“Stop calling me that!” Damn it, how could I persuade him that he wasn’t looking at me but only at a Dream-Liv dressed by Matt in this embarrassingly seductive outfit?
The only solution that occurred to me in a hurry was diversion. My first thought was to blow a hole in the side of the plane, but I was afraid it might be beyond me to imagine the following scenario (if only I’d paid more attention to those disaster movies!). So I did the next best thing. I stopped and, with my eyes wide in alarm, pointed at one of the passengers.
“He has a bomb!” I cried as loud as I could, and a few people kindly began screeching and jumped up from their seats, including the poor man I’d pointed out. Anyone not yet panicking caught up with the situation, at latest, when the oxygen masks dropped from the flaps above the passengers two seconds later. Henry himself looked away from me briefly, and I used that moment to sit down in an empty seat at the side of the plane, where I swiftly turned into my great-aunt Gertrude, pearl earrings, green eye shadow, Queen Elizabeth II hairstyle, and all.
Henry looked around inquiringly and went on making his way forward.
Great-Aunt Gertrude, on the other hand, marched past the central seats on her way to the toilets (there were certain advantages, I decided, in weighing about a hundred kilos). Just before I reached the red door, I looked around once again. No sign of Henry. But I did see Matt, who had climbed up on his seat and was shouting, “Keep calm! Don’t panic!” It probably wasn’t particularly helpful that he was brandishing the sharp neck of a broken whiskey bottle. But he provided the perfect diversion. I snatched the door open quickly, slipped out into the corridor, and slammed the door again behind me.
I waddled around the next corner as fast as I could—or rather, as fast as Great-Aunt Gertrude’s body would let me—and then leaned back against the wall. That had been close!
What the hell had Henry been doing in Matt’s dream? Had he followed me there? As I slowly slid down the wall to sit on the floor, I changed back into myself and buried my face in my hands. Had I really thought I couldn’t make things any worse? Well, I’d been dead wrong there. My only hope was that Henry wouldn’t …
“Nice try,” he said, and there went my only hope. I didn’t even ask how he had managed to appear beside me out of nowhere. As I made no move to stand up, he sat down beside me.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Hi.” It was hard to read the expression on his face—even though he was smiling, he looked anything but amused. His gray eyes were inspecting me from head to foot. When I turned back into myself, I hadn’t paid much attention to styling, so I was wearing the same clothes as last night, jeans and a white statement T-shirt. Mom had recently thrown it out, and I’d decided to have it. The statement said Feminism is not a dirty word.
Of course it caught Henry’s eye. “Interesting. Especially on someone who was in a flight attendant’s uniform that could have graced any porn just now.”
“I can’t say I know my way around that subject. But I’m glad you liked it.” I didn’t mean to sound so snide; I’d have liked to put my head against his chest and start crying, but obviously my pride wouldn’t allow it.
Henry sighed. “Would you mind telling me what that was all about?”
I looked at him unhappily. If only it was that simple! “It … it’s a long story.”
“I have time,” said Henry, stretching one leg out.
“Yes, obviously. Enough time to go spying on me.” Strange how many emotions you could feel at the same time. Guilt, shame, now anger …
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did.” I didn’t let him finish. “You did exactly what you blamed me for doing when I followed you into that whirlpool dream!” I managed to cling to my anger a moment longer by remembering how Henry had gone into the water to join B. “And later you said I must learn to distinguish dreams from reality, or something like that.”
“Yes, right.” Henry’s voice sounded a little hoarse, and my anger went away as quickly as it had come. Lost in thought, he looked at his hands. “That was about the worst moment of my life. I talked all that nonsense because I couldn’t admit, even to myself, that I’d gone too far. That to solve the problem of my father I’d done things that … that you don’t do when you love someone. Even in a dream. But I was so stubborn that I preferred to risk losing you. And I’m so sorry.” He almost whispered those last words.
I was fighting back tears. I’d forgiven him for that silly scene with B ages ago. It was so cheap of me to bring it up again now. Particularly as the situations couldn’t really be compared. Henry had been concerned with the welfare of his little brother and sister, whereas I was thinking only of my wounded pride.
“I’m sorry too,” I managed to say.
“What for, exactly?” asked Henry in his normal voice again. “Please just tell me what you were doing in that guy’s dream, Liv. Do you think he’s so great? Because it looked to me as if you were trying to seduce him.”
“I was.” My voice failed me. I swallowed hard, but the big lump in my throat simply wouldn’t go away.
Henry’s eyes had darkened. “That wasn’t your first visit to his dreams, was it?”
I shook my head, and then he looked away and stared past me into space.
“No. But not because I think Matt is great or anything like that,” I managed to say. “In fact, I think he’s a bit of a show-off.” My voice sounded like a chipmunk’s, but I didn’t care about that. I couldn’t bear the painful expression of Henry’s eyes a moment longer. At least he was looking at me again now.
“It was only because I had his copy of The Hotel New Hampshire, and you can learn to fly in a flight simulator, and that way I thought you might not notice that I’m not a pilot.” It all came out in a rush.
Henry, obviously confused, drew his eyebrows together.
“I never did have a boyfriend in South Africa,” I said, trying to make rather more sense but still talking at double speed (at least). “I didn’t have a boyfriend at all before. We always moved before I had time to get to know any boys, and to be honest, I wasn’t much interested in them until I came here—I think it has to be mutual. Until I met you I was like Mia. I didn’t know anything about inferiority complexes and self-doubts. So they’ve kind of steamrollered me … like aliens taking over a larva and then controlling it. You always looked so sorry for me, so I invented Rasmus. Well, not me, the aliens did it. But I hated not knowing anything, while you can always compare me with other girls. I thought maybe you wouldn’t feel so superior if you thought I could compare you with someone else too. And once I’d thought up Rasmus I couldn’t—”
“Stop!” said Henry, which was just as well, because I badly needed to get my breath back. I was probably blue in the face by this time. But in a funny way, I was feeling relieved.
Even though Henry didn’t make a sound. He simply looked at me with his gray eyes shining, and I stared back and waited for him to say something. But he didn’t. Only the muscles in his jaw were moving as if he was chewing something.
“I did some dog-sitting in Pretoria,” I said, finally breaking the silence. “Our neighbors the Wakefields had a chow called Rasmus. It was the first name that occurred to me.”
Henry bit his lower lip.
“The other dog I took for walks was called Sir Barksalot,” I added, and that was too much for Henry’s self-control. He spluttered with laughter.
“Oh God, Livvy, you’ll be the death of me!” he said when he was able to speak again.
“Not intentionally.” Now I’d told him all about it, I’d have liked to cry buckets. But oddly enough, the lump in my throat had gone away.
Henry looked at me, shaking his head. “What on earth gave you the idea that I might feel somehow superior to you? Of the two of us, I’m the one who has those complexes, problems with trusting people, fears of losing them. I’m the screwed-up person in our relationship.”
“But a screwed-up person who’s had any amount of sex.??
?
“Any amount of it?” Henry snorted. “What does that sound like? Anyway, it’s not true. If I had a couple of relationships before I met you, that doesn’t make me an expert on the subject. And I don’t draw comparisons, because compared to you, no other girl would come off well, anyway.” His voice was softer, and he put out his hand to touch my cheek. “I always thought it was kind of a miracle that you waited for me, of all people, and I was eaten up by jealousy of that Rasmus.”
“You had a point. I used to tickle his tummy.” I was positively bubbling over inside with relief. And happiness. “I do love you, Henry. And I’m sorry I was so silly.”
Henry’s eyes were shining again. “Yes, so you should be,” he said, frowning. “I guess I won’t ever forgive you for wanting your first time to be with stupid Matt.”
But when he leaned over to kiss me, I knew he’d forgiven me already.
* * *
TITTLE-TATTLE BLOG
The Frognal Academy Tittle-Tattle Blog, with all the latest gossip, the best rumors, and the hottest scandals from our school.
ABOUT ME:
My name is Secrecy—I’m right here among you, and I know all your secrets.
26 March
Today, for a change, a little collection of quotes for your edification. Things that certainly weren’t intended for all and sundry to hear, but you can read them now in Secrecy’s blog. Oops. Some of them date from quite far back, but they’ve lost none of their interest.
“Gabriel’s tongue feels like a slug.” (Persephone Porter-Peregrin)
“Under that push-up bra there are only two peas on a flat board.” (Gabriel Cobb on Persephone’s bust measurement)
“I’ve eaten tuna sandwiches with a higher IQ than that boy has.” (Mr. Daniels on Jasper Grant)
“I bet even his bum smells better than his breath.” (Jasper Grant on Mr. Daniels)
“You might not think it, because he always acts so nice and modest, but Grayson Spencer’s ego is as enormous as Hazel Pritchard’s behind.” (Emily Clark)
“I wouldn’t have said no to sleeping with her when she was ten years younger.” (Mr. Vanhagen on Mrs. Cook)
“Our colleague has that certain … nothing.” (Mrs. Cook on Mr. Vanhagen)
“They’re crazy! All that fuss about a silly clipped box hedge!” (Liv Silver on the British)
“Yank, go home!” (the British on Liv Silver)
Oh yes, and finally this one, overheard in the school toilets yesterday: “I wish that damn snake had bitten your balls.” (Grayson Spencer to Arthur Hamilton)
Okay, have fun!
See you soon!
Love from Secrecy
PS—I don’t want to frighten anyone, but suppose the snake in Arthur Hamilton’s locker wasn’t just a silly prank, as the police and Mrs. Cook are trying to make us think. Wouldn’t that mean there’s still a murderer on the loose somewhere here? And who will be the next victim? You’re welcome to post your preferences here.
Tittletattleblog.com
* * *
22
LOTTIE WAS PREENING in front of Florence’s mirror. The green dress fit her perfectly.
“I don’t know—isn’t it a bit short?” Lottie stared doubtfully at her legs.
“Nonsense. If you wear your black boots instead of pumps, it’ll be just right,” said Florence. She was lying on her stomach on her bed and had not protested when Mia and I dropped on the white bedspread on each side of her. Now we were all three of us in exactly the same attitude: propped on our elbows, chins on our right hands, our eyes on Lottie. “It’ll look superchic with boots, but not overdressed.”
“You’re a real fashion expert.” Lottie gave Florence an appreciative smile. Then she put a hand to her breast and looked at us, delighted. “Oh, you should see yourselves! Lying there side by side, like real sisters! You’ve no idea how glad I am that you’re getting on so well at last.”
Hello? While Lottie wiped away a tear of emotion from the corner of her eye, we could only stare at her, baffled.
“Then I’ll get my boots,” she said in high spirits. “And pantyhose. Do you think black or natural? Oh, I’ll bring both, and then you can tell me which looks better, all right? Don’t move from that spot! I’ll be right back.” She turned again at the door. “I must just make the icing for the carrot cake first, but it won’t take long.”
Florence was the first to recover. “Well, your former au pair doesn’t seem to know all that much about human nature,” she said.
“Hear that, Liv?” Mia tossed one of Florence’s embroidered cushions off the bed to make more room for Lottie’s iPad, which she had more or less monopolized for the last few days. “The real fashion expert doesn’t like to admit that she’s come to like us, even though we’re guilty of murdering her great-uncle the topiary peacock.”
I chuckled. “No need to be embarrassed, Florence. It’s no use people denying their feelings. And it all depends on the feeling being mutual.” I genuinely meant it at that moment. Since last night, when the Rasmus problem had been disposed of, I’d felt so good that I loved everyone and anyone. Including Florence. Well, particularly Florence, lying there with one hand in her caramel-colored ringlets and trying to look fierce. I gave her a big kiss on the cheek. “I’d feel I was missing something without our morning fight for the bathroom.”
“Although you’d be better made up,” said Florence, unable to stay serious herself. The dimples in her cheeks were showing. “Don’t fool yourselves. I still think you’re the worst nuisances who ever set foot in this house. Pick that cushion up at once, Mia.”
“In a minute,” said Mia. “I’m just writing a quick e-mail to Secrecy. So she’ll know that I’ve unmasked her.”
“What?” I cried. I couldn’t believe it! She had such sensational news, but here she was lying quietly on Florence’s bed. “Since when? Tell us!”
“Dear Sec-re-cy. Thanks for post-ing this mor-ning’s blog,” Mia read as she typed. “It was the missing piece in the jigsaw that I needed to tell me who you are.”
“Really and truly, Mia?” I reached over Florence’s back and tugged Mia’s sweater. “You actually know who Secrecy is? Come on, let us know too!”
“Nonsense, she’s just bluffing.” Florence snorted scornfully.
Mia just went on typing. “Solving this case was fun. I’m not necessarily one of your fans, so I’m afraid there will be consequences for you. I’ll mail you later with the details. Sincerely, Mia Silver, Private Detective,” she concluded. “Here we go—send!”
“Mia!” I wriggled a little way forward so that I could see past Florence and look at my sister’s face. She seemed very pleased with herself. “If you don’t tell me what you know this minute, I’m going to tickle you until you wet yourself.”
“Leave her alone. She can’t tell you anything.” Florence sat up. Her dimples had disappeared. “No one knows who Secrecy is. Your little sister is only showing off.” She clicked her tongue, and for a split second that made her so like the Boker that it was almost uncanny. “It’s obvious that you’re still a child, Mia, but all the same, I think you’re too old for these silly detective games.”
“There are some things you’re never too old for.” Mia closed the cover of the iPad and sat up too. “Although I don’t think that applies to writing an anonymous blog saying nasty things.” She sighed. “I guess nastiness is more to do with a person’s character than her age. Isn’t that so—Secrecy?”
For a moment there was total silence in the room.
Then Florence yawned ostentatiously. “Is that supposed to be something I wrote?” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “Dream on.”
“Oh, you misunderstand me, Florence,” said Mia in friendly tones. “I didn’t say you wrote that particular post on the blog, only that it gave me the last piece in the puzzle today.”
I frowned. “So what about it?”
Mia adjusted her glasses. She was playing her part as Private Detective Silver brilliant
ly.
“Spit it out,” I said, annoyed.
Mia gave me a broad grin. “Florence isn’t the Secrecy. She’s only Se. Or Cre. Or Cy. Take your pick.”
I gasped for air. “You mean there are several of them?”
“Not several; exactly three.” At this point, Mia gave up keeping her cool. “Crazy, right? I set out, quite early on, by assuming there were several bloggers, simply because Secrecy can’t always be everywhere. But narrowing down the circle was really hard. And I can’t tell you how tiring it was, sounding out all the suspects. All the same, the evidence was clear as well.” She looked at Florence. “Did you notice how many trendy allusions there are in your own posts? Your colleagues’ style is far less figurative.”
I was amazed. Mia really did seem to have solved probably the greatest puzzle of human nature. I felt a surge of pride in my sister. And now I, too, understood some things.
“That’s why Secrecy changed her mind so often,” I said. I looked from Mia to Florence, who was still lying on the bed, on her back now, and was amazingly relaxed, in view of the situation. “And that’s why the blog was always attacking everyone and anyone. I suppose the three of you were always pulling one another to pieces. How clever! Who are the other two?”
“Why ask me? Do you believe her?” Florence began braiding her ringlets. “Just because she says so?”
I kept my eyes fixed on her. How did she manage to keep so calm? “Yes, I do believe her. And yes, just because she says so.”
“And because she knows I’d never make a claim like that if I didn’t have conclusive evidence,” added Mia.
“Well, I’d like to see this evidence of yours,” said Florence sarcastically.
“Wouldn’t you rather see if my e-mail has arrived yet?” asked Mia.
“I expect Secrecy gets e-mails like that every day.” Florence stretched comfortably as she sat up, as if she’d just had a nice, refreshing nap. She really was incredibly cool, you had to give her that. In other circumstances, I’d surely have doubted Mia’s theory now at the latest. “I expect she’s laughing herself silly about it.”