we’re not. These could save your life.’

  ‘Where’s your Fitz storm glass thing?’ Anika cut in, her tone serious. ‘I need to see what it’s doing.’

  ‘Next to Olivia’s desk,’ Sas said, wafting a hand.

  Anika picked the storm glass up before quickly putting it down again. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, science-y nerd folk, but have you analysed this lately?’

  Olivia marched over as though it was a complete waste of time. ‘What?’ she snapped.

  ‘This storm test tube thing,’ Anika began in an unusually serious voice. ‘Have any of you noticed a) how hot it is, and b) that it’s literally crammed full of crystals moving incredibly fast.’

  Olivia stared at it for a moment or two. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Anika. Yes, it might be a little warm, but so what? As I told you earlier, I’m not sure how it works.’ She dismissed it with a wave. ‘We’ve moved on.’

  Anika shrugged. ‘Well, you’re supposed to know what you’re doing. I’d keep an eye on it, if I were you.’ She stretched out the gooey strip. ‘Can I put this in my hair?’

  ‘Please, Anika,’ Olivia said. ‘It must be on the bottom of your shoe. Attach it to the underside of your boot using the sticky Velcro patch or in the insole.’ Olivia sounded irritated by the intrusion. ‘Now, run and get changed or you’ll be late.’

  Anika skipped off, singing to herself and punching the air.

  As her footsteps receded down the corridor, Danny picked up the storm glass. Immediately, he put it down again.

  ‘Whoa! It’s boiling, seriously. Try it.’

  ‘I’ve just done that,’ Olivia said.

  Sas put her finger to the glass. ‘OW! Scorching!’ she sucked her fingers. ‘Olivia, look! It’s steaming.’

  ‘A mild expulsion of water vapour, that’s all,’ Olivia said nervously.

  ‘You think so?’ They all started to back away.

  ‘No, not necessarily,’ Olivia admitted.

  The test tube was beginning to glow, steam seeping out of the top.

  ‘Has anyone added anything to it?’ Olivia asked.

  Danny and Sas shook their heads.

  The activity in the test tube increased. They could hear crystals popping against the glass.

  ‘Get out!’ Olivia yelled. ‘It’s going to blow!’

  They ran for the door, shutting it firmly behind themselves before diving to the floor. Seconds later, the storm glass blew into smithereens.

  Sas shivered. ‘What does it mean?’ she asked.

  ‘I think it means that we were right all along.’ Olivia’s voice quaked. ‘Here, above us, lies the storm from hell.’

  Olivia

  Olivia barged past Sas. ‘Where are you off to now?’

  ‘To see Wynn-Garry and have it out with him. This time properly.’

  ‘Oh, no you don’t!’

  But Olivia was already on her way.

  ‘Wait! I’m coming with you.’

  Olivia marched off, her eyes hard and her chin up. Sas had to run alongside to keep up. They wove through the maze of school buildings, up worn stone stairs and down dark corridors, until they reached a colonnade. Halfway down, below a striking, pointed arch was a dark brown, studded wooden door.

  Olivia thumped it. ‘He must be in,’ she said, turning the handle. It creaked.

  ‘You can’t just let yourself in,’ Sas hissed, remembering what Ryan had told her.

  ‘Watch me. I’ll wait for him inside, then he can’t get away.’

  ‘You’re being ridiculous—’

  ‘Now, then,’ said the familiar voice of Mr Wynn-Garry as his head appeared around the door. He prised it open and peered over the top of his glasses. ‘Olivia, Sas.’ A thin and rather fake smile appeared as he studied their faces. ‘Is everything alright? What can I do for you?’

  Inside, Olivia saw books piled up on tables, crammed into shelves, and stuffed into every nook and cranny of the room. Reading lamps shone light over large leather armchairs, while the floor was littered with exercise books for marking. Portraits of past headmasters dotted the walls.

  The room had the immediate effect of dampening Oliv
ia’s temper.

  Wynn-Garry caught her staring past him and invited them in. ‘Can I get you both a cup of tea, perhaps?’

  Olivia hesitated. ‘No, thanks.’ She turned to Sas as if for encouragement. ‘I’ve constructed a Fitzroy storm glass, you see, and it has just blown up—’

  ‘A Fitzroy storm glass?’ Wynn-Garry interrupted. ‘Goodness me! Seventeenth century weather forecasting apparatus?’ Wynn-Garry laughed dryly. ‘I haven’t heard of one of those since I was a student. In fact, I’m sure we had one here, once upon a time. It was in a cabinet, as a curiosity. I’ll have to dig it out.’

  Olivia frowned. Wynn-Garry knew about Fitzroy storm glasses. She felt a pang of uncertainty.

  ‘You’re concerned about this horrid cloud again, aren’t you, Olivia?’ Wynn-Garry said gently, noting that he’d unsettled her.

  She reddened a little. ‘Yes, Sir. I am. You see, I ran some programmes on global weather data with specifics exactly like those we have above us. Then I did another experiment with a different band of metrics, which simply confirmed my suspicions—’

  ‘How fascinating,’ said Mr Wynn-Garry, with a plastic grin. ‘Rest assured, it worries me too.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course! I have just this minute put the phone down from a further conversation with a senior forecaster at the Met Bureau. According to them, there will be little to concern us. It’s a localised cloud. At worst, we may hear several growls of thunder and see a few flashes of lightning, or perhaps experience some heavy rain. Nothing too unusual for the time of year. They assured me that the storm was unlikely to break until this afternoon. Satisfied?’

  ‘But—’

  ‘There you have it, Olivia. I’m afraid there’s nothing more to say about the matter. The match is on, and the other performances will continue as planned.’ Wynn-Garry’s tone changed. ‘I am particularly busy at the moment finalising this evening’s celebrations, so, please, don’t pester me with this again. You should know by now that I really do have everyone’s best interests at heart. Safety is my number one priority.’

  Olivia stared at the headmaster. He wasn’t telling the truth one bit, and she could smell it. ‘Can I ask who you spoke to at the Met Bureau, Sir?’