Misty Falls (14 page)

I grinned. ‘You absolutely are.’

Mum’s smile faded, hearing the truth from me. ‘Quickly, Mark.’

My dad winked at me. ‘Let’s hope we don’t run into traffic.’

School trundled back into its normal routines. I had chosen my AS levels after doing better than expected in my GCSE exams. The Fens careers adviser was big on preparing us all for the future and was busy dispatching us to visit most of the major universities before the summer. When I had had my interview with him last June, even he had been stumped what career to suggest. His best line had been, ‘No, not diplomacy; not for you.’

Thanks, Mr Graves; I’d worked that out for myself.

After taking Summer and Angel’s advice, I’d gone for geography, maths, chemistry and biology as there was less scope for me to make a spectacle of myself in those subjects than, say, an arts one. I wouldn’t call myself a gifted scientist but it was better than writing essays where I had to express myself truthfully about books or plays that I really disliked or didn’t get. For some reason that annoyed the examiners.

An interruption to business-as-usual came as November arrived. My school, co-hosting the final with the Cambridge University Debating Society, prepared to welcome the international teams. The plan was to hold a welcome reception for students and their teachers on Friday night in the Union building, which was like a mini-parliament—the perfect venue for trainee politicians, many of whom dreamed of making it into the real thing in their home countries. The debates would follow during the week at different locations around the city, with the final on the last Saturday. It turned out to be quite a big deal with the international education press interested in the outcome. I was surprised how many countries had sent finalists, including those where English was not the first language.

My school friends Hafsa, Tony, and Annalise had signed up to help at the reception; with a little arm twisting, they got me to join them. I was torn. I wanted to see Alex and his friends again despite the mixed feelings I had towards him, but I also didn’t want to seem too eager. If he turned out to be the soulfinder of someone I knew—Summer sprang immediately to mind—I’d look pathetic. Yet there was still the slight chance he and I … 

Dream on, Misty.

I put my name down, deciding I was used to pathetic. I was going to see the South Africans one way or another so at the very least I could arrange for Alex to meet Summer at the reception. That would settle the question and I could stop torturing myself with the thought that maybe they were destined for each other.

On Friday afternoon, Summer and Angel arrived on the train from London, a burst of familiar energy and anticipation like a shot of espresso on a dull morning. I corralled them in my room after herding Angel away from the stalls in the marketplace in the city centre. She has an irresistible attraction to anyone selling tie dye, beads and dingle-dangle sun-catchers. As one of the waitresses, I had been instructed to wear a black shirt and skirt to the reception. As I’d put their names down as guests, Summer and Angel got to dress up, using my bedroom to get ready.

‘How’s it been?’ asked Summer, flicking the mascara wand over her lashes.

I wriggled into my skirt. ‘Fine. Quiet, really.’

‘No major Misty moments?’

‘No, I’ve done well. No one is going to notice the ladder in my tights are they?’ I pivoted to show the run high up on my thigh.

Summer made no answer.

‘Oh well. I don’t have another pair.’ I slipped my feet into black pumps. ‘The exercises Zed taught me have helped and I’m learning not to put myself in situations where I usually mess up.’ Except for tonight. ‘You?’

Summer didn’t have a happy home life. She smiled bravely. ‘Oh, same old, you know.’

We did know, and we also understood that she didn’t want to talk about it now and spoil her evening. She only told us the tip of the iceberg of what went on and that was bad enough.

‘Angel?’

Our friend was outlining her exotically slanted eyes with kohl. ‘Nothing much to report. Total boy wasteland. I’ve had a few gigs locally. There’s a band that likes bringing me in as female vocalist.’ She grinned. ‘They even pay me.’

‘That’s great. What are they called?’

‘You wouldn’t have heard of them. Seventh Edition.’

‘Why that name?’

‘Because their lead singer is a walking ego-in-jeans and falls out with so many of his band mates that they are now on their seventh line-up.’ She paused to apply lipgloss. ‘I doubt they’ll make it before they reach their century.’ She zipped up her cosmetics bag. ‘How do I look?’ She was wearing a silk swing dress in mint that went well with her honey blonde hair. The just-above-knee hemline flirted with her legs as she walked in her heels, doing the hand-on-hip catwalk slouch.

‘That really works,’ said Summer.

Angel raised a brow at me.

‘I agree.’

‘And what about me?’ Summer stood up to show her jacquard fabric dress in white with blue flowers.

‘Perfect.’ I stood between my two friends, feeling very plain in my black on black ensemble. Summer met my gaze in the mirror. Both of us were nervous. It always was an outside chance, meeting a savant in the right age band, but the bubbles in the stomach, slight shiver came anyway.

Thank you
, she said privately.
I know you wanted to keep him to yourself.

How did you know that?
I’d suspected that she had rumbled me, so I wasn’t surprised.

Misty, I’ve been your friend now for years; I know when my friend is interested in a guy. You get this—sorry, but it’s true—dreamy look in your eyes.

I already had reason to know that I did not have a poker face but it was distressing to find I was broadcasting my feelings so loudly.
Summer, if he’s yours … 

He could be yours.

He could be no one’s—in the room, I mean. If he’s yours, I’ll be really pleased for you both.
At least,
I’d try hard to make that true so I wasn’t lying.

Same here.
Summer picked up her clutch bag. ‘Ready?’

The debate organizers had me handing around drinks on a tray, not the world’s most glamorous assignment but at least it allowed me to mingle. The delegation from India had just arrived, looking amazing in their colourful saris and tunics. I chatted for a moment with one of them, finding out that they were from Amritsar. A couple of Cambridge Union students came over to welcome them so I moved on. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Angel in the middle of the American debate team, an all-male affair from Dallas. The Texans appeared thoroughly enchanted with their pocket-sized English girl with her swinging hair and expansive hand movements. Like a humming bird at a sugar feeder, Angel couldn’t keep still. The Danish champions—four stunning girls—were being chatted up by my school team. Not a chance, boys. As yet, no South Africans.

Uriel entered, Tarryn on his arm. Wouldn’t be long now.

I put down my tray to give them both a hug. ‘Hi. How was the journey?’

‘Great, thanks.’ Tarryn squeezed my hand, telling me subtly that she hadn’t forgotten my text. ‘How’ve you been?’

‘Quite good. Not done anything too embarrassing yet this term.’ For honesty’s sake I felt I had to add the ‘yet’. This was exactly the kind of situation—lots of people making small talk stuffed full of insincerity—that I could ruin. ‘Any progress on catching the killer, Uri?’

He took a drink from my tray. ‘Some, but not enough. We’ve narrowed down the kind of gifts that attract our suspect. I’ll tell you more about it when this is over. This isn’t the place.’

‘No, and I’m supposed to be serving. See you later then.’ I whirled off with my tray, eyes sliding to the door every other second.

Angel and Summer found me restocking my drinks at the bar and offloading the empties.

‘Aren’t they here yet?’ asked Angel.

There was a flurry of activity by the entrance as a new team signed in with Tony on reception. Tony, bless him, was a little chubby guy so they dwarfed him. ‘They are now.’

Alex. My heart did a strange tumble-turn fall in my chest.

Three months had passed since I’d last seen him, but it felt longer. He was a stranger again, no smile in his expression. In contrast, his friends looked really pleased to be there: pinning on their name badges, joking with Tony, and glancing into the big room where the reception was being held. Michael saw me and waved.

‘They’re coming our way.’ I felt a twit standing there with a tray so I rested it on the bar and turned to greet him. ‘Hi, Michael. Lovely to see you again.’

He kissed my cheek. ‘Howzit, Misty?’

‘I’m good.’

‘You’re looking great as ever.’

Odd. That didn’t register as a lie.

Hugo and Phil followed, though they both went for a hug that lifted my feet off the ground. They enjoyed my squeak of surprise. Alex glowered at his friends and sidetracked to Uriel.

‘What’s up with him?’ I asked Hugo.

‘Jealous.’ Hugo grinned.

‘Of what?’

Hugo just shrugged. ‘Work it out.’

‘I don’t …’ Angel nudged me, reminding me I didn’t have time to ponder Alex’s behaviour. ‘Sorry, Hugo, these are my friends, Angel and Summer.’

‘I think you mentioned them before when we went for the cable-car ride,’ said Hugo, treating them both to his million-dollar smile. Or maybe that should be rand? ‘I’m Hugo.’

‘Full marks for memory,’ said Summer.

My school friend Hafsa came over with her empty tray, her merry, round face alive with curiosity. She had changed her usually colourful hijab for a black one so at least she joined me in looking like a ninja warrior in our dark outfits.

‘And this is Hafsa.’ If I stood here any longer the entire waitressing staff would be clustered in our corner. Yep, I was right. Hot on Hafsa’s heels was Annalise, her ginger bob a shade or two darker than Phil’s colouring. ‘And, what do you know, here comes Annalise.’

Hugo, Phil, and Michael smiled round at the cluster of English girls. I beckoned to Summer to get out from their midst, leaving the others to complete the introductions.

‘Shall I take you to Alex?’ I whispered, the glasses on my tray clanking as I pushed our way through the crowds.

She gulped. ‘OK. Let’s do it.’

As we approached, Tarryn looked up.
You want to try this now?
she asked doubtfully. Alex had his back to us and couldn’t see us coming.

Summer here is the right age too, closer than me, and she’s only here this weekend. I thought I should, you know … 

OK, I’ll remove Uri from the mix.
She gave her soulfinder a single glance and he quickly finished what he was saying to Alex and made an excuse to move on. Alex stood alone for a second then swivelled round to locate his friends. Instead he found us.

‘Hi.’ My voice sounded rubbish, weedy and the opposite of sultry. ‘Alex, how are you?’

‘Nervous.’ He took a Coke off my tray.

‘Really?’ Did he know the reason we had approached him? ‘Why are you nervous?’

He gave me an odd look. ‘The competition starts tomorrow.’

‘Right. Yes. Of course it does.’ Summer stepped on my toe. ‘Alex, I’d like you to meet my friend, Summer.’ How to broach the subject? ‘I know her from youth camp.’ He should be able to guess she was a savant from that.

He found a smile for her that had been lacking for me. ‘Pleased to meet you, Summer.’

‘And you.’ Summer repositioned her clutch bag across her stomach, fingers playing with the clasp. ‘Misty’s told me a lot about you.’

He looked surprised. ‘She has? What does she know about me?’ My ‘let’s-be-blunt’ zone must have affected him again as he clearly hadn’t meant to include that last sentence.

This was too painful. I wasn’t one to tiptoe around a subject; I went for the blurting-out-the-truth approach that was Misty standard.

‘Alex, we didn’t get to discuss this in Cape Town, but you know I’m a savant. Summer is too. Like you.’

He glanced around. Savants weren’t supposed to go around announcing this in public places; our presence among the ordinary population was kept on a need-to-know basis. ‘Misty, maybe we should … ’

I had to get it off my chest or I would chicken out. ‘There’s more. I found out that your birthday is mid-December. That puts you in the possible range for both Summer and me.’

‘You mean, you’re the same age as me, not a year younger?’

‘School years are different here. They run from September, not January.’

‘I didn’t think of that.’ And from the look on his face the news was not welcome.

‘So we thought, Summer and I, that we should just check that we aren’t … ’ My voice trailed away as a deep sense of unhappiness took over. I was going about this all wrong. The glasses on my tray began to shudder.

Summer sensed I was close to meltdown and took over. ‘ … Check that we aren’t soulfinders. Obviously, we know it is a huge outside chance but there aren’t so many opportunities to meet other savants our age from your country so, why not?’

Alex shrugged. ‘Why not? Yes, let’s try.’ He took Summer’s hand. ‘Telepathy?’

She laughed, clearly feeling awkward that he had ignored me even though I was the one who had introduced us. Then again, I was carrying a tray. I looked for somewhere to leave it but a guest came over and dumped his empty on it; I had to juggle to keep hold. I looked down at the ice cubes left at the bottom of the drained glass. They had slumped into hard pellets marooned with a chewed lemon slice.

Silence—then laughter.

Summer patted her chest. I imagined her heart was pounding—mine certainly was. ‘Oh well, it’s nice meeting you, Alex, even so. Sorry to hurry you into it. Misty and I have had months to wind each other up after we found out so forgive us for dumping it on you the moment you arrived.’

‘I don’t blame you for trying.’ His voice was warm now, maybe even relieved. ‘It’s like Prince Charming going round with the slipper.’

That made Summer laugh even louder. ‘Not a flattering comparison but I know what you mean.’

He shook his head. ‘I didn’t intend to suggest you were … well, you know. The story is that he tries all the ladies in the land, not just Cinderella’s family. In this case we’re both the prince with our savant slipper waiting for the one that fits.’ His eyes took on the same deep blue as her dress; it was a crime against perfection that they hadn’t matched.