CHAPTER 16

Bad Dreams

Alex passed on Bacardi at Kim’s and went straight to Jimmy’s. They pulled out the old mattress from under Jimmy’s bed and Alex recounted the night’s excitement. Jimmy couldn’t believe that Alex had bolted from the police.

“You know there are video cameras all over Beeton. You’d better hope they don’t go through the tapes,” said Jimmy.

Alex started panicking at the thought of the police turning up at his house.

“Don’t worry,” said Jimmy. “Unless there’s a camera at the library they can’t prove it was you. Unless they took a hair or something and genetically matched it to yours.”

“Can they do that?”

“Easy. But they’d only do it for something big. Like if you killed somebody.”

Alex was exhausted, and he was almost asleep when Jimmy’s voice floated quietly down.

“Why do you think she did it?”

“Who?”

“Sarah.”

“Dunno. She’s gone weird.”

“It’s like I’m not good enough for her anymore.”

“You’re too good for her.”

There was another gap in the conversation, and Alex started drifting to another place. He was lost in those pretty brown eyes. He reached across and took her hand, and she leant in towards him, tipping her head so their noses wouldn’t collide. Their lips met and she tasted different. More exciting, somehow. She felt different, too, and all of a sudden he knew why. It wasn’t her. He sat up.

“You know, even though I hate his guts, I wouldn’t mind being Billy Johnstone for a day,” said Jimmy.

Alex must have been asleep for only a minute. “Why would you want to be that fool?”

“I don’t know. Get any girl I want. Punch any boy I hate. It’d be fun I reckon.”

“It’s overrated.”

“At least you know what it’s like. I never will.”

“You’ll probably come up with a cure for cancer one day. Or invent a really cool computer game,” said Alex.

“Yeah, but I’ll still be a red-headed geek.”

“It could be worse,” said Alex.

“How?”

“You could be John Carson-Zanger.”

They laughed. “You know, he’s a pretty good guy,” said Jimmy. “Weird, but okay.”

“Why do you think the kids give him so much crap?”

“Well, he’s Harry High Pants. And his English isn’t too flash. But I reckon calling him a poof makes ’em feel good about themselves. Like, if he’s getting it then they’re not.”

“Strange, hey?”

“Very.”

“Night, He-man.”

“Night, Michael.”

It took Alex a long time to fall asleep. He wanted to see Becky clearly in his mind but he couldn’t. It was like his brain had changed frequencies.