Читать книгу Stand By Me - S.D. Robertson - Страница 16

Chloe was seriously freaked out. The minute she got up to her room, she messaged her best friend, Holly, whose house she’d stayed at the night before.

C: Are you still awake?

H: For now. Mum says I have to go to bed soon, seeing as we barely slept last night. It was fun, though, right?

C: Definitely! I’ll ask my parents if you can come for a sleepover here soon. What are you up to?

H: Not much. Chilling, watching some YouTube videos. You?

C: Something seriously strange happened tonight. I have to tell you about it.

H: Sounds exciting. Btw, before I forget, you left your hairbrush.

C: Wondered where that was. Thanks. Will pop round for it sometime.

H: So what happened?

C: Mum had this old friend over for tea – a man called Elliot. They were BFFs when they were kids. (They didn’t say so, but I think he might be gay.) Anyway, like twenty years ago, Elliot moved to Australia and they never saw each other again – until now. He turned up yesterday and surprised Mum. He’s staying at The Grange.

H: What’s he like?

C: Nice, I guess. He has an odd accent, somewhere in between English and Australian.

H: What’s so strange?

C: Coming to that now. I was on my own with him in the kitchen when we were tidying up after tea. The two of us were emptying the dishwasher. I picked a sharp knife out of the cutlery rack and it slipped from my hand. It fell, blade first, straight towards my bare foot. There was no time to move. And this is what freaked me out: right at the last minute, the knife changed direction. Suddenly, without any obvious explanation, it went flying to one side, out of the way.

H: Eh? So it didn’t hit your foot?

C: Nowhere near. It ended up on the other side of the room, like some invisible force had swiped it away.

H: What do you mean? Did it hit a cupboard or something on the way down?

C: No, definitely not. There was nothing between the knife and my foot other than air. That’s what was weird.

H: And Elliot?

C: He was putting away some plates at the time. He wasn’t anywhere near close enough to knock it away. But somehow I still think it was him.

H: You’re confusing me.

C: I think he did it without touching it – using his mind or whatever.

H: Is this a wind-up, Chloe?

C: Seriously. I looked over at him after it happened and he gave me this kind of embarrassed look, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Then he smiled and said: ‘Close call, kiddo. You need to be careful with knives.’

H: What did you say?

C: Nothing. I was too busy trying to wrap my head around it.

H: Did you tell your parents or Ben?

C: Of course not. They’d think I was crazy.

H: And you thought I wouldn’t? Lol. Remember we basically had no sleep last night. It’s probably your mind playing tricks. Sorry, got to go. Mum’s breathing down my neck about having a shower. Chat in the morning?

C: Sure. Night. X

H: Night. X

Chloe placed her mobile on the bedside table. It was 8.32 p.m. Her parents were still busy entertaining downstairs. Better that than biting each other’s heads off, anyway.

She hoped Elliot wasn’t any more to Mum than an old friend. Chloe was already worried enough about her parents’ marriage, without anything or anyone else to complicate matters. Certainly Dad hadn’t looked as enthusiastic about their visitor as Mum had. And neither of them had been keen to chat about their evening out together last night, which suggested it hadn’t gone well.

She thought back to Holly’s words about how tiredness might have led her to imagine the kitchen incident. Really? No, that wasn’t possible. She knew what she’d seen.

So what did that make Elliot? A magician? A superhero? Some kind of supernatural being? A vampire, perhaps?

They’d studied Gothic literature in English class at school this year, looking at classic novels like Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. She’d loved the idea of these books but found the reality hard going. Instead, she’d turned to something more modern: Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight saga. She was hooked, currently enjoying the second book in the series, New Moon, which was next to her mobile on the bedside table.

Could Elliot really be a vampire? She laughed at herself for considering this option. And then she came back to it, since only a fantastical explanation could come close to explaining what she’d seen. And was it any more ridiculous, any more unbelievable, than the idea of him being a superhero?

The big argument against the vampire theory was the fact that Elliot had eaten with them earlier. In Twilight, Edward ate a small amount of pizza at one point, Chloe recalled, but it definitely wasn’t a pleasant experience for him. He compared it to a human eating dirt, from what she remembered. Well, there was definitely no sign of that at the table tonight. Elliot had dug into Mum’s lasagne with enthusiasm, commenting on how delicious it was, and even having seconds.

On the other hand, Elliot appeared younger and in better shape than either of her parents. He was good-looking, for an adult: the right combination of slim and muscular, with a jawline that actually reminded her of Robert Pattinson, who played Edward Cullen in the Twilight movies. (She was saving these for later but had seen plenty of photos.) Such things, together with that supernatural ability, were ticks in the potential vampire box.

What about the fact he’d used his power, or whatever it was, to stop her from being injured? Traditionally, vampires were considered evil, like Dracula, but Edward and the other Cullens weren’t like that. Still, even they struggled with their instincts in the face of human blood. Maybe that was also why Elliot had stopped the knife, because if it had hit her foot, there would have been loads of blood.

Plenty to chew over. Chloe considered searching some vampire mythology online: something other than Twilight, since that was just one writer’s take on it. But stifling a yawn, she realised this would have to wait for another time.

The bedroom door burst open and in walked her elder brother.

Chloe sighed. ‘It’s polite to knock first.’

Ben ignored this and asked her what she was doing.

‘Nothing. You?’

‘Not much.’

Chloe wondered what Ben wanted. He rarely came into her bedroom unless he needed a favour. Not that she minded. Secretly, she was fond of her big brother, but she’d fallen into the habit of pretending not to be. She found she got more respect from Ben this way than she did in the old days, when she used to follow him around, begging him to play with her.

There were almost four years between them. She had a June birthday and his was at the end of August. So now she was twelve to his fifteen, but that would only last another few weeks; then he would turn sixteen and the age gap would return to normal.

They’d never discussed it, but Chloe suspected that Holly, who was far more into boys than she was, had a crush on Ben. She was always batting her eyelashes at him; she would burst into laughter if the slightest hint of a joke left his lips. As annoying as this was, Chloe could just about understand why – not that she’d ever admit it.

Ben was relatively handsome, compared to other boys around his age, who tended to be gangly and awkward. Broad-shouldered with thick, wavy dark hair, brown eyes, olive skin and a clear complexion, he looked very different to Chloe. She had pale white skin, already showing a tendency for spots, plus light-green eyes and long, straight auburn hair. That was her mum’s natural colour too. She’d been dying it blonde for years but wouldn’t entertain the notion of her daughter doing the same. Totally unfair.

‘What do you think of Elliot?’ she asked Ben.

‘Why?’

‘I just wondered. He seems a bit … unusual to me.’

‘What do you mean?’

She shrugged, not yet ready to trust Ben with what she’d seen. She needed more evidence first – and to re-evaluate the situation when she wasn’t so tired. ‘I’m surprised you’re not down there chatting to him. He’s a big deal in computers and stuff, right? Might be able to get an IT geek like you a job one day.’

Ben frowned, muttering that a post in Australia would be useless to him. Despite his sporty physique, the only games he tended to play were on his PC. He spent much of his spare time behind his computer screen, often tinkering with technical things that Chloe didn’t understand. And yet Ben hated being labelled a nerd. He definitely wanted something. Otherwise he wouldn’t have let her get away with what she’d just said.

He wandered aimlessly around her room, picking and poking at things on her shelves and desk, before finally getting to the point. ‘Any chance you might be able to do me a tiny favour, Chloe?’

She smiled to herself. ‘Depends what it is.’

‘You know how Mum and Dad are going to see Aunt Jenny on Monday and they agreed we could stay at home?’

Chloe nodded.

‘I could do with popping out for a bit, um, alone.’ Ben scratched his head. ‘Would you be okay here by yourself for a couple of hours?’

‘Where do you need to go?’

‘To meet a friend nearby. No one you know.’

‘Ooh, a girlfriend?’

Ben’s face soured. ‘No. Bloody hell, Chloe.’

‘What? You expect me to say yes without any questions?’

‘What’s the problem? You’re always telling Mum and Dad that you’re old enough to be left home alone. I thought you’d jump at the chance.’

‘What if I need you for something?’

‘I’ll have my mobile.’

‘I don’t know, Ben. We’ll both be in big trouble if we get found out.’

‘I’ll take the heat if that happens. But why would it? If we don’t tell them, how will they find out?’

‘Well, I don’t see why you can’t tell me where you’re going and who you’re meeting.’

Ben sighed. ‘I knew you’d be like this.’ He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a ten pound note. Chloe hadn’t expected this, but knowing he was prepared to pay, she pushed for more and got him up to twenty.

‘So it’s a deal then?’ he asked before handing over the notes.

‘Yes, but if Mum and Dad find out somehow, it’s on you.’

‘Fine.’

Chloe was intrigued. What was Ben up to that was so secret – and worth paying her twenty pounds?

As she considered this, lying on top of the green and white striped quilt on her bed, she shut her eyes for a moment.

Twenty minutes later, the sound of a cat meowing woke her up. It was actually her phone’s notification for receiving a text message. She’d installed the realistic sound for fun; since it had caught out so many people, leading them to look around for a noisy kitty in places like libraries and shops, she’d stuck with it.

Chloe wondered who it might be. Most of her friends tended to use messaging apps rather than texting, unless they were out of data or had no Wi-Fi.

The text was from a number she didn’t recognise, which wasn’t saved in her contacts. It read:

Chloe Adams? Be warned. I’m watching you.