to
understand
them?’ Charlie folded her arms. She sounded incredulous. ‘
I
want to
kill
them.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ I bit my lip. ‘Like I said, it’s complicated.’
‘You’re lying,’ Charlie scowled. ‘It’s written all over your face, like the way you snuck out of the memorial service so no-one saw you. You’re going to meet
League of Iron people, aren’t you? You’re planning who to bomb next.’
I thought of the text on the phone in my pocket.
‘You’re wrong,’ I said, truthfully. ‘I was actually going to visit my brother in hospital. You can come with me if you don’t believe me.’
‘Fine,’ Charlie said. ‘Let’s go.’
Charlie
I was sure Nat was lying. At the very least, he was holding something back. I mean he said the text he’d got was irrelevant and that he was really just going to see his
brother, but how did I know either of those things were true? As we walked to the hospital I was still sure he had been behind the marketplace bomb.
It didn’t occur to me to be scared. All I could think about was how on earth I was going to get Nat to admit to what he’d done. And, as we reached the hospital and crossed the car
park, I made my plan.
Harassed-looking people were bustling in and out of the hospital’s glass doors. The NHS had been strained to breaking point this year because of all the cuts. Even though I didn’t
follow politics, I’d still heard the summer heatwave horror story about the three elderly women who died on the same day – in different hospitals – because they had been left,
untreated and forgotten, by busy nurses in crowded corridors.
The lift stopped at the third floor. We got out and I followed Nat along the corridor. A couple of the nurses glanced over as we passed. They seemed to recognise Nat. He led me into a room on
the left. The boy from the picture at the memorial service lay on the bed. This was Jas and Nat’s brother, Lucas.
I gasped, shocked by the sight of all the tubes and wires running out of his body. It was hot in the room. Nat took off his jacket and laid it on the end of the bed, then he walked around the
bed and sat down in the chair. He looked at me.
‘This is why I left the memorial service: to see my brother, okay?’
I stared at Lucas, distracted momentarily from my plan. I was still sure Nat had been lying about coming here, but even so it must be awful to have someone you loved strapped up to machines like
this. What if it was Mum lying in a coma for six months, in this limbo hell between living and dying? No wonder Nat’s mum was always in the hospital and his dad kept himself busy with work;
no wonder Jas had stopped playing the piano and only picked at her food. For a whole year I’d envied everyone who’d survived the blast – whatever their circumstances – but
now, for the first time, it occurred to me that losing Mum as I did might have been better, after all, than losing her like this.
Nat leaned forward in his chair, his eyes intent on his brother’s face. I glanced at his jacket, still lying at the end of the bed, and remembered my plan. I edged closer until I was
perching on the end of the bed. Nat didn’t look around. Pulse racing, I reached for the jacket. Slowly, carefully, my trembling fingers felt for the outline of Nat’s mobile.
There
. Silently, I drew the phone out of the jacket pocket. I stood up, hiding the mobile behind my back.
‘I need the bathroom,’ I said.
‘Sure.’ Nat didn’t look up. ‘It’s just down the corridor on the left.’
I scuttled out of the room, keeping the phone out of sight. It felt hot against my clammy palms as I ducked into the toilet and locked the door. I looked at the mobile. It was a basic model. I
scrolled to messages; there was only one text here, received fifteen minutes or so ago. This was the message Nat had got at the memorial service.
I opened it up and read.
Nat
I barely noticed Charlie leave the room. I was staring at Lucas, so
understand
them?’ Charlie folded her arms. She sounded incredulous. ‘
I
want to
kill
them.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ I bit my lip. ‘Like I said, it’s complicated.’
‘You’re lying,’ Charlie scowled. ‘It’s written all over your face, like the way you snuck out of the memorial service so no-one saw you. You’re going to meet
League of Iron people, aren’t you? You’re planning who to bomb next.’
I thought of the text on the phone in my pocket.
‘You’re wrong,’ I said, truthfully. ‘I was actually going to visit my brother in hospital. You can come with me if you don’t believe me.’
‘Fine,’ Charlie said. ‘Let’s go.’
Charlie
I was sure Nat was lying. At the very least, he was holding something back. I mean he said the text he’d got was irrelevant and that he was really just going to see his
brother, but how did I know either of those things were true? As we walked to the hospital I was still sure he had been behind the marketplace bomb.
It didn’t occur to me to be scared. All I could think about was how on earth I was going to get Nat to admit to what he’d done. And, as we reached the hospital and crossed the car
park, I made my plan.
Harassed-looking people were bustling in and out of the hospital’s glass doors. The NHS had been strained to breaking point this year because of all the cuts. Even though I didn’t
follow politics, I’d still heard the summer heatwave horror story about the three elderly women who died on the same day – in different hospitals – because they had been left,
untreated and forgotten, by busy nurses in crowded corridors.
The lift stopped at the third floor. We got out and I followed Nat along the corridor. A couple of the nurses glanced over as we passed. They seemed to recognise Nat. He led me into a room on
the left. The boy from the picture at the memorial service lay on the bed. This was Jas and Nat’s brother, Lucas.
I gasped, shocked by the sight of all the tubes and wires running out of his body. It was hot in the room. Nat took off his jacket and laid it on the end of the bed, then he walked around the
bed and sat down in the chair. He looked at me.
‘This is why I left the memorial service: to see my brother, okay?’
I stared at Lucas, distracted momentarily from my plan. I was still sure Nat had been lying about coming here, but even so it must be awful to have someone you loved strapped up to machines like
this. What if it was Mum lying in a coma for six months, in this limbo hell between living and dying? No wonder Nat’s mum was always in the hospital and his dad kept himself busy with work;
no wonder Jas had stopped playing the piano and only picked at her food. For a whole year I’d envied everyone who’d survived the blast – whatever their circumstances – but
now, for the first time, it occurred to me that losing Mum as I did might have been better, after all, than losing her like this.
Nat leaned forward in his chair, his eyes intent on his brother’s face. I glanced at his jacket, still lying at the end of the bed, and remembered my plan. I edged closer until I was
perching on the end of the bed. Nat didn’t look around. Pulse racing, I reached for the jacket. Slowly, carefully, my trembling fingers felt for the outline of Nat’s mobile.
There
. Silently, I drew the phone out of the jacket pocket. I stood up, hiding the mobile behind my back.
‘I need the bathroom,’ I said.
‘Sure.’ Nat didn’t look up. ‘It’s just down the corridor on the left.’
I scuttled out of the room, keeping the phone out of sight. It felt hot against my clammy palms as I ducked into the toilet and locked the door. I looked at the mobile. It was a basic model. I
scrolled to messages; there was only one text here, received fifteen minutes or so ago. This was the message Nat had got at the memorial service.
I opened it up and read.
Nat
I barely noticed Charlie leave the room. I was staring at Lucas, so
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