Fragments (24 page)

‘Bomb?’ gasps Cal. ‘What the hell?’

All I can do is wave my wrist at him, still gripped by the hateful plastic circle. It hurts. Stupid, broken thing.

‘Oh my God,’ he says, voice cracking. ‘You jumped in to deactivate it?’

I nod my head. At least, I try to, but I have the heaviest head anyone has ever had. I can barely move it. I start to close my eyes . . .

‘Kyla!’ His voice is like a gunshot. I’m being hauled up into a sitting position, suddenly deathly cold and too much awake. ‘Stay with me! You swallowed a lot of crap in there. I’ve got to get you somewhere where people can help.’

I try to speak, but my lips feel stiff and strange. I’m shaking with a cold so intense that my body starts to jerk uncontrollably and I make strange gulping sounds.

‘Shh, shh,’ Cal soothes and wraps his arms around me. He’s wet and cold too but there is some comfort in the strength of his grip.

‘There’s . . . no . . . time . . . for this,’ I gasp through rigid, frozen lips. ‘Got to . . . got to get away. They’re coming for me.’

‘I know,’ he says, getting to his feet and holding out a hand. ‘But they’re not having you this time. I’m not losing you ever again.’

C
HAPTER
26

mangoes

I
turn over, groaning at the deep ache in my hipbone where it has been pressed against the cold metal floor. My wrist has a plastic cast on it and it’s still awkward and stiff after a week, although the pain has gone. My whole body is a mass of pressure points: hips, knees, elbows. I’ve never wished I was fat before but now I do. Then it wouldn’t be like my bones were being rubbed raw.

I’ve lost count of the hours now.

There’s no point in trying to sleep. At least I’ve stopped thinking I might be sick from the diesel smell that seeps up from the back of the lorry. Other smells are competing now; human sweat and breath. A tangy musk that must be nervousness. My leg spasms and I hear a complaint. I think it is the man with the young son, who is scrunched up on the other side of me. I mumble an apology and shift back onto the painful hip, wishing I could make time speed up. But I’m not sure I really want that either because who knows what will be waiting at the other end?

A small smile comes despite everything as I look at Cal’s sleeping face, just in front of mine. He looks so peaceful. Beautiful. Although I’d never have the nerve to say that to him. We’re still a bit shy with each other. A lot has happened to both of us. It’s going to take time. Hopefully we finally have some.

Central London was in chaos after we found a way, shivering and dripping filthy river water, back onto the Embankment. The panic caused by my bomb announcement led to a few people getting seriously injured, and more arrested, as the afternoon went on. People got crushed and hurt and I feel bad about that, but it could have been much, much worse. And it meant that we were able to slip away without being caught.

Once we finally got to the new safe house, I thought I was going to get thrown out onto the street again. That Dan guy really kicked off. He and Cal got into a massive row that was on the verge of becoming physical when Nathan intervened. Cal told them what I’d done. How I’d been rigged to carry a bomb and risked my life to stop it going off.

Grudgingly, they accepted I was no longer a danger and was now a wanted person too, just like them.

Cal and I both got pumped with the only medicine they had, some sort of herbal stuff that tasted worse than the river, and warned that we might still get really ill. I pretty much slept for forty-eight hours, having all sorts of crazy dreams, and woke up sweaty and sick but definitely alive.

And now we’re on our way to France, hidden in a secret container under the main trailer of a lorry, along with five other people. (I have to stop thinking about coffins or I’ll freak out.)

We’re bound for a place called Nice. I’ve heard it’s hot there.

At first, I couldn’t believe Cal wanted to come with me. Thought he was doing it from some sense of duty. We had a bit of a row. Kept saying I could look after myself, thanks very much.

Then he said something I’ll never forget.

‘I’m tired of fighting. I think it’s time I was allowed to have a life.’

A life with me.

I hold the words inside like a present I can open, over and over again.

Letting my eyes droop now, I wonder what it will be like, where we’re going. The French hate the UK. What we’ve heard is that they overlook small numbers of refugees if you’re young and aren’t going to be a burden on the state.

I don’t know what we’ll do when we get there.

I picture a beach, with waves licking golden sand that’s soft as silk. Maybe we can work in a beachside café together. Live off mangoes we pick from the trees. Never tasted a mango. And I’m not sure if they come from France now I think about it . . .

I splutter a giggle at my own daft thoughts. I know that’s just a fantasy. It will probably be hard there. But maybe we will have something we could never have at home.

Freedom.

I reach over and stroke Cal’s cheek with a finger. His brown eyes snap open – panicked for a moment, then warm when he sees me. I reach for the last of the water, which turned warm and nasty hours ago in the plastic bottle, and offer it to him.

He leans up on his elbow and takes a swig. I watch the movement of his throat working and get a stupid little thrill. Lots of little things he does get me like that now. I like being allowed to look as much as I want. And even better, to be allowed to touch.

I’m so used to the juddering, swaying movement of the lorry that it takes me a minute to realise we’ve stopped.

There’s a metallic screech as the doors above us are wrenched open. For a second I’m blinded by the light coming in. The heat is like a slap that makes me gasp.

‘Allez, allez!
’ says a voice above.

Still blinded, I grope for Cal’s hand. We link fingers and squeeze.

This is where it really starts.

A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Huge thanks to Brenda Gardner and Melissa Hyder from Piccadilly Press, who have done a great editing job on this book. It’s been a pleasure to work with both of you.

My wonderful agent Catherine Pellegrino has been a real support as ever, so thanks to you too, Catherine.

I was also privileged to have input to the novel from one of my favourite writers: Lee Weatherly, whose comments were invaluable in helping to shape the story.

I’d like to thank my friend Alexandra West for her advice about some of the technical detail in the book and also for being so encouraging when she read an earlier draft! It helped me to keep going.

My Daily Bread writing group (Margot Watts, Emma Darwin, Linda Buckley-Archer, Essie Fox and Susannah Cherry) has been a great source of support all the way through the process. And the great thing about mixing with such talented people is that there is a great deal of celebratory cake! (Not to mention reflected glory.)

Luisa Plaja, Emily Gale and Alexandra Fouracres have also been a source of great support and fun.

Working at East Barnet School as their Writer in Residence continues to be be a joy, so thanks to all the staff and the students there for letting me loose in the school.

But finally, and most of all, I’d like to thank all the people who read and enjoyed the first book to feature Kyla and Cal:
Cracks
. Getting messages from you made me very happy indeed. And a special mention must go to all the school librarians around the country who have been so supportive of my books. You guys are the unsung heroes of the publishing industry and do so much to promote reading among young people.

Heartfelt thanks to you all.

Also by Caroline Green

CRACKS

I’m shaking all over. My brain feels like a computer whose hard drive is full. I can’t take any more weirdness – I haven’t got room in my head. I look around the kitchen and I know something is different but I can’t put my finger on it
.

Cal’s discovering that his life is not as ordinary as he thought. That’s scary. Particularly when it seems he’s the very last to know. He needs to find out the truth – but, with lies, danger and deceit on all sides, is there anyone he can trust?

‘If you devoured
The Hunger Games
this will hit the spot.’
The Times

‘Taut and suspense packed right up to the last page.’
The Financial Times

‘A fast-paced thriller in which nothing is as it seems.’
The Independent

A shiver crawled up my spine. It felt like the loneliest place in the world. For a second I thought I caught a snatch of music in the air, but it was just the wind whistling through cracks in the fairground hoardings.
My instincts screamed, ‘Run away, Bel!
Run away and never return!’
But instead my fingers closed around the ticket in my pocket
.
ADMIT ONE
.

Bel has never met anyone like Luka. And the day she follows him into the abandoned fairground, she is totally unprepared for the turn her life is about to take . . .

Winner of the RoNA Young Adult Award

‘Full of tension, mystery and real-life drama,
Dark Ride
is not to be missed.’
Chicklish

‘An impressive debut . . . almost impossible to put down.’
Goodreads

hold your
breath

Tara picked up the tiny silver earring and ran her thumb over the smooth metal. The inside of the locker got darker and then blindingly detailed, like a screen where she could see every pixel. Oh no, not this, she thought
.

If something is lost, Tara knows where to find it. But her strange gift has brought nothing but trouble.
So when mean girl Melodie Stone disappears, the last thing Tara wants to do is find her. But the dark images in her head just won’t go away . . .

‘Taut and chilling. I couldn’t put it down.’
LA Weatherly, bestselling author of
Angel
.

‘Gets the pulse racing – clever and action-packed.
Green’s sympathetic protagonists and lucid style make her stand out; at the heart of her stories is a strong feeling for family dynamics and bullying.’
The Times

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