The Weight of Souls (2 page)

The girl was pretty and she looked sweet; a bit like Hannah. I wanted to believe that she was tagging along with a group that weren’t quite her friends, that there was a good reason she’d got the dress code so wrong.

I took a step towards a BT phone box, leaned against the grey curve of plastic and kept my eyes on her. She leaned towards whoever was speaking and laughed in all the right places. But the other girls together made a single organism, constantly touching or hugging, shoving one another, patting a friend’s hair back into place, adjusting a neckline or shirt.
She
was careful not to come into contact with any of the others and she did no touching of her own.

A final partygoer ran along the street, laughing breathlessly. “I’m late, I’m late, I’m sorry.”

The group milled for one more moment then they all reached in their bags for their Oyster cards and moved into the station, boys and girls merging as they went.

This girl had no bag. That clinched it for me.

I took a step backwards but the dead girl offered no sign that she was aware of my presence and continued to drift with the laughing group towards the turnstiles. It was possible she didn’t know I was there. Sometimes I saw the newly dead… but what she was wearing told me she hadn't died that recently. Maybe she was hanging around a particular person, a sister or best friend, watching over them or something.

I didn’t take my eyes off her.

The last of the group disappeared through the turnstiles. If she was waiting for me she wouldn’t follow them in.

The girl’s shoulders twitched and she hesitated. It was as if she was conflicted about walking through the gate without paying. Then she straightened, stepped away from the turnstile and turned to face me.

Our gazes clashed for a moment. Her face was pathetically full of hope.

I ran.

 

I knew she was after me. I could hear her light sandals clacking on the pavement.

I pounded past the bus stop, but where was I running to? Hastily I palmed my Oyster card. If I could circle back to the station, I might be able to jump on a train before she caught up.

Each breath already had a sharp edge to it and I had to press a fist into my side as I sprinted for the corner. Ghosts didn’t have to breathe; on foot she’d outlast me.

“You alright, love?” A middle aged man held his arm out, but I barged past.

“Sorry,” I gasped.

Then the growl and hiss of a labouring engine made me raise my head. A double-decker lumbered round the corner glowing like Christmas and it was a Routemaster with an open rear.

A whoop whistled out of me and I hurled myself towards the road. As the bus passed, I reached for the pole, leaped and swung myself on board.

Immediately I turned. The dead girl was only two steps behind. Quickly I lifted my hand out of her reach, but kept contact with the metal pole. She grinned and reached out, already jumping towards me.

As her hand went straight through the metal her eyes widened. So, she was new enough not to have known about that. Or maybe she was just stupid.

She hit the floor with her chest, her feet dragged on the road and she scrabbled desperately, trying to get the rest of her body onto the bus.

I crouched just out of her reach and looked at her in silence.

“Please,” she begged. “I know you can help me.” She stretched out her hand, as though I’d take it.

I watched her without moving until she lost her grip.

 

“That was dangerous, young lady.”

I turned with my heart in my throat.

It wasn’t another ghost but the bus conductor, glaring at me with rancid disapproval.

“You don’t know the half of it.” I showed him my card and he gestured to an empty seat.

“You should wait at a bus stop, like everyone else. If you’d been run over who’d be blamed?”

I nodded and mumbled apologies as I made my way down the aisle. A quick glance in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs revealed three passengers on the top deck. I wondered about going up to check that they too were among the living, but the conductor frowned at me.

“Sit down, or I’ll have to ask you to get off at the next stop.”

I sighed and compromised by choosing one of the seats in the disabled area, so I couldn’t be pinned in place. Then I slumped onto the chair, crossed my arms, pulled my hood over my hair and leaned my head on the window.

 

Ten minutes towards Brixton the bus pulled into a crowded stop. My shoulders tensed and I prepared to jump for the exit if I had to.

“Oh Gawd, look who it is.”

The familiar drawl penetrated my eardrums like a dental drill. It was Tamsin Harper, she of the faux US accent, the fake blonde hair and the fluffy angora jumpers.

I blinked.
What was
she
doing on the night bus in this part of town?

She wasn’t alone.

Great. The gang’s all here
.
Tamsin, Justin, James, Harley and Pete. Lions and tigers, bitches and bears, oh my
.

Tamsin leaned into her boyfriend’s chest, giving him a primo view down the front of her gaping trench coat. His eyes glazed for a moment, then flickered up to meet mine.

For a moment there seemed to be something deeper than the usual disdain in the rich brown of them, and I pictured him as I always secretly saw him, a Victorian poet dumped into the wrong era. Justin was almost, but not quite, too thin; his uniform always clean and pressed, but not like a dork, more like he was too cool to bother to mess with it. Even when he was quietly directing the rest of the gang, he had a sprawling air. He always looked as if he was leaning on something, even if he wasn’t.

For a moment he looked almost pleased to see me. Then his mouth assumed its familiar curl and his long fingers brushed Tamsin’s wrist. “So who picked the 118?” he laughed. “Did you know she’d be here, Petey? You trying to tell us something?” And there it was, tacit permission given to his cronies. I was fair game.

“She who?” Pete’s newly bald head bobbed from the centre of the pack. He’d been laughing with Harley but now he stopped and stared. “What’re you doing here?”

I grit my teeth. “Minding my own business,
Petey
.”

“Whatever.” Pete gave Justin a nudge. “C'mon, man, pick a seat, I gotta take a load off.”

As Justin steered Tamsin towards the stairs, I relaxed. Then Tamsin glanced back and pursed her lips like an evil kiss. She pulled Justin to a stop. “Actually, I want to sit down here.” She led the way to the back of the bottom deck, watching me over her shoulder; a cat anticipating a cream-filled mouse. She hadn't finished with me yet.

Harley’s voice tore my eyes away from her. “Awright, Chickety China.” He leered at me from beneath his heavily gelled ringlets, shoved past Pete and loped after the loved-up couple.

But when Pete tried to follow him a thick forearm barred the way: James.

Justin led the group and Tamsin was nastiest but James was the most dangerous. I'd fought with him since I caught him pulling the legs off crane flies when we were nine years old. For some reason though, the teachers loved him. With his blond hair and blue eyes, I suppose he appeared to be a good guy.

I exhaled with deliberate calm as my eyes raked the fine hairs on his exposed wrist and stopped on the edge of a tattoo. Despite myself I tilted my head trying to see the whole thing. It looked like a letter “V”.

“New tattoo? You still trying to be cool, Jimbo?” My voice shook slightly, betraying my nerves only to Pete who knew me almost better than anyone else. His eyes widened in a silent warning to back down and take whatever James was planning to dish out. It was the single concession he'd give me. Whatever James did, Pete would fall in line, it was one of the reasons we were no longer close.

But James seemed to ignore my comment. He shifted to address Pete, even as his eyes continued to burn into mine.

“You should stay here with your girlfriend,
Petey
.”

I glared into James’ dead orbs. His hair caught the orange light, setting his head on fire as he gave Pete a shove. “Why don’t you give her a kiss?”

Pete cannoned into my arm and I jerked as if burned. Pete jumped back just as violently. “Cut it out,” he growled and he rubbed his arm where it had touched me. James just grinned and planted himself in the aisle.

“You're not getting past till you give her a kiss, Petrol Pete.”

A giggle from the back of the bus caught my attention. Tamsin was leaning forward, red lips parted in an excited exclamation. Justin was trying to regain her attention, but to her, it seemed, he no longer existed.

Trapped by my seat Pete avoided my eyes. Invisible red ants crawled over me as I played my part and forced myself to pretend he wasn’t standing there and that we'd never meant anything to each other.

Finally the bus lurched into motion.

“Do it, Pete, I dare you.” Tamsin was laughing out loud now.

“Kiss, kiss,” Harley was chanting. Pete's mahogany skin glowed with mortification.

James sneered. Then I jerked as he caught my hood and yanked it back. One big hand curled around the back of my neck and forced my face up to the light. I tried to reach back and dislodge him, but the seat was in the way. I squirmed, but he started to squeeze and I stopped moving. Beneath James' jock facade simmering violence bubbled and I was in too vulnerable a position to knock off his veneer. So I held myself still, trying not to feel like a pinned bug.

He examined me as I glared, turning my face with pressure on my carotid and in the sensitive dip above my collar bone.

“She's pig ugly, Pete,” James leered. “But I have seen worse. Don't worry, we won't tell anyone at school.” Involuntarily I shuddered and he grinned. He forced me to lift off my seat, pulled my head back and slanted it towards Pete. I clenched my fists, refusing to look at my former friend with anything like pleading.

Dog-like pants moistened my forehead as James leaned in, excited. He narrowed his eyes at Pete. “Do it,” he snapped.

Pete shuffled and glowered downwards as if the situation was my fault. “C'mon, man, let's just sit down.”

“Not till you give her a proper snog.” James shook me. “Loosen her up a bit.”

“It's not going to happen. Let it go.” I spoke through gritted teeth.

Pete tried to edge past again, but James planted his feet and blocked the aisle. “Maybe I should do it, then, what d'you reckon?” He inspected me more closely, moving his face towards mine with slow deliberation.

“Anything that goes near my mouth gets bitten.” I showed my teeth hoping, pointlessly, that Pete would step in before things went too far.

Then James' grip loosened and he looked up. I followed his gaze.

“I think you kids should sit down.” The conductor was fiddling nervously with his belt, but his jaw was set in a firm line.

Immediately James released me and started to slide into the seat behind mine.

“Not there.” The conductor looked at me, then back at my tormentor. “You can sit at the back with the kids you got on with.”

James gave his adults-only smile and reached to pat my shoulder. “Hey, no worries, mate. We're friends from school. Aren't we, China?” His nails dug into my collar bone.

“Actually,” I turned, wide-eyed, “I've never seen them before.”

“Right.” The conductor exhaled. “Look, I'm not having trouble on this bus. Either you move to the back, son, or you get off.” He leaned on the seat opposite. “And I'll be staying right here until the young lady reaches her stop.”

James moved his hand from my seat and leaned back. He stared the conductor out for an uncomfortable minute.

“James, what's taking so long?” Justin's arm was around Tamsin's shoulder and he was stretched out on the back seat, apparently relaxed, but his eyes were steady on us. “We've got stuff to discuss. You're holding us up, man.”

Finally James sucked air between his teeth, a long hiss of displeasure, then he stood. With a final smirk at the conductor he trailed his fingers along the back of my seat. “See you at school, China.” Then he bent to put his mouth against my ear. “You'd have liked it,” he whispered.

The conductor jerked his head and James held his hands up and loped up the bus. Tamsin giggled excitedly as he sat next to her.

Pete followed, with relief in the set of his spine.

The conductor watched until they were settled, then he sat down himself.

“Thanks,” I muttered and he nodded.

Gratefully I huddled into my hoodie, counting down the minutes until I could change buses.

When the Routemaster reached my stop, the conductor waved me off. My shoulder blades itched as the vehicle drew away and I turned. James was standing at the back, watching me. As the bus drew away the streetlights set his eyes on fire. The otherworldly glow pursued me until Justin appeared behind him and tugged him back down.

I shivered and pulled my hoodie close. I couldn't waste any more time on James. I was still an hour from home and there was a city full of the dead to avoid.

 

3

 

THEY AREN’T GHOSTS, THEY’RE HALLUCINATIONS

 

As I dragged myself round the corner of our road, my limbs felt like china, fragile with fatigue. The only thing that kept me moving was the knowledge that I would soon be in bed.

But halfway down the street I realised the lights in our flat were on.
No way
.
I checked my watch. If Dad was waiting up, it was because he wanted to talk to me.

I sighed so deeply my chest hurt and moved into the light cast by the living room window. Movement inside told me that Dad had seen my approach. I glanced at his chair-lift, considered it briefly then climbed the stairs slowly as an old woman.