The Future King: Logres (37 page)

She kicked him back, kicked his stomach, his shoulders, his arms, his
head. He toppled over. The silent alien was there the moment she stood. She
pointed the deodorant at him like a gun. He held back.

‘You do know I told the police about what you did, right?’ She said,
high on adrenaline. ‘You know I’ll tell them about this. They’ll arrest you.
They’ll arrest you both. What you going to do in prison, Hector? Word is you’re
moist.’

She kicked him hard again, in the back.
Out, get out
.
Run
while you still can
. Someone caught her
eye at the door to the warehouse. Lancelot.

He came out quickly, sensing the danger. She fled and stopped the
moment she was behind him. Hector got to his feet and staggered over, his mask
abandoned.

‘Crazy bitch blinded me!’ he shouted, pointing a sharp finger her
way. He growled, and then he was rubbing his eyelids, expelling the sounds of a
wounded animal. ‘Jesus! What is
wrong
with
you? My eyes! She sprayed something in my eyes!’

‘It’s just deodorant, you idiot,’ Gwenhwyfar told him. ‘Go wash it
out.’ The alien stepped closer, vying for a fight, but Lancelot caught the movement
and suddenly seemed taller. For a moment everything seemed to hang in the
balance, but then Hector retreated and the alien followed.

‘Crazy bitch,’ he hissed again, stumbling away from the venue and
into the dark. Lancelot looked as if he was going to start after them.

‘Leave it, he’s not worth it.’ Gwenhwyfar touched his arm as she
passed him to retrieve her clutch from the dirt.

He followed her. ‘What happened?’

Carefully, she put her belongings back in her bag. ‘Nothing. It was
just Hector being an arsehole.’

‘He did this to you?’ Immediately he looked towards the wooded copse,
but neither Hector nor the alien were in sight.

‘I said leave it! Seriously, it’s not worth the trouble.’

‘Gwenhwyfar? What did he do?’

She was shaking, she realised. Calmly she drew a breath and fastened
her clutch. ‘Nothing, it’s nothing. He was just harassing me, that’s all. You
know. Making… making threats.’

‘Hector was making threats?’ He looked over his shoulder, as if he
could still see him. ‘What kind of threats?’

She gave him a pointed look. His scowl blackened.

‘What did he say?’

‘You know, that I was asking for it, called me
moist
. Said it wasn’t rape if I secretly wanted it. That kind of
stuff.’

He was obviously furious, because in the seconds that followed,
Lancelot was speechless.

‘That… seriously…? He
seriously
did that. He
seriously
said those
things.’ He stepped about on the spot and ran a palm over his mouth. ‘I
should’ve… why didn’t I? I
knew
something was up.’ He turned from her, and was gazing into the copse again.
‘Where the fuck is he? You should’ve said. I would’ve stopped him.’

‘No, Lake. I didn’t want you to do anything. It only would’ve made
things worse.’

He turned to her, and took her by the arms. She surprised herself by
being grateful for the contact. ‘Are you hurt? Did he… did they…’

‘Didn’t you hear? I’m a
crazy
bitch
. I sprayed deodorant in his eyes.’ She offered him a quick smile. ‘I
just fell. He tripped me when I tried to leave. I don’t think they were going
to do anything. I think it was just talk.’

‘So?’

‘So I’m fine, really.’

‘You’re trembling,’ he disputed.

‘I’m fine. I just didn’t know he would be here.’ She looked at him
critically. ‘Why
was
he here? I
thought we were checking.’

‘We were checking—of course we were checking. He must have
turned up when we weren’t watching the door. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ she muttered, staring unseeingly into his
chest. His hands migrated, and for a moment he was cupping her head.

‘You should sit. You’re in shock.’ He looked to the wall. ‘Can you
make it?’

‘I don’t know. Wait, what are you doing?’

‘I’m carrying you,’ he insisted.

‘No you’re not. It’s fine! I can make it.’

He scooped her up. Gwenhwyfar gasped as suddenly the world was
tilted. Her long dress bunched up in his extended arms.

He huffed in surprise, his thick brow folding. ‘Christ, what have you
been eating?’

‘It’s the
dress
,’
Gwenhwyfar said indignantly. She wrapped her arms around his strong neck.
‘You’ve just got chicken arms.’

‘Chickens don’t have arms,’ he contested. Carefully, he set her down.
She hoisted herself up onto the wall. ‘I think you’ve done my back in.’

‘Shut up, Lancelot.’

He offered her a tentative smile. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Don’t ask me that.’

‘Sorry. Should we call the police?’

She shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

‘How about your parents?’

She scowled at him, and turned her gaze out towards the dark. ‘I
don’t want Hector to ruin my night.’

He eyed her grass-stained dress. Gwenhwyfar knew that her ankle was
swollen; she could feel it. Her arms were grazed and Hector’s hand had pressed
blue finger marks into her skin.

‘You might have to call them, unless you can think of a good way to
explain this.’

‘I won’t go home,’ Gwenhwyfar decided.

‘No?’

‘I’ll stay at Viola’s house. If I tell someone what happened, I’ll
just have to go through that whole thing with Ravioli again. The police won’t
care either. I told them about Tom’s party. They said there was no point
pressing charges.’

He seemed shocked. ‘It might be different this time.’

‘I doubt it.’ She laughed harshly at herself. ‘They’re more likely to
arrest me for blinding him. God, I shouldn’t have done that. Do you think he
will go blind?’

‘So what if he does?’ He shook his head and hunched his shoulders. ‘I
should do something. I should see what the hell he thinks he’s playing at.’

‘No Lance, don’t.’

‘Why the hell not? I should kill him for this.’

‘I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself.’ He said nothing.
‘Seriously Lance, just leave it. I don’t want you provoking him, or anything.
He’s pissed enough as it is.’

‘You should tell someone what happened.’

‘I know.’ She caught the concern in his dark gaze. She wanted to
brush the night away, wanted to forget about it. ‘Thanks, for being here.’

He shrugged. She edged closer to him on the wall, eager for the
security he offered. He remained still.

‘I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up.’

‘Are you kidding? You’d have blinded them both.’ There was a
heartbeat’s silence. ‘Who was that guy?’

‘The alien? I don’t know.’

‘He looked too old to be from Logres. Something about him…’

‘Maybe he’s from Bobby’s college?’

‘Maybe. Or maybe he’s just some friend of Hector’s.’

‘How were you ever friends with him?’ Gwenhwyfar asked, suddenly
piqued.

‘I don’t know.’ He seemed troubled. The moonlight illuminated the
white half of his monochrome mask. ‘I guess you can know someone without ever
really knowing them.’ He shook his head, and sighed. ‘I had no idea he would
ever do something like this.’

Words escaped her. She felt a sharp pang from deep within, and
suddenly she was thinking of her father. A roughened finger lifted her chin,
and Lancelot’s dark eyes filled her vision.

‘Gwenhwyfar?’

She forced a swallow down her tear-swollen throat. As she turned her
head, his hand fell away and her skin was left cold.

They sat in silence for some time. She leant into his side, her head
falling against his shoulder. He was warm.

‘I never had the chance to wish you a happy birthday,’ she whispered
through a wet sniff, staring into the ground.

‘Now’s a good a time as any.’ He squeezed her arm, and she shifted to
wedge her body against him. Looking up, she smiled.

‘Happy birthday, Lance. Sorry for making your party so dramatic.’

‘Thanks,’ he grinned, teeth flashing in the gloom. ‘And don’t worry
about it. I got to see Hector whiplashed by women’s deodorant. It’s been
great.’

Sniffing, she tucked her arm around him and squeezed him tight. When
she shivered Lancelot drew her closer.

She felt safe, she felt warm. A second thought made her hunt for
Hector in the gloom, but she only found stillness. The sound from the party
thumped on, and as she looked back to check the warehouse she thought she saw
the patchwork cat lingering in the doorway. A second glance however, and the
figure had gone.

A Proposal

Viola pulled her portfolio
out of her school bag
and placed it on the table. Immediately Gwenhwyfar snatched it up to hunt for
new photos. Though she had spent Saturday night and most of Sunday at Viola’s
house, the pictures had arrived via courier that morning, and Viola had eagerly
put them into her book so she could show them off.

‘It’s mostly because I’ve got an important casting after school,’ she
told them. ‘It’s for
Bare Make-up
.
They’re shooting a campaign for a new product.’

‘Do you think you’ll get it?’ Gwenhwyfar asked, gazing wistfully at
the latest photo.

Shrugging, Viola observed her pictures upside down. ‘It’d be good if
I did. The campaign’s worth at least twenty thousand.’

‘Twenty
thousand
?’
Bedivere’s mouth hung open. ‘For a day’s work?’

‘It’s a lot, isn’t it? But that’s the way it goes. You work for
nothing, and then hope you’ll get something like that once or twice a year.’ Bedivere
took the portfolio for a closer look. Viola turned her attention to Gwenhwyfar.
‘How’s your ankle?’

‘Not bad.’ She rolled her foot and felt little discomfort. ‘I can
walk on it now.’

‘What did your mum say about the dress?’

‘She hasn’t seen it yet.’ She glanced across to Charlotte’s table.
Emily was still sitting there during registration, but the other girls whispered
to one another and ignored her completely. ‘I’m going to take it to the
dry-cleaners. She thinks I fell over. She’d freak, if she knew.’

‘I still think you should report Hector. There was no
misunderstanding this time.’

‘He was just trying to scare me. You know, seeing how I
ruined his life
.’

‘You should be scared. He’s acting like a complete psycho. How can
you be happy with him still in school?’

‘Of course I’m not happy about it. Look, whether I go to the police
or not,
he
thinks I’m talking to
them. I told him I would.’

‘That might just make him more desperate.’

She was temped to tell her how her last attempt to report Hector had
gone, but she couldn’t bring herself to relive it. ‘And what am I supposed to
say? Some drunk guy groped me so I half-blinded him? For all I know I
have
blinded him. I’m half expecting Mr
Hall to appear and escort me to the principal’s office.’

‘All the more reason you should talk to Ravioli first,’ Viola urged
quietly.

‘Ravioli will just want to bury it,’ she argued, as Bedivere closed
the portfolio and handed it back to Viola. ‘He’s hardly going to want Hector
locked up. It’ll disgrace the school.’

‘And what about your parents?’

‘They’ve got enough going on as it is. I’m still waiting for my mum
to talk to my dad.’

‘About what?’ Bedivere asked.

‘Nothing important.’ She couldn’t face telling her parents. If they
heard she was in the same situation after having attended yet another party
with solution, they would never let her go out again. ‘Just marital troubles.’

Frowning, Bedivere looked to Viola. ‘The police, then?’

‘I don’t want to tell anyone!’ she snapped. ‘I can handle it. If he
so much as looks at me I’ll say something. But for now I’d rather not have the
hassle.’ Her friends both eyed her as if they knew better, and it annoyed her.
‘I don’t want people knowing.
Especially
not Arthur. He’ll do something silly, or insist that I tell, I know he will.’

‘He’d be right to.’

‘Please, just keep it quiet, would you? Bedivere?’

‘I won’t say anything!’ he exclaimed, clearly insulted to be told
twice.

‘Just think about it,’ Viola pressed. ‘That’s all I’m asking. None of
us will forgive ourselves if something like this happens again.’

Defensively, Gwenhwyfar nodded. ‘Fine,’ she muttered, if only to
please them. ‘I’ll think about it.’

The shrill bell sounded, and Miss Ray released them all into the corridor.

By the time Bedivere and Gwenhwyfar made it to History, Morgan and
Arthur were already in their seats. The old classroom was stale with dust, but
it was too cold outside to open the windows. As Bedivere sat down he offered a
cheerful greeting that was not reciprocated, and when Gwenhwyfar said hello to
Arthur he gave her an upturned shoulder. She glowered. What had she done now?

‘Good morning, class!’ Marvin said brightly. He was in early again,
and was hovering awkwardly while he waited for his students to sit. ‘How is
everyone today? I hope you’re all ready for your first revision session?’

There were general groans of protest throughout the room, the most
verbal from Tom. Marvin scribbled “Level Fours” across the board. Turning to
face the class, he smacked his hands together.

‘Page two-hundred-and-seventy-seven, please! Hurry up now, we don’t
have all day. I want to introduce you to the concept of
practice papers
in the second half of the lesson.’

Gwenhwyfar split open her thick, glossy History book and flicked
through it, her eyes slinking across to Arthur. After a few moments she realised
that Morgan was staring, and as their gazes crossed the other girl glanced away
with a worried look in her eyes.

‘What is it?’ she whispered. Morgan said nothing and looked pointedly
ahead, listening to Marvin. Apprehensively, Gwenhwyfar studied Arthur. Had he
heard about what had happened? Feeling uneasy with the memory of what Hector
had done, she ducked her head and set to work. Conversation swelled as Marvin
failed to quieten his pupils, and the remaining hour left her with a niggling
sickness that she couldn’t shake.

Her heart leapt when the bell rang. Immediately the class jumped up,
abandoning their test papers. Shouting above the din, Marvin endeavoured to
control the outburst, waving his hands about as his words fell on deaf ears.

‘Don’t forget questions five and six for your homework! Bring your
practice papers to the
front
! No
pushing in the aisles!’

Gwenhwyfar bolted to her feet, her eyes fixed on Arthur. He packed
swiftly, grabbed his paper and then attempted to squeeze past Bedivere. She
stretched over her table and took his arm.

‘Arthur?’

A look was all she received for her concern, a hard, ugly look that
made her feel small. Marvin stared in surprise as his usually talkative student
shot straight past him, with Gwenhwyfar close behind.

She could barely keep up. A group of Year Eights shouted as she
elbowed past them. ‘Arthur, please! Just tell me what’s wrong!’ Forced to break
into a run, she pushed through the double doors that swung shut on her as he
escaped out onto the strip between the Maths rooms and mobile classrooms. ‘Arthur!’
He stopped and glared at her mutely. She was on the verge of tears. ‘Please,
just tell me what the matter is!’

‘You don’t know what the matter is? How can you not? It’s obvious,
Gwen. Really obvious.’

His riddle threw her. As she tried to sense what might have upset
him, she could only think of Saturday. ‘I don’t know. You’ll have to tell me.’

He turned to leave. She hurried after him.

‘Morgan told me. Of all people, I shouldn’t have to hear it from
her.’

‘Hear what from her?’ She reached forwards to stop him, but he shook
her away. ‘You
know
she doesn’t like
me.’

‘So you’re denying it then?’

Her heart pounded. ‘Denying what? I don’t know what it is you’re
talking about!’

They came under the annex between the girls’ toilets and the back
entrance to old Wormelow. He wheeled round on her.

‘You and Lance! That’s what I’m talking about. Morgan said she saw
you at the party together. Don’t deny it, Gwen. She said he had his arm around
you.’

Relief, then panic, flooded through her. ‘So?’ she said, daring him
to make the accusation. ‘You think that because he had his arm around me, we’re
seeing one another? Is that it? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that
sounds?’

‘It wasn’t just the arm, Gwen. Morgan said you had your head on his
shoulder.’

Suddenly she was angry. ‘So what? We’re just friends!
Nothing happened.
Besides, it’s not like
you’ve got the right to care who I associate myself with.’

‘I haven’t?’ The very air around him seemed to blacken. Gwenhwyfar’s
eyes flashed as his did, and she squared herself closer.

‘No, you haven’t!’

‘I thought we were supposed to be going out?’ he snapped.

‘Are we? It’s not like you ever actually
asked
me out, Arthur!’

‘I thought it was obvious!’

‘Obvious?’ she flared, nostrils widening. ‘After that stunt you
pulled with Morgan, nothing was
obvious
!’

‘How clearly do you need to hear it? I’m not interested in Morgan.
And I don’t see how you couldn’t have known we were exclusive!’ he added hotly.

‘Exclusive?’ she mocked. ‘You’re making it sound like something
actually happened! It didn’t! Lance is just a
friend
.’

‘Oh, so now he’s a friend? I thought you couldn’t stand him?’

She growled in vexation. She didn’t want to explain; she shouldn’t have
to explain.

‘She said you were holding each other, Gwen!’

‘I don’t see why you’re so wound up!’

‘Don’t you?’ he fired.

‘No!’ her voice broke above his. ‘Especially when you and I haven’t
even kissed yet!’

He fell silent, and so did she. Their anger leaked away and left them
both cold.

‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that I’m failing to meet your
expectations,’ he muttered, wounded.

‘No, that’s not what I meant,’ she tried.

‘No—you’re right. It’s none of my business who you sit with.’
His broken sarcasm was biting, and it split straight through her chest.

‘Arthur!’ she called as he turned away. Angry tears launched into her
eyes, but furiously she blinked through them. The doors to old Wormelow swung
open and a flurry of pupils swarmed around her. She attempted to follow him,
but was forced to give up. He was out of sight in less than ten seconds.

English was set to the tune of heavy rainfall, a sudden and
unexpected outburst that beat down on the windowpanes and cut streams across
the glass. Bedivere listened to Gwenhwyfar’s news concerning Arthur’s mood with
interest, though he seemed to withhold his opinion and offered few solutions.
Break time passed with no sign of either Arthur or Lancelot, and she spent most
of General Studies longing for a resolution to their conflict. She walked with
Gavin to the canteen through the lingering drizzle, but as they were about to
slip through the double doors she was arrested by the sound of her name.

‘Gwenhwyfar.’

She knew the voice before she turned. Lancelot. Gwenhwyfar looked for
sign of Arthur, but he was nowhere to be seen.

‘Can I talk to you?’

She nodded, and started to follow Gavin into the depths of the
canteen. He stopped her again.

‘No, not in there—somewhere private.’ He led her down the paved
slope to the nearest tree, and soon they were stood under its partial shelter.

‘What do you want?’

‘Hector went to hospital. He’s off school for a couple of days. I
don’t think he’s said anything about what happened. Apparently he’s telling people
it was an accident.’

She gazed at him, and the attention seemed to make him nervous.

‘I still don’t know who the alien was, though. I thought it might be
someone from Bobby’s college, but he doesn’t know anyone who went with that
mask.’

‘You told Bobby?’

‘Only that a couple of guys had been making trouble. I didn’t say
what.’

The pressure she had been feeling over the weekend lifted slightly.
‘Looks like I taught him a lesson after all,’ she murmured. Lancelot looked a
lot nicer when he smiled. For a moment they stood in silence, but then a large,
cold droplet of water made it through the naked branches and landed directly on
Gwenhwyfar’s head. She wiped it off with a shiver. ‘I think I’m going to head
back.’