Marked (6 page)

Me?

Get a grip on yourself, Cully. It’s only a car. And he’s not even in it
. I gave myself a fierce mental kick and carried on – eyes searching nervously. Almost unable to breathe. Then I was right beside it. The same car – I was certain of it.

I could see it was locked. Heart thumping against my rib cage, I flung another glance over my shoulder, but no sign of Bullyboy.

Come on, Cully. How chicken are you? You need to find out who he is
.

I forced myself to bend down, peering inside. A manila folder was lying on the passenger seat, but it didn’t have anything written on the cover. And even if the doors hadn’t been locked, what would I have done? Grabbed the folder and thumbed through it? People were sitting in parked cars all along the street. Were they watching? And where was Bullyboy?

I glanced around again – and that’s when I saw him. He’d been standing in the shadow of a group of trees. Or maybe
behind
one of them. Now he came towards me, walking calmly.

I stood there frozen. Couldn’t move.

He stopped beside the Ford, dwarfing me. “This isn’t your car, is it, sonny?”

I shook my head numbly. Couldn’t find my voice.

“Then keep your nose out of it.” His voice was flat, with a faint Australian accent, his eyes hidden behind dark shades. Everything about him was menacing – exactly as he intended.

“Yes,” I finally croaked.

He nodded and stood aside to let me pass.

How do you tell someone they’ve got a stalker on their tail? Someone like Kat. Someone who’s just ripped into
you
for following them? Well, the answer is, you don’t. Not unless you’re driven by some kind of moronic death wish.

But I had to tell her. If I didn’t, it might get back to her from Jed – and that would be worse. Everywhere she went Bullyboy seemed to be there, watching. Watching and waiting. And that first time I’d seen him, on the jetty, he’d even accosted her. What was he up to?

If I was going to talk to her, the sooner the better, but I’d missed the ferry she was on, and by the time the next one arrived, she was long gone. Dad was waiting for me with Jed’s old ute – his own wheels were still away in Thames – and Kat was almost home on her bike by the time we caught up with her. So it was next morning before I had a chance to tell her about Bullyboy.

But it wasn’t easy. Dad hadn’t returned Jed’s ute yet, and when he dropped me off at the ferry, I almost chickened out. The problem was I’d had the whole night to think about it. The worst thing was that I actually had to go up and
ask
if I could talk to her. Couldn’t just drop it into casual conversation – she seemed to be avoiding conversation, casual or otherwise.

I saw my chance soon after the ferry docked. She was a few metres in front of me and hurrying to catch up with the group ahead. Probably so she wouldn’t run the risk of walking to school with me.

I steeled myself and called after her. “Kat? Can I have a word? There’s something I need to tell you.”

She stopped, then turned. I’d been tense, waiting for an explosion, so the expression on her face was relief. Not exactly smiling, but there was no savagery there either. And at least she was waiting for me to catch up.

“You
are
still talking to me then?” she said, and this time it
was
a smile – a lopsided one though, because she was biting one side of her lower lip. She seemed as nervous as I was. “I didn’t … I thought I might’ve been a bit shitty with you yesterday. I didn’t think you’d …” She tailed off, floundering.

“No, no. That’s okay.” I paused awkwardly. This was going much better than I’d expected – we were walking together now, side by side. I didn’t want to spoil things, but I mightn’t get another chance. “You … you thought I’d been following you, didn’t you?”

She nodded, starting to say something, and I cut her off. “No. Fair enough. It’s okay. But …” I swallowed and took a deep breath. “It’s just that … I reckon there
is
someone following you.”

“What?” Her eyes warned me to be careful. “What’re you on about?”

I was losing my nerve, but I stumbled on. “That bloke who came up to you on the jetty a week or so ago. Remember? You were arguing with him.”

“So? He was just a … just some kind of nutter.”

“Yeah, maybe. But do you know him?” I took the plunge. “I think he’s following you. Seen him several times.”

Something strange was happening now in her eyes. Anger? Or it could’ve been fear. “Like when?”

“Um, well, he was waiting at the jetty that day it was raining … and he was outside the ice-cream shop on Sunday when you were there. And yesterday, after school, he was waiting outside. He drives a green station wagon. And I think he might …”

“Might what?”

I’d been going to mention the gun. But I didn’t. “Nothing.”

She was silent for a moment or two. Thinking. Then she stopped walking and turned to face me. “What makes you think he was following
me
? Couldn’t he be following you? But whoever he is, I don’t know him.” Something really weird seemed to be going on in her head, her eyes flickering like she was struggling with about a million maths problems at the same time. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind. “Look – thanks for telling me. But I’m not worried about him, so you shouldn’t be either. Why don’t we just forget about him and see if he goes away?” She turned towards school again and began walking. “Anyway, what are you entering for? You know, in the house competitions?” A deliberate change of subject.

I fell in beside her gratefully. I’d done my best. I’d raised the subject – and come out of it more or less unscathed. She hadn’t spat fire, she hadn’t kneecapped me, and even better, we were still on speaking terms. But I knew we hadn’t solved the problem.

“Haven’t really thought about it yet,” I answered. “Only found out yesterday what house I’m in.”

“Same as me.” She flicked her hair back so I could see her face. “East.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” North, South, East and West, depending on where you live. So that made sense, considering we were neighbours, both living in the Eastern Bays. “But I’m damned if I know what to enter. I jog a bit to keep fit, though the cross-country doesn’t turn me on much.”

“If you don’t make your own entries, they’ll put you in the cross-country. And public speaking.”

“Yeah.” Neither of those options did much for me. “What about you?”

“Probably have a go at touch – it’s pretty painless. And for the cultural one, maybe the choir.”

“Mmm.” Touch rugby sounded good to me too. We were both in the same house so I’d probably end up in her team – and that would be
really
good. Even so, I was having trouble concentrating on the competitions. “What about that bloke that’s been following you though? He’s not gonna just fade away, is he?” Trouble with me is I never know when to shut up.

She tossed her hair off her face again, this time with an angry movement. Then she stopped suddenly, turning away from me, fists clenched. But only for a second. She spun back, and we stood face to face, her eyes flickering again. Then they focused on me. “Look,” she said, “you’ve already got right up my nose a couple of times. Can’t you take a hint?” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m trying to be nice to you. We’re neighbours. I think we need to get along with each other. And I think you’re … okay. But can you lay off on this one? Your phantom stalker’s not a problem. He’s a … he’s a cop.”

“A cop? So why would he be following you? I ask”

“Jeez,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Can’t you let it go? He’s
not
following me. He … he’s following
everybody
. He’s after the guys that’ve been setting fire to everything.”

“But …” I hesitated, and then blundered on. “Why was he hassling you on the jetty that day?”

Another shake of the head. “He wasn’t hassling me. He wanted to know if I’d seen any kids on the street when I’d finished work on Saturday.” She paused, glaring at me. “That’s all. Satisfied?”

I wasn’t, but common sense finally kicked in and I dropped my eyes. “All right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just back off on that one.”

So we talked about the house competitions. My mind was playing its own butterfly games. But there was plenty she wasn’t telling me – I knew that. Did I really want to find out about it? I wanted to get to know Kat, but if I had half a brain, I’d stay out of her problems.

The coolest thing though, way cool, was that she’d said I was okay. I could’ve walked on water.

I was
okay
.

Of course, by the time I went to put my name down for the touch team I was too late. They’d already made up the squad. The only choices left were boxing or the cross-country. No contest. Four rounds of a minute and a half each against a whole afternoon of splashing mindlessly through swamps and scrambling over mountains.

Boxing sounded good to me – and Dad had told me you could always cut the bout even shorter by dishing out a bleeding nose in the first round. One of the phys. ed. teachers was running lunchtime training sessions in the gym, but I thought I’d give those a miss. I had a fair idea of the basics, and I could probably drag Dad away from his writing for a couple of sparring sessions. I knew he’d been a good boxer in his younger days.

I had to enter a cultural activity too, but that was a bit easier. I figured they’d need a guitarist for the house performance group, so I added my name to the list. That should be fairly painless.

I hadn’t spoken to Jed since I’d met Bullyboy outside the school and next morning he called to pick me up in the old ute. He was in a hurry. Probably had a deal going down somewhere, but he seemed to forget about that when I told him what had happened.

“And Bullyboy … he actually spoke to you?”

“Yeah. Told me to leave his car alone or I’d be in trouble.”

“So what were you doing to it?”

“The car? Nothing. Just peering in the window. It was locked anyway.”

He was silent for a moment, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “And what about Kat? Where was she?”

“She’d already gone past, on her way to the ferry.” I hesitated. “She told me he’s a cop.”

“Yeah?” He tossed me a doubtful look. “And you believe her?”

I shook my head. “Not in a million years.”

“Well, we’re agreed on that. But you reckon he was waiting for her? Watching her?” He glanced at me, and I nodded. “Same as last Sunday, really,” he went on. “He’s stalking her, but he hasn’t actually
done
anything.” He shrugged. “I mean, even when he warned you off … that sounds pretty normal to me. Most people get a bit suspicious when kids hang around their cars.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. But …”

“You’re right. I don’t like it either. No sign of a gun this time?”

“No. I probably wouldn’t see it anyway. He was wearing the same jacket.”

His fingers were drumming on the wheel again. “You still don’t want me to have a word with Blissy?”

“Shit no! Kat would murder me.”

“Okay – let’s just keep our eyes open for them. There’s
something
going on.”

It was still early when he dropped me off at the jetty. Time to kill, so I plonked myself down on the seawall. It was mirror calm, and I was flicking pebbles into the water, watching tiny fish wheeling and darting away from the splashes. Behind me the car park was almost empty. Certainly nothing that looked like a green Ford. Kat mightn’t be worried about her phantom stalker, but he’d taken over my mind. I was constantly watching for him and imagining him in every shadow. He seemed to have dropped out of sight though – I hadn’t seen him for a day or so. Or maybe, I thought hopefully, he’d been arrested for perving.

It was the first time I’d arrived at the jetty ahead of Kat. Finally, she turned up in an ancient Subaru wagon with a woman driving. I guessed it was her mother, but I was too far away to see if she was as gorgeous as Jed claimed. I knew she always dropped Kat off in the mornings, leaving her to pedal home at night. She heaved her bike out of the car and locked it to the cycle stands. Then she came in my direction.

“A machine gun? You’re not gonna need
that
at school.” She leaned against the seawall beside me.

“Eh?”

She grinned, pointing at the guitar case resting between my knees. “You look like a gangster in one of those old movies. You know, carrying a Tommy gun around in a violin case.”

“It’s a guitar case.”

“I
know
that.” She looked at me as if I was particularly dense. “D’you play it?”

“Nah, just lug it around for show.”

Another grin. We were certainly getting on much better. “Really though, do you play?”

“Yeah, a bit. Mostly rhythm. I put my name down for the house performance group in the competitions. Sounded like an easy option.”

“What sort of guitar?”

“It’s just a flat-board with a couple of pick-ups. A friend of Mum’s made it for me.”

“Cool.”

I could tell she was itching to see it, but the ferry was arriving, and I stood up. It doesn’t wait around and neither of us wanted to miss it.

I might’ve been
okay
and we might’ve been getting on together a bit better, but I still didn’t get to walk with her. She made her way to school with the other girls. A strange one, Kat. She walked with them, without quite joining in somehow. Laughed when they laughed, shared their conversations – but always from the fringe. I know because I was walking behind, watching her. And I couldn’t understand it. She was the sort of kid you’d expect to be at the centre of things – only she seemed to keep within herself. Almost as if she didn’t
want
close friends.