Part 8 (2/2)
”Yeah, man?”
”How far is the college? I mean, how long will it take to get there?”
”I dunno. Twenty minutes? Maybe a bit more.”
”Are there any, uh, toilets closer than that?”
Jayce stared at him. ”You're something else, intya?”
”What do you?”
”'Sakes, lookit the street. No one here. Pick a doorway. I won't tell.”
”What?” Desperate enough to cry, Richard looked around. There was nowhere else.
”And I ain't gonna watch, neither. See you at the next corner.”
”s.h.i.+t.” Not the kind of language he used.
”Do whatever you like, Richie-boy.”
”II'll see you in a bit.”
There were three visible cameras one on each pillar of the big gateway leading to the yard in front, the other beyond the yard, inside the main entrance and all three were coated in a blackened mess.
”Been bubbled,” said Jayce. ”Know what I mean?”
”Sort of.”
”Like a spray kind of thing. Shoots upward real high, sticks real well. Hard to clean off.”
”So I just go straight in?” Richard felt the small box in his pocket. ”Cap on?”
”Take the cap off until you're inside. Most of these dozy b.u.g.g.e.rs” Jayce pointed at the people, all adults, crossing the yard ”won't have noticed the cameras are screwed. You'll look more normal, like, with no cap.”
”But I put it on inside? With the veil?”
”Of course, unless you're sure every cam's been f.u.c.ked. Anyway, you'll do great.”
”You're not coming in?”
”Your gig, not mine. I don't look like a student, or someone's kid.”
And I do?
Not if he carried on living like this. He wanted to think there was something inside him that made him different; but he knew that if he stayed on the streets he would change.
”You're going to wait?”
”Sure. f.u.c.k's sake go in, w.i.l.l.ya?”
Taking off his cap, Richard rubbed his face several times, wanting to hide his features as he pa.s.sed through the gate, not trusting that the cameras were dead. His skin felt p.r.i.c.kled as if by tiny ants migrating across him. Then, as he entered the foyer, someone coughed and his heart punched inside his chest. But he had to keep going.
A wall display showed a multicoloured list, including Intermediate Mandarin, 20:00, Room 17, instructor: T. Intermediate Mandarin, 20:00, Room 17, instructor: T. Maxwell, M.A. (Oxon) Maxwell, M.A. (Oxon), which was what Mr Khan had said. The room was upstairs, so he climbed polished steps, pulling his cap on and tipping it low as he pa.s.sed beneath a camera, his feet moving by themselves sua sua sponte sponte, Mr Robbins would have said, but Latin lessons were a world away, even though he was inside a college taking him to Room 17.
”Uh, h.e.l.lo?” This must be T Maxwell. ”Are you in this cla.s.s?”
”No, sir.”
”Well, it is for adults.” A sick brightness rose in his eyes. ”I don't suppose you're looking for me?”
”I've got... something. From, er...”
”Shall we call him Mr K?”
Both their hands were shaking, Richard's as he handed over the box, Maxwell's as he took hold of it.
”OK.” Maxwell pushed out a shaky breath that smelled of mint. ”OK. And I've paid already, you know that, right?”
”Er...”
What to do next? Blankness floated in Richard's mind.
”Did you want to see me later on?” The voice was slick, like grease-stained silk. ”Perhaps outside?”
”Um. No.”
Fear sluiced down through Richard's body, then he was stumbling from the room, along the corridor and down the grimy stairs, forgetting the cap that was clutched in his hand, his head filled with images of wide-shouldered police with stun-batons and gauntlets, smas.h.i.+ng his face before they snapped on magnetic cuffs, dragging him across the floor without regard for
bloodstains, for he was a criminal now.
They'll arrest me. Father will kill me.
The world had changed.
I'm a criminal.Last term, Ms Simms had talked about ”phase transitions”, the change from ice to liquid water to gas, the same molecules involved, their relations.h.i.+ps snapping into new and different configurations. While some changes, like a broken egg, can never be reversed; and you can state the Second Law of Thermodynamics like this: You can't ever go back.
He had destroyed his life.
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