All The Lonely People - David Owen Page 0,5

to stay in his seat. If something was wrong, if she was upset, he wasn’t supposed to care. Everybody else in the room had seen it too. Let them play the white knight.

Except they continued with their work, Buttercliff his game, the session continuing as if it had all been the most natural thing in the world. They had seen the picture. They had looked right at her as she turned transparent, like a chameleon excusing itself from a threat. The period would be over in minutes, but he couldn’t wait. He needed to debunk what his eyes had told him – that was the only reason he was going. It wasn’t because he cared. He swore under his breath and hurried out.

Wesley followed the corridor, peering into classrooms, sure she would have looked for somewhere to hide. Every vacant room on the floor was dark and empty. It was only when he reached the stairs that he heard the scream from the girls’ toilet. He rushed to the door, hesitating to cross the boundary. The agonising cry, its seemingly endless keening, pulled him inside.

‘Is everything o—?’

He cut himself off mid-sentence.

Nobody was there.

At the sight of him, Kat tried to tear herself into three: one to gather up her laptop and bag, one to stand straight, wipe the snot from her face and smile as if everything was okay, and one to hide, hide, hide.

She held her breath as the boy stared in bafflement. Kat searched her mind for an excuse, a reasonable answer to his unfinished question.

‘I don’t know what’s happened,’ she said, the only truth she knew.

The boy didn’t answer, instead peering around the room as if there might be somebody else hiding there.

The parts of Kat’s mind scattered by panic began to draw back together. She knew this boy – Wesley, from her year. They had met before, seen each other around school. He must have seen the photo along with everybody else. She swallowed her shame. Regardless of why he was here now, she needed help.

‘I have to get home,’ she said.

Wesley stepped closer and she flinched away, only for him to move past her and check the stalls. Why didn’t he say anything? She reached for his arm, craving its fixedness and desperate despite everything for his attention. The sight of her translucent hand, like paper held to light, made her snatch it away before she could make contact.

When he finally turned back they were close enough to waltz, but no sooner had his eyes found Kat than they grew large and unfocused, sliding away to look somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Although her reflection showed she had faded but a little, he was unable to see her at all.

The scream had come from inside the toilets. There was nowhere else. It had cut off sharply as if disturbed when Wesley opened the door. And there was her bag, discarded, MacBook and make-up scattered.

It felt like a trick, as if somebody was watching and recording his reaction. Twice when he turned his head he thought somebody stood at the edges of his vision, only to vanish if he tried to focus. He was sure he could feel another person in the room. Something like vertigo, a sense that the rules of the universe were unravelling, lurched inside him.

Quickly, before anybody could catch him there, Wesley scooped the contents of her bag back inside and gathered it up. It was a lifeline, an excuse to find her again. A chance, perhaps, to sate the guilt that was beginning to gnaw at his heart.

Kat followed a few paces behind as he returned to the corridor, only dimly aware that he had taken her bag. Keeping up with Wesley as he hurried down the stairs offered a linear future, one she didn’t need to decide for herself, if only for a few minutes. Long enough to get out of there.

At the bottom floor, Wesley turned a corner and came to a halt. Kat huddled against the wall as a familiar imperious voice rang along the corridor.

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were heading for the exit.’

Kat peeked around the corner. The way out was blocked by Miss Jalloh, hands on her abundant hips, hunkered low in a way that suggested she was perfectly willing to tackle him bodily if necessary.

‘I was, uh . . .’ Wesley stammered, and Kat saw him push her bag out of sight behind his back.

‘Mr Graham, you realise there’s no excuse I’ll accept