(Quick notes...first, on re-reading this fic I realise just how many typos I've made!! Feel free to ignore them, and hopefully some time in the future I'll get time to edit them! Second...this is as far as the story's been written so far, I'm on holiday until the New Year, hopefully I'll have written some more during that time! Thirdly...a warning...this chapter is an angry chapter. So don't read it if you want to stay in a good mood for long!)
Chapter Twelve
Britney paced jerkily across the platform, as if trying to wear away the painted white line beneath his soles. The other three stood together, watching.
"We really couldn't let you come, Brit, mate." Big Macca offered. "You know the Text. It would've ruined everything if you'd given-"
"She knew it!" cried Britney, pointing violently towards the silent girl. Meat gazed at the floor. She'd had her share of rage from her rescuers, once they'd made it back underground.
"Yeah, and she very bloody nearly gave it away!" Big Macca pointed out just as violently.
"Why'd you tell her?"
"Why not?"
"To protect us all! When you showed up here, mate, I knew you had a secret, but I didn't ask…because then I'd have known it…and the secret would've had twice as much chance of being exposed! I couldn't endanger you, or Charlotte, or her," he jerked his head towards Meatloaf, still silent, "and who knows how many other people like us, waiting out there!"
He turned away. "Charlotte, you know what to do."
The tall woman nodded, and disappeared into the tunnel to the right of the platform.
Big Macca watched her go, his closed expression impossible to interpret, then turned to face Britney once again.
"Charlotte's putting that Text of yours somewhere safe!"
The boy's expression snapped from one of guilt to outrage as he heard this. His eyes narrowed, he took a step after Charlotte; but Big Macca was there, grasping Britney's forearm a little too firmly.
"Brit, don't be stupid. It's the safest way for everyone."
The boy barely heard. He'd kept the valuable paper from everybody for years, he couldn't lose it now. He pushed back against the arm grasping his, breaking the grip and causing the blonde-haired rebel to stumble slightly.
"Brit!" Meat sensed her companion's fury and realised, for the first time, that he could knock people like Big Macca flat. "Let them do the right thing."
She flinched at his glare as he stormed into the darkness of the tunnels to the left of the platform.
His every muscle tensed with the anger he still felt, Britney sat on the edge of his uneven mattress and glared at the ceiling.
"Well, at least they're bloody happy!"
Meat, a small figure up against a damp wall – the farthest from the boy she dared stay without offending – shifted. She'd retreated into herself in the wake of her companion's unexpected rage, and had found herself thinking about cyberschool. The hurt, the insult and the insecurity returned to her as she remembered her dizziness, her pounding head, when the music began to play.
"I - I'm not happy, Britney."
"Why shouldn't you be?" he snapped, as Meat had known he would. "You haven't lost the only thing that mattered to you!"
"No. But I might. Soon."
"What?"
She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Look, Brit-"
"If this is gonna be a lecture, I don't want it, okay?"
"It's not, Brit. I'm trying to help."
The boy didn't respond. This was going to be harder than Meat had thought. She needed his attention.
"Remember…cyberschool?" She began hesitantly. No response. "I remember…dancing. The music. Laughter…at you, never with you. Funny, that you don't look exactly like the rest, don't like exactly what they do…don't have all the latest trash – don't want it, even!"
She saw Britney recline his head, and felt the heaviness in her chest ease slightly. She kept it up.
"I remember being the Teen Queen's biggest laugh, for all those things. Hated. For being different. "
"…Being the joke of the Boy Zone. The one their fists seemed to like the most."
She girl nodded violently. "And for what, Brit?"
"For being different."
"We didn't like it. It's made me wonder…" she felt desperate to share her idea, but – now it came to voicing it – she didn't know how to explain. "There must be other people going through what we did! And something that Big Macca said earlier-"
She faltered at a loud snort from the boy. "Him-"
"Shut up, Brit, and let me explain. He said he didn't want to endanger other people like us who may be out there." She stood - determined, now, to make her companion understand. "It seems so obvious. If we could find these individuals, then…I dunno, but anything's gotta be better than four people who – at the moment – hate each others' guts!"
To Meat's utter surprise, the boy suddenly flared and his voice rang around the alcove. "Of course there are more individuals out there! Have you forgotten everything I told you the night we came here? The select few…the Bohemians…the Resistance!"
She'd backed into the wall, her eyes wide. How had she forgotten it…the one close conversation they'd ever had. In an instant, her mind had taken her back to that night, and she tried to recall what had been said.
"So…if…the Bohemians are out there, waiting…and they'll recognise the words of the Text when they hear them…we can call them here! Now!" She found herself advancing towards the boy and, as if in response, he raised a hand in sarcastic victory.
"Perfect! All we need is a telephone."
She stopped, aghast. "A…what?"
"Exactly." His hand abruptly dropped to his side. "No more telephones. No more twenty-first century. So exactly how do you expect the Bohemians to hear the Text?"
"I-"
"And for a minute I thought you were on to something, when you started reeling off all that sentimental cyberschool trash. I'm going to sleep."
The weight returned to Meat's chest as the boy turned away.
