Blood Entwines (9 page)

You're different
.

Hannah thought about the words as she scribbled on her textbook. Bunny had said that the first time they were put in the confinement suite together.

Confinement suite – that's how they referred to it in the brochure for the Institute for Cerebral Abnormalities. In reality it was a padded room, with no windows, one door and a bed that smelt of urine.

‘Yer different,' volunteered Bunny from her position on the floor, her back resting against the padded wall. There was a piercing through the cartilage at the top of her ear, she fingered it absentmindedly. ‘Wha' do they have on ya?' she asked. ‘Drugs? Split personality? Voices telling ya to maim people?'

Hannah had stared in horror. The girl she was sharing a cell with had dyed hair, emerald green, the kind of green you see on adverts for the Irish countryside. Her face was white, caked in make-up that looked like porcelain clay.

The girl blinked and Hannah noticed that the ends of her lashes were jewelled. They weren't real jewels – Hannah wasn't a total idiot – they were plastic crystals, but the effect was the same. Hannah couldn't help but stare.

‘It's OK, ya can tell me. I won't say nothin' to nobody.' When Bunny spoke, her lips looked strange. She had the compact red lips of a geisha, drawn on expertly with lip liner. ‘What is it, then? What ya in for?'

Hannah didn't want to talk about it. She just wanted to sit in silence. She felt the tears at the back of her eyes. Her parents had just left her behind. Dr Morris assured them she could cure Hannah's glitch, as if Hannah's brain was some kind of computer code.

‘I got caught in flagranta,' said Bunny.

‘Tay,' volunteered Hannah.

‘Wha'?'

‘It's in flagrante, with an e.'

‘Right, yeah. Well, I have a bit of a thing, for boys, ya know. All sorts, anywhere, anytime. Parents think I'm an addict. I just think I kinda like it. But
you
. . . yer different.'

Hannah nodded, unwilling to reveal her secret.

‘Me name's Bunny.' The other girl put out her hand.

‘Bunny?' asked Hannah.

‘Yeah, short for Bunny Boiler. Me first boyfriend called me tha' and the name kinda stuck.'

‘OK.'

‘How long ya in for, then?'

Hannah shook her head. She had no idea. How long would it take to cure her of her ailment? ‘Until Dr Morris says I can go home I suppose.'

‘That bitch! I tell ya one thing Hannah Banana, stay well shot o' her. She is nasty and I don't mean in a good way. Open yer mouth.'

‘What?'

‘Come on. They'll be down looking for us soon. Open yer mouth. Listen,' Bunny shot up into a standing position, her eyes wild, ‘if ya want to survive here, then I'm gonna help ya. If ya don't, then I won't bleedin' bother. But if ya know what's good for ya, then open yer mouth.'

Hannah did as she was told, Bunny standing over her.

‘Stick out yer tongue.' Hannah hesitated but thought better of it. ‘Good. You'll be well able. I'll show you how.'

‘How what?'

‘How to blag the checks for your meds.'

‘Meds?'

‘Yeah, they're bound to put ya on meds. But yer different. Maybe they'll hook you straight up to the chair.'

‘The chair?'

‘Ha ha! Sure ya have no clue what ya've gotten yerself in for. Dr Morris is cracked. Thinks she can cure people with voltage. Keep yer head down, keep quiet, learn all ya can. Watch everythin'. But above all else Hannah Banana, get the fuck out of here as soon as ya can. Yer different and she won't like it.'

That had been Hannah's first night in the Institute for Cerebral Abnormalities. She saw the inside of the confinement suite many times. Slowly she became exactly what Bunny had advised. She kept quiet, kept her head down, watched everything and learned all she could.

Bunny had been her only friend. Hannah looked at Kara Bailey. Could she trust this girl? Could she risk everything she had worked so hard for? There were only a few months left, then she would be free of the shadow of Dr Morris and the Institute.

It was lonely being watchful all the time.

But Kara Bailey. This was Ashleigh's best friend, one of the popular girls. Why should Hannah help her? It might be more trouble than it was worth.

But Hannah was different. And now so was Kara. Maybe they could be different together.

***

He waited
.

The subtle scent lingered in the air around him. He watched the outside of the school
.

His plan had changed since their last meeting. He would bleed her, a simple cut in the right place, along the vein. He would take what belonged to him. Better to get the blood out now, before it was too late
.

If she died in the process, he was confident that he had tried his best not to kill her outright
.

He held on to the feeling of self-righteousness. His humanity had been tainted so badly that it surprised him that he had any conscience whatsoever. He was a killer, after all
.

The girl would be here soon. The incident the previous day, under the tree, it bothered him. Their link, he had a theory about it
.

He prayed that he was wrong
.

Sit still
, Kara coached herself silently. Her mind kept wandering back to what Hannah had told her.

Yes, she was different, of course she was different, she'd been mowed down by a fast-moving vehicle and her heart had stopped as a result. She'd had to be pumped full of someone else's blood to make up hers, which had leaked out on to the roadway.

Her hearing was better than before. The sound of the other students scraping their pencils and pens across pages was on digital surround sound for Kara.

The sight and smell advancement, well, it was a bit overpowering at times, but she could handle it.

The increase in strength, it could be explained by the fact that her body was readjusting. She had used the word readjusting a few times in her attempt to rationalise the changes.

The pencil she was holding snapped in two. One of the pieces rolled across the table, almost falling to the floor. Kara snatched it back from the edge, concealing it in her lap. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Hannah was eyeing her with an expression of,
I told you so
.

If only the stupid bell would ring so she could get out of this class and go sit under a rock for, oh, say twenty years till this whole miserable episode just went away.

She glared resolutely at the empty page in front of her and willed the clock to tick faster. Eventually the bell rang and Kara gathered her books with more energy than was required, practically sprinting out of the class. As she exited through the door, she felt a soft pull on her conscience and mind-fingers probing her thoughts.

‘Quit it.' She said it out loud and regretted it in an instant. Several students turned to look at her. Ugh, this day could not get any worse, she thought as she walked briskly down the corridor.

She skidded to a halt when she saw the small crowd gathered in the hallway in front of her locker. Their ringleader, Ashleigh, was casually leaning against the grey metal doors, her nose coated with layers of face powder, but, no matter what she did, nothing could hide the dark purplish bruise beginning to bloom.

OK
, thought Kara,
my day has now plummeted to
totally sucks. She stood for a moment and appraised the situation. She noticed Ben walking down the corridor, oblivious to the standoff about to take place. That was it, the final nail of humiliation in her dismal coffin. Her fast-approaching public disgrace would, of course, have to happen in front of
him
.

Something clicked within Kara: stubbornness. She levelled her gaze at Ashleigh, squared her shoulders and continued towards her locker. Politely she nodded her head at the door.

‘Excuse me.'

Ashleigh smiled so sweetly that for a moment Kara was taken by surprise, till she glimpsed the teeth, straight and polished perfectly white. She wondered if they were sharp.

Ashleigh spoke. Her voice was loud, louder than was necessary. ‘I don't think we can be friends any more, Kara.'

Kara looked back at her blankly.

‘Not after what you did in PE class.'

Kara continued to stare in silence.

‘I mean, I know it looked like an accident, and maybe it was, but now you've taken to hanging out with . . .' She paused for dramatic effect.

God, thought Kara, this girl could win an Oscar.

‘. . . freaks.'

A murmur swelled through the corridor.

Kara felt a cold pressure run through her head. Hannah was watching her. She could sense that the strange girl had arrived on the edge of the crowd.

‘Of course,' continued Ashleigh, ‘if you apologise and mean it, then maybe we can, I don't know, maybe we can come to some arrangement.'

Kara could see it now, laughing at Ashleigh's jokes, complimenting her style, waiting for her after school. Oh yes, there would be good stuff, being part of the group, always managing to get hints for tests, hanging out with cute boys, having people look at you with longing in their eyes, jealous that they couldn't be you for just one moment.

The other option was murky, unknown, more difficult. She only had half a year left, assuming she didn't fail any of her subjects, but it would be a lonely year if she was on her own. And then there was Ben. She could see him from the corner of her eye, watching Ashleigh, watching his girlfriend.

She wondered how he could be with such a terrible person. But she was as guilty; she and Ashleigh had been friends for ages. Ben would have to go; any links with him would have to be severed. It was easier that way.

Ashleigh's smug face caused a whiplash of irritation to swish through Kara.

‘I don't have time for this rubbish.' Nudging Ashleigh out of the way with her shoulder she opened her locker, practically flinging it off its hinges again.

‘Ashleigh,' she said, loud enough for the gathered mass at the other end of the corridor to hear. ‘I'm so over you, it's not even funny.'

One of the students began to giggle nervously and a hush fell over the crowd.

Ashleigh didn't register what was going on for a brief second, couldn't fathom that her proposal had been rejected.

Kara shook her head. ‘Sorry, Ashleigh,' she said at a lower volume this time. ‘I've outgrown you.'

Ashleigh's eyes narrowed to slits and Kara thought fiery daggers might pierce through her forehead.

She waited.

In all the time that they had known each other, Kara had never been the recipient of her friend's cruelty. She had seen her take it out on weaker students. To her shame she had witnessed Ashleigh chew up and spit out people like Hannah Quinn, but had never felt the true spite herself. Until now.

She heard Ashleigh gather a lungful of air and saw her chest fill with it; she saw in slow motion the lips moving. The words kicked her so hard in the gut that she couldn't breathe, could barely move.

‘At least I didn't cause my father to fling himself off a building. Even
he
wanted to get away from you.'

The silence in the corridor was complete.

Ben moved across the space, his hand outstretched. Kara did not wait to see him reach for Ashleigh, could not bear to see him touch her. It was all she could do to stop herself from crying.

She closed her locker and turned slowly away from the group. Ignoring everyone, Kara walked with an even pace down the hallway, trying to keep her hands from shaking.

Her sharp hearing picked up the sound of Ashleigh's laughter as it trailed after her.

Hannah came looking for her a short time later.

Kara heard the door of the toilets open and listened to the sound of shuffled footsteps. A pudgy mental finger prodded her in what could only be described as the centre of her brain.

‘Stop it,' she said hoarsely, but without much effort. Her voice was husky and dry. Her eyes she knew would be puffy, her nose glowing, but she hadn't shed a single tear.

She was tired now, tired of the whole stupid business. Her dad had jumped off a building, committed suicide.

Sometimes these things just happen.
Those were the words of wisdom offered by the counsellor. And Kara had already realised those sessions were a total waste of time.

She hadn't meant to set the whole lab on fire. She just wanted to light a little flame. Get people's attention, so they would listen to her. No matter how hard she tried, how many times she'd argued that it wasn't true – nobody would listen.

In the end, Kara began to doubt her conviction, began to question all she knew, or thought she knew, every word, every glance from her father in the hours leading up to his suicide. She had analysed and reanalysed a thousand times. Finally, she didn't know what to believe, so she had listened to the professionals, listened to Rosemary, changed schools, made new friends and pretended everything was OK.

But it wasn't. Everything was definitely
not
OK.

She heaved herself up from her sitting position, her limbs creaking in complaint at the movement. She unbolted the door and glared at Hannah, aware that her face was probably a blotchy, red mess.

‘Will . . . you . . . stop . . . doing . . . that!' Kara pushed past Hannah on the way to the sink. She turned on the tap and began to splash cold water on her puffy face. ‘Anyway, whatever you're trying to do, it's not working.'

‘I know,' said Hannah.

‘You know what?' asked Kara, a little less hostile this time.

‘That it doesn't work on you. I can't find you. In there.' She gestured towards Kara's head.

Kara looked at her in the mirror. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, usually . . .' Hannah looked down at her sneakers and scrubbed her toes together, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Usually it's easy. I find the person's thought, and follow it, like a string I suppose, back into their mind, and sometimes I can wrap it a different way, or change it, convince them to do something different. Most people it's easy. Some people are too tight with their decisions.' She interlocked her fingers together, balling her hands, squeezing till the knuckles turned white. ‘I can't do anything then. But you . . . nothing. Just empty.'

Kara stared back at her, beads of cold water dropping from her chin, the tap still running.

‘So,' Kara had to choose her words carefully and keep her tone even, ‘you can read people's thoughts?' She wiped her chin, flicking away the drops of water.

Hannah scoffed. ‘No. Don't be daft.'

Kara breathed a sigh of relief; the only person on the planet who was speaking to her at the moment wasn't barking mad . . . thankfully.

‘I can control people's decisions,' said Hannah, looking squarely at Kara's reflection in the mirror.

Kara turned the tap, watching the steady flow of water ease off to a trickle. ‘So how does that work then?'

The timbre of her voice was, of its own accord, even. She had resolved the situation in her head in an instant. If this girl was her only friend, then so be it, a little madness she could handle.

‘I feel . . .' Hannah gazed off into the middle distance, obviously measuring her words carefully. ‘I feel a kind of pressure building up in people, like the cogs of a mechanical wheel tightening, and I know the person is about to make a decision. The feeling is stronger the bigger the decision. Then I kind of feel what that decision is going to be and, if I am fast enough,' she smiled, ‘I can get to them before it's one hundred per cent decided and sometimes push them in a different direction. But it doesn't work on everyone. Some people won't let me change their decisions.'

Hannah levelled her gaze at Kara and waited.

‘Oh,' was all the response that Kara could muster.

‘And?' said Hannah.

Kara turned round to face the girl. ‘And what?'

‘What about you?' asked Hannah.

‘What about me?'

‘I can't see your decisions at all. It's a total blank. How come you're so strong? How come you move so fast, and what's with the advanced hearing?'

Kara shook her head, swallowing loudly. The words sounded so strange when said out loud. ‘I don't . . .' she attempted. ‘I don't know what you mean.'

A steely resolve settled over Hannah's face and posture, and Kara knew there was no point. Why not be mad together? If they were sent to the loonie bin, at least they'd have company.

‘OK. Fine!'

Kara folded her hands across her chest defensively.

‘I couldn't see properly or hear properly after the operation, but the doctor said that was normal after such complex surgery. When I woke up, things were blurry and weird. Then one day,' she left out the piece about her screaming on the roadside, ‘things kind of sorted themselves out.' Kara cleared her throat, hoping that her explanation would cut it.

‘Go on.'

Kara continued: ‘Now I can see fine and hear fine – in fact, better than fine. Maybe my body is finally healing that last little bit.'

Hannah scoffed at this statement, before smiling, something that Kara had never seen before. It illuminated her face, and two perfect dimples formed on her cheeks.

‘That's a bit of an understatement; I've never seen anyone move that fast on the volleyball court in my life.'

‘Ya, well,' said Kara in an angelic tone. ‘I didn't want to let my team down. Anyway, how long have you, I mean when did you, you know . . .' Kara's voice trailed off.

‘What? When did I turn into a freak? Is that what you want to ask?' Hannah looked at her steadily; her voice was calm.

‘Not exactly,' winced Kara.

She remembered all too well the number of times the word ‘freak' had been used in relation to Hannah.

‘I was wondering,' she continued, ‘how you learned of your . . . your special talent?'

Hannah leaned against the bathroom wall and gazed over Kara's shoulder into the mirrors, her eyes unfocused.

‘When I was five years old, I fell down the stairs at home, tripped on my shoelace,' she said. ‘I banged my head pretty hard. I must have passed out. Don't remember a couple of weeks of my life. They said that the accident killed off a number of brain cells, making certain parts of my brain dormant. When I came back to myself, it wasn't so easy to ignore the decisions of those around me. It was very distracting. My parents were worried. They thought I might –' Hannah ended her account abruptly and stood up straighter.

She shook her head as if trying to dislodge the unpleasant memories. Kara knew only too well what that felt like.

The silence lasted a few seconds. Kara waited for Hannah to continue with her account, but the girl said nothing.

‘OK.' Who was she to press for explanations as to why people were the way they were? Kara turned back to the mirror to check her face for any blotchy patches.

‘Do you want to come over to my house to study? I need to catch up.' She looked at Hannah in the mirror. The girl seemed to be chewing over the proposal, weighing up the pros and cons.