Louder Than Words Page 5
It seems to me from what I hear when they cry on the phone at him, when I hear the girls in school sobbing in the toilets before morning registration, that a boy can never break it off gently. It always seems to leave a big, gaping wound. Getting dumped hurts however nicely it’s done.
Or maybe it hurts even more if they do it nicely.
‘Anyway, enough of me,’ Josie said, grabbing my old teddy and settling back on the pillows as if they were cushions on a sofa. ‘And more about you.’
Er, me. Oh no, no, no. There was absolutely no need to be talking about me at all. Really not. Nothing interesting to see here – move on. Maybe I would prefer her to be mooning over Silas. It would divert her attention away from me at least.
‘I’m mostly guessing, but I decided you probably don’t like talking about yourself much, given the whole not talking at all thing?’
I nodded, knowing my cheeks were flushing, but unable to stop them.
‘So that’s OK because most people, including me, talk about themselves far too much and don’t listen enough.’
True.
‘But friends need to know some stuff about each other so I thought we’d start with some small things. Kind of get to know each other better?’
Tentative nod.
‘So I’ll ask three questions and then you can do the same. Got it? Good, so number one – what’s your favourite colour?’
I let out the breath I’d been holding. OK, this wasn’t so bad.
‘Mine’s red. Someone said it suited me once and it cheers me up. Number two – what’s your favourite food?’
This was easy.
Josie grinned ruefully. ‘Chips. Or chocolate. I can never decide. Number three – you might have to think about this one – what’s your favourite quote? I collect quotes. I try to snag at least one good one a day. I get most of them from Pinterest. My favourite at the moment is, “We forfeit three fourths of ourselves in order to be like other people.” That’s so cool, especially for just right now in my life because some days I forget that. Some days it seems like it’d be easier to be like everyone else, you know?’
Nod.
Yes, I knew that feeling; except I couldn’t be like everyone else so sometimes I thought it’d be easier to fade away so completely I was invisible. Some days I would do that if I could. Perhaps one day I’d have the courage to tell Josie about that. I thought she might understand and that she might not laugh at me for it. After all, it was amazing that she collected quotes because that meant words must be important to her too. I wanted that to be something we had in common.
But my favourite quote?
Her face lit up. ‘That’s amazing. No, really, I love that. Do you write then?’
Absolutely scarlet-cheeked nod.
‘Can I see something you’ve written?’
Can you see my soul, you mean? That was like asking me to cut myself open and lay everything inside me bare.
I began to shake my head in horror, but then I remembered another quote I loved but would never dare aspire to: ‘Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.’ When I came across that one last year, it made my eyes fill up and I had to let the tears roll down my face for a while before I could stand to breathe again.
I couldn’t speak the truth. But I could write it maybe.
Plus I could never be a writer if I didn’t show anyone my work.
Dare to believe in your future, a voice said in my head. I didn’t know where it came from. More than that, I didn’t know why I listened to it then, because I never would have done before that moment, but somehow I found myself getting up on wobbly legs and, with shaking hands, taking out my notebooks from the box under the bed.
I flipped open a simple exercise book. I liked to keep my short stories separate, in their own individual books. I shoved the book at Josie with a shrug and retreated to the other side of the room. That story, the one about an adopted girl who was trying to find her birth mother, was one of my better ones. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t feeling sick and paralysed as I watched Josie read it. Or rather when I didn’t watch her because I couldn’t stand to look. So I sat by the window and stared determinedly out of it.
I was concentrating so hard on what was outside – our garden looking exactly the same as it did every day – that I all but jumped out of my skin when she said, ‘Rafi, this is great. It really, really is!’
I turned round, flustered and shaking my head. Josie was grinning at me.
‘No, Rafi, it is. I could never write anything like that. I swear I thought I was going to cry at the end. Can I see another one?’
Was she flattering me or was she serious? She looked serious, but I knew my stuff wasn’t that good.
Still, I’d shown her one so I might as well dig another out. The one in the red notebook wasn’t too awful. I could perhaps let her see that one.
I suppose the feeling you have when someone reads what you’ve written for the first time is a bit like actors getting stage fright. There’s no point writing for it only to sit in a box under your bed, but letting someone else into your world is terrifying.
I sat motionless and nauseated again as Josie read the next story. Again she beamed at the end and told me how fantastic it was, but I wasn’t at all convinced. Still, it was nice of her.
‘I want you to do something,’ she said, watching my face. ‘Will you try?’
I held my hands up to say I didn’t know.
‘I want you to write a story about you, about when you stopped talking. I hope one day you’ll show it to me, but even if you never do, I want you to write it. Do you think you could try?’
Could I?
I felt a prickle of nervous excitement at the thought. Yes, that was something I should write. I didn’t know why, but something inside me told me it was a good thing to do. A true thing.
I nodded.
Josie let out a triumphant squeal. ‘Awesome! That’ll be the most amazing story ever, I know it.’ She rushed over and hugged me. ‘And I hope you do let me read it when it’s ready.’
Now that I couldn’t do, but I was still buzzing with the notion of writing my story for myself and so I blocked that unwelcome thought out and hugged Josie back.
Hugging a friend felt good. I felt normal.
We hung out a while longer and then she went home when it got dark. It was only when she’d gone that I realised I never did ask her the three questions.
If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.
(Niccolo Machiavelli)
CHAPTER 8
At lunchtime, the library computers were full. I stared as people crowded around, giggling and nudging each other. The librarian watched from her desk with a frown. She knew they were up to something, but couldn’t catch them. And Silas’s friends were right in the middle of it all.
I sneaked over and sat down where there was space, near some boys in my year, Ben and Callum.
‘So what’s this?’ Callum asked Ben.
‘The Codes of War site. Two nights ago, the forum starts buzzing about some guy taking an epic revenge on another so I followed a couple of links until I saw it for myself. Basically some guy made an “I got dumped so I’m acting like a little bitch” website about his ex-girlfriend. Posted some naked pictures of her, to make out she’s a mega slut, and tried to get all his mates to spread it around. Then a few days later, someone else, and nobody knows who it is because this guy has completely covered his tracks, comes along and takes him out. Like totally. He hacks all the guy’s sites and changes everything – look, see this – to make the guy look like the biggest tool ever, and he gets what he’s done everywhere. And I mean everywhere – this thing is all over the net. It started at night, when the US gamers were on the forum. Now it’s right round the world.’
‘It went viral?’
‘Viral like Ebola,’ said Ben with a grin. ‘What makes this really interesting is this girl goes to the Catholic High and her ex is at the college.’
‘What, here?’
‘Yeah. So this is global, mate, but right on our doorstep too.’
‘So that’s why everyone is buzzing about it.’
I got up and left as quietly as I’d come. My text tone had pinged. It was Josie asking me to meet her in town after school. I could, but I’d have to tell Silas and he was still with the others in the library. I took a deep breath and went back in there, pushing my way through the throngs around the computers until I got to him.
Toby pushed back from the screen, nearly running over my foot with his wheeled chair. ‘Silas, have you seen this? It is seriously messed up.’ He was reading down a messageboard with the Codes of War logo at the top. My brother glanced over, but their friend Jake pushed him aside so he could see.
‘He’s built a botnet,’ Jake exclaimed. ‘In, what, two days? Whoever he is, he’s scary!’
‘What’s a botnet?’ Rachel asked.
Toby scanned through the posts. ‘So what he did was clone Lloyd’s social media accounts, all of them, and then got all his friends to swap to the cloned accounts before anyone knew what he’d done. And he’s created this video which everyone’s been watching – no, don’t click on it! When this went viral, people opened it and it’s got code hidden in there that takes ownership of their machines. That’s what the botnet is,’ he said, looking up at Rachel who pulled a freaked-out face.
‘Looks like they’ve only found out because he’s told everyone on the forum. He’s used their machines to relay spam messages supposedly from Lloyd saying how sorry he is and how the pictures were all a fake and will Josie please forgive him,’ Jake said with a frown. ‘Hey, that means he’s got control of my laptop too!’
‘And mine,’ Toby added, glowering. ‘Nobody on here knows how to stop him. He says he’ll release the machines as soon as Lloyd apologises publicly to Josie and stops going after her. And that he won’t use the botnet for anything other than that.’ He yanked his phone out of his pocket and began texting furiously.
‘What are you doing?’ Rachel asked.
‘Texting as many people who know Lloyd as possible to give him some hassle! This is heavy stuff. I tell you, I’m more than a bit scared of what this guy could do. This all hit from nowhere and so fast. I’ve got no idea how he’s done it.’
‘Neither has anyone else on here,’ Jake said gloomily. ‘They’re all talking about how they can clean their machines up, but no one’s got a solution yet. If I see that Lloyd, he better get out of my way. I don’t want this guy messing around inside my PC.’
Toby finished texting. ‘Silas, do you know how to fix this? I mean, can you clean us up?’
Silas stretched his legs out. ‘Probably. But he may be on the level, you know. He might really release them once he’s got what he wants.’
‘Yeah, and he might sell all my payment details halfway round the world too,’ Jake snapped.
Silas rolled his sea-blue eyes. ‘I’ll come round to yours later and see what I can do,’ he said. ‘Hey, sis, what do you want?’
The rest of them started at his words. They hadn’t noticed me.
I showed him the text.
‘OK, I’ll see you at home. You OK to get there yourself?’
Yes, I had a bus pass. I wouldn’t have to speak to the driver so I was OK.
I met Josie at the bus station. ‘Sorry!’ she said brightly. ‘I only found out about this today from the noticeboard in school and we have to go – it’ll be so amazing.’
I shook my head in confusion.
‘A face-painting workshop at the library! Like, they teach you how to do it. Don’t you think that’s the best thing ever to do after school on a horrible, wet Thursday afternoon?’ She beamed at me. ‘Come on! I’ve been looking forward to this all day!’
I chuckled to myself as I followed her. She really was nuts, in the best possible way.
Anarchy
noun
• a state of disorder due to absence or non-recognition of authority or other controlling systems
• absence of government and absolute freedom of the individual, regarded as a political ideal.
CHAPTER 9
‘The funny thing is, Raf,’ Silas said as he lounged on the sofa, staring out of the French windows on to our rain-swept garden, ‘that nobody suspects it’s me.’
Yes, I thought that was a bit odd too, but then I wasn’t sure how many people realised that Silas knew Josie now. Lloyd might have seen him with her, but he had no idea of Silas’s abilities. And Silas’s friends weren’t aware of the connection at all.
‘Online is an anonymous world,’ he said as the rain battered against the glass. ‘Or it can be if you know how to make it that way. But too many people have thought that and got caught. You have to keep your guard up.’
I looked at him critically as he turned to face me.
‘I will drop it all once Lloyd’s learned his lesson. Just because I could do much worse stuff with the bots doesn’t mean I intend to.’
I raised my eyebrows.
‘Oh come on, don’t look at me like that. I’ve always been able to do stuff like this, but I’ve never had reason to. Nothing’s changed.’ He laughed. ‘What? You think I’m suddenly going to become some cyber-criminal mastermind and take over the world? In that case you need to get me a little white cat I can sit and stroke while I cackle maliciously as I execute my evil plans.’
My eyes rolled in disgust and he laughed again.
‘Look, it’ll work. Lloyd will leave Josie alone and he’ll learn not to mess with people that way. It’ll be good for him. I don’t know what you’re worrying about.’
I didn’t think Silas had ever had a day’s worry in his life. He practised the art of living in the moment to perfection. We were opposite poles, he and I: he repelled all the cares of life and I attracted them. Consequently nothing ever seemed to touch him that deeply. That’s not to say he was superficial, but he never appeared to feel anything with the intensity that tore and ripped at me. ‘Placid’ my mother once called him, her nose wrinkling slightly in distaste because the job of the artist, she said, was to feel passionate intensity. She looked as if she didn’t know how she’d come to have such a son. It was disloyal of me in that moment, but when I heard that I felt relief, because it wasn’t just me who disappointed her.
But I didn’t think Silas really cared about that either. He disregarded our mother’s opinion on most things, perfectly content in the circle of himself, which opened only to allow me in.
His phone rang and he glanced at it. I saw the quick grimace and knew before asking what this was about. He looked up at me, knowing my eyes would be asking the question.
‘Kirsty,’ he said. ‘I went on a few dates with her, but . . .’ He sighed. ‘I managed to screw up again. I try to keep it light, nothing heavy, but it always goes wrong, Raf. You know, I don’t get it. Toby manages to date without girls it getting so . . . intense. Why can’t I do that? Maybe I should ask him how he manages it.’
He manages it by being Toby, I thought. No girl in her right mind would want to have him as a serious boyfriend. He was probably quite amusing from time to time, but you’d never get attached to anyone that, um, Toby-like!
I waved a finger at the phone.
Silas sighed more heavily. ‘She says she’s in love with me. Which is stupid. We’ve only been out four times. What is it with girls? Why are they like that?’
I couldn’t help him there. He knew more girls than I did and knew them far better too. Though I could ask Josie. That might be an idea. I didn’t have to tell her it was for Silas.
‘I don’t want anything that full-on with any of them. Raf, I just don’t feel those things they seem to feel. Perhaps there’s too much of Mum in me.’ He stared at the raindrops on the window in a rare moment of un
certainty. ‘Or Dad. They’re both messed up when it comes to relationships, aren’t they? One’s a control freak and the other can’t commit.’
I frowned.
‘Dad split up with the latest girlfriend. I guess Mum didn’t tell you that. You didn’t hear it from me, OK?’
Nod.
‘I’m going to have to tell Kirsty I don’t feel the same way. And that I won’t feel the same way. And it’d be better if we don’t go out again.’
I texted him quickly.
Silas flashed a smile at the unexpected communication. ‘I didn’t think you were ever going to text me. I thought you might be saving it just for girly chats with Josie. Yeah, I’m sure. I’m beginning to think I’m not capable of being in love. Don’t get me wrong, Raf, I like the girls I date. They’re great. But that’s it – it’s just like.’
‘No, that’s just a myth passed around by girls who are sore they got ditched. Boys fall in love, sure they do. I’ve got mates who have. Like Sam.’
That was true. Sam was notoriously besotted with Cassie and had been since they first got together two years before.
‘No, Raf. I think it’s me. Like there’s a bit of me missing that just can’t make that jump.’
I’d never heard Silas sound so unsure, so doubting. It never occurred to me that he would ever think he was the one in the wrong.
He got up and flicked the TV on and stared moodily at that for a while. I guess it was less wearing than staring at rain.
‘All the books, all the songs,’ he said after a while in a quiet, flat voice, ‘the films – all about love. Like it’s some amazing be-all and end-all. But what if there are people who just don’t have that capacity, Rafi?’
I didn’t know the answer to that, still trying to process this new side to my brother. But I couldn’t believe it of him. If there were people who couldn’t love in the way the poets and songwriters wrote about, then Silas couldn’t be one of them, could he?