I have never sat in a chair as comfortable as the armchair I sprawled in while I counted to fifty, a slow fifty. James left for a while to go take care of what he called 'some bureaucratic gobbledygook' and I imagine he was surprised to come back and find us all crouching under tables and behind wardrobes, wrapped up in the most exciting game of hide 'n' seek ever. I smiled to myself as I lay on the couch with my eyes screwed shut, my hands behind my head. I knew this place would be good.
"Ready or not, here I come!" I called, just as I spotted James stroll through the door.
He giggled and gestured for me to continue. "You want any help?"
"I don't know if I'm allowed," I murmured, "Okay, how about after I find the first person and therefore we know who will be het next, you help me?"
"Sure," James nodded.
I peeled off to my left and sauntered down the first hallway. I was fairly certain that that was where I'd heard everybody thunder off to when I'd first started counting. The hallways were more like tunnels, with bright spots of light poking out of concave doors that led off of them. The first hallway I paced down was the most unsettling. I'm not bad with the dark, but it was just so silent. Silence is what comes before the storm and also what comes immediately before I begin to panic. Ironically, I also freak out at sudden loud noises. I wished I had enrolled James in the search so at least I'd have him beside me to listen to.
I crept into one of the rooms, caught between ridding myself of the silence and making too much noise to be able to hear any mouth-breathers that might be giving away their hiding places. This room was a laundry room by the looks of things. There were three washing machines, three tumble dryers and three clothes-horses lining the room and the paper was a very bright yellow. I checked all nine of these items before realising that immediately behind the door, which had opened inwards to the right, was a stocky wooden wardrobe.
I cracked open the door of the wardrobe and thrust my hand in, waving it back and forth among the waterproof jackets and waterproof trousers. My hand quickly happened upon the warmth of a body and I let out a sigh of relief as I cried out my victory.
"Ha! Found you! You're het," I smiled.
"Het?" came a feminine voice from within with an Asian accent, though I couldn't place it any more than that.
"Yeah, like, you're counting next?"
"Oh, right, you mean 'it'?" The girl emerged clumsily from the wardrobe.
"I guess. Sorry, I guess that must be a slang thing. So where are you from then? What's your name?"
"I'm Hanien." The girl and I shook hands. "I'm from Dubai. I'm a humongous fan of James's. He's brilliant."
"Cool. I'm Joanne. I'm from Scotland."
"Yeah, you're the girl who went first with the characters?"
"Yeah. Oh, I just remembered, James said he'd help find the rest of the class after I found the first one."
"Let's go get him?"
I nodded and jogged back out of the laundry room. I swooped back along the hallway and sprang into the main room, which I guess was the living room. James was lying on one of the couches reading a newspaper, with a can of Irn Bru in his hand.
"Found one?" he asked after swallowing a large swig.
"Yep. Can we have a hand please?" I motioned to Hanien.
"Course." James flipped off of the couch and skidded over to us. "I think you should check under the beds."
We found four people in a kitchen room and another five in what appeared to be a storage unit, judging by the junk it housed. They in turn also found more people and by the time we reached the bedrooms, we had amassed a company of twenty pupils. The first nine of those remaining were under the beds, one of which was Isaac. The last pupil left, I realised, was Annisa.
James crossed to one of the beds, bed '10', and slumped down on it, resting his chin on his hand, which in turn was rested on his knee The beds were mahogany four-posters with surfaces equivalent to the area of the bed raised about six feet above it, like a bunkbed without the top bunk.
"Hmm," he murmured, "That's pretty much where everyone normally -"
A large groaning sound came from above James's head.
"What the hell was that?" a Welsh girl's voice exclaimed. I think her name was Cara.
James's eyes slid upwards and he raised his eyebrows towards the flat surface above him. He swung out from the bed and placed his feet on its surface, gripping the flat surface above with both hands.
"Oh, wow," he muttered, "Well done! How on Earth did you get up here?!"
We craned our necks upwards and sure enough, there was Annisa lying flat on her belly on the top surface of the bed. James clapped her on the back and offered her a hand to help her back down. She swung her legs off the edge and James helped her guide her feet to the mattress. James looked out at the assembled group of students and clapped his hands together.
"Ready or not, here I come!" I called, just as I spotted James stroll through the door.
He giggled and gestured for me to continue. "You want any help?"
"I don't know if I'm allowed," I murmured, "Okay, how about after I find the first person and therefore we know who will be het next, you help me?"
"Sure," James nodded.
I peeled off to my left and sauntered down the first hallway. I was fairly certain that that was where I'd heard everybody thunder off to when I'd first started counting. The hallways were more like tunnels, with bright spots of light poking out of concave doors that led off of them. The first hallway I paced down was the most unsettling. I'm not bad with the dark, but it was just so silent. Silence is what comes before the storm and also what comes immediately before I begin to panic. Ironically, I also freak out at sudden loud noises. I wished I had enrolled James in the search so at least I'd have him beside me to listen to.
I crept into one of the rooms, caught between ridding myself of the silence and making too much noise to be able to hear any mouth-breathers that might be giving away their hiding places. This room was a laundry room by the looks of things. There were three washing machines, three tumble dryers and three clothes-horses lining the room and the paper was a very bright yellow. I checked all nine of these items before realising that immediately behind the door, which had opened inwards to the right, was a stocky wooden wardrobe.
I cracked open the door of the wardrobe and thrust my hand in, waving it back and forth among the waterproof jackets and waterproof trousers. My hand quickly happened upon the warmth of a body and I let out a sigh of relief as I cried out my victory.
"Ha! Found you! You're het," I smiled.
"Het?" came a feminine voice from within with an Asian accent, though I couldn't place it any more than that.
"Yeah, like, you're counting next?"
"Oh, right, you mean 'it'?" The girl emerged clumsily from the wardrobe.
"I guess. Sorry, I guess that must be a slang thing. So where are you from then? What's your name?"
"I'm Hanien." The girl and I shook hands. "I'm from Dubai. I'm a humongous fan of James's. He's brilliant."
"Cool. I'm Joanne. I'm from Scotland."
"Yeah, you're the girl who went first with the characters?"
"Yeah. Oh, I just remembered, James said he'd help find the rest of the class after I found the first one."
"Let's go get him?"
I nodded and jogged back out of the laundry room. I swooped back along the hallway and sprang into the main room, which I guess was the living room. James was lying on one of the couches reading a newspaper, with a can of Irn Bru in his hand.
"Found one?" he asked after swallowing a large swig.
"Yep. Can we have a hand please?" I motioned to Hanien.
"Course." James flipped off of the couch and skidded over to us. "I think you should check under the beds."
We found four people in a kitchen room and another five in what appeared to be a storage unit, judging by the junk it housed. They in turn also found more people and by the time we reached the bedrooms, we had amassed a company of twenty pupils. The first nine of those remaining were under the beds, one of which was Isaac. The last pupil left, I realised, was Annisa.
James crossed to one of the beds, bed '10', and slumped down on it, resting his chin on his hand, which in turn was rested on his knee The beds were mahogany four-posters with surfaces equivalent to the area of the bed raised about six feet above it, like a bunkbed without the top bunk.
"Hmm," he murmured, "That's pretty much where everyone normally -"
A large groaning sound came from above James's head.
"What the hell was that?" a Welsh girl's voice exclaimed. I think her name was Cara.
James's eyes slid upwards and he raised his eyebrows towards the flat surface above him. He swung out from the bed and placed his feet on its surface, gripping the flat surface above with both hands.
"Oh, wow," he muttered, "Well done! How on Earth did you get up here?!"
We craned our necks upwards and sure enough, there was Annisa lying flat on her belly on the top surface of the bed. James clapped her on the back and offered her a hand to help her back down. She swung her legs off the edge and James helped her guide her feet to the mattress. James looked out at the assembled group of students and clapped his hands together.
"Right. Time for dinner."
For dinner, we all marched out to the school's six canteen halls. We split up according to culinary choices, each canteen being assigned to a particular continent's food; there didn't seem much point including a section for Antarctica. James declared that he had a 'hankering' for risotto and I always make a point of inspecting the green pesto sauce of any restaurant I eat at so I caught a hold of Annisa and Hanien and we three headed off to the European hall, a respectful distance behind James. We didn't want to look like we were staking him.
In the end, it didn't matter, because James beckoned for us to sit with him, Benedict Cumberbatch and Michael Fassbender. The ordering systems were electronic and used touch screens built into the surface of the table. I scrolled through the lists of Italian dishes and quickly found what I was looking for. The girl across from me, Eliphia, had been one of the people found under the beds in the game. Hanien sat next to her and Annisa sat next to me. At Annisa's right sat James and across from him was Michael. Benedict sat at the head of the table like a content King.
"So what do you all want to do when you grow up?" Michael asked.
"Oh, oh, oh!" James flapped his hands. "Let me try and remember from the forms. Okay, Joanne, you want to be a writer. I know that. Eliphia is going to be a fashion designer and Annisa... chemist isn't it?"
"Yeah"
"And where's Hanien?"
"She's at the bathroom," Eliphia explained.
"So writing." Michael turned to me. "What kind of things do you write."
"A couple of novels and some fanfiction."
Benedict's alarm was plainly evident. "What kind of fanfiction?"
"Nothing like that, honest," I promised. Benedict's fans do have a notorious reputation for... intense fanfiction.
"Who's the English teacher for your class, James?" Michael asked.
"Actually, I'm really quite happy. It's Ian McEwan this year. Remember, the guy who wrote 'Atonement'?" James urged Michael on seeing his blank expression.
"Oh." Benedict lowered his head.
"What?" James's alarm seeped slightly out of him.
"Paul Ziemkoll was in his class last year," Benedict whispered, but loud enough that we heard him.
"Oh," James replied.
"Oh," echoed Michael.
"Who's Paul Ziemkoll?" Hanien, who was now back from the bathroom, asked.
"Oops." James gulped. "Well, you might as well know. There was this conference day near the end of last year where the school opened its doors and fans could join us for the entire day. There were two women in particular, Jan and Tara, who were big fans of, well, me. And as for Paul... I'd become like a mentor to him. He'd be consulting me on all the work he produced and talking to me about personal things too. Anyway, I was talking to Tara and Jan all day because who wouldn't want to talk to someone who complimented everything you did? Paul had some serious problems at the time. I think the girl he fancied had just started going out with his best friend and there had been a huge fight, a physical one, and Paul had been alienated from all his friends. Anyway, I didn't see him all day until the very end when he appeared with two knives from the kitchens, one in each hand. He pressed the tip of one to Tara's back and the other to Jan's and he nearly killed them. Eventually we convinced him to put the knives down but at dinner he was gone and so were Jan and Tara."
"How could they be gone?" Eliphia was aghast.
"We don't know," Michael replied solemnly, "but the police and some journalists have some leads."
"Kind of like 'State of Play'," I observed.
"Yes." James pointed energetically at me. "Yes, precisely like 'State of Play'. The best Sergeant Chewy's and Cal McAffrey's and Della Smith's are on the case. I promise. I even met some of them. It's just hide 'n' seek. They'll find him."
"Actually," Benedict put in, "there are even rumours that they established contact with Jan and Tara over Facebook-"
"No way!" I cried, "Oh my God, Eliphia, you're that Eliphia, aren't you. And Jan, it's Jan Warren isn't it. And Tara. Oh my God. We have to get on Facebook!"
Eliphia already had her phone out and was tapping at the keypad.
"What, what, what?" James's eyes seemed to be whirling.
"Your Facebook Fan Club. Jan created it. Tara practically lives in it."
"Last thing Tara posted was a status about finally meeting James, a month and a half ago," Eliphia murmured, "That's highly unusual for Tara. She's normally never off Twitter."
"What about Jan?" James asked urgently.
"Something about how she felt kind of bad for stealing James away from that student," Eliphia sighed.
James looked distraught and opened his mouth to say something but had to stop because the food arrived just as he was about to speak. It hurtled down in miniature versions of the carts on rollercoasters, along a swooping track of four parallel bars that led all around the canteen hall. The hall itself was packed with students and the walls were wooden panelled like the hall of a Plantagenet or Tudor monarch. The benches we sat on were cushioned with plush green upholstery that dipped every few inches to a pale green button in the fabric. The excitement the hall contained was easily comparable to the raucous cheering in the court of Henry VIII, at least enough to overwhelm all talk of kidnapping. The rest of the meal was typical of a pleasant night out among friends, which I guess meant that that's what all seven of us were. We were friends.
"A couple of novels and some fanfiction."
Benedict's alarm was plainly evident. "What kind of fanfiction?"
"Nothing like that, honest," I promised. Benedict's fans do have a notorious reputation for... intense fanfiction.
"Who's the English teacher for your class, James?" Michael asked.
"Actually, I'm really quite happy. It's Ian McEwan this year. Remember, the guy who wrote 'Atonement'?" James urged Michael on seeing his blank expression.
"Oh." Benedict lowered his head.
"What?" James's alarm seeped slightly out of him.
"Paul Ziemkoll was in his class last year," Benedict whispered, but loud enough that we heard him.
"Oh," James replied.
"Oh," echoed Michael.
"Who's Paul Ziemkoll?" Hanien, who was now back from the bathroom, asked.
"Oops." James gulped. "Well, you might as well know. There was this conference day near the end of last year where the school opened its doors and fans could join us for the entire day. There were two women in particular, Jan and Tara, who were big fans of, well, me. And as for Paul... I'd become like a mentor to him. He'd be consulting me on all the work he produced and talking to me about personal things too. Anyway, I was talking to Tara and Jan all day because who wouldn't want to talk to someone who complimented everything you did? Paul had some serious problems at the time. I think the girl he fancied had just started going out with his best friend and there had been a huge fight, a physical one, and Paul had been alienated from all his friends. Anyway, I didn't see him all day until the very end when he appeared with two knives from the kitchens, one in each hand. He pressed the tip of one to Tara's back and the other to Jan's and he nearly killed them. Eventually we convinced him to put the knives down but at dinner he was gone and so were Jan and Tara."
"How could they be gone?" Eliphia was aghast.
"We don't know," Michael replied solemnly, "but the police and some journalists have some leads."
"Kind of like 'State of Play'," I observed.
"Yes." James pointed energetically at me. "Yes, precisely like 'State of Play'. The best Sergeant Chewy's and Cal McAffrey's and Della Smith's are on the case. I promise. I even met some of them. It's just hide 'n' seek. They'll find him."
"Actually," Benedict put in, "there are even rumours that they established contact with Jan and Tara over Facebook-"
"No way!" I cried, "Oh my God, Eliphia, you're that Eliphia, aren't you. And Jan, it's Jan Warren isn't it. And Tara. Oh my God. We have to get on Facebook!"
Eliphia already had her phone out and was tapping at the keypad.
"What, what, what?" James's eyes seemed to be whirling.
"Your Facebook Fan Club. Jan created it. Tara practically lives in it."
"Last thing Tara posted was a status about finally meeting James, a month and a half ago," Eliphia murmured, "That's highly unusual for Tara. She's normally never off Twitter."
"What about Jan?" James asked urgently.
"Something about how she felt kind of bad for stealing James away from that student," Eliphia sighed.
James looked distraught and opened his mouth to say something but had to stop because the food arrived just as he was about to speak. It hurtled down in miniature versions of the carts on rollercoasters, along a swooping track of four parallel bars that led all around the canteen hall. The hall itself was packed with students and the walls were wooden panelled like the hall of a Plantagenet or Tudor monarch. The benches we sat on were cushioned with plush green upholstery that dipped every few inches to a pale green button in the fabric. The excitement the hall contained was easily comparable to the raucous cheering in the court of Henry VIII, at least enough to overwhelm all talk of kidnapping. The rest of the meal was typical of a pleasant night out among friends, which I guess meant that that's what all seven of us were. We were friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment