he tried to picture everything he could about that moment and
gradually it started coming back to him, and he was
. . . running towards a door, along a landing laid with deep-pile white carpet, the fluffy threads bulging up over the rims of his brown lace-up shoes.
When he gripped the door handle, it slipped through his fingers and pinged back up because his hands were oily with blood.
He got up and inspected the brown shoes in his cupboard again. They were definitely not the same. And then he looked at his hands. They weren’t the ones covered in blood
that had reached for the door handle. His own fingers weren’t as slender or as white.
Daniel tried to understand how he could have remembered something that hadn’t even happened to him. Unnerved by the strangeness of it, he lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, replaying
the moment over and over, trying to see if he could find out anything else . . .
. . . and then something clicked and he began remembering more . . .
. . . his bloody hands grabbing hold of the door handle a second time and turning it to let himself through into a white tiled bathroom . . .
. . . When he looked in the mirror above the white ceramic sink, he saw Lawson staring back, his bleeding nose cupped in his bloody hands . . .
. . . And then Mason appeared in the doorway behind him, looming like a storm cloud in the mirror over his shoulder . . .
. . . ‘Don’t try that again,’ he grunted, ‘or else I’ll break more than your nose.’
34
Daniel and Bennett sat on the low wall outside King’s College, eating chips for breakfast from yellow styrofoam trays, tourists glancing at them as they walked by.
‘What do you mean it was Lawson?’ asked Bennett.
‘In the mirror, it was his face looking back at me.’
‘But you just said it was like a memory. That you
were
him. How’s that possible?’ Bennett speared a chip and dipped it in ketchup. He moved his fork like a baton as if
conducting his thoughts. ‘Unless it’s to do with the fit? That bits of Lawson got stuck inside you when things went wrong.’
A passer-by looked down at them; Bennett smiled at her with ketchup teeth until she looked away. ‘Do you think you could remember anything else?’
‘I’m not sure I want to.’ Daniel cupped his hands round the styrofoam tray of chips, trying to warm them because even though the sun was out he felt cold.
‘But you might remember something that helps. If Lawson knew other people like him, maybe there’s somebody who could help you. You need to find someone to make this fit or who knows
what Mason’ll do?’
Daniel toe-poked a pebble as far as he could into the road. ‘Lawson’s dead, Bennett. It’s creepy, thinking bits of him are stuck inside me.’
‘Like starlight?’
‘What?’
‘When we look up at a star, we’re seeing how it was in the past because of the time it takes light to travel across the universe. We’re only watching a memory from an age
ago.’
‘I suppose.’
Bennett patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’ll burn out eventually.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do.’ Bennett speared another chip and watched it steaming in the sun.
He put the wooden fork down with the chip still attached when a woman with an American accent asked if she could take a picture of them sitting on the wall with the college behind them because
it looked so
cute.
Bennett asked for a pound. ‘I’m saving up for university,’ he said. ‘Thirty thousand pictures should do it. Or else I’m going to be trapped
in my socio-demographic fishbowl for the rest of my life, looking out at what
could have been
for me.’
When three pound coins were placed in his outstretched palm, he lit up like a slot machine.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Daniel as they walked away after the picture was taken. ‘You can do anything you want whether you go to university or not.’
Bennett beamed for a moment like he had won the lottery. ‘But I can’t find your fit for you
gradually it started coming back to him, and he was
. . . running towards a door, along a landing laid with deep-pile white carpet, the fluffy threads bulging up over the rims of his brown lace-up shoes.
When he gripped the door handle, it slipped through his fingers and pinged back up because his hands were oily with blood.
He got up and inspected the brown shoes in his cupboard again. They were definitely not the same. And then he looked at his hands. They weren’t the ones covered in blood
that had reached for the door handle. His own fingers weren’t as slender or as white.
Daniel tried to understand how he could have remembered something that hadn’t even happened to him. Unnerved by the strangeness of it, he lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, replaying
the moment over and over, trying to see if he could find out anything else . . .
. . . and then something clicked and he began remembering more . . .
. . . his bloody hands grabbing hold of the door handle a second time and turning it to let himself through into a white tiled bathroom . . .
. . . When he looked in the mirror above the white ceramic sink, he saw Lawson staring back, his bleeding nose cupped in his bloody hands . . .
. . . And then Mason appeared in the doorway behind him, looming like a storm cloud in the mirror over his shoulder . . .
. . . ‘Don’t try that again,’ he grunted, ‘or else I’ll break more than your nose.’
34
Daniel and Bennett sat on the low wall outside King’s College, eating chips for breakfast from yellow styrofoam trays, tourists glancing at them as they walked by.
‘What do you mean it was Lawson?’ asked Bennett.
‘In the mirror, it was his face looking back at me.’
‘But you just said it was like a memory. That you
were
him. How’s that possible?’ Bennett speared a chip and dipped it in ketchup. He moved his fork like a baton as if
conducting his thoughts. ‘Unless it’s to do with the fit? That bits of Lawson got stuck inside you when things went wrong.’
A passer-by looked down at them; Bennett smiled at her with ketchup teeth until she looked away. ‘Do you think you could remember anything else?’
‘I’m not sure I want to.’ Daniel cupped his hands round the styrofoam tray of chips, trying to warm them because even though the sun was out he felt cold.
‘But you might remember something that helps. If Lawson knew other people like him, maybe there’s somebody who could help you. You need to find someone to make this fit or who knows
what Mason’ll do?’
Daniel toe-poked a pebble as far as he could into the road. ‘Lawson’s dead, Bennett. It’s creepy, thinking bits of him are stuck inside me.’
‘Like starlight?’
‘What?’
‘When we look up at a star, we’re seeing how it was in the past because of the time it takes light to travel across the universe. We’re only watching a memory from an age
ago.’
‘I suppose.’
Bennett patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’ll burn out eventually.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do.’ Bennett speared another chip and watched it steaming in the sun.
He put the wooden fork down with the chip still attached when a woman with an American accent asked if she could take a picture of them sitting on the wall with the college behind them because
it looked so
cute.
Bennett asked for a pound. ‘I’m saving up for university,’ he said. ‘Thirty thousand pictures should do it. Or else I’m going to be trapped
in my socio-demographic fishbowl for the rest of my life, looking out at what
could have been
for me.’
When three pound coins were placed in his outstretched palm, he lit up like a slot machine.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Daniel as they walked away after the picture was taken. ‘You can do anything you want whether you go to university or not.’
Bennett beamed for a moment like he had won the lottery. ‘But I can’t find your fit for you
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