FRIDAY 1.10 P.M.
‘I’ll kill him,’ said Budgie. ‘I’ll really kill him. You just watch me.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jordie. ‘But not straight away. We’ll …’ he hesitated as he tried to think of something suitably horrible to do to Loser, then caught Jazz’s eye. His voice trailed off.
‘Lance was holding the test tube when it broke,’ said Jazz quietly. ‘He was right next to it, even closer than Mr Simpson. He must have breathed some of it in. Maybe no one will have to kill him at all …’
No one said anything. Suddenly Emma gave a high shrill hiccup and buried her head in her hands. ‘We’re going to die,’ she whispered. ‘We’re all going to die!’
‘Shut up!’ said Mike fiercely. ‘No one’s going to die! They’ve taken Caitlin and Mr Simpson to hospital haven’t they? And they’re not dead yet!’
‘But they might die!’
‘They’re not going to!’ repeated Mike. Sarah put her arms round Emma. Emma gave a small choked sob and shuddered against her shoulder.
They had all crowded at the other end of the hall as the ambulance men in masks and white boiler suits slid Caitlin onto a stretcher, and carried her out.
‘You’ll be right, kids,’ one of the men had said reassuringly. But his eyes above his mask were worried.
Jazz’s phone rang. She pulled it out and pressed the button. ‘Hello? It’s Mum,’ she whispered, then held it close to her ear again. ‘Yes, we’re okay. No, no one’s hysterical.’ She put her hand over the mouthpiece again. ‘Mum thinks we’re all really brave,’ she reported. Mike grimaced. None of them were really brave, he thought. But they were all friends. Even those who didn’t really like each other were friends, in a way. You had to be in a small town, or else you became an outcast, like Loser … Mike thrust the thought away.
People in the city could wait for other people to help them. But in the country you need your friends. If there was a fire or a storm or a flood you all pitched in. He wondered how a group of strangers would have coped, all cooped up together in a situation like this.
Mike bit his lip. Had any other group of kids anywhere in the world ever been in a situation like this?
‘Did you get hold of Dad?’ asked Jazz into her mobile. ‘Yeah, I know it takes ages to get back here, I just wondered … no. Yes.’ She held the mobile away from her ear again: ‘Hey, has anyone got a pen and paper? I need to write this down.’
Mike rummaged in his bag and handed her his history notebook and a biro.
‘Thanks,’ said Jazz. She balanced the notebook on her knee and began to write. ‘Okay, Mum, go on. Right. Right. Yeah, I’ve got that too. Yes. Love you too, Mum. Bye.’
Jazz put the phone back in her pocket. ‘Mum says she’s organised fresh clothes for us. That’s in case any of the powder got on our clothes. She’s got surgical masks for us too. Someone is going to push them through the door on a trolley in a few minutes.’
She consulted the notebook, and looked up at the group again. ‘Mum said we’re to go into the toilets, one by one, and take off all our clothes and put them in the plastic bags they’re sending too,’ she reported. ‘Then we’re to wash all our exposed skin with soap and wash our hair as well. We’re not to take the new clothes out of the bags until we’ve dried ourselves and we have to seal the bag of old clothes up before the next person comes in. Is everybody clear?’
There were nods around the room. ‘Mum said …’ Jazz drew a deep breath. ‘Mum said we’re not to share any food or drink either. Just in case. Any questions?’
‘Are they sending shampoo too?’ asked Sarah.
Jazz shrugged. ‘Don’t know,’ she said.
‘I hate him.’ Emma’s voice was low and hard. ‘I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. How could he do this to us!’
The words echoed around the half-empty hall. No one answered.
‘Hey, how about we all just get undressed here?’ said Budgie helpfully. ‘It’d save time.’ He leered half-heartedly at Emma.
Mike tried to grin. Budgie was just trying to lighten things up.
‘In your dreams, Budgie Williams,’ said Emma, wiping her eyes with a shaggy tissue. ‘Who goes first?’
Mike swallowed. ‘Those who were closest to Caitlin,’ he suggested. ‘Sarah, you’d better go first.’
‘So had you,’ said Jazz quietly. ‘You were holding Mr Simpson’s hand.’
‘Okay,’ said Mike.
‘Coming through now, kids!’ yelled a voice outside. The doors opened as the trolley slowly rumbled through.