11

The Chase

She sees us at the exact same moment that we see her and starts walking slowly towards us. The look on her face is somewhere between hate and joy and her eyes – her eyes are glowing. The centres of them are dark like the other bug-eyes we’ve seen, but the black is ringed with wasp yellow. While the worker bug-eyes looked blank, free of emotion and expression, Hoche’s look focused and cruel. Like the eyes of a hunter, I guess.

Other than that, she looks the same: same skirt and jacket, same dangly earrings, same hair that she always puts up in a twist thing, but that always seems like it doesn’t want to stay put. It’s like her hair is trying to escape from her. And of course, she’s wearing her Hoche heels (™).

‘Lance and Chetan,’ she says. ‘How delightful to see you.’

‘Can’t say the same,’ I say, not moving, waiting to see what she’ll do next.

‘Hi, Miss Hoche.’ Chets gives her an uncomfortable smile.

‘You two have been giving us quite the run-around.’ She takes another step towards us. ‘You’ve been busy.’

‘Yep, busy not turning into alien wasp creatures,’ I say. ‘Unlike you.’

My brain is running through our options. The corridor that leads to the exit is halfway between us and Hoche, to the right. To reach the corridor we’ll have to run towards her. I’m assuming we’re faster and will get there first, but who knows what becoming an alien does to your running ability. We can either turn back and run to a different exit, which means going much further, or we can risk it. It’s a flipping huge decision. Life or death stuff.

‘Come with me now and I’ll overlook the destruction of property, the disobedience, the rudeness and all your other misdemeanours.’ She tips her head to the side. ‘I’ll even forget the incident that occurred at the start of Year Six.’

It always comes back to this.

‘But Lance didn’t do that, Miss Hoche,’ Chets says, so boldly that I’m taken aback. ‘It isn’t fair for you to keep blaming him.’

‘You don’t have to defend me, Chets,’ I say, feeling a surge of guilt that’s weirdly similar to that hot, vomity sensation you get at the start of a vicious stomach bug.

‘Poor, naïve Chetan,’ she says, moving her head from side to side like she’s warming up for a keep-fit class. ‘You really aren’t aware of what kind of boy Lance is, are you?’

‘I know who he is. He’s my best friend and he wouldn’t lie to me.’

‘Wouldn’t he?’ she says, looking right at me.

‘Ignore her, Chets, she’s just trying to get in our heads,’ I say, wondering if she’s playing for time, waiting for something.

‘Tell her once and for all, Lance. Tell her you didn’t trap Trent in the toilets.’ His trust in me is too much, suddenly, and I’m tired and fed up with having to lie about this over and over again. Especially to Chets.

Hoche smiles, still with the bizarre head and neck movements. ‘Don’t you think your best friend deserves the truth? You’ve been holding him back for years. If you’re such firm friends, he should know what kind of boy you are.’

‘Tell her, Lance,’ Chets says.

I’m tired. I’m stressed. I’m trying to decide what to do, which way to run. I’m trying to find a way out. I’m so, so tired.

‘I did it, Chets, OK? I shut Trent in the toilets.’

‘What?’ Chets’ face makes my heart hurt. He looks so betrayed. I don’t know what to say to him.

There’s a half-second break in the music and I hear footsteps behind us. Digger is running down the corridor in our direction. We have Hoche in front and Digger behind. We’re out of time. I have to make a choice.

‘I don’t believe it, Lance,’ Chets says.

Time to make a move. We need a head start.

‘I shut Trent in the toilets, and I’m glad I did. He deserved it. He knows what he did and, look, here he comes, so you can ask him about it.’ I point to the corridor behind Hoche. She takes the bait and turns to look, which gives me a chance to grab Chets’ arm and run towards the exit.

She realises she’s been tricked a moment later and runs towards us shrieking. But we’re going to get to that corridor before she does, I know we are. We have to.

As we reach the turning, I see Digger arrive where we were standing a few seconds before. They’re not going to let us get away. Not without a fight. But we keep running, cos that’s the only thing we can do.

‘Faster, Chets,’ I gasp. I can see the exit.

There’s a noise behind us like nothing I’ve ever heard before – a gurgling, globby sound. I want to look back but I don’t want to look back. Then something wet and tinged with yellow flies over my shoulder and splats on the wall.

‘What the hell?’ I say, and I have to look back.

Hoche and Digger are right on our tails, just metres away. As I watch, Hoche pulls back her head, bubbling and fizzing. Her human mouth opens and two black pincer things grow out of it, stretching her lips outwards until they roll back on themselves. The pincers click together a few times and then widen to allow a blob the size of a tangerine to fly out of her mouth and towards me and Chets. It is the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen.

‘Is Miss Hoche spitting at us?’ Chets pants.

‘Something like that, I say.

The spitball hits the floor by my foot and sort of sizzles in a really disturbing way. If I get through this, I know what my nightmares are gonna be about for the rest of my life.

We reach the door and push it open. As it swings shut behind us, I hear another spitball splash into it. We’re out of the building, but we’re not safe yet. They’re right behind us and I don’t know how we’re going to get away. We can’t lead them to the others.

‘Where are we going?’ Chets asks.

‘The lake,’ I say. It’s our only chance to lose them. I lead Chets across the lawn towards the obstacle course – it’ll hold us up, but it should slow the others down, too. We pick our way through the tyres and rope nets as quickly as we can, then storm towards the boat shed.

Then I realise – there’s no way I’m going to be able to swim with my heavy bag. It will pull me under in seconds. But I don’t want to give it up – we’ve gone through so much to get it. I scan the area for somewhere to stash it.

There’s a roar of anger behind me and I turn to see Hoche’s shoe is caught in the rope net. Digger stops to untangle her. This is our chance. There’s a gap between the underneath of the pier that goes out into the water and the muddy bank of the lake. I rip the backpack off and shove it into the hole as hard and as fast as I can. It will have to do.

I grab Chets’ hand and pull him along the pier to the centre of the lake. ‘Jump!’ I yell, as Hoche and Digger resume the chase. Chets and me splash into the water. I’d like to say I dive gracefully like an Olympian or a dolphin or something, but diving isn’t one of my skills, so it’s more like dumping an elephant in the ocean. We splutter to the surface and swim for the opposite shore.

After twenty metres or so, I risk a look back. Hoche is standing on the pier, glaring at us and screaming at Digger, who is in the water, swimming after us. But he’s not enjoying it. He’s slow and his face tells me he’s struggling. I allow myself to breathe – we’re going to make it.

We reach the other side of the lake and pull ourselves up out of the water. Every muscle in my body is begging to be allowed to curl up and die, but I force myself on, step by step.

Chets says nothing, just follows me a few paces behind. As we reach the treeline, we turn to see Digger crawling back to the lawn side of the lake, his minotaur butt wiggling from side to side. He and Hoche are having some kind of grown-up discussion, also known as an argument. Whatever it’s about, they’re going to have a tough time following us. By the time they get around the lake, we’ll be long gone and they know it.

We disappear into the trees.