This is Shyness (12 page)

No one needs to tell me who made those marks. They're the reason why Wolfboy made me cooperate with the Kidds earlier. I force myself to look again, even though the sight makes me nauseous. This is what we're up against. No wonder she's so skittish.

‘He didn't do this for discipline when Blake was still in his unit,' explains Wolfboy. I notice he doesn't look at Blake's wounds even while he's talking about them. ‘He did this after she'd left the gang. Tracked her down and made sure she was punished for leaving him.'

Blake rolls her sleeves down. If someone did that to me or my mum, I would stop at nothing to pay them back. Maybe I would include Mike on the list as well if I knew where he lived now. And Nan if she was still alive. That's a pretty short list of people I'd kill for.

‘What sort of bike did you ride?'

It's exactly the right question to ask. Blake finally looks at me. Her eyes are a surprising green. I wonder if she wants us to do something equally bad to the Elf when we catch up with him.

‘An old Mongoose that belonged to my uncle. I've still got it, but it's not my everyday bike.'

Blake is pretty when she smiles. I haven't decided yet if she has the hots for Wolfboy.

‘I used to own a Villain,' I tell her and she nods in appreciation.

‘That's a good bike. But I prefer the older ones. Or putting them together myself from all different parts.'

I'm only telling half a lie. I did ride a Villain when I was younger, but it belonged to my best friend, Mike. He'd never let me ride it out of his sight. The rest of the time I had to get around on this awful pink thing with a plastic basket strapped to the front.

One of the first things I noticed when those Kidds jumped us was that their bikes were tricked out with three-spoke tuffs and bear-trap pedals. They were spending time and money on their rides. One of them even had playing cards woven between her spokes so the wheels would sing at top speed. Mike and I used to do that and pretend we were racing motorbikes.

‘Six-Sevens, what does that mean?'

‘It's where the unit lives, in Orphanville. Building Six, Level Seven.' Her voice is low for a girl, and it never rises or falls. I have to lean in to hear what she's saying.

‘Wolfboy thinks they've taken his lighter straight to Orphanville.'

‘He's probably right. The Elf collects everything and tallies it up. Then he reports to the people above him.

When everyone's taken their cut, the Elf gives his unit their share.'

‘Who are the people at the top?'

‘I don't know. I didn't think it was worth asking. I was just happy to have a place to live.'

‘The thing is, Blake, they
didn't
go straight back to Orphanville after they mugged us. We saw them after at Little Death.'

Wolfboy jumps in. ‘Not all of them. We only saw the Elf. We assumed that his unit was at the club with him, but they could have already gone to Orphanville.'

‘There
were
other Kidds there,' I say. I'd forgotten. ‘This strange little guy tried to talk me into buying him a drink. But I'm sure he wasn't one of the Six-Sevens. I would have recognised him.'

‘I don't like it,' Blake says. ‘It sounds weird. If I were you, I'd leave it.'

At first glance I would have said Blake was about thirteen. Now that we're talking I realise that she's probably closer to fifteen. I can't pick anyone's age in Shyness.

‘I'm not scared,' I tell Blake. That's a lie. After seeing her scars, I'm a little bit scared. But I'm still going to do it. Blake must think we're certifiable, chasing after something so small. Unless Wolfboy trusts her more than me and has already told her everything about the lighter and his brother. I wonder what else he could be holding back from me.

‘Well, you should be.' Wolfboy crosses his arms. I realise he thought talking to Blake would put me off. Not so easy, buddy.

‘Well, I'm not. We're going to Orphanville.' I turn to Blake. ‘You'll come with us at least part of the way, won't you?'

Wolfboy answers for her. ‘No. We'll do it alone.'

They must have worked this out earlier on the phone.

Blake shrugs. ‘I can't. If the Elf finds me near Orphan-ville he'll kill me.'

I suppose that's a good enough reason.

Blake pulls a folded-up piece of paper out of her pocket. Wolfboy drags the coffee table over and Blake lays the paper flat.

‘Where do you live now?' I ask.

‘There's this woman who runs a program for people who have left the Kidds. Sort of like Witness Protection,' Wolfboy says. ‘Blake has to be careful who she talks to.'

‘Sharon would kill me if she knew I was here.'

‘What about your mum and dad? Can't they protect you?'

Blake looks up. ‘Both my mums don't want anything to do with me. I did some bad things when I was with the Kidds. I lied and I stole and I did—other things.'

‘You haven't called them to let them know you're out though, have you? How do you know what they want?'

Blake gives Wolfboy a look of pure irritation. They've had this conversation before.

‘I
can't
,' she says, and turns back to the piece of paper. On it is a map of Orphanville, sketched in blue biro.

Orphanville is bigger than I expected. There are twelve numbered rectangles for the twelve towers of flats. I could only see a few towers from Wolfboy's window. A handful of other buildings are marked with smaller squares, and there's a dashed line around the edge of the paper: a fence. ‘The best way to get there is from the river side.' Blake adds two parallel lines outside the fence. I bend my neck at an awkward angle, trying to see what she's doing.

‘There's a path along the eastern bank. You go past the power station, and at the next bridge you're right behind Orphanville. You climb up a steep hill here, and find a way through the fence. Once you're there you should go to Building Six.'

Blake caps her pen and my mind races. What else do we need to know?

‘How many Kidds are in the Six-Sevens?'

‘Five. The Elf, Baby, Trisha, Shannon, and my replacement is a Kidd called Cassius. I don't know much about him, but watch out for Trisha 'cause she carries a knife. Shannon can fight as well, but you need to watch out most for the Elf. He can climb anything, even walls that look like there's nothing to grip on to.'

They sound superhuman to me, not like children at all. Wolfboy folds up the map and puts it in the pocket of his jeans. I get my last few questions in.

‘If we wanted to bribe one of them what would we offer? What's something they want that they can't get?'

‘Bribes won't work. They don't need anything from outsiders.'

‘Then what matters most to them? What can we threaten them with?'

‘Honestly?' says Blake. ‘They're fearless. They don't care about anyone but themselves. Threats won't work. Bribes won't work. I hope you get lucky and don't even find them. But if you do run into them you'd better be ready to fight dirty.'

sixteen

We work fast, without thought. I swap my checked shirt for a black t-shirt, and find a pair of jeans, a black turtleneck and a navy beanie for Wildgirl. I pull my old bike out of the garage. It's dusty and spotted with rust but it seems sound enough. While Wildgirl pumps up the tyres, oils the chain and rips off the reflectors, I put some things from the garage into my backpack: a coil of rope, a plastic sheet, octopus straps, pliers, gaffer tape, a shifter. I grab Dad's old fishing knife and wrap it in a rag.

I feel like I'm watching myself do these things. If I don't think then I won't lose it, at anyone or anything. Wildgirl was supposed to take one look at Blake's scars sixteen and reverse at a hundred miles an hour, but she didn't even flinch.

From the kitchen I grab a packet of fun-size chocolate bars that I was given months ago for helping a friend paint his new squat. I've lost my taste for sweet things. I put the chocolate into a plastic bag then shake in a jar of Italian herbs to mask the smell.

Blake stays behind in the house—if things go badly with the Elf I don't want her on the streets—and Wildgirl takes her bike. We have to put the seat up a bit but other than that it suits her fine. Blake is already asleep on the couch when we leave, her arms folded over her head.

We ride around the driveway a few times to check the bikes and then pull out into the empty street. I haven't ridden in years. I can't remember exactly when Paul and Thom and I stopped, but it was around fifteen, when all of a sudden being seen on your bike became desperately uncool. I breathe easier now that Wildgirl isn't rattling around inside my house, touching things and asking questions, but I'm not a hundred per cent happy that we're going ahead with this. We haven't thought it through well enough.

‘I feel like I'm twelve again,' Wildgirl calls out. Her handbag swings off one handlebar. She flaps her arms like a bird, riding around a roundabout until I'm dizzy. I tried to talk her into leaving her handbag behind, but she looked at me like I'd asked her to cut one of her arms off. She went through it and took out a water bottle, dog-eared book, mp3 player and sunglasses as a compromise. No amount of arguing would convince her to abandon the ukulele though, especially once she realised she could fit it inside her bag.

‘Keep your voice down,' I say. It's like she's trying to draw attention to herself.

We should still be sitting in the chill-out room at Little Death with our faces nearly touching, the only two people in the world. Instead we're playing bike bandits on the backstreets. Of course I want the lighter back but things aren't as black and white as Wildgirl would have them. This isn't a simple decision. I could be putting Blake in danger, or there might be other ways to get the lighter back that don't involve breaking in to Orphanville. But we haven't stopped to think about that. Wildgirl says I shouldn't let people steamroll me, but that's exactly what she's done.

We hang a right into Oleander Crescent, a broad street with wedding-cake houses perched on withered lawns. Even though it's just around the corner the houses here are worth twice as much as mine, on account of their river views. A faint haze hangs near the ground, and the street looks like an abandoned film set. I can go for weeks without seeing another person walking the streets near my house. Wildgirl slows down. A trick of the lone streetlight makes the shadows cast by our bike wheels elongate until they look like spiders zooming in our wake.

‘Who lives in these?' Wildgirl points to the mansions, breaking the silence.

‘Most of them are empty.' The rich people on Oleander Crescent were some of the first to leave Shyness. Most owned other houses they could run away to: beach houses or rental properties in other suburbs.

‘Why don't people move in?'

‘They're protected by armed security services, or electric fences. People hope things will change one day and they can come back. It's impossible to sell them anyway. No one in their right mind would buy into this place.'

‘Do Paul and Thom live near here?'

‘What is this, twenty questions?' My voice is sharper than I intend.

‘I don't have to know if it's a secret.'

I swerve to avoid a gaping pothole. ‘I'll take you to see their house if we come out of this alive. It's worth a look.'

Wildgirl doesn't take the bait about whether we're going to live or not. For some reason it's enough for her that the Kidds did something wrong. Her eyes have an evangelical glint. I've seen the same look on godbods and social workers.

But Wildgirl gets to leave. I don't. Even if we don't get caught tonight, there's always the chance that the Kidds will come for me later.

Oleander Crescent curves down towards the river and then flanks it all the way to the Avenue and the gates of Orphanville. I push my legs harder. The road banks steeply around the next bend—we used to race go-karts down here as kids—and I pump my brakes as I prepare to jump the gutter at the bottom of the hill. I don't warn Wildgirl. If we're gonna do this, she has to be able to keep up.

I hit the gutter harder than I intend and nearly fly off the bike, pulling on the handlebars to keep myself seated. We hurtle down a thin path between two houses. My back wheel sheers sideways on the gravel and I narrowly avoid a fence as I try to bring the speed wobbles under control.

I wait for Wildgirl at the end of the passageway, but she's been with me almost all the way. Running behind the mansions to our left and right is the dirt path that Blake suggested we take. The path goes all the way to Orphanville along the riverbank.

‘Shit!' Wildgirl puts a foot on the ground to steady herself. Her shoulders are heaving. She uses the beanie to fan her face. ‘I'm really unfit.'

‘You ride well.' She didn't hesitate on the curb, and she knows a bit about bikes too. I wasn't expecting Blake and her to bond over them. I still feel slightly out of place on mine. The handlebars are too low and the pedals are unreasonably small. I'd be almost as quick on foot.

‘We're not going to be seen, are we?' Wildgirl asks.

‘Not if we do our job properly.'

‘No, what I mean is, no one's going to see me wearing this, are they?'

She looks down at her outfit with distaste. I can't believe this is her main concern right before we go into enemy territory. The black turtleneck doesn't hide her off-the-chart body, but I'm not in the mood to reassure her.

‘You look okay. I suppose.'

She gives me the finger. I guess I deserve it.

‘So we take this path all the way?'

I haven't been down to the river since I stopped school. The riverbank used to be densely wooded, but now there's only a labyrinth of dead shrubs and trees. The moon has climbed high into the sky and shines down on the ribbon of water, making the surface look slick and glossy. The river is higher than I remember. In front of us is a wooden bridge.