you’re going nowhere.
But I could in a car; if we could just get into the car without getting wet – like if we took that massive umbrella my mum used to keep her and Henry in his stroller dry – and then
we could just drive into the carport at Zak’s place . . . but maybe I should try for the laptop first, check the chat and see what had been going on and –
‘Ruby,’ said Simon. ‘I need to talk to you.’
CHAPTER SIX
Here we go. Now I’m gonna get it.
That’s what I thought, you see. The whole world was in some kind of hideous death-fest space-bug meltdown . . . and I was still on the page before, still stuck in yesterday. I still
thought . . . I dunno what I thought! That everything – if it wasn’t exactly the same right now, that it would still be the same . . . later? Tomorrow?
I’m not stupid; I knew something really bad was happening, but at that moment in time I just wanted to see my friends. I wanted my mobile back so I could call Caspar, which I’d never
actually done before – we’d just texted and done the whole virtual flirtation thing a bit – but felt I could now on account of the kissing and the suffering. I just wanted to ring
him, almost as much as I wanted to ring Lee . . . but did Caspar even have his phone, or had he left it at Zak’s? I could get it and take it to him and –
‘Ruby! You need to pay attention,’ said Simon.
I sure did! I was going to have to charm my way out of there; I helpfully grabbed my plate and had my hand on the tap before –
‘No!’ Simon bellowed. ‘Don’t use the tap!’
I sat back down with my plate and smiled sweetly at Simon. Look
contrite
, I thought – which means looking really sorry, even if you’re not. He sighed – not in a nasty
way, in a sad way – and pulled his chair round next to mine.
‘I need you to really listen,’ he said.
OK, I thought, humour him. I nodded, contritely.
‘No one really knows what’s going on,’ he said. ‘Not for sure. But until we know we need to stick to these rules.’
That’s when the list came out. It was basically a to-do list from hell. A hideous, death-fest mega-crisis do-this-do-that tick-list, only it was all don’ts and no dos. You can
imagine what was on it: all the stuff that had been on the radio. All the stuff I’d been trying to block out . . . plus a few things I hadn’t even remembered hearing and that, later on,
I realised was stuff Simon must have thought of.
DON’T GO OUT IN THE RAIN.
(Dur! I thought.)
DON’T TOUCH ANYONE WHO’S TOUCHED ANY WATER. OR ANY ANIMAL. OR ANY THING. DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING THAT’S TOUCHED ANY WATER.
It felt like his list was already losing it a bit, but I did get what he meant. I could imagine that horrible microscopic bug thing creeping about everywhere.
‘Zak’s mum said not to touch the car door,’ I said (to pick up some Brownie points).
‘Good,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what I mean.’
Maybe he’d just let me use the laptop; it was sitting right there, right in front of me and –
‘Ruby! Please! You need to concentrate.’
I peeled my eyes off the laptop and focused on the list. The next item was the freakiest:
DON’T TOUCH ANYONE WHO’S SICK. OR DEAD.
‘That’s horrible,’ I said.
He grunted.
DON’T TOUCH OR DRINK ANY TAP WATER.
He rattled on for a bit then, about how although no one had actually said the tap water was bad already it probably was or would be very soon because people had probably panicked like he’d
panicked and emptied their water tanks, which would just speed up sucking the bad water into the pipes unless you could shut the water off, which he couldn’t because he’d have to go
outside to do that, so even though the water he’d filled up every last container in the house with was probably OK you couldn’t be sure, could you?
‘No, Simon,’ I said, and before he could go on about it any more I read the next bit out loud.
‘DON’T USE THE TOILET. NO BATHS.
NO
But I could in a car; if we could just get into the car without getting wet – like if we took that massive umbrella my mum used to keep her and Henry in his stroller dry – and then
we could just drive into the carport at Zak’s place . . . but maybe I should try for the laptop first, check the chat and see what had been going on and –
‘Ruby,’ said Simon. ‘I need to talk to you.’
CHAPTER SIX
Here we go. Now I’m gonna get it.
That’s what I thought, you see. The whole world was in some kind of hideous death-fest space-bug meltdown . . . and I was still on the page before, still stuck in yesterday. I still
thought . . . I dunno what I thought! That everything – if it wasn’t exactly the same right now, that it would still be the same . . . later? Tomorrow?
I’m not stupid; I knew something really bad was happening, but at that moment in time I just wanted to see my friends. I wanted my mobile back so I could call Caspar, which I’d never
actually done before – we’d just texted and done the whole virtual flirtation thing a bit – but felt I could now on account of the kissing and the suffering. I just wanted to ring
him, almost as much as I wanted to ring Lee . . . but did Caspar even have his phone, or had he left it at Zak’s? I could get it and take it to him and –
‘Ruby! You need to pay attention,’ said Simon.
I sure did! I was going to have to charm my way out of there; I helpfully grabbed my plate and had my hand on the tap before –
‘No!’ Simon bellowed. ‘Don’t use the tap!’
I sat back down with my plate and smiled sweetly at Simon. Look
contrite
, I thought – which means looking really sorry, even if you’re not. He sighed – not in a nasty
way, in a sad way – and pulled his chair round next to mine.
‘I need you to really listen,’ he said.
OK, I thought, humour him. I nodded, contritely.
‘No one really knows what’s going on,’ he said. ‘Not for sure. But until we know we need to stick to these rules.’
That’s when the list came out. It was basically a to-do list from hell. A hideous, death-fest mega-crisis do-this-do-that tick-list, only it was all don’ts and no dos. You can
imagine what was on it: all the stuff that had been on the radio. All the stuff I’d been trying to block out . . . plus a few things I hadn’t even remembered hearing and that, later on,
I realised was stuff Simon must have thought of.
DON’T GO OUT IN THE RAIN.
(Dur! I thought.)
DON’T TOUCH ANYONE WHO’S TOUCHED ANY WATER. OR ANY ANIMAL. OR ANY THING. DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING THAT’S TOUCHED ANY WATER.
It felt like his list was already losing it a bit, but I did get what he meant. I could imagine that horrible microscopic bug thing creeping about everywhere.
‘Zak’s mum said not to touch the car door,’ I said (to pick up some Brownie points).
‘Good,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what I mean.’
Maybe he’d just let me use the laptop; it was sitting right there, right in front of me and –
‘Ruby! Please! You need to concentrate.’
I peeled my eyes off the laptop and focused on the list. The next item was the freakiest:
DON’T TOUCH ANYONE WHO’S SICK. OR DEAD.
‘That’s horrible,’ I said.
He grunted.
DON’T TOUCH OR DRINK ANY TAP WATER.
He rattled on for a bit then, about how although no one had actually said the tap water was bad already it probably was or would be very soon because people had probably panicked like he’d
panicked and emptied their water tanks, which would just speed up sucking the bad water into the pipes unless you could shut the water off, which he couldn’t because he’d have to go
outside to do that, so even though the water he’d filled up every last container in the house with was probably OK you couldn’t be sure, could you?
‘No, Simon,’ I said, and before he could go on about it any more I read the next bit out loud.
‘DON’T USE THE TOILET. NO BATHS.
NO
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