Misty Falls (6 page)

So I was right. ‘What year is he in?’ A girl has to check, after all. Just in case.

‘He was in the Junior Form—that’s Lower Sixth here, but we’ve just advanced him a year: he’s that good.’

So he had been in the year above me and now was at the top end of the school. Oh well. ‘What’s his gift?’

Tarryn patted my arm. ‘Charm. You must’ve noticed. He can persuade a leopard to change his spots, talk the fish into leaving the sea, and make any girl fall for him.’

‘Now that I did notice.’ Not that he had been that charming to me, truth to be told. Which it always was around me.

‘He doesn’t use his power in debates—that would be unfair, like putting Superman in an arm-wrestling competition—but I think the residual glow stays with him and makes him more riveting than any of the other speakers.’

I frowned at the back of the boy who was now battling Uriel over the ping-pong table. ‘You mean his charm has like a radioactive half-life?’

‘That’s Alex: radioactive.’ She chuckled, a rich, generous sound.

‘I’m guessing that he is either the most annoying boy in the school or the most popular: which is it?’

She arched a brow. ‘Most popular, of course.’

Something about the life-handed-to-him-on-a-plate Alex rubbed me up the wrong way. By contrast I was the life-sliding-off-the-plate-as-I-trip-over. ‘I think I’ll go challenge him to a game.’

‘I’m glad to see you’re brave enough to re-enter the party atmosphere,’ she teased. ‘When you splash down by them, maybe you could send Uriel back to me?’

‘I don’t think I could keep him away.’ I put my empty fruit cup on the table and went over to the ping-pong with renewed enthusiasm. I poked Uriel in the side. ‘Hi, there. Tarryn wants you.’

He passed me the bat with no argument. ‘Be right back.’

‘Don’t hurry on my account. I’ll take over here.’ I turned to wave the bat at Alex and friends. ‘Hi again. What’s the score?’

‘You want a turn?’ asked Alex.

‘That’s why I’m here. Good singing, by the way. For a moment I thought it was going to be so embarrassing, like when I acted the Angel Gabriel at my primary school nativity play with my robe tucked into my knickers’—did I really have to blurt that out?—‘but no, you really carried it off brilliantly.’

‘Brilliantly?’ Michael grinned at the other two. ‘I told you it was the right song choice.’

Alex was still watching me with something like suspicion. Maybe my praise had been too gushing.

‘You think I’m not telling the truth? I never lie.’

‘Now that has to be a lie,’ he said, throwing the ball and knocking it to me over the net—an easy shot to a beginner. ‘Everyone lies.’

I smashed it past him. The white missile disappeared into a bush. ‘No, I really don’t.’ I smiled innocently.

‘Uh-oh, Alex, looks like your title as ping-pong champion might be at risk,’ crowed Hugo as Alex fished among the thorns to retrieve the ball. ‘A new game, Misty?’ Hugo’s hand hovered over the slate on which they had been keeping count. ‘Uriel was a couple of points behind so it wouldn’t be fair to let you inherit a handicap.’

‘OK. If Alex agrees.’

‘You’re on. Are you sure you don’t want a few points as a head start? The guys will tell you I’m pretty good and I don’t want to be cruel to a visitor. I play to win.’ He was taunting me, confident in his own ability.

‘No need to cut me any slack, champ.’ I have one useful skill in my repertoire and that is hand-eye coordination. If I had my way, Alex was about to have his perfect record ruined. ‘Your serve.’

He threw the ball from an open palm and hit it so it bounced once on his side then over the net. I connected and sent it back with spin. He got to it but it flew off at an odd angle, missing my side of the table.

‘Nil to one,’ reported Hugo cheerfully.

‘Played before?’ Alex rolled the ball between his fingers.

‘Some.’ My hair was bobbing in my eyes. As I pushed it back he served. I couldn’t get a bat to it in time.

‘No fair!’ challenged Phil, our ginger-haired referee.

‘Weren’t you ready? You should’ve said,’ said Alex dryly.

Michael fetched the ball for me. I noticed he had a school baseball cap tucked in the belt of his trousers.

‘Can I borrow that?’

‘Sure.’

I balanced the ball on the table under the bat then bundled my hair into the cap, pulling the spare length out the back. Not an attractive look but this was war.

‘I’m ready now,’ I said, turning on extra sweetness to make Alex’s teeth ache. ‘Are you?’

‘Always.’

I tossed the ball and snapped it over the net. He slammed it back. I returned the favour. Our rally pushed us further and further back from the table as we put more power behind the shots, shoes squeaking on the polished wood. Our little audience had to retreat to get out of the way. Then I saw my chance: I placed a nicely judged return that hit the very edge of the table just out of his reach.

‘Two-one.’ Hugo drew another line on my side of the tally.

Super-cool Alex was getting hot under the collar. I could see how it would appear to him: I didn’t look much of a threat but I had taken an early lead. He glared at me across the expanse of dark green table. ‘Good shot,’ he said grudgingly.

‘Yes, it was.’ I can’t do false modesty, which makes me sound a bighead most times but on this occasion I felt fully justified.

‘Got any more like that in your locker?’

‘Yes.’ I served. The ball streaked by him. ‘Oh, sorry, weren’t you ready?’

Buckling down for a serious competition, he grabbed the ball and served. He wasn’t going to catch me out again. I struck back, forcing him far to the left. He retaliated with a high shot that hit the veranda roof and came down at a weird angle. The gods of Ping-Pong were with him this time and it hit my side by the net, too far away for me to get a touch.

And so the game continued. We were closely matched when we both played our best. His disloyal friends were totally on my side, cheering my sneaky shots, booing when he exploited the weakness of my shorter reach and placed the ball just out of my range. At nine all, I knew I had to produce my best game to reach eleven points first. I wafted my T-shirt to get some breeze to my heated skin. It was Alex’s serve. He flipped it to my backhand. I returned. He smashed it past me but I jumped, twisted in the air and got a bat to it. I couldn’t see where it was going but, from the satisfying ‘pop’, I knew that it had reached the table. Whether it had bounced on the right side of the net was another matter. I turned to see Alex on his knees, having failed to get to it in time.

‘Did that hit your side?’ I asked.

‘Not sure.’ But he was. He was lying.

‘Come on, Alex, the ball just made it over the net,’ said Phil.

‘Ja, OK, if you say so,’ he conceded.

‘Only one more point to win,’ said Hugo cheerfully. I grinned at him.

A white missile skimmed towards me as I stood with arms relaxed. Not again. I reacted quickly and got to it with a trick shot where I brought the bat up from behind my back. Hours of practice with Dad on my home table tennis set paid off and the ball arched sweetly over the net, hit the edge of the table to shoot at his stomach. He jumped back but couldn’t get a bat to it in time and the ball bounced off his—well, let’s just say it was a good job it wasn’t cricket.

‘And she wins!’ shouted Hugo.

‘With style!’ Phil picked me up and spun me in a circle. He whisked off the hat and threw it into the air. ‘Congratulations, Misty!’

Michael ruffled my already ruffled hair. ‘Fantastic! You’re the new champion.’

Slapping his bat down on the table, Alex approached. He held out a hand. ‘Congratulations.’ He looked as eager to take my fingers as I would be to pick up a wasps’ nest. I quickly shook his hand, registering a little flick of static as we touched.

‘Thanks. I always enjoy meeting someone who can give me a good game.’

‘You’re not what I expected.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Who are you again?’

So glad I made such an impression on him first time round, I thought wryly. ‘Misty Devon.’

‘Are you at school near here?’

‘No, on my summer holiday from England. I’ve just finished my GCSEs—they’re a kind of exam you take when you’re in Year Eleven.’

‘I see.’ He appeared satisfied by my answer, able to dismiss me now he had worked out we were a year apart. ‘Well played.’ He rubbed the back of his neck.

‘Anyone else want a game?’ I looked hopefully round at the other boys.

‘No way, you’re too good. I’m going to join in the football.’ Hugo jumped over the edge of the veranda to the lawn. Jonas was organizing two teams for a quick five-a-side.

‘Good idea.’ Phil followed, then Michael.

Alex made to join them then paused. ‘Do you play?’

I folded my arms. ‘Not much.’

‘Maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t think my ego could take more humiliation today.’ He leapt down to the grass and jogged over to be absorbed into a team.

Bopping the ping-pong ball on my bat, I watched as the football game got under way. The only people at the party not joining in were the female guests. There were no other girls my age so I stuck out on my own. Perhaps I should have said I played a little with my baby brothers? I then saw Phil bring Alex down in a messy tackle. Ouch. Perhaps not. With a sigh, I left my bat behind and wandered off to walk the perimeter of the garden. It felt a very male place even at Tarryn’s cottage. Being a single-sex school, they clearly weren’t used to factoring girls into the entertainment, especially ones that beat them. A smile bloomed from the inside, filling me up like the sip of a hot drink on a cold day. That had been one of my best-ever Misty moments. I’d have to tell Summer and Angel every detail of the match.

It is funny how a good evening can quickly go pear-shaped and it wasn’t even my fault. Not really. The plus column had been pretty stupendous: Uriel had found his soulfinder and I had emerged victor in a closely fought game of table tennis against someone who so needed to lose. On the minus column, the list was fairly short: not being a girl with bags of confidence, I couldn’t summon the courage to mingle, and I felt shut out from the boys’ club atmosphere of the school. Both minor faults but it did result in me moving from quiet spot to hidden place, trying to look as if I was enjoying myself. I was an old hand at the vague ‘I’m fine’ smile and the continual finding of things to do, plates to fetch, drinks to top up, anything to keep me from having to speak to a stranger. There was no way I would ask Francie to take me home yet as Uriel’s situation was far more important than any little awkwardness I might experience. I was used to being isolated by my gift so being at the fringe of a party like this was not new. I found a spot on the veranda near the table tennis table where I had a good view of the lawn but was hidden from the other guests by the bushes in the flower bed below. Nearly everyone else had drifted down to the grass to take seats on the garden chairs in the late evening sunshine.

The football match ended. T-shirts were taken off so sweaty bodies could be cooled; drinks were guzzled; light-hearted teasing of mistakes mingled with praise of the skilful. I allowed myself a moment’s awed silence as I admired the trim torsos on display. The quartet split off again, this time taking to some wicker sun-loungers just below my position on the veranda. They couldn’t see me, thanks to the flourishing camellia bush but, hey, I was here first. If they didn’t keep their voices down that was their lookout. I rubbed the condensation off the side of my lemonade wondering what boys like them talked about when they were alone. Call it a bit of harmless gender research.

‘So what do you think of Miss Coetzee’s guy?’ asked Hugo. The chair creaked as he kicked back and took a swig of his drink.

‘He’s great. Did you hear him mention that he’s a forensic scientist?’ Michael sounded very impressed. Most people were when they paid attention to Uriel; he knew so much but wasn’t in-your-face about his cleverness.

‘That’s awesome. I must talk to him about it.’ That comment came from Phil. I could just see the tips of his spiky ginger hair over the top of the bush and a few glimpses of his face through the filigree of leaves.

‘You still thinking of applying for medicine after Matric?’ Alex now joined in, the violin soloist taking up the tune after the introduction.

‘That’s the plan but maybe I should keep my options open.’ I saw a flick of colour through the camellias as Phil rubbed his face with a blue towel. Like many with his complexion, he had the kind of skin that went very red after exercise and he had left the match looking a bit ‘boiled lobster’.

‘And we all know how you love dissection in biology,’ said Hugo. ‘What you did with those eyeballs last week was just gross.’

‘I was thinking surgeon maybe but … ’

‘But maybe the world would be a safer place if you stuck to cutting up those already dead. Squish.’

Phil wasn’t offended. ‘You might be right. I was kinda clumsy.’ He waved his plate-sized palms in acknowledgement. They did seem more adapted to swinging an axe rather than a scalpel. ‘But not all forensic scientists do that stuff—autopsies. That’s the job of a pathologist. There’s more to it than that.’