Campion's Choice

All the way home he worried about being expelled. No doubt he would be hauled in to see the Principal again and shown footage of how he mangled the radiator. And what if the radiator leaked and flooded the place? Perhaps he could offer to pay for it? Tell them he didn’t know his own strength and, anyway were the school sure they were safe? What if other kids started squeezing radiators?

Worrying about the radiator problem did not distract him enough. Tia’s words were niggling away inside his head. What was Gidean up to? He had to know. Running over to the garden shed, he took off his jumper and tie and hid the lot behind some old, broken, terracotta pots. That done he grabbed the handlebars of his racer and, after manoeuvring it around the deckchairs and a rusty old hand push mower, he pedalled across the weed filled lawn.

If he was quick he could get into Cambridge and catch Gidean’s big show.

The Grand Arcade shopping centre was smack bang in the middle of the City of Cambridge. It’s a glass-covered place and, if you’ve been wandering around the colleges on a visit and end up there, it feels all wrong.

Jack made his way beneath the high glass roof to the front of John Lewis where a large wooden stage and four huge black speakers had been erected. A crowd were already beginning to gather in anticipation and, looking up, Jack could see a lot of people hanging over the balconies trying to make sure they got a good view. That looked like the best place to be so Jack found the nearest elevator and rode up to the next level.

From there he could see the local television crew, pushing its way to the front of the crowd, with the familiar face of the redheaded news presenter jabbering away to a camera. Jack was just thinking what a big head the woman had when he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve.

‘Hi.’

Tia stood there in her best ‘visit to town’ outfit of short brown skirt, white top and knee high, black boots.

‘Er … hi. You look hot,’ he said.

‘Wow. Thanks. Do you really think so?’ she purred.

‘Yeah. Maybe it’s all the rushing around, or those black boots, but your face is flushed. You look hot.’

The look of happiness drained away and Tia frowned.

‘So when’s the big show?’ he asked.

‘Ten minutes.’

‘And where’s the star? Where’s the Gidiot?’

‘Stop being so mean!’

The crowd pushed them close together and he could see that Tia’s eyes were pinched with anger. Any second now, he thought, she’ll start the finger jabbing. When she spoke, her voice was sharp.

‘So, Gid isn’t perfect? So what? Nobody is. It’s no wonder you don’t have any friends. You don’t try. You have to try. And it’s hard. You have to remember people’s birthdays, you have to text them, smile when you meet, make them feel good, even let them make you mad sometimes. You’re a scowler!’

‘What?’

‘A scowler. Someone who pulls a face and likes being miserable.’

‘I do not like being miserable!’ Jack felt his face beginning to redden with resentment as Tia glanced at her watch.

‘There’s no point even trying with you. I give up. I have to go and help.’

The crowd had grown and the crush of people, pushing and moving, was coming between them. Jack reached out to touch her arm and spoke quickly.

‘I’m really sorry that I told you to shut up earlier. After all this is over can I talk to you? Please? It’s important. It’s about Hanston and Ursula. It’s about the coins.’

‘I think the coins are great. You can do things with them.’

Tia dragged him towards a free space over by the lifts and after looking around suspiciously she opened her hand. She was holding something the size of a flattened golf ball.

‘Is it a pebble?’ Jack asked stupidly. What was she doing with a stone?

‘Watch this.’

Tia’s little fist closed and, in less than a heartbeat, she gently unfurled her fingers to reveal a tiny, brown cat. Jack looked closely at the animal. It was a perfect, miniature, sleeping creature. Nervously he touched the figure. It wasn’t breathing. It wasn’t real.

‘It’s beautiful,’ he said and leant close to whisper, ‘They are aliens. Ursula, and that lot at Hanston. They’re from a different planet.’

‘I sometimes think you’re from a different planet!’

Tia shook her head, smiled and slipped the tiny animal into Jack’s shirt pocket.

‘Got to go. Enjoy the performance.’

The last thing he saw was her grin and then she was gone, swallowed up by the ever growing, slightly restless, early evening audience.

A crash of guitar music followed by some jarring piano chords filled the glass-topped atrium. The noise echoed around the concourse. It bounced up, towards the walkways above. It vibrated off the glass windows.

Gidean, wearing a white leather jacket and torn black jeans, strutted onto the stage. Four girls, in short red skirts and silver studded boots, dressed like high school cheerleaders, followed him. Gidean started singing and the girls started dancing. There was a cheer and that was followed by the pounding sound of a few hundred people clapping to the beat.

’Oh yeah! Wah, wah, Yeah, hey! Yo, hey, yeah, yeah.”

Gidean bellowed and bounced, from foot to foot, as his coat flapped behind him like a small white sail.

He did two numbers and much to Jack’s annoyance he was a huge success. When the music stopped Gidean waited in the giant goldfish bowl of the shopping centre for the applause to die down. Then he held up a hand.

‘Thank you, thank you.’

Jack thought it was embarrassing. Gidean was shouting as if he were at some Brazilian mega stadium playing in front of two hundred thousand fans. How many more rubbish songs would he sing? Why weren’t people’s ears bleeding?

What happened next took Jack and the crowd by surprise. Gidean didn’t sing another number. Instead, he threw a handful of sparkling dust high into the air. Everyone watched as a haze of tiny stars circled in space. Some of the tiny particles grew and became, amazingly, multi-coloured butterflies. The crowd cheered. More of the dust began to change. Suddenly the air was filled with life-sized blue and pink kittens floating overhead. The crowd gasped. Jack watched as soft winged butterflies and furry balls of kitten came together, collided and dissolved into a swirling rainbow of colours.

Before anyone could even gasp with delight sweets began to rain down from the glass roof of the Grand Arcade: lemon drops and chocolate buttons, sherbet saucers and tropical chews: a shower of confectionery. But the sweets only fell so far in the air, before stopping to hang, tantalisingly above the crowd. Everyone jumped. They stretched up and plucked down the goodies.

‘More, more,’ someone shouted once the air was empty of freebies. Jack looked down to see upturned faces glistening with sweat. Everyone took up the chant.

‘More, more.’

Gidean released another handful of dust. This time the air filled with a flash of glitter. This time a thousand silver dragonflies and a hundred, bright, white, lambs burst into life.

Upturned, expectant faces in the crowd, stood with their mouths wide open. They were silent. The lambs and dragonflies collided. No one moved. The air filled with the sound of a thousand small explosions.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

Strange shapes tumbled through the air. The smiling, upturned, faces froze.

Meat rained down. Fresh meat. It was like an explosion in a butcher’s shop. There were all kinds of cuts: legs and shanks, lamb chops and cutlets, scrag end and steak. The crowd shivered and shrieked. They cowered under the gruesome downpour.

A dog barked. Someone screamed. Gidean quickly waved a hand and the cloud of cuts dissolved into a wispy mist that disappeared in the heat of the summer day.

Someone began to boo. People began to shout insults.

The next time Gidean raised a hand there were warning calls from the crowd.

‘That’s sick, man!’

‘Get off.’

‘No more.’

For the third and final time Gidean threw a handful of dust that again grew quickly into a cloud before spinning in the air and bursting into a flutter of coloured paper. Even Jack gasped. It began to rain money. Five, ten, twenty, even fifty-pound notes swirled around the arcade.

The blizzard of paper brushed against shop windows and seemed to stick.

‘Thank you all for coming today. You’ve been a great audience. All you have to do is pat the glass and the money comes free,’ Gidean announced.

He put down the microphone and stepped back to take a bow.

An eerie hush descended on the shopping centre. The only person moving was one little girl. All eyes began to follow her as she walked over to the nearby John Lewis shop window. The girl, who looked like she was on her way to a birthday party, wore a red frilly outfit with silvery, sparkly wings.

Jack held his breath as she stretched out a thin little arm and gently patted the window. The delicate tap echoed like a distant gunshot around the building. People watched in amazement as a brown fifty-pound note floated free from the double glazing and settled like a leaf in the hand of the tiny fairy princess.

After that, chaos broke out. It was like a war zone. People fought their way to try and get to shop windows, desperate to get their hands on the free money. Everywhere there was the sound of hammering and slamming, shouting and screaming. Jack put his hands up to his ears to block out the sound of people crying.

Within seconds it was complete pandemonium. Within minutes a police siren began to sound in the distance. The dog howled. A baby cried.

Jack ran down the stairs and battled his way towards the stage. The first thing he saw was Tia trying to squeeze her way out of a scrum.

‘Jack,’ she screamed. The last thing he saw was her arm as it disappeared, swallowed up by an angry wave of greedy, screaming people.

Jack hung around the Grand Arcade for about an hour and watched as the place filled with policemen, the fire brigade and even an ambulance. He wasn’t sure but he thought that he caught glimpses of Criel and Peter Mahan in the middle of all the mayhem.

He kept texting Tia until finally he got a reply.

‘Gid saved me!’

There were fifty happy faces at the end of Tia’s message. Jack shoved the phone in his pocket and unhappily headed home.

His parents were in the living room watching the TV when he got back. The Dadster was up close to the television set, sitting with a remote control in his hands. He seemed to be replaying the same piece of newsreel.

‘There you are. Have you eaten yet? Did you see all this stuff on the telly about the riot in the Grand Arcade?’ his mum asked.

Jack slumped into the depths of a large white armchair.

‘See it? I was in the middle of it,’ he said, watching the huge screen above the fireplace.

The news channel, on the television, was replaying the action from the point where everyone started the mad scramble for free money. Jack watched as people grabbed and snatched, fought and fell, as kids banged on glass windows and as Gidean’s fat cheesy grin turned to a look of horror.

The Dadster pressed ‘Pause’ and leant forward. Frozen on the screen Jack could see Tia being swallowed up by a sea of people.

‘Tia,’ the Dadster said, before getting up and leaving the room.

Jack took the remote and played the footage again. It made him furious. There was Gidean, leaping in the air and landing in the middle of a bunch of people, grabbing Tia and dragging her to safety. He had saved Tia.

From out in the hallway the Dadster was muttering something but Jack couldn’t make out the words.

‘I’m going to grab a sandwich and go to bed. Goodnight, Mum,’ he said.

He walked down the hallway, shoulders slumped, feeling stupid and miserable and was surprised to bump into the Dadster hunched over the house phone.

‘Watch, watch, watch, watch. Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack,’ his father kept repeating into the handset.

‘Dad?’ Jack said nervously. He hated to admit it but maybe his father did need care. He seemed to be getting worse.

The Dadster stopped speaking, gazed around the room, put the phone down and wandered off towards the dining room. Jack picked up the handset.

‘Hello?’ he asked, curious to know if his father had actually called someone or if he was just talking to the dialling tone. Someone was on the other end of the line.

‘Jack?’

‘Grampus?’

‘Yes.’ It was his grandfather.

‘You’re home from the hospital?’

‘Yep. I’m fighting fit and ready for action! Is something wrong with your dad?’

There was a silence before Jack said sadly, ‘No. I think it was a mistake.’

He could hear Nance, his grandmother, shouting something on the other end of the line.

‘Oh, your Nan says to tell you that any time you want to drop by we would love to see our favourite grandson.’

‘I’m your only grandson.’

‘Good point,’ Grampus laughed. Jack hung up the phone.

He took a ham and cheese roll up to his room and ate half of it before brushing his teeth. He checked his messages (nothing from Tia) and then got into bed.

In the morning, he would he would make Tia listen. He would tell her the truth about the Nomas.

Much later, in the middle of the night, when Jack saw a boy, sitting at the end of his bed, he assumed it was a dream.

He came to this conclusion because the boy, sitting at the end of the bed and staring at Jack’s Solar System duvet, was his exact double.

The double smiled. Jack smiled back. Jack thought, not many people get to see themselves, sitting at the end of their bed.

One thing in particular struck him. This was different to looking in a mirror because the image wasn’t reversed. He got to see exactly what other people saw. He thought he looked really thin.

‘This is all wrong,’ the double said, standing up and pointing to the duvet cover.

‘Really, ’ Jack answered. He felt strange because normally, in his dreams, the words spoken were inside his head, but this time his lips were definitely moving. His double held up the duvet cover.

‘Yeah. Gilese 581 looks nothing like that,’ the double said pointing to a cluster of stars.

Jack pulled back his duvet and got out of his bed. The floor, beneath his feet, was hard and he felt sandwich crumbs between his toes. For a dream it all felt very, very real.

‘Who are you?’ Jack asked the double.

‘I’m Luke,’ the double answered.

It had to be a dream because the Dadster appeared out of nowhere, popping into the room, with that strange glow outlining around his body. He looked like a walking light bulb.

‘Get out!’ the Dadster’s shouted.

Jack laughed. This was an amazing dream.

‘I’m sorry to have to do this but …’

The double, Luke, stepped forward and held out what looked like a small metal stick. Jack felt the cold tip as it touched his forehead.

His body tingled, which was wrong. You don’t feel tingles in dreams.

‘We’re really sorry,’ a familiar voice said softly. Where was it coming from?

Jack sluggishly swung around to see Ursula Stanhope and four shadowy figures lurking by the bookshelf. Someone slipped a hood over his head.

The world turned black.