can’t. The Mappers can. They can sense the ripples that each decision will cause and take the path that’s almost guaranteed to lead to the reality they want. Me, I’m looking forward to entropy. And then I can just relax and focus on doing one thing at a time. Without having to balance it all up. It’s exhausting.” She stretched out her legs, as if shaking off a long day. “I’d like to be normal.”
I studied Aubrey. Her green piercing eyes and dyed hair. Those perfect lips and arched brows. There was no way that Aubrey Jones would ever be considered normal.
She yawned. “I’m going to bed. You can sleep on the sofa. We’ll talk about it more in the morning.” She stood up and threw a blanket at me. “Night, Scott.” She flicked off the lights, throwing the room into darkness.
I lay down on the lumpy sofa my legs hanging over the armrest. My head was still spinning and it didn’t help if I closed my eyes. That second drink had been a really bad idea. To take my mind off the returning feeling that something was trying to make its way out of my stomach, I started to think about the other bad choices I’d made in my life.
I’d had my fair share of screw-ups in my sixteen years. Making a total prat of myself in the school play. Smashing the headmaster’s window. Jane Nagle. But my biggest regret was giving up kick boxing. I’d been doing it for a year and really enjoying it. Then Katie started coming along and while I was still struggling to get to grips with it all, she took to it like a natural. As always.
It was fun at first, the two of us hanging out together. But when she knocked me out with a flawless roundhouse I decided I’d had enough. Annoyed at her and myself, I stopped going. Dad gave me a long talk about how I had to stick at things and how I didn’t want to be a loser my whole life. It had almost worked. Almost. But I’d still quit.
I wriggled, trying to get comfortable on the couch and thought about what would have happened if I actually listened to my Dad. I’d probably be a black-belt by now. I drifted off dreaming of being a kung fu ninja.
I woke up when my head hit the concrete.
Chapter Seven
It took a while for the pieces to fall into place. I’d fallen asleep on Aubrey’s lumpy couch and ended up… where? I sat up slowly and took in my surroundings. I was lying on the freezing ground, next to a bench, in a park somewhere. Mist hung close to the ground and a shiver passed through my body. My head pounded and I held it in my shaking hands, trying to stop it from exploding. I swore loudly and promised myself that I would never, ever, drink again.
I risked letting go of my head and pulled myself off the ground and onto the bench. My ribs ached and my hands were covered in cuts and bruises. I stared at my fingers through blurry eyes and shook my head. What the hell was going on?
The bench stank of sick so I stood up and sent an empty bottle of vodka skidding across the path. I walked away, staring at the bottle and wondering how it got there. The foul smell followed me. I inspected my clothes and saw a vomit stain down my jumper. A jumper I had not been wearing last night. A jumper I didn’t even own.
A jogger panted past, her breath sending out clouds in the cold morning. She tutted as she had to interrupt her stride to jog around me.
“I’m sorry,” I tried to say. But all I managed was a dry rasp.
Something must have happened after I fell asleep last night. Maybe Aubrey kicked me out. And for some reason I’d drunk even more. But why? My aching brain was coming up with nothing. I remembered going out with Hugo. Meeting Aubrey. Then back to hers. She’d told me something, something really important. But the harder I tried to remember it, the less of a grasp I had on it. It was like trying to remember a dream after waking up. I had flashes of images, but nothing was making any kind of sense.
I hit my head with the heel of my hand and it hurt like hell. I rubbed at
I studied Aubrey. Her green piercing eyes and dyed hair. Those perfect lips and arched brows. There was no way that Aubrey Jones would ever be considered normal.
She yawned. “I’m going to bed. You can sleep on the sofa. We’ll talk about it more in the morning.” She stood up and threw a blanket at me. “Night, Scott.” She flicked off the lights, throwing the room into darkness.
I lay down on the lumpy sofa my legs hanging over the armrest. My head was still spinning and it didn’t help if I closed my eyes. That second drink had been a really bad idea. To take my mind off the returning feeling that something was trying to make its way out of my stomach, I started to think about the other bad choices I’d made in my life.
I’d had my fair share of screw-ups in my sixteen years. Making a total prat of myself in the school play. Smashing the headmaster’s window. Jane Nagle. But my biggest regret was giving up kick boxing. I’d been doing it for a year and really enjoying it. Then Katie started coming along and while I was still struggling to get to grips with it all, she took to it like a natural. As always.
It was fun at first, the two of us hanging out together. But when she knocked me out with a flawless roundhouse I decided I’d had enough. Annoyed at her and myself, I stopped going. Dad gave me a long talk about how I had to stick at things and how I didn’t want to be a loser my whole life. It had almost worked. Almost. But I’d still quit.
I wriggled, trying to get comfortable on the couch and thought about what would have happened if I actually listened to my Dad. I’d probably be a black-belt by now. I drifted off dreaming of being a kung fu ninja.
I woke up when my head hit the concrete.
Chapter Seven
It took a while for the pieces to fall into place. I’d fallen asleep on Aubrey’s lumpy couch and ended up… where? I sat up slowly and took in my surroundings. I was lying on the freezing ground, next to a bench, in a park somewhere. Mist hung close to the ground and a shiver passed through my body. My head pounded and I held it in my shaking hands, trying to stop it from exploding. I swore loudly and promised myself that I would never, ever, drink again.
I risked letting go of my head and pulled myself off the ground and onto the bench. My ribs ached and my hands were covered in cuts and bruises. I stared at my fingers through blurry eyes and shook my head. What the hell was going on?
The bench stank of sick so I stood up and sent an empty bottle of vodka skidding across the path. I walked away, staring at the bottle and wondering how it got there. The foul smell followed me. I inspected my clothes and saw a vomit stain down my jumper. A jumper I had not been wearing last night. A jumper I didn’t even own.
A jogger panted past, her breath sending out clouds in the cold morning. She tutted as she had to interrupt her stride to jog around me.
“I’m sorry,” I tried to say. But all I managed was a dry rasp.
Something must have happened after I fell asleep last night. Maybe Aubrey kicked me out. And for some reason I’d drunk even more. But why? My aching brain was coming up with nothing. I remembered going out with Hugo. Meeting Aubrey. Then back to hers. She’d told me something, something really important. But the harder I tried to remember it, the less of a grasp I had on it. It was like trying to remember a dream after waking up. I had flashes of images, but nothing was making any kind of sense.
I hit my head with the heel of my hand and it hurt like hell. I rubbed at
Similar Books
