The Stuff of Nightmares by Malorie Blackman
Besides, Katey wanted a friend and Luke was the ideal candidate – now that he didn’t want me any more.
He’ll forgive me. He has to.
After all, apart from whingeing Katey and some other boring old farts in this cemetery, who else has he got to talk to?
12
I SCRAMBLED AWAY from Elena and sat down, facing her. I still couldn’t believe it. Elena couldn’t have done that. No one could be that … ice-cold. But I couldn’t deny what I’d just seen. Elena and Katey. Elena and Luke. Had she really done that to him? Had she deliberately pushed him into the river? I had to be cracking up, losing my marbles and then some. What other explanation was there?
Steve in the army?
Joe in a mental hospital?
Roberta fleeing from acid rain and worse?
Miss Wells married to … Well, that was just too ludicrous. And could Elena really be the stone-cold killer I’d just seen? I mean, she’d have to be some kind of serious psycho to take out anyone who got in her way like that. But I couldn’t deny that I’d been inside her head. It was almost like I became her – her every action and thought singing crystal-clear through me. One dream later and I knew her inside and out. The terrifying thing was she had a emptiness inside her where her conscience should be.
But, thinking back, I still remembered how distraught she had been when Luke died. Was that really just an act? A way to gain sympathy from the rest of us and remain the centre of attention for weeks, even months? The whole thing sounded too Machiavellian to be anywhere near the truth.
And yet …
That’s what I kept coming back to.
And yet.
I needed to think, to pull myself together. Elena’s story was something in the past, something that had already happened. Luke used to be one of my mates. I remembered going to his funeral. I didn’t know Katey but I was there when the head told everyone about her accident. So suppose what I’d seen was true? This last encounter had unsettled me more than I could’ve imagined. Seeing the world through Elena’s eyes had tilted my perspective. Before Elena there was still a part of me that could believe that none of this was quite real. There was no proof. But now … I guess it boiled down to the fact that I believed what I’d seen about Elena. For some inexplicable reason I believed it. And I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. I couldn’t let her get away with it …
Hang on. I was getting way ahead of myself. My first priority was to get off this train. If and when that happened, then I could set about finding some way of proving or disproving what I’d seen. I wouldn’t be able to trust myself or anyone else until I did. The trouble was, if Elena’s story was true, then anything could be true. And if anything could be true, suppose everything I’d seen on this train was true? What then? What else was I going to learn about my friends? What secrets did they keep locked inside in their dreams or nightmares that just a look or a touch from me could unlock?
But I didn’t want to learn any more about them. This was definitely a case of too much information. I looked along the carriage. Lily was sitting down now, staring into space. What would her nightmare be? Was she living through it now? What was playing in her mind – something from her past or something coming in the future?
‘Well, that was different!’ said Rachel from behind me. ‘Your friend Ellie’s a piece of work. You didn’t suspect any of that, did you?’
‘Of course not. I thought she was … I mean …’
Rachel regarded me speculatively. ‘You’re not a very good judge of character, are you?’
‘Elena had … has everyone fooled,’ I said with more than a little resentment.
‘Not Steve,’ Rachel pointed out.
Which was true. Steve had never really liked her, though he could never explain why.
‘How often do you get people wrong like that?’ she asked.
I didn’t answer. Rachel smiled at me, a strange knowing light in her eyes.
‘Oh, and Kyle, you can’t keep jumping in and out of your friends’ heads like that.’ She frowned. ‘It isn’t safe for either of us when you do that.’
But I hardly heard her. Something else was going on.
A shimmer was beginning to appear, entering our carriage from the third carriage.
‘He’s here,’ Rachel said, horrified. ‘I thought we had more time. We have to go.’
‘Kyle, wait for me …’ The voice was as close as it’d ever been.
Rachel tried to pull at my arm but I couldn’t move. My blood had frozen inside me. My lungs had seized up completely. She pulled me backwards. I stumbled and almost fell against her.
‘Kyle, move,’ she hissed at me.
The shimmering light at the far end of the carriage was growing bigger as I watched.
‘Kyle, don’t look at it. You mustn’t look at it. That’s how he gets his strength,’ said Rachel, but I hardly heard her.
‘Kyle!’ she screamed at me.
At last I managed to drag my gaze away.
‘Who’s he?’ Rachel said urgently, pointing at one of my friends.
‘Perry,’ I whispered. ‘That’s Perry.’
‘He’ll do,’ said Rachel. ‘Take us away from here. Now!’
With all my heart I wanted to be away from here.
One blink was all it took to get my wish.
13
Perry’s Nightmare
I DON’T KNOW what it was that made me take a second look at the girl in the mask. Maybe it was the mask itself; shaped like a diving swallow with wide almond-shaped slits cut in the swallow’s black wings for the eyes. The swallow’s tail and wings were edged with what looked like tiny, sparkling green emeralds, which caught the light and dazzled. Maybe it was the girl’s dress, of Grecian style and the same emerald green as the mask edging.
Or maybe it was what was behind the mask, in her warm eyes, which were the same colour as the emeralds. Green eyes laughing … at me? With me? I wasn’t sure.
To be honest, I’d been about to leave. The fancy dress party had failed to ignite and although a few people were dancing, most were standing around in small groups trying to make themselves heard over the relentlessly loud music.
Except for her.
She stood alone, watching me, watching all of us with that strange, slight smile on her lips. Taking a deep breath, I arrowed across the room towards her. I wanted to reach her before another guy saw her. I admit it, I was intrigued. I noticed with satisfaction that the mystery girl watched as I crossed the crowded room. She smiled. With encouragement? With amusement? I couldn’t tell.
She’s probably laughing at this ridiculous costume, I thought sourly.
Why had I let myself be persuaded into wearing a pirate’s outfit? I felt ridiculous.
But who dares and all that, I told myself, battling on. I could never remember the end of sayings, just the beginning. My friends Kyle and Joe were good at remembering quotes. Joe’s memory was a little too good. It meant he bore grudges. Why was I thinking of Joe when I had a beautiful girl in my sights. At last I stood before her. And all the things I’d anticipated saying to her flew from my head and out the nearest exit.
‘Hello, Perry,’ the girl said.
I groaned. How I loathed my name! Perry as an abbreviation just about made it to passable. But my name as written on my birth certificate … Bloody awful!
‘I see you know my name,’ I said, rueing a romantic mother who loved classical stories.
‘I asked about you.’ She smiled.
Yes! I’m in! I couldn’t help grinning. ‘Why?’ I asked, though I reckoned I already knew the answer.
The girl shrugged. ‘I thought you looked … interesting. More interesting than most of the boys here.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’
‘And I love your name.’
‘It’s kind of you to say so.’
The girl shook her head. ‘I’m never kind.’
A shiver of anticipation trickled down my spine. She was flirting with
She seemed to consider my question carefully. ‘My name? My name is—No! You guess it!’
‘Like Rumpelstiltskin?’ I laughed. I hoped she was suitably impressed with my literary prowess. It wasn’t everyone who knew Rumpelstiltskin!
‘I’ll make it easy for you,’ the mystery girl told me. ‘My name begins with M.’
‘Will you dance with me while I try to guess it?’ I asked, hoping against hope that I wasn’t about to get shot down in flames.
‘Of course. I’m not going to let you out of my sight until you guess it correctly,’ said the girl.
Even though her lips were turned upwards in the semblance of a smile, there was something in her voice, some indefinable note, which made me pause for the first time.
‘Who are you?’
‘That’s for you to find out.’ She smiled again, taking my hand. ‘I thought you wanted to dance with me.’
‘Let me see your face,’ I said.
‘Not yet,’ the girl replied. ‘Later – when you’re ready. But not yet.’
‘I don’t understand. I’m ready to see your face now,’ I argued.
‘Not until you guess my name,’ she replied firmly. ‘Guess my name and I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.’
Was that a threat or a promise? But then she smiled joyously and led me out for a dance. A new song began. The girl started to dance, her movements liquid and sensual. Somehow, thank God, I managed to keep up with her. It was as if her carefree spirit had wrapped itself around me as well. I knew we looked good. I knew I’d never danced better. Steve, eat your heart out! And this girl was deliberately dancing as close to me as she could get. She smelled lovely, a hint of flowery perfume which was subtle rather than overpowering. Warmth radiated from her. I could feel her breasts through her dress as she pressed against me. I could feel her hips against mine. I tried to shift away slightly, before I embarrassed myself. The mystery girl looked up at me, smiling mischievously.
‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’ she asked.
I shook my head, trying to think of the most boring things I could to take my mind off what was happening to my body: geography and jelly, party political speeches and Jessica in my class, who had no conversation whatsoever. It was working! I risked a glance around. All eyes were on us as we moved together.
But a strange thing was happening. As I danced, the music grew louder and wilder, until my head was spinning. And the mystery girl swayed in my arms, smiling at me … laughing at me as she danced away, then back towards me, then spun me round and round. Suddenly it stopped being fun. My eyes were like a camera lens, zooming in and out too quickly. I was beginning to feel dizzy, nauseous. I wanted to stop dancing but the girl held my hands tightly and whirled me round and I couldn’t break free. I tried to speak, to stop her, but the words spun out of my mouth and away from me without making any sense. And still the music continued.
‘Guess,’ the girl ordered.
‘What?’ I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
‘What’s my name? Guess.’
‘Maria.’
‘No.’
‘Mary, Melanie …’
‘No.’
‘I … I must stop …’
‘Guess,’ the mystery girl demanded.
‘Marsha, Mariella, Margaret …’
‘No.’
‘Please …’
‘Guess my name.’
I breathed out name after name after name and the music got louder and wilder until everything around me was a rushing blur – except for the mystery girl. She was like the hub around which chaos revolved.
‘Melody, Meggie, Marcie, Madonna, Megan …’
‘No, no, no,’ the girl laughed.
I didn’t know which was spinning faster now – the blood in my body or the room around me.
‘Guess.’
I went through every girl’s name beginning with M that I could think of, but to each guess the girl laughed delightedly and screamed, ‘No.’
‘I … I can’t think of … of any more. I’ve got … to stop …’ I could hardly get the words out. My lungs were about to implode, my blood roared inside me. Another fraction of a moment and I would collapse.
‘Stop!’
Abruptly the music stopped.
‘Are you all right, Perry?’ The girl’s eyes were glinting.
I looked around, gasping frantically as I fought to regain my breath. No one was taking the least bit of notice of me. Didn’t they hear me shout for help?
‘Are you all right, Perry? Is something wrong?’
‘You … you …’
‘Yes?’ prompted the girl.
I blinked heavily as my lungs filled and my heart slowed. ‘What just happened?’ I asked.
She frowned. ‘We were dancing and you were trying to guess my name. Then you suddenly stood still and started staring at me.’
‘I did?’
She nodded. I ran my fingers through my already ruffled hair. I looked around again, searching for a sign on someone’s face that they knew what I’d just been through – but there was nothing. I felt really, really sick.
‘I … I need some air. I’ll go outside for a while.’
‘Shall I come with you?’ the girl asked lightly.
I looked at her. Everyone else faded away. I felt as if I were at a crossroads, as if the answer to her question was vital. I shook my head to clear it. Now I was off in my own head, imagining things. That was my mate Kyle’s trick!
‘Just say if you don’t want my company.’
‘No … I mean, yes, yes, I do.’
The girl linked her arm with mine. ‘Let’s go this way, though the kitchen and out the back rather than fighting our way to the hall.’
‘But what about the girl whose party this is? She might not like us traipsing through her house,’ I said doubtfully.
‘She won’t mind.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Yes, I do, ’cause you’re talking to her,’ she laughed.
I frowned at her. ‘But I thought this was the party of some girl called Emma?’
‘M, not Emma. Everyone assumes M is short for Emma but it’s not. It stands for the letter M. Very few people know my real name. And I’m still waiting for you to guess it.’
M led the way through the dining room and the kitchen and down some stone steps to the back garden – if you could call it that. It was so big, it looked more like a small park! The moon was full and high, bathing the house and the grounds beyond in a cold white light. The night air was warm and smelled of freesias and roses and the faint hint of orange blossom, like my mum’s air freshener. I looked out over the vast lawn before me. There were flowers everywhere. Hedges broke up the huge expanse of grass, and far across it I saw what seemed to be silvery lights glinting. I sensed rather than saw that M was watching me.
‘I hope you don’t think I’m gate-crashing,’ I said, after an uncomfortable pause. ‘Naima invited me. She said you wouldn’t mind.’
‘And she was right. In fact I told her to invite you,’ she soothed. ‘Come on, let’s walk down to the lake.’
‘There’s a lake? Wow! This is some house!’ I whistled.
‘I like it.’ M smiled.
I realized that the dull silvery glint I could see across the lawn had to be a part of the lake.
‘So where’re your mum and dad?’ I asked.
‘Gone,’ she replied simply.
What did that mean? Gone for the night? Gone on holiday? Gone for good? I decided not to push it. If I was real lucky I might get a kiss, or more, and I didn’t want to ask painful, personal questions and ruin the mood. A soft breeze began to blow. M pulled the hairpins out of her hair until it fell free of its formal Grecian style, cascading down her back. She shook her head and laughed.
‘I prefer my hair loose and free.’
‘It looks better that way.’
‘I think so.’
W
‘Where did you get all these statues?’ I asked.
‘I made them,’ M said.
There was no pride or modesty in her voice. She was merely stating a fact.
‘You made them? I’m impressed.’ I took another look around. ‘What’re they made of?’
‘Stone.’
‘Do you mind if I take a closer look?’
‘Be my guest. This is where I come when I want to be alone with my thoughts,’ M said softly. ‘And I like to have all my men around me.’
‘All your men?’
‘Each statue is of a man,’ she replied.
For the first time I saw that she was right. There were statues touching other statues, statues running, walking, kneeling, praying. Statues of men laughing, crying, raging, hiding their heads behind their hands. Statues of surprised men, disbelieving men, amazed men, even a couple of men laughing – and all in a variety of dress. Some contemporary, but most in period costume from across the centuries.
Suddenly all the emotions, all the attitudes overwhelmed me so that I had to look away. I turned to M. She was real and vivid. She was just what I needed to calm my imagination, which seemed to be working overtime tonight. I looked back at the house. We were now too far away to hear the music, and the lights were just tiny candle-flames through the hedge. I turned to gaze out across the lake. I felt strange, dizzy again, only this time M and I were standing still while the wind howled and the rest of the world spun away.
I shivered. I began to feel distinctly anxious. The water in the lake jumped and splashed in time with the wind’s harsh whistling. I looked around, my sense of unease growing. Then I noticed that none of the statues were set on a plinth. They were all free standing, on their own legs or knees – a few on their backs. I walked over to the nearest statue. I reached out to touch the jacket. It was clearly a leather jacket, but stone hard, stone cold. Frowning, I looked into the man’s face. The expression was bewilderment. The attention to detail really was amazing.