One of Us (33 page)

What have I got to lose? I climb onto the deck
and over the bin bags and boxes to the doorway. It's dark inside.

“Hello?” I call.

He appears at the foot of the ladder, peering up at me. He only looks a few years older than me. “Yeah?”

I gesture toward the boat. “Did you paint the flowers?”

He nods sheepishly. “They're not that good . . . I only did them quickly.”

“No, I like them,” I say. I hesitate. “Are you moving out? I'm looking for somewhere.”

He climbs up to the top step and leans back against the hatch. “She's not for rent.” He runs his hand through his matted brown hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “To be honest, I've been squatting myself. Moving on now, though.” He indicates the heap of stuff on the deck.

“If you're leaving, can I have it?”

He looks at me more closely. “Er, yeah, why not?” he says. “That's how I got her. Friend of a friend. Of a friend.” He laughs. “The only thing is, Doug might be coming back in the summer.”

“Who's Doug?”

“He's the owner. He's traveling at the moment. But you wouldn't have to worry about Doug, he's very laidback, so I've heard. Hey . . . want to have a look inside?”

He ducks back down the hatch. I pause. He seems OK, but I haven't always been the best judge of character, have I? I want to see inside the boat though. I won't let him get between me and the door. I follow him down the ladder and into a kitchen. He's at the far end of the cabin, stuffing clothes into a bin bag. Inside it smells of smoke, damp, and fried food and
my feet make a sticky noise on the stained planks. I look at the black stove squatting in front of greasy tiles and the bench covered in torn green vinyl.

He looks around too, then shrugs. “Could be cleaner.”

I see all these things, yet it feels to me as if people have been happy here. My spirits lift. “So, can I move in?”

Then he laughs. “Why not?” He holds out his hand and we shake. His fingernails are black, mine maroon red from the morning's ink—not even the chlorine in the pool could bleach it away.

I look around the cabin again before I leave. It looks different now that I'm imagining living in it. There is warmth, underneath the cold and the damp. I picture Greg and me at the table, with plates of food. It hurts so much that I grab hold of the door. Instead I imagine Raymond curled up in front of the stove. Or even a new dog, one that I'll find in the street, a thin dog that nobody else wants.

I turn back before climbing the ladder. “Thanks.”

“No problem. If anyone asks, you're a friend of Doug's. I'll leave the gate keys under the flowerpot.” He points to a small bay tree in a pot beside the gate. “Better get on now. My lift's coming soon.”

I check out the flowerpot before I leave. Time to meet Oskar.

As I cycle back into the center of the city, I feel something lift from my shoulders. I've almost finished my sunflower woodcut. I'm going to start my new job next week. I'll leave the Institute one night without telling anyone, hide out here on the barge. It'll give me time to plan what to do and where to go, and I
won't be a danger to my friends anymore. Tina said she would try to help Jeremiah.

Soon I'll be able to tell Oskar that I want out. In spite of what happened to my parents, I don't want to live as Us and Them. Oskar won't like it, but at least I'll have somewhere to hide. I'd forgotten what it feels like to believe you could have a future. Even if Oskar gets me thrown out of school, I'll have somewhere to live and a way to earn money.

And then maybe, in the future some time, I can be friends with Greg again.

CHAPTER 38

I
CYCLE OVER
the bridge to the New City and left along the river. The market square is empty apart from a truck parked in the access road and a van selling snacks. The market stalls are closed up, the bins smelling of fish, and trash blows across the empty tarmac. I freewheel through the iron gate into Jubilee Park. A dense shrubbery hides the boating lake in front and the Aquarium to the right. I wanted to arrive first, but Oskar is leaning against the fence, just inside the gate.

I note his eyes open a little wider as he takes in my appearance. Ril's hat, now free of bugs—does he know? Black wool jacket from the Old City army shop, a skirt that doesn't quite hide my boots. I glance down. I hope I still look like Oskar's idea of a Brotherhood girl. Celestina wouldn't, I think, and she's a real Brotherhood girl.

“Hello,” I say.

“K,” says Oskar. He's holding two paper cups. “I got
you some tea. Do you want to chain up your bike? Then we can walk.”

He watches while I secure it to the fence, his eyes roving behind me to the empty marketplace. Then he hands me one of the cups. He's wearing his leather jacket. His hair looks darker now. The flicky ends rest on his collar. He smiles at me. I smile back to hide the fact that I'm about to break our deal. But I would never have entered into it if he had told me he would remove my own identity forever. Place bugs on my things without my knowledge. If I had wondered then, as I do now, what kind of policeman Oskar is—honest and true or someone who will stop at nothing to get the results he wants?

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” He sets off along the path and I walk beside him holding the tea.

“So, how's it going?” he says. “I see you've stopped going to the BSF meetings.” He waits for me to answer, not smiling now.

Of course he knows I'm not going to them. That was a mistake. To buy myself some time I take a swig of tea. It's way too sweet. “Um.” I don't know what to say. “I went the other week.” I warm my cold hands on the cup.

Oskar turns into a secluded garden, hedged around on every side, a broken fountain in the middle. “We are at war, K.” He stares at me. “There's no place for slacking off, or personal feelings.” But now his eyes become amused, not angry. He doesn't say anything. He's still waiting for me to speak.

“They're just students,” I say. “There might be people there with links to militants, but I don't know who
they are. And the ones I do know are just ordinary people. I'm sorry I can't get you the information you want.” Jeremiah's face comes into my mind.

“They're Hoods,” says Oskar, sitting down on a stone bench. “Most of them would be terrorists, given half a chance.” He carries on looking at me thoughtfully. “You don't want to go?”

I think he knows I don't agree with him. I sit down too, putting my cup down. “That's OK with you?” This would be a very bad time to tell him I want to stop. Maybe he could get me arrested. I must hold my nerve.

“Of course.” Oskar smiles that warm smile that makes the amber flecks light up in his gray eyes. “So, how're things?”

I need to find something neutral to talk about, so I tell him about my print. I can make my voice sound normal, because it's something I know so well.

I watch Oskar put an interested look on his face. Is that what he's always done? Why couldn't I see it before? “So you got yourself a bike,” he says, looking over at the path.

“Yes. That's why I've got a shorter skirt.” As soon as I've said this, I wish I hadn't.

But Oskar just nods. “Practical, K.” He nods toward my cup. “You're not drinking your tea.”

“No,” I say. “Actually, it's too sweet for me. I don't take sugar.”

“You've given up sugar?”

There's a little pause while we look at each other. Oskar has watched me drink countless cups of tea, and never once has he seen me put sugar in, but he
didn't notice because it was of no use to him. What will happen when I'm of no use to him? Why did he even save me?

At last Oskar breaks the silence. “Well, shall we go back?”

I stand, relieved. But why did he ask me to meet him here today? I steeled myself for him to be angry about the BSF meetings and maybe even the list, but he just seems amused. Oskar stands up too and as he leans down to pick up his empty cup, his police ID card swings out on its lanyard.

Ice runs along my arms, tingling into my fingertips. Is he really a policeman at all? My heart starts pounding.

He pushes it back inside and zips up his jacket. And Ril. Who is she? What if she doesn't work for the police either?

He turns toward me. “What are you thinking, K?” he asks quietly.

He certainly seems like a policeman now. I have to say something. “Ril,” I blurt out. “How's Ril?”

Oskar looks blank for a second. “Ril? Oh—she's fine.”

He walks toward the opening in the hedge. “Would you like to see her?” he asks suddenly.

“Who?”

“Ril.”

“OK.”
No.

“Good, then,” says Oskar. “I'll call you. Soon. And we can all meet up. Maybe at the weekend. Yes. I'll pick you up, because they'll be diverting the buses on account of the rally.” He's already forgotten about my bike.

We walk the short distance to the gate. I'm scared Oskar will guess what I'm thinking. I stoop down to unlock my bike.

Oskar lets me straighten up and then puts one hand on my shoulder. It lies there heavily. “Keep it free.” It's an order. “The weekend.” He releases me.

“All right.” I pull my hat back down over my ears. I mustn't let him see how nervous I am. I have to get a grip on myself.

The corner of Oskar's mouth twitches. “Nice hat.”

“Ril gave it to me.” I try to keep my voice light. “It's nice and warm.” Does he know the bug is gone? Of course he does. But why hasn't he mentioned it?

“Bye, then.” Oskar stands back so I can wheel my bike through the gate. “But next time we meet, K,” he says, his voice suddenly quiet and cold, “make sure you're wearing proper Brotherhood clothes. I mean it.” He points at me. “Make sure you look like a Hood.”

I feel very cold when I hear his voice like that. I nod, and go out quickly. But I turn back when I'm outside the park. Oskar is staring intently at something. I glance behind me, but nobody's there. I look back at him, and it's strange, because for a moment I could almost think that Oskar looks sad.

“K,” he calls, as I put my foot on the pedal.

My eyes meet his.

He's still in the gateway, his hand grasping the iron frame. “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Good-bye.”

The sky has turned to smoky mauve. I pedal through the empty market and along the river, glad to get away from Oskar, aware of his eyes on my back. But when
I'm in the Old City, hidden behind the looming Meeting Hall, instead of heading up the hill toward the Institute, I turn toward the canal. I start to have misgivings. The man from the barge probably forgot to leave the keys. And I don't even know his name.

I feel through the fence, under the flowerpot. The keys are there. I open the gate and go down the towpath to the green boat. My boat. It looks very dark inside. Nobody seems to be around, so I turn the key in the lock and the door opens for me. I don't need to go in now that I know it's here, waiting.

The green barge already looks like home. Nobody will know where I live. Not Greg. Not Oskar.

CHAPTER 39

M
EET ME AT
the end of the drive, 6 p.m. Ril will be there. Oskar

I message back:

OK

But it's not OK; it feels like something I should run from. I should be going down to the rally with the others in the school minibus. I tell Celestina that I lost my wallet yesterday and I'm going to the shopping center to see if it's been handed in.

“I'll meet you at the rally,” I say.

I can see she doesn't believe me. “You'll be lucky to find us. It'll be packed,” she says. Even so, I'm pretty sure Celestina won't tell anyone what I'm doing.

Oskar has never asked me to meet him at night before. Maybe it's because Ril's coming too. I don't
want to see either of them. Now is not the time to run, though. Now is the time to be brave and face Oskar and tell him the truth. That I'm leaving. I'm not sure how he will react. I think I should wait until we're in a public place, just in case. Hopefully in the Old City. I might have to leave the Institute straight away. If the boat doesn't work out, I think I could stay at Tina's for a few days, even though I haven't heard from her since I told her everything. I have it all planned, so there's nothing to worry about.

I don't want Oskar to guess before I'm ready, so I dress more carefully than usual in my Brotherhood clothes, just as he told me to do, even the long red-checked skirt. But I put on the boots. It's too cold not to wear them. I look at myself in the mirror on the back of the door. This long skirt hides my feet anyway.

I'm trying not to look at the thought in the shadows of my mind. That if I can free myself from Oskar, maybe it's not too late to be friends with Greg again. So many things are against this that I can't afford to even hope.