The impossible boy, p.1
The Impossible Boy, page 1
A WORLD IN CHAOS.
A SIX-YEAR-OLD LOST IN THE MIDDLE OF A WAR.
AND A BOY NO-ONE CAN SEE.
Vincent Gum is determined to protect little Benjamin Grey. But Vincent is invisible. Benjamin’s the only one who can see him, and worse, something sinister is lurking in the dormitory cupboard.
Enter into a world beyond your imagination, where invisible boys battle closet monsters, streetwise orphans steal to survive, and dead trees flower.
Anything is possible.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
And Then …
The Missing Story
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Follow Penguin Random House
For Sidney, Mary and Nico.
Also for Cedric, who always believes in me.
1
Buildings lie along the road, cracked and discarded like shells on a concrete beach. Smoke scrapes against my throat and Benjamin’s fingers curl around my hand, digging into the skin. Pulling at his fringe, he whispers, ‘Look, Vince, it’s a ghost.’
‘Don’t be stupid. No such thing.’
‘Yeah? Look.’
He points at a jagged hole running through the length of Kazak Street. Skimmer missiles leave a nasty mark. The road lies torn apart like ruptured stitches and smoke curls from its centre, grasping the evening air with white fingers. Benjamin rubs his nose and stares.
‘See, it’s the street’s soul going to Heaven … right?’
Dunno what to say, so I keep my mouth shut. Benjamin’s full of crazy questions and I’m no walking Wikipedia. Frowning, he looks up at me through his long fringe, his eyes blending green and brown like the centre of a kid’s marble. I look away.
‘Come on, Ben. We’ll be late.’
He hesitates, pulling on my hand. ‘Do we have to go there?’
‘Yeah, we’ve already talked about this.’
‘Orphanage.’ He rolls the word on his tongue, frowning like it tastes bad.
‘I told you, it’s a kids’ shelter.’
‘What’s the difference?’
Good question. I don’t answer.
‘Can’t I stay with you?’
‘We’ve been through this already. It’s better for you, safer. You’ll like it, okay?’ But I’m still avoiding his eyes. ‘Come on.’
I tug on his hand and he jolts along, almost tripping over his feet. Glass litters the street, mixed with plaster and crumbled bricks. I keep my eyes open but no one’s around. A few faces poke out of ruins and then disappear, checking their doorsteps for signs of danger. This street has scars; everyone’s living in the splinters of broken houses, creeping in and out of cracks like ants in a city sidewalk.
Veering left, we climb over the rubble of a bookstore. Everything’s dusted with sand, thanks to a north-westerly blowing straight from the hillsides. Scrambling past a sign promising discounts on paperbacks, we squeeze through a V-shaped gap in the retaining wall, almost falling onto Akbar Street. Once it would’ve been the main market, now it’s just another strip of concrete cutting through the city centre.
‘Ow …’ Benjamin shields his eyes against the sandpaper wind. We need to get indoors before the weather packs in; I don’t fancy getting stuck in a sandstorm. Pulling against my hood, I sink back into my jacket.
‘Hang on, Ben. We’re nearly there.’ I count the buildings, numbered with paint or chalk. On our right there’s two apartment buildings, one old comic-book store and … bingo, the Red Cross Children’s Shelter.
‘Well, we’re here. Come on, let’s get inside.’
I mean to drag him up the stairs, but my feet won’t move. Dunno why. Instead I stand like a moron, looking at the building, sand whipping against my jacket.
Benjamin stares up at the building. ‘Did it grow out of the street, Vincent?’
‘Don’t be silly, course not.’
Place must’ve been a school once, I can tell by the faded, bolted brass letters spelling out ‘Avalon College’. But Ben’s right; it looks thrown together from leftover pavement slabs. Only the window frames appear different, peeling strips of peach paint like layers of dead skin. A dozen stone stairs curve towards an entrance with double doors, open wide.
Benjamin points up at the doors. ‘It looks like a giant’s mouth.’
Funny, I just thought the same. Holding one hand up to protect Benjamin’s eyes, I pull him towards a twisted cedar tree and press my back against the trunk, looking through the branches and avoiding the worst of the wind’s edges.
‘A big, hungry mouth,’ Benjamin keeps saying, yanking at his straw-coloured hair like it’s a stubborn weed. ‘Buildings don’t eat people, do they, Vince?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Dunno, maybe they’re vegetarians.’
‘Really?’ He rubs sand and spit from his chin.
‘Of course not … Look, let’s just go inside. It’s safer there.’ Truth is, the shelter hasn’t been hit once. It’s attached to the hospital; even the rebels wouldn’t hurt sick kids. ‘You’ll get free food and clothes from the Red Cross, even haircuts. You wouldn’t get better service staying at the Hilton.’
He shakes his head. ‘Don’t wanna go.’
‘But—’
‘No.’ His free hand grabs my sleeve. ‘I wanna stay with you. Please, Vince?’
Looking down at his freckled nose, a sharp sensation kicks my guts. ‘Ben, you can’t stay with me.’
‘Why not?’
I shake my head, slowly. ‘I already told you. There’s stuff I need to sort out … You’ll be safer here.’
Even Benjamin knows he can’t stay on the streets. Since the North declared martial law over water rights, this city specialises in street warfare. Nowhere’s safe, but a shelter’s his best bet.
‘Ben, these people will take good care of you, better than me. Maybe they’ll have computers here, records to find your family or something like that. You’ll be fine without me …’
His eyes well up; oh, just great.
I clear my throat. ‘You’re a big boy, remember?’ Don’t know who I’m trying to convince, him or me. Truth is, you can’t just leave a little kid on his own.
He doesn’t answer.
‘Look.’ I point up at the shelter, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘There’ll be heaps of other kids; it’s a big place with six storeys. Plenty of room for hide ’n’ seek, stuff like that.’
Benjamin tugs my wrist with one hand, pulling his fringe with the other. ‘No. I don’t wanna go.’
Sniff — sniff.
One tear carves a path across his dirty cheek, and invisible needles poke my insides. Little kids shouldn’t be filthy, which just goes to show I’m not doing a good job. I’m not cut out for babysitting.
‘Vince, don’t go.’ More tears leak down his face and he hiccups. ‘I … I’ll be good, honest. Please?’
Okay, what’s wrong with my chest? Can you get appendicitis in the ribs? It feels like I’ve swallowed sharp rocks.
He grabs my hand. ‘Please?’
‘Take it easy, don’t make a scene.’ I look around, hoping no one’s watching. His eyes widen and more tears fall. Just watching makes my insides feel scraped out and raw. Oh man, can a few days more hurt?
I clear my throat. ‘I’ll stick around for a bit, okay? Until you’re settled in … Just stop crying.’
Wait a minute … My own words sink like bricks, weighing me down. Not again. Glaring at the sand-dusted road, I fold my arms and press fingers into my ribs. Every time I try moving on, I end up staying. And why? He cries, I cave in, and it’s no good. Soft people don’t get anywhere — not around here.
He sniffs again. ‘Promise?’
I glare at the cracked road. ‘Said so, didn’t I?’
Guess he’s caught me. No, that’s stupid. Caught me? Benjamin can’t tie his own shoelaces, let alone set a trap. And I should check this place out, I don’t want anything bad happening to him; doesn’t mean I have to stay. It’ll only take a day or two until I’m sure someone’s taking care of him, then I’m free to go.
No big deal.
Sighing, I stare at the wide front doorsteps. ‘Come on, Ben. Let’s get this over with.’
‘No. Still don’t wanna go in.’
‘What?’ I pull at my own hair, hedgehog short and tucked under my hood. ‘But I just told you, I’ll stick around. It’s safe.’
He shakes his head. ‘But—’
‘Well?’ A sharp voice cuts my sentence in half.
I look up into the face of a woman, her thin body framed against the door. She grips the wooden frame with long fingers, her eyes fixed on Benjamin. ‘Hurry, if you’re coming in. Wind’s rising, I don’t want to spend the day sweeping out sand.’
Benjamin hisses. ‘Vince?’
‘What?’
‘Her hands look like spiders. See? Her fingers could be legs and—’
‘Shhh! You want her to lock us out?’
‘Umm …’
‘Look, this place’s got everything we need. Just walk up the stairs, okay? I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.’
His fingers drop, letting go of his hair. He believes me. Ben figures the sun will come up in the morning, the Easter Bunny brings chocolate eggs, and Vincent Gum can do anything.
Which I can.
Benjamin plods up the stairs, just as a breeze passes through the street. Something smells familiar drifting down the stairs and I sniff, trying to catch the scent. But it’s lost, overwhelmed by the aroma of cleaning products. I’d swear this woman takes a bath in bleach.
Spider-fingers fusses as we reach the top of the stairs. She pulls on her long, grey cardigan. ‘Come on. In we go.’
Benjamin passes under her arm, and—slam! The door shuts in my face. I hear the metal lock snap like a jaw biting down. The building swallows him whole.
‘Vincent?’ Benjamin echoes inside the orphanage’s belly. ‘Where’s Vincent? He’s still outside!’
The woman answers and her voice sounds far away, blunted by wood and plaster. ‘Don’t play games with me, young man. No one’s there.’
Blinking, I stare at the building’s closed lips. He’s being eaten alive by two tonnes of brick … my arms react first, flying out, ready to rip off the door handle …
Get a grip, idiot.
My hand freezes, centimetres from touching the tarnished lump of metal. Right. Of course a building can’t eat someone. Too much time around Benjamin, that’s my problem. He’s full of crazy ideas and weird imaginary games, and it’s got to stop. So I swallow hard, ordering my heart to slow down because if I can do anything, I should be able to control my own heart.
And I walk right through the closed door, into the building.
I glance at the woman marching down the hall, her broken shoes slapping at the floor, fabric tearing away from the rubber soles like a mouth biting at her heels. I need to find someone who can watch over Benjamin. Will Spider-fingers do the job? Maybe not — she won’t even look at him. But this is a shelter; someone will step up. Then I can get away and be free. Funny word though — ‘free’. It implies I’m trapped, and I’m not.
I’m not.
But so many questions boil inside me, always threatening to explode and pour out my mouth. I need to find answers.
Right now, I’ve only got questions.
Trouble is, my memory’s wrecked. I remember an explosion in the underground, right before I found Benjamin, and not much else. I’ve no idea why people can’t see me, except Ben, and I don’t like it. Throwing questions around inside my head feels like yelling into a black well; there’s nothing but an echo, and if I lean too far I’ll fall into the darkness and never get out. But I need to know; the answers are back there, in a ruined train station full of thugs, live wires and dead ends. Too dangerous for a little kid.
No, I can’t leave him.
At least, not yet.
2
We’ve stumbled into the world’s biggest slumber party. Through the open doorway I’m staring at a gutted science lab with sinks ripped from the wall — kids lie everywhere, jammed into corners and spread over the floor. There are thirty or more Red Cross stretchers, and every spare gap’s crammed with makeshift beds, pillows or old towels stuffed into dirty sheets.
Spider-fingers stands next to me, fiddling with a fistful of paperwork. ‘Well, here’s your dorm, Room 3B.’
Benjamin grabs a fistful of his straw-coloured hair, pulling. ‘But there’s no room for me.’
I take a deep breath; the air tastes thick and furry on my tongue. One glance tells me that they’ve boarded up the back windows in case of an attack, so no one gets shredded by flying glass. Still, it’s like a sauna and a few air holes wouldn’t kill anyone. Kids move like ragdolls, their movements limp and slow; everyone’s faces shine with sweat.
‘Vince? Vince?’ Benjamin tries to pull my arm, but there’s too many eyes. His hand passes through my wrist. He can’t touch me when someone’s watching, I’ve no idea why.
There’s a lot I don’t know.
His voice drills holes in my ear. ‘Vince? Where’s my bed, Vince?’
‘Uh …’
What should I do? Make him a hammock and swing it from the ceiling? Behind me, Spider-fingers calls out, ‘Nessa! I’ve got a new one for you.’
A teenage girl turns around, her head wrapped in a scarlet scarf. She lumbers over, pink-faced and sucking in wheezy gasps of air. Shaped like a mountain, her huge body leans forward as she pants; I almost take a step back. Nessa is an avalanche waiting to happen.
Spider-fingers points at Benjamin. ‘Say hello to Ben.’
Nessa doesn’t say hello, only hunches her shoulders as if trying to appear smaller. She looks sideways at him. ‘Yeah, okay.’
Okay what? Sounds like someone accepting a deal, but that’s stupid. What would she get in exchange for a small kid? But her gaze runs over him with hard eyes stuck in a soft face, like black raisins in a ball of dough.
‘Good.’ Spider-fingers jerks her head in Benjamin’s direction. ‘You might want to watch this one, though; he’s a handful.’
Nessa frowns. ‘Doesn’t look like it.’
‘Don’t let his face fool you. Kid pelted me all the way here with bits of … something.’ The woman throws Benjamin another glare. ‘Says it was his imaginary friend.’
Benjamin pipes up. ‘It was Vincent! You just can’t see him. It’s not my fault he’s invisible.’
‘There’s no such thing as invisible people.’
My fists curl into balls and Benjamin yanks his hair. ‘He doesn’t like it when people say he isn’t real. That’s why he kept throwing stuff at you.’
Nessa nods at the woman. Something in her movement suggests a dismissal or something I don’t understand. All I know is that Spider-fingers sags, while the girl grows straighter. Nessa turns away and words fall behind her, like she’s dusting crumbs from her shoulder. ‘I’ll sort him out.’
‘I appreciate it … Good. Yes.’
The woman gives Benjamin a grim, satisfied look, then turns on her heels and marches off. Yeah, you’d better run, lady. In the night, I’ll find a bucket of water and dump it on your head. After that, I’ll move your office around every day. Not much, maybe a pen or a pot plant, just enough to make you go crazy. I’ll show you who’s real.
Turning back, I realise Ben’s halfway across the huge room and I almost need to run to catch up. Nessa storms ahead, dragging Benjamin across the room and barking, ‘Right, Rule Number One: I’m in charge. Forget about her. Hey, you! Aman, have you been to the toilet, yet? Bet you haven’t.’
A small boy in the middle of a pillow-fight drops his weapon and runs for the door. Nessa pauses to glare at a girl with hair like black, tangled weeds, wrestling another kid on the floor. The girl hiccups and leaps to her feet, while the other kid pretends to start tucking sheets into the nearest bed. I can’t help grinning.
Benjamin gasps, struggling to keep up. ‘Forget about who?’
Nessa sniffs. ‘Mrs MacDonald, she’s just one of the volunteers. They come from different places, Red Cross, UNICEF, Doctors Without Borders or whatever, but they never stay. Me? I live here. I’m in charge.’
She glances down, checking to see he understands.
‘Uh, okay.’
‘Rule Number Two: don’t mess with me and I won’t mess with you. That includes throwing stuff at people, got it?’
‘It wasn’t me.’
Nessa sticks a sausage-sized finger under his nose. ‘I don’t care. You’ll still be sorry, and don’t go whining to the grown-ups ’cause they won’t help you. They’re all too busy.’
If she’s going to bully him we might as well head back to the streets. I can’t declare war on everyone here. I don’t have the energy. Then again, I noticed she didn’t say I’m not real, so she can’t be all bad.
Leaning closer, Nessa eyes Benjamin up and down, again. ‘That’s about it, except keep out of the North Wing. That’s for hurt children and you don’t want to go there. Oh, and stay away from the older kids, especially the boys, some of them mix with gangs outside the orphanage. They can get a bit … difficult. If anyone gives you trouble, tell them they’ll get a hiding from me.’
