Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,13

weeks to live.

I needed to suss him out, find out whether those retards at school were on the right track after all. I wanted to be careful, though, not make either of us look stupid. I’m not a complete bitch.

“Spider?” I’d said, with a question mark in my voice.

“Yeah.”

“You know at school…what did you do that for? Wade in like that?”

Spider frowned. “He was disrespectful, Jem. What you said — I could tell it was real. It was what you were really feeling. He had no right to make a joke of it.”

“Yeah, I know, he’s a tosser, but it’s nothing to do with you. You made a right show of yourself. You made a show of me.”

“I didn’t want him to get away with it.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need a knight in shining armor. I can look after myself.” He was smiling a bit now. I paused. “It’s not funny, man. It’s made everything worse,” I said quietly. “I’ve got comments all the time now, ‘bout you and me. Sly comments.”

He looked away, studied his hands. The knuckles on the right one were nearly healed up now.

My mouth had gone dry, but I had to get this clear with him. “You do know that there’s no ‘you and me,’ don’t you, Spider?”

He looked up. “What?”

“We’re not, like…together. Just mates.”

There was something about his sullenness when he said, “Yeah, ’course. Just mates. Mates is good,” that made me think he felt the exact opposite. I was churning inside, cursing that day under the bridge. People were so bloody difficult. Why had I ever got involved?

He stood up, came toward me, putting an arm out. I thought, Shit, he’s going to hug me. Hasn’t he listened to anything? But his hand formed a fist, and he lightly punched my arm. “Listen, man, I know what you’re like. I’ve told you I’ll never say nothing nice to you. And now you’ve put me straight, I’ll never do nothing nice for you, neither. OK? If someone disrespects you, I’ll let them. If you’re being mugged on the street, I’ll walk on by. If I see you on fire, I won’t even piss on you. OK?”

I grinned, relaxed a bit. That was better, bit of humor, bit of distance. And he was right, he was starting to know me. No one else had ever been able to tease me like that, make me smile. After all that, me pushing him away, I almost felt like reaching out, putting my arms ’round him. Almost. But of course I didn’t. Instead our hands met, fists together, knuckles touching.

“Safe, man.”

“Yeah, Spider,” I said. “Safe.”

“So are you coming on Saturday? Not a date, retard, just a night out. Mates.”

“Dunno. I’ll see.”

I’d thought about it for a long time. More or less every minute between him asking me and me going up those stairs a couple of days later. I’d decided not to go hundreds of times. For so many reasons, it was a bad idea: First, I didn’t like people, they didn’t like me; second, Baz was a well-known psycho, a dangerous guy to be around; and, finally, Karen wouldn’t let me out that late. On the other hand, I’d never been asked to a party before, and part of me wanted to be out there, being normal. I told myself I would just go for a while, see what it was like. I wouldn’t have to stay if I didn’t like it. As for Karen, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

I slipped out through the kitchen while she was watching the telly in the sitting room, carrying my shoes so I wouldn’t make a noise on the stairs. I walked quickly, cocooned in the protection of my hood. Deep in my pocket, my hand felt the smoothness of the knife’s plastic handle. I’d picked it up on my way through the kitchen, just something to boost my confidence. I’d never use it, you know, I’m not aggressive or anything — but if trouble came looking for me, I figured the threat of a blade would make people back off long enough for me to leg it. Anyway, just knowing it was there was enough to get me out the door and into the dark. Another little secret to help me through.

It was easy enough to find Baz’s place: The music got louder and louder as I made my way up the stairs and along the hallway, and the concentration of spaced-out kids got denser. I’d hoped