slightest. He could understand why girls fell for his puppy-dog eyes and dimples, but Ryan preferred a bad
boy. Always had.
He snuck through to the kitchen. Believing horror stories about what would happen if you drank local water (maggots would hatch in your stomach), he opened the fridge and took a bottle of
mineral water. Pausing in the dining area, he looked out into the night. They were so alone here. Their nearest neighbour was a cruise ship that skirted along the very edge of the horizon.
God, it was so humid. The water was already too warm.
He didn’t see Ben’s rucksack until he kicked it, sending its contents spilling over the tiles. Biting his lip to keep from cursing, Ryan rubbed his stubbed big toe. Ben didn’t
stir, his head facing the wall. ‘Ben?’ he breathed. There was no response. Ben was in a deep, deep sleep. Ryan stooped to tidy the mess.
This was only hand luggage. Ryan scooped up a phone charger and an iPad, a copy of
New Scientist
magazine (Ben was such a geek), some contact lens solution, half a warm Dr Pepper and
his wallet. He was shoving everything back in the bag, when something else caught his eye. At the bottom of the rucksack was something oddly familiar. He reached for it, his fingers closing on the
rough sack material and pulling it out into the moonlight.
It was a mask. One of
the
masks from the night of the ball – which to the students of Longview High was also known as ‘Prank Night’. It was a
ghastly
thing.
Ben and Greg had cut eyeholes in the sacks, drawn on deranged grins in marker pen and worn them over their heads. Ryan smiled as he remembered. With everything
else
that had happened that
night he’d totally forgotten about the Scarecrow Prank. It had been his idea – based on a story he’d written – and it had worked brilliantly. That night would have been one
of the best nights of his life . . . had Janey not died.
He slipped the mask over his head and tiptoed to the mirror on the wall near the stairs. In the gloom his head look malformed, truly something from a child’s worst nightmare. He remembered
the voice . . .
‘What are you doing?’
Ryan cried out and whipped round, almost knocking the mirror off the wall. He had to steady it to prevent it falling. Ben sat up on the sofa, took one look at the mask and recoiled, almost
tumbling off his bed.
Ryan yanked the mask off. ‘Ben, it’s just me,’ he whispered.
‘Ryan, what the bloody hell are you doing? You scared the crap out of me!’ Ben exclaimed.
Ryan couldn’t suppress a giggle – the look on Ben’s face was priceless. ‘Well, now you know what it feels like. Do you remember this?’
‘Of course.’ Ben rubbed his eyes. ‘Why did you bring it?’
‘I didn’t. I thought it was yours.’
Ben shook his head. ‘I lost mine. Must be Greg’s. What time is it?’
‘But it was . . .’ Ryan stopped. He couldn’t be bothered to argue. Perhaps it was Greg’s bag, not Ben’s. ‘It’s still early. I just came to get
water.’
‘OK.’ Ben rose off the sofa with his long legs. Looking at the defined muscular ridges that ran over his hips, Ryan thought maybe he did fancy Ben a bit. Then again, if he had to
think about it, he probably didn’t.
‘Just gonna use the loo,’ Ben mumbled. The poor thing was half asleep as he sloped across the lounge. Ryan threw the hideous mask onto the dining-room table, from where the hollow
eye sockets watched him return to bed.
SCENE 9 – ALISHA
A lisha stretched out in the empty bed, purring like a cat as she extended her limbs as far as they’d go. She had no idea where Katie had
gone, but it was cool to have the bed to herself for a while.
With brilliant sunlight pouring through the blinds, making zebra stripes across her bare legs, the morose pity-party mood from last night evaporated immediately and she felt silly for being so
mopey. She sat up and ran a hand through her ’fro which, at this
boy. Always had.
He snuck through to the kitchen. Believing horror stories about what would happen if you drank local water (maggots would hatch in your stomach), he opened the fridge and took a bottle of
mineral water. Pausing in the dining area, he looked out into the night. They were so alone here. Their nearest neighbour was a cruise ship that skirted along the very edge of the horizon.
God, it was so humid. The water was already too warm.
He didn’t see Ben’s rucksack until he kicked it, sending its contents spilling over the tiles. Biting his lip to keep from cursing, Ryan rubbed his stubbed big toe. Ben didn’t
stir, his head facing the wall. ‘Ben?’ he breathed. There was no response. Ben was in a deep, deep sleep. Ryan stooped to tidy the mess.
This was only hand luggage. Ryan scooped up a phone charger and an iPad, a copy of
New Scientist
magazine (Ben was such a geek), some contact lens solution, half a warm Dr Pepper and
his wallet. He was shoving everything back in the bag, when something else caught his eye. At the bottom of the rucksack was something oddly familiar. He reached for it, his fingers closing on the
rough sack material and pulling it out into the moonlight.
It was a mask. One of
the
masks from the night of the ball – which to the students of Longview High was also known as ‘Prank Night’. It was a
ghastly
thing.
Ben and Greg had cut eyeholes in the sacks, drawn on deranged grins in marker pen and worn them over their heads. Ryan smiled as he remembered. With everything
else
that had happened that
night he’d totally forgotten about the Scarecrow Prank. It had been his idea – based on a story he’d written – and it had worked brilliantly. That night would have been one
of the best nights of his life . . . had Janey not died.
He slipped the mask over his head and tiptoed to the mirror on the wall near the stairs. In the gloom his head look malformed, truly something from a child’s worst nightmare. He remembered
the voice . . .
‘What are you doing?’
Ryan cried out and whipped round, almost knocking the mirror off the wall. He had to steady it to prevent it falling. Ben sat up on the sofa, took one look at the mask and recoiled, almost
tumbling off his bed.
Ryan yanked the mask off. ‘Ben, it’s just me,’ he whispered.
‘Ryan, what the bloody hell are you doing? You scared the crap out of me!’ Ben exclaimed.
Ryan couldn’t suppress a giggle – the look on Ben’s face was priceless. ‘Well, now you know what it feels like. Do you remember this?’
‘Of course.’ Ben rubbed his eyes. ‘Why did you bring it?’
‘I didn’t. I thought it was yours.’
Ben shook his head. ‘I lost mine. Must be Greg’s. What time is it?’
‘But it was . . .’ Ryan stopped. He couldn’t be bothered to argue. Perhaps it was Greg’s bag, not Ben’s. ‘It’s still early. I just came to get
water.’
‘OK.’ Ben rose off the sofa with his long legs. Looking at the defined muscular ridges that ran over his hips, Ryan thought maybe he did fancy Ben a bit. Then again, if he had to
think about it, he probably didn’t.
‘Just gonna use the loo,’ Ben mumbled. The poor thing was half asleep as he sloped across the lounge. Ryan threw the hideous mask onto the dining-room table, from where the hollow
eye sockets watched him return to bed.
SCENE 9 – ALISHA
A lisha stretched out in the empty bed, purring like a cat as she extended her limbs as far as they’d go. She had no idea where Katie had
gone, but it was cool to have the bed to herself for a while.
With brilliant sunlight pouring through the blinds, making zebra stripes across her bare legs, the morose pity-party mood from last night evaporated immediately and she felt silly for being so
mopey. She sat up and ran a hand through her ’fro which, at this
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