3
On the night Joshua Kinney died, Chief Hopper was out for a full twelve hours. He'd left the apartment in a rush at eight o'clock, and returned at eight the next morning.
Yawning every few seconds, Hopper climbed the stairs to his apartment, and stumbled his way down to 24B. It took several tries for him to get his key into the lock, but finally, he managed to open the door. Hopper stepped over the threshold, and looked over the tiny apartment.
El was at the kitchen table, her head resting on her folded arms. Five empty cups were next to her; Hopper looked inside. Coffee dregs rested at the bottom, and the kitchen light was still on.
How long had El waited up for him?
Guilt hollowed out Hopper's chest, and he gently scooped his daughter out of the hard wooden chair. El didn't stir- her head flopped back limply, and Hopper carried her through into her bedroom.
`I'm sorry, kid,' he whispered to her, lying her down on her bed and pulling the duvet up to her chin. He tucked it around her chin, making sure El was warm. There was no chance of him making her go to school. Either way, she was already late.
El scrunched up her face in her sleep, and mumbled something under her breath. It sounded like a name, but Hopper couldn't make it out. He picked his way through the clutter on El's floor, narrowly avoided her rollerblades, and turned out the light. Dark swept over the room; the only light came from the sun, peeking out around and below El's curtains. Hopper stayed at the doorway, watching her for a minute, making sure she was okay.
When El was a baby, Hopper had checked in on her constantly, just making sure she was still breathing. He remembered those early days, just after he'd found her abandoned outside the police station in that tiny cardboard box. Jesus, he'd barely known how to put a diaper on correctly.
Hopper shut the door quietly. He leaned back against the wall, and pulled his hand down over the scruff of beard. He hadn't had a chance to shave for a couple of days.
That night was the worst night his team had seen in a while. Joshua Kinney was one of the Texas kids, and was mixed up in the gangs, same as Jess Landey. She was the girlfriend of one of the Chicago boys- he forgot which one.
In both incidents, the offending party was roaring drunk, so drunk they barely knew what they were doing.
Why did people buy alcohol for kids, or sell a fifteen year old boy vodka?
Despite how exhausted he was, Hopper didn't want to sleep.
The image of Joshua Kinney's raw, beaten carcass was branded into his eyes.
Hopper took his weight off the wall, shuffled to his bedroom, stripped to his trousers and collapsed back onto his own bed. He let his heavy, leaded eyes slide shut.
0
It was biting hunger that eventually woke El up. At first, she'd tried to stay in her dream, but the pangs in her stomach got more and more insistent until finally, she admitted defeat.
El rubbed her eyes as she sat up, and flicked on her lamp. The clock in her room said it was past midday, almost one in the afternoon.
`No wonder I'm starving,' she muttered. El looked down- she was still in her clothes. For some reason, she couldn't recall taking herself off to bed…
Then El remembered the long, caffeine-fuelled night of waiting for her dad to get back.
She immediately staggered to her bedroom door, wrenched it open, and stumbled into Hopper's room.
Relief flooded her body.
Hopper was spread out underneath his cover, looking for all the world like a six-foot-tall starfish. He hadn't even bothered to shut his curtains, so El did it for him.
`Night, dad,' she whispered, shutting the door. Next, she headed to the kitchen, and saw the cups of coffee were gone.
El took two Eggos out of the fridge and slotted them into the toaster.
Glass-
Milk-
Plate-
pop. Her waffles sprung up out of the toaster. El put them on the plate and took a long swig of her milk, before wiping her mouth. She devoured the waffles in sixty seconds flat, then, after a moments thought, put two more into the toaster.
While she waited for them to warm up, El walked between the kitchen and the living room, alternating between drinking her milk and watching Sesame Street. Max thought it was weird to like a little kid's programme, but El disagreed.
Those `little kid' programmes made her feel safe.
Once El had eaten her second breakfast, she was full and at a loss of what to do. Despite her long sleep, she was still exhausted. She drew circles in the air with her feet, randomly pointed her toes, lolled back her head on the sofa.
But after a while, something pulled her towards Hopper's office.
To call it an `office' was a little bit of an overstatement.
The room was a tiny box cupboard that Hopper used for, as El put it, `brooding mysteriously'.
Guiltily, El checked behind her.
`Sorry, dad,' she said, and opened the door.
The lamp was turned off, so El felt her way into the room and pulled the little string. Harsh light burnt through the dark room.
El almost cried aloud in horror.
Quickly, to stifle it, she clamped her hand down over her mouth. Pictures were tacked onto the walls, photographs.
Jesus.
Josh Kinney was unrecognisable- his face was swollen, bloody, cold and pale. The images were clearly taken in a morgue. His long nose was flat against his cheek, badly broken, and his top lip was so mangled and puffed up it completely obscured the bottom one. Raw, torn, mincemeat skin clung to his cheeks.
Someone's boot print was clearly stamped into his forehead.
El ran out of the room, hand pressed to her mouth.
Somewhere, a mother was wailing over a smooth oak coffin.
0
Wednesday.
Mike craned his neck in the playground at lunch, barely concentrating on what they were meant to be doing, i.e trading Lord Of The Rings cards.
Lucas rolled his eyes.
`Wait here,' he said, and got up. Dustin, Will and Mike stared after him, wondering where he was going.
When Mike figured it out, he started to scramble up.
`Lucas! Stop it! No!'
Dustin and Will kept him back. `Don't go up there,' Dustin hissed. `That'll just make it worse.'
Oh my God… Mike couldn't do anything but watch as Lucas marched up to Max, tapped her shoulder, and started to talk.
`Hey, Mayfield. I don't think we've met.'
`No, we haven't,' Max said warily. She glanced back at El. `You're friends with Mike Wheeler, aren't you?'
`Yeah, I am! Could I talk to you? Please?'
For a moment, there was only a wary, heavy silence between the two of them. Lucas sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
`Okay.' Max led to the way the bike sheds, after checking no one was shooting up there. She turned around to face Lucas, arms crossed. `So, what do you want?'
`I think that Mike and El should go out.' Cut right to the chase, that's the best way. Max nodded.
`Yeah. She totally has a massive crush on Wheeler.' Both of them turned to look at El, way out of earshot; she was looking mildly terrified. `How do we get them together?'
Lucas' brain started whirring. `Okay, maybe we could engineer it so Mike has to save her from something?'
`No, El's too tough-'
`Make her seem unattainable?'
`That could work…'
After ten minutes of discussing and planning, Max and Lucas had come up with their master plan. Lucas was outlining all the final details as Max nodded slowly.
`-and then that's when we release the dogs,' she finished. `What could go wrong?'
Behind them, Will was having what seemed to be a very forceful conversation with Mike. Mike shook his head violently. Rolling his eyes, Will grabbed Mike's elbow, and dragged him across the grey, seething playground.
Blinking quickly and looking quite scared, El turned to look at them. Will smiled at her.
`Hi, this is Mike,' he said cheerfully. He pushed Mike next to her and then walked away.
Panic immediately restricted El's chest. She willed herself not to go red, despite the prickly feeling spreading all over her.
Mike was in front of her Mike was in front of her
`Hi,' she stammered out, looking anywhere but at him.
`Hi,' Mike replied. `Um… nice weather, huh?'
Both of them looked up. Thick, marshmallow clouds obscured the sun.
`So, did you want something?' He continued.
El swallowed, trying to get her voice and behaviour back to normal. `Yeah, I wondered if-' Suddenly her mind went blank. `If-'
0
Will hurried back to Dustin.
`How'd it go?' Dustin whispered eagerly.
`I don't know.'
They seemed to be talking, but Mike's feet were shuffling. Both boys knew from long years of friendship that meant he was I'm-about-to-vomit nervous.
`So what's happening up there?'
`Jesus!' Dustin jumped a mile and saw Max standing behind them. `Shit, Mayfield. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?' She ignored him, and carried on watching El.
`They seem to be hitting it off,' Lucas said hopefully. `Wait, is she- is she giving him her number?'
El was writing on a little slip of paper, then handing it to Mike. A smile broke out on his face.
`Oh, she's coming back- quick-'
Max grabbed a comic off the floor and started pretending to read it, Will and Dustin began exchanging cards and Lucas was left panicking. He immediately lay down on the ground.
`Hey, El, how'd it go?' Max asked cheerfully from behind the comic, which was upside down.
`Lucas? Are you okay?' El peered down at him, looking understandably concerned. `Should I get the nurse?'
`Me? Oh, I'm- fine, I was just… sunbathing.' Lucas stretched out and lay back against the freezing asphalt. `Soaking up the UV. Ya know.'
They all looked up. Another gargantuan cloud obscured the sun, sending them all into chilly shadow.
`Okay,' El said nervously. `Well, I gave him my number.'
A cheer broke out from the four of them. But El wasn't finished. `I gave him my number, but I maybe- panicked a bit. So he thinks I need technical help because my radio's broken. Look,' she pushed on through the annoyed noises. `I'm perfectly happy with being his friend, okay? Now leave it.'
The bell went, and El walked off, her satchel hanging heavy off her shoulder.
For God's sake, she had acted like a soppy, lovesick Barbie. No way. El Hopper would not succumb to stupid, unbelievable cliches.
She would stay herself.
Like ants swarming in a tunnel, the students began to fill up the corridors. El took out her timetable, getting knocked into a few times, and saw she had Art.
Oh, no…
That was the one class she had with Troy.
Dread topped her up, hot and sick. El made her way to the art rooms, and lined up outside. She didn't even have Max for protection in this class.
Troy's heavy boots came along the corridor.
Here it comes. El took out her book and buried her nose in it.
Troy walked straight past her. El straightened up, shocked, and watched him slump against the wall, playing with a lighter.
The scar she'd left on his forehead was still visible, a red line about the size of her thumbnail.
When Cathay O'Hara had refused to go out with Troy last year in Art, he'd pulled a penknife out of his pocket and threatened to kill her.
In a panic, El had made an immediate, slightly rash decision, and had thrown her soda can at him with as much force as she could muster. The end result had been a lot of blood, suspension, and endless harrassment from Troy in revenge after he'd recovered from his concussion.
Cathay had been moved to a different class.
Since then, El had dreaded her art class, because it just meant a torrent of abuse, spit balls, and, once, Troy had flicked a lit match at her hair. Luckily it extinguished itself before it could hit her.
Now, her tormentor was slumped against a wall, looking like he was about to cry.
El bit her lip.
`You okay?' She called over to him, against her better judgement.
`You in with the Texans?' Troy asked her, his mouth twisting around his braces.
`Doesn't matter if I am or not.'
`Fine. If you see the Texans, then you tell 'em they'd better watch their backs.' Troy's face was screwed up in vicious hatred. El took a step back. `They kill my mate, I kill ten of 'em in return. Got it?'
Before El could form any sort of response that wasn't running away or telling someone to lock Troy in a room with soft walls, the teacher showed up and started to herd them into the classroom.
El sat down in her desk, his words milling repeatedly through her mind. Had the Texans killed James?
Jesus. If they had, shit was well and truly about to hit the fan.
