My Brilliant Idea (And How It Caused My Downfall) (11 page)

It's Gary's mum who answers the bell. I ask if I can speak to Gary, then hold my breath, hoping she doesn't say he's out. She doesn't. She asks who I am and I tell her I'm Jack Dawson, then she shouts loudly to Gary there's someone at the door for him, and she walks away. Quickly, we make the switch, and I stand up against the wall, looking out at the road, listening intently to hear what's going on.

I hear some heavy footsteps coming down the hallway, and then I hear the door creaking open a little bit more. I imagine Gary must have been looking at the floor or something, because he makes a sort of sniffing noise and doesn't seem to have noticed it's my dad standing there, and then I hear the little note of surprise.

“Oh . . .” he says. “I thought it was for me. Do you want my dad?”

“Probably,” Dad says. “I've come to tell him about the wheelchair lift in the new block.”

Everything goes silent. I pretend to myself I can hear Gary swallowing. He creaks the door a bit and then speaks very quietly.

“I didn't do anything,” he says.

Dad doesn't respond. I turn my head round to the side, still keeping it pushed up against the wall, and I see him just standing there.

“Is your dad in?” he finally asks Gary.

Gary doesn't say anything. I don't know if he's nodded or shaken his head or anything like that, but he doesn't speak.

“How will your dad take the news?” Dad asks, and I hear Gary saying it was an accident.

“I was just helping Irene up to the first floor,” he lies.

“You and fourteen others,” Dad replies. “I found a copy of your diagram in Jack's room. It's clever. You'd make a good civil engineer if you weren't about to get expelled from school. But you probably shouldn't have signed it. That wasn't too bright.”

This is the only shaky part of the plan. If Gary asks to see the diagram at this point, we're in a spot of hot water, since we don't really have one. If we did, I could've used it to get the iPad back weeks ago. But Gary's obviously in a bit of a blind panic, and he doesn't suspect for a minute that my dad's scamming him.

“What can I do?” Gary asks, and he's starting to sound quite scared.

“Jack says he lent you an iPad,” Dad says. “And that you won't give it back.”

More seconds of silence follow, and more squeaking of the door. “He said I could keep that,” Gary says.

“Jack's changed his mind,” my dad tells him. “It's up to you, but you can either bring me the iPad or bring me your dad.”

I hold my breath. The door squeaks again. Then I hear Gary running down the hallway, and I hear his heavy feet clattering up the stairs. My dad takes a step back and turns toward me. I look at him and he lifts a thumb while still keeping his hands down by his sides. Then he takes a step toward the door again.

It's not long before I hear Gary thumping back down the stairs, and then I hear the glorious sound of the iPad changing hands.

“Can I have the diagram back?” Gary asks, and my dad says, “Hmm . . .”

I hear some clicks as my dad turns on the iPad and plays about with it. I know he's got no idea what he's doing, and I hope he doesn't break the thing before I get it back.

“I think I'll keep the diagram for now,” he tells Gary. “That way, if anything happens to Jack because of this, I can still show it to your dad.”

Gary stays quiet, and my dad turns the iPad off again.

“Tell your dad I was asking for him, anyway,” he says, and I hear Gary sort of tutting before he closes the door. I stay up against the wall until I'm sure he's gone, and then I step away from it, feeling sharp little pains all over my back where the stones in the wall had been cutting into me.

“Let's go,” Dad whispers, and gives me a sort of disastrous low-five. Then we hurry back to the car and head for Harry's place.

After stopping for a twelve-inch crispy-thin on the way, with plenty of pineapple, I climb the stairs to Harry's room and knock on the door. There's no reply. I'm sure I can hear him moving about in there, though, so I knock again.

Still nothing.

“It's Jack,” I shout, and I hear a soft groan coming from inside the room. I slip the iPad into my bag, then open the door myself and just walk in.

Harry's sitting over at his desk, playing a game of chess against himself, turning the board round to move a white piece, then turning it back again to move a black one.

“Who's winning?” I ask him, and go and sit down on his kid bed. He gives me a look as if to say, “Very funny, I don't think!” and carries on playing. I make myself comfortable and look around his room for a while, and then I drop the bombshell.

“I've brought you a present,” I say, and that gets his attention. The chess game is instantly abandoned. He jumps up from his desk midmove and comes across the room, toward me.

“You've got the iPad?” he says. “Seriously?”

I put a hand in my bag and then frown, as if it's not where I expected it to be. I search through the compartments, dipping in and out of them and making my frown deeper, then lay my hand on it and look relieved. I draw it out as if I'm a magician bringing out a rabbit or something, and Harry lunges forward and pulls it out of my hands.

“That bastard Crawford better not have refurbished it,” he says. “My stuff better still be on here.”

He slides his fingertip furiously around the screen, and I spend a few tense minutes just watching him like that, his face giving nothing away. Then, just when I'm starting to think I might hyperventilate, he punches a fist up into the air and shouts, “Yes!” and I start breathing like I'm normal again.

“You did it, Jackdaw,” he says disbelievingly. “It's all here. You really did it.”

For one awful moment I think he's about to kiss me, but then it passes.

“So we're on?” I say. “You'll take the rap for the Chris Yates fight now?”

“First thing in the morning,” he replies. “Just like I said I would. I'll be waiting outside Bailey's office before the bell rings for registration.”

I try to slow him down a bit.

“I've been thinking about that,” I say. “We need to hold off until lunchtime. I haven't had time to square it all with Cyrus McCormack yet. I have to make sure he knows who he's supposed to have fought.”

Harry shakes his head. “I'm not waiting,” he says. “This is my chance now, Jack. I don't want to risk anybody else coming forward and spoiling it.”

I can't believe what I'm hearing. Two days ago, we had all the time in the world apparently. Now he won't even let me get the plan straight.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask him. “You said you were willing to wait as long as it took me to get the iPad back.”

“Only because I knew that would make you get it back,” he says. “I was still going to Bailey first thing in the morning whether you brought it round tonight or not.”

“You bastard!” I say. “I almost had a stroke trying to work out how to get it back for you. And I've landed myself with an interview at my dad's factory into the bargain.”

I lie back on his bed. My brain is whirring again. I need to find a way to convince him not to go to Bailey first thing in the morning. I need time to square the whole thing with Cyrus McCormack, or it'll turn into a complete disaster. And I don't even know Cyrus McCormack. I don't know the first thing about him.

A terrifying scene starts to take place behind my eyes. I see Bailey calling Cyrus into his office, and as Cyrus stands there Bailey points to Harry, who's sitting over by the window.

“Is this the boy I caught you fighting with?” Bailey asks. “Is this the boy you've been protecting?”

Cyrus looks over at Harry and wonders what's going on. He imagines Bailey must have been fed some false information by one of Yatesy's henchmen, and he wonders if he should just go along with it to save himself getting another beating, and to save the school trip. But then he thinks about the punishment Harry will receive if he lies, and he shakes his head.

“It wasn't him,” Cyrus says, and the whole world crumbles to dust. Yatesy isn't off the hook, and my app lies in ruins. All my work has been for nothing. Harry has destroyed everything.

“You've got to give me till lunchtime,” I say to Harry. “It won't work otherwise. Cyrus won't know what's going on, and he'll tell Bailey it wasn't you. Then you won't have a hope in hell of getting to university, and you'll probably get suspended for lying.”

“It's a chance I'm willing to take,” he says. “It's a bigger risk to leave it till later. Someone's bound to go to Bailey in the morning.”

“No they're not,” I say. “No one's gone to him yet, have they? What difference will a couple of hours make? Just give me that.”

“I can't do it,” Harry says.

My brain whirrs. I search desperately for something, anything at all.

“How about this?” I say. “What if I have a word with Yatesy tonight? Ask him to tell his people to spread the word that the school trip's safe. That someone's coming forward at lunchtime to take the blame. Then no one else has any reason to go to Bailey.”

He thinks about it. “Could you do that?” he asks. “Would that work?”

Of course it wouldn't.

“Of course it would,” I say. “Yatesy's crew has managed to make sure no one's come forward so far. This would be pimps.”

He goes back to his desk and sits down. He studies the pieces on the chessboard and moves one of them to a different square. Then he picks it up and moves it back again.

“Okay,” he says, “I'll give you till lunchtime. But no longer than that.”

I feel a huge wave of relief washing over me. I stand up and reach out to slap him on the shoulders, but before I even make contact we both jump like we've been electrocuted. There's an almighty crash from downstairs that sounds like the ceiling falling in. We stare at each other in complete shock, and neither of us speaks. My hand remains outstretched but still not touching his shoulders. Harry's face is chalk white. Then there's another almighty crash, and we hear the sound of a muffled shout.

“Trucking banker!” it sounds like, or something like that, and we both head for the door and make a run for the stairs.

“Not a word,” my dad says. “Agreed?”

We're back sitting outside our own house, with the car engine still running, and my dad pulls down the sun visor and opens up the mirror on it.

“Hell's teeth!” he says. He takes out a handkerchief and starts rubbing his face with it, then spends a while fixing his hair and zips his jacket all the way up to his chin.

“Agreed?” he says again, and I nod. He nods too and turns the engine off. “No point in worrying your mum,” he says. He looks in the mirror once more, then folds the sun visor back into place, and we get out of the car and head inside.

Mum's sitting in the living room watching TV. She doesn't have the twisty rubber things in anymore, but her hair looks curly now, though Dad doesn't seem to notice any difference.

“Where were you?” Mum asks. “I was starting to get worried about you both.”

“We were round at Ray's,” Dad says, and Mum makes a pleased little noise.

“I didn't think of that,” she says. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Cracking,” Dad lies.

“How about you, Jack?” Mum says. “Did you have a nice time with Harry?”

I think of the moment where I asked Harry if he was ready to stand in for Yatesy and he told me he was. I just focus on that and try to forget about everything that happened afterward, to keep the right kind of expression on my face.

“Brilliant,” I say, and Mum looks thrilled.

“Look at my two boys,” she says. “Out there having adventures together.”

If only she knew the half of it.

When Harry and I got downstairs at Uncle Ray's place, my dad and Uncle Ray were both lying on the kitchen floor, and one of the wooden chairs was all smashed up, over by the sink. Uncle Ray had one hand in my dad's hair, and the other beneath his chin, trying to push my dad's face away. My dad had both hands on Uncle Ray's collar, and his feet were kicking along the floor at Uncle Ray's feet and shins. My dad's nose was bleeding all over the place, and the cut on Uncle Ray's chin from the other day, which had looked a lot better when we arrived earlier, was bleeding onto his shirt again, and they were both making strange grunting noises and swearing a lot.

“Dad!” Harry shouted, and they looked round and saw us standing there, and almost at once the struggling stopped. Uncle Ray tried to smile, which looked quite strange under the circumstances, and then he glanced at my dad very briefly.

“Just a minor tussle,” he said. “Just a bit of fun, boys. I imagine you were doing pretty much the same thing upstairs.”

Even my dad looked baffled, but he got to his feet along with Uncle Ray, and Uncle Ray put an arm round my dad's shoulders and pulled him close while they both stood facing us.

“So that's how you do the Buckle,” Uncle Ray said to Dad. “It's an old wrestling move,” he told us. “Your dad thought it went differently, Jack, but he was thinking of the Double Slam.”

“You're a moron, Dad,” Harry said, and he left the room and headed upstairs.

“Go and borrow a suit from Harry,” my dad said. “For the interview. Then we're leaving.”

I hurried after Harry, and while I was up there some more shouting started, and there were another couple of bangs. But when I got back down, my dad was standing at the door, holding it open and signaling to me to get outside.

“Don't be a stranger, Jackdaw,” Uncle Ray shouted from the kitchen, and I told him I wouldn't.

Dad grabbed the suit off me and pushed me outside. Then he threw the suit onto the back seat of the car and reversed out of the driveway without even checking to see if there was anything coming, the tires screeching when we reached the road.