Lyre (2 page)

There was a roar of unmitigated anger.  Yuri shivered, but kept her eyes as tightly shut as she could.

‘We agreed…’

‘No.  you agreed.  We didn’t agree.’

‘You can’t go around doing this to sailors any more! This man has a child, for Olympus’ sake!  Look at her!’

‘We thought he was alone.’

‘Bullshit!’

‘What’s the big deal?  She’s alive, isn’t she?’

‘He’s not.’

A tiny tear escaped the corner of Yuri’s eye.  She only just managed to avoid sobbing aloud and drawing attention to her conscious state.

‘Bloody sirens.  You will take that girl and make sure she gets back to dry land safely.’

‘Or what?’

There was a moment of long, drawn out silence followed by a muffled scream.  Yuri very carefully opened her right eye, just a tiny crack.  One of the women, still naked, was being held up in the air by her throat.  Her eyes were bulging, strange little red threads appearing in the whites around her pupils.  Yuri’s eye followed the hand upwards, taking in the stretched sinewy muscles of a man who appeared impossibly tall.  In the hand that wasn’t gripping the woman’s throat was some kind of strange over-sized fork.  Its edges gleamed burnished gold.  She couldn’t see his actual face without opening her eye fully and she knew instinctively to play dead if she wanted to stay safe.

‘We can’t let her live,’ said one of the other women, pragmatically.  ‘‘She saw us.  She’ll tell others.’

‘I thought you didn’t know she was there?’

‘Not until it was too late.’

‘She’s seven years old.  She can say what she wants.  No-one will believe her.  You will do as I say and you will do it now.  Take her to the shore, make sure she is safe.  And don’t think for one minute that this is over.’

There was a crack and the man seemed to vanish into thin air.  Yuri quickly snapped her eye shut again. 

‘He really thinks he’s all that.’

‘You know he’s probably got a tiny dick, right?’

There was a cackle, followed by a pained choking sound.

For what seemed like half a lifetime to Yuri, but was probably little more than ten seconds, there was no sound of anything other than waves softly lapping against the broken ruins of the boat.

Finally, one of the women sighed.  ‘We should do as he says.’

‘I guess.’

‘She’s just a kid.  I feel a bit bad.’

Yuri was tempted to sit up and launch herself, fists, nails and feet, at the women.  Instead, she wisely kept her body limp.  She felt herself being raised up.  The movement made her head spin and her stomach roil.  And it wasn’t until she woke up in a hospital bed with her mother asleep in a chair beside her that she was aware of anything else.

PART ONE

He was presented by his father with a Lyre and taught to play upon it, which he did to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of his music. Not only his fellow-mortals but wild beasts were softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. Nay, the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. The former crowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes
.

Orpheus and Eurydice by Thomas Bulfinch.

Yuri fidgeted.  Another town.  Another school.  Another office waiting to be given another timetable and another set of excuses to explain away how shitty her first day would be.  Her mother had conveniently forgotten what it was like to be a teenager: that having friends and familiarity was everything.  If she had remembered or if it had even for one minute crossed her mind that Yuri had thoughts and opinions of her own, then they wouldn’t have moved for the fifth time in eight years.  And they certainly wouldn’t have moved to a small seaside town which was entirely made up of Caucasian faces.  Where Yuri would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.  She kicked distractedly at the wall behind her at the thought and received a warning frown from the receptionist.  Yuri frowned back at her. The receptionist scowled and made a little annotation on a notepad in front of her.  Yuri smirked.  Go ahead, she silently told the woman.  I won’t be here long enough for your little notes to make any difference.

A bell rang.  From outside, a range of shouts, cries and curses could be heard as pupils everywhere made their way to the first class of the day.  Yuri felt herself tensing up.  She’d deliberately arrived early in the hope that she’d be given everything she needed before school started.  That way she could have been in the first classroom and sitting down by now, rather than being forced to walk in halfway through a lesson and have thirty pairs of eyes watch her and judge her as walked alone and had to find a spare seat.  Yuri had made that walk before.  She knew what it was like.  She kicked the wall again.  Stupid school.

The receptionist cleared her throat.  This time, Yuri pointedly ignored her and instead stared up at the giant clock overhanging the entire reception area as if to remind everyone that this was a SCHOOL.  And in a SCHOOL it was important to be on time.  If you were a pupil, of course.  If you were a teacher then you could be as damned well late as you pleased and nobody cared. 

A harassed looked woman with a coffee stain down her shirt in the shape of the African continent rushed in.  She gave Yuri a cursory glance then stepped quickly over to the receptionist.  A few sentences were exchanged, then the woman walked over, pasting on a smile that was so fake it could have given Milli Vanilli a run for their money. Last year Yuri had watched a documentary about the pop duo on the BBC, in the vain hope it would give her some more street cred to know more about British music.  When they’d first moved to England, she had stubbornly clung to her Japanese pop songs.  Except all that really got her was a fast track to weirdo land.  She’d quickly realised that to fit in, she had to pretend to be like everyone else.  Unfortunately none of her classmates had heard of Milli Vanilli so it had ended up been a waste of her time.  All it had really achieved was making them think she was even more weird than ever.

The woman stuck out her hand.  ‘I’m Mrs. Chibison.  It’s nice to meet you.’  She glanced down at a sheet of paper in her hand. ‘Yuri.’

Yuri waited for the inevitable.

‘That’s an unusual name.’

Yup, there it was.  She took Mrs. Chibison’s hand and shook it over-effusively so that the teacher was forced to pull away.  She even took an unconscious half step backwards.

‘It’s Japanese,’ Yuri answered, stating the bloody obvious.  ‘I’m Japanese.’

Mrs. Chibison laughed halfheartedly, as if Yuri had made some kind of joke.

‘Of course you are.  It’s just that most of our pupils have much more boring names.’

Yuri eyed her thoughtfully.  ‘So what you’re trying to say is that I’m exotic.’

‘Um, well…’

‘Different,’ Yuri continued.  ‘Asian.  Oriental.  Yellow.  Slitty eyed.  Not called Elizabeth or Jane or Nicola.’

Mrs. Chibison’s cheeks coloured ever so slightly.  This time Yuri mentally kicked herself instead of the wall.  She wasn’t trying to be difficult or to get on this woman’s bad side.  She was just tired of everyone always pointing out that she was different to others.  It wouldn’t be so bad in a city where there would be lots of other kids who looked like her. 

She opened her mouth to apologise, but the teacher was already turning away and dismissing her as yet another troublemaker.  Damn it.  The last thing she needed was to draw even more attention towards herself.

‘Follow me.’  There was already a chill in Mrs. Chibison’s voice.  ‘We’ll head to my office where I’ll give you a copy of your timetable and a map.  And I can assure you, Yuri,’ she continued as she walked ahead, ‘I did not mean to insinuate anything at all about your ethnicity.  We are not that kind of school and I’m not that kind of person.’

Yuri decided to swallow her pride.  It wouldn’t kill her.  ‘I’m sorry.’

Mrs. Chibison didn’t hear her.  Instead she had stalked up to a couple who were leaning against each other and whispering in a suggestive manner that Yuri doubted was in line with school policy.

‘What do you two think you’re doing?  You should be in class by now!  Lessons started ten minutes ago.  You know I simply cannot abide lateness.’

Yuri had to literally bite her tongue to avoid making any kind of sarcastic remark at that last comment.

‘Sorry, Mizz Chibison,’ said the boy, sounding anything but.

‘Yeah, sorry, Miss,’ added his girlfriend.

‘Well, come on then!’

The pair stared at her blankly.  She put her hands on her hips and glared.

‘Get to class!’

The girl scooped up her bag, which looked like it contained nothing more than perhaps a lipstick and a hairbrush, then spotted Yuri for the first time and gave a little start.  Her eyes widened and she nudged her boyfriend who turned and gave the small look of surprise.  His eyes travelled up and down her body.  Yuri bunched her fists together and stared back at them.

The boy made a few hand-chopping motions in the air, along with some sound effects to match.  ‘I know Kung Fu!’ he declared.

‘Bryan Jones.  If you don’t get yourself to class right now…’

‘Going, Mizz Chib!  Going now!’  He pivoted round.  ‘Come on, Nicky, we don’t want to be late for Geography now, do we?’

They disappeared down the corridor.  Mrs. Chibison watched them go then turned back to Yuri, who was looking at her expressionlessly.  The teacher’s gaze softened.

‘You get that kind of thing a lot, don’t you?’

Yuri just shrugged.

‘I’m sorry.  If anyone says anything mean to you in any way, or brings up your race in a negative manner, then you have to let me know.’

You mean like just now, Yuri wanted to say, although she didn’t. 

‘People will be curious about who you are and where you’re from.  It’s just human nature.  It doesn’t mean they’re being racist.’

Yuri wondered if Mrs. Chibison thought she was stupid and that was why she had to point out the obvious.

‘It’s Chinese,’ she said quietly.

‘Pardon me?’

‘Kung Fu is Chinese.  Not Japanese.’

The teacher laughed.  This time it seemed genuine.  ‘You’ll have to be sure to tell Bryan that next time you see him.’

Yuri gave her a tentative smile back.  She wouldn’t tell Bryan anything the next time she saw him.  She’d made that decision long before she’d ever set eyes on him.  This time around she wasn’t going to waste her efforts trying to make friends or fit in.  She was going to keep to herself and work as hard as she could to get the best grades possible.  Because the better she did at school then the faster she’d be able to escape from this kind of life. And, besides, it just hard too damn much every time she had to leave her hard won friends behind. She didn’t think Mrs. Chibison needed to know that though.

They walked through a series of terribly familiar and yet completely unfamiliar corridors.  Occasionally there would be a display of pupils’ work up on the walls; more often than not with curling faded backing paper and ripped edges.  Before too long, the arrived at a nondescript white door with a sign up stating ‘Key Stage Four Coordinator’.  Mrs. Chibison pushed it open and gestured her inside. 

The office was tiny and strewn haphazardly with paper everywhere.  There was a desk which appeared to be standard school issue, and behind it a comfortable looking swivel chair.  Against the wall was a broken plastic chair.

Mrs. Chibison tutted.   ‘Well, that’s annoying.  I asked them to replace that chair over the weekend.  Hold on and I will go and see if I can get something to sit on.  Feel free to sit down on my chair while you’re waiting.  Just don’t move anything around.’ She gave a short laugh before leaving.  ‘I know it looks messy but when it’s like this I also know where everything is.’ 

Yuri dropped her bag and made her way slowly behind the desk.  The chair was as comfortable as it looked, although if she sat back in it, then her feet barely reached the floor.  She was still short for her age.  She scooted herself forward a little bit until her toes just made contact with the ground.  Then, because she was unable to resist, she pushed off, spinning herself round.  She did it several times before stopping herself.  The door was open after all.  That was a universal school policy kind of thing.  You couldn’t close the door if there was the chance a pupil would be left alone with a teacher.  If the door was closed, then the teacher might be able to do something heinous and no-one would know.  Or the pupil would be able to accuse them of doing something heinous and no-one would be able to prove it.  Yuri sucked air in through the gap in her teeth then pushed it back out again.  Schools could be complicated places.

Because she didn’t enjoy sitting in Mrs. Chibison’s chair behind Mrs. Chibison’s desk – after all, someone else might come in and tell her off for it – she spun herself around until she was facing away from the door and looking out the window instead onto a filled carpark.  It wasn’t the most inspiring view in the world.  She leant forward and cupped her face in her hands and stared out at nothing.

‘Lizzy, you’re here!’ Yuri froze.  It was a female voice, but definitely not Mrs. Chibison’s.  ‘I wasn’t sure if you had a class or if you were dealing with a problem.  I heard what happened to Mike at the weekend.  I am so sorry.  You know if there’s anything I can do, even if it’s just to provide a shoulder to cry on…’

Shit.  Yuri slowly spun herself back round to the front.  There was another woman of around the receptionist’s age in front of her.  She looked horrified when she saw Yuri, clasping her hand to her mouth.  They stared at each other over the desk, the awkwardness growing by the second.

Mrs. Chibison bustled back in, holding a chair out in front of her.

‘Here we are,’ she said with forced cheeriness. 

Yuri flicked her a glance.  That first smile hadn’t been faked for her benefit earlier then.  And her name was Lizzy.  Short for Elizabeth.  One of the names Yuri had thrown out earlier during her little fit of pique.   And she had clearly had a very, very shitty weekend.  She looked back at the other woman who still standing in shocked distress at having blurted out so much personal information to a pupil, and gave her a barely perceptible shake of the head.  Her eyes widened with a flicker of hope and Yuri stared at her meaningfully.  She nodded and backed out, blurting out something about not realising Mrs. Chibison was busy and that she’d catch up with her later.  Yuri watched her go.  Just because she didn’t particularly want to be here was no reason to ruin both those women’s days even more than they already were.  She stood up, took the newly proferred plastic chair and folded her hands together to give every impression of a compliant and relaxed new pupil.  Lying by omission was a skill that Yuri was particularly accomplished in.

*

The rest of Yuri’s day went much as was to be expected.  The majority of her lessons were mind-numbingly boring.  In English, they were studying
Romeo and Juliet.
  So far, so fine.  Yuri kind of liked of the play.  But this was the third time around that she’d read it.  She could practically recite it word for word.  However, when the teacher asked if anyone could spot the rhythm of Shakespeare’s lines, Yuri kept quiet even though she knew the answer and could have expounded at length on the impact and effect of iambic pentameter.

In Science, her lab partner, a girl with an almost alarming amount of make-up on her face and whose hair was pulled back so tightly it gave her a permanently surprised expression, made a half-hearted effort to chat to her.  It was the first of many predictable conversations that marked Yuri’s first week.

‘Hi.  I’m Brittani.  With an i.’

‘Hi.’

‘Do you speak English?’

Yuri just nodded.

‘Do you speak Chinese?’

She shook her head.

‘You don’t say much, do you?’

Yuri just shrugged.  It didn’t take long for Brittani with an i to give up and leave her in peace.

She ate her lunch in a small corner of the playground, hidden from view thanks to a large rusting skip filled with rubble and errant crisp packets.  It didn’t smell too bad.  When she’d done eating, she threw the plastic wrap to join the rest of the rubbish and sat waiting for the bell to ring so she could get her final two lessons done and go home. At one point, Mrs. Chibison strode past, an ever so tiny slump to her shoulders.  Yuri watched her.  It was strange but, thanks to the incident that morning and the fact that Yuri had chosen not to compound to her pain, she now felt somewhat responsible for her.  In that odd way, according to the Chinese, when after you’d saved someone’s life you were then somehow personally responsible for them.  Which was stupid, Yuri reflected.  She hadn’t saved her life; all she had done was keep her mouth shut.