Misty Falls Page 4

  ‘That’s not very nice of you.’ Even though Alex was using it to criticize me, I had to admit he had a brandy-sauce voice that must have won him half his debates on tone alone. It poured over anything unpalatable and made it slide right down inside.

  Still, I was driven to defend myself. ‘I suppose it might sound that way, but it’s meant affectionately. He likes it really—you know: a brother and sister thing?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t know as I don’t have any.’

  That made sense as he had that heir-to-all-he-surveyed look to him that I found often went with being the sole focus of parent attention. ‘Then perhaps you can try to imagine?’

  ‘I’d really rather not.’

  Phil, the ginger hunk, moved in to relieve the spiky atmosphere that had unexpectedly developed between us. ‘I call my little sister worse things than that so I understand completely. How are you liking Cape Town, Misty?’

  ‘Not seen it properly yet as we only arrived yesterday.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘I came with a sort of relative by marriage.’ My gift makes me annoyingly literal. ‘He’s over there with your history teacher.’

  The boys looked over to see Tarryn returning across the lawns with Uriel’s arm around her shoulders.

  ‘He knows Miss Coetzee?’ asked Alex.

  Uriel bent down and kissed her.

  ‘He does now.’

  ‘We thought she was holding out for someone special. That’s what she always told us,’ said blond-haired Michael.

  ‘He is her someone special.’

  ‘Whoa: major news.’

  ‘Hearts will be breaking in the staff room,’ said Hugo, his smile brilliant.

  ‘I think my heart’s breaking just a little,’ admitted Alex, then he clenched his jaw, tick of a muscle giving away his annoyance at himself.

  Of course, his friends wouldn’t let him get away with it.

  ‘Seriously? You have a crush on Miss Coetzee?’ Michael crowed.

  ‘Don’t we all?’ said Alex irritably.

  Phil rubbed the spot over his heart. ‘Ja, but you’ve never confessed while we’ve all put our reputations on the line about it.’

  Michael began humming that old breakup classic, ‘All By Myself’.

  ‘Mike, you’re so funny. I’m going to find someone with half a brain to talk to.’ Alex strode off.

  Hugo winked at me. ‘He hates people laughing at him.’

  ‘I kind of got that message.’

  ‘He’s not himself tonight; you notice that, bru?’ Hugo turned to Phil, intrigued by this development.

  ‘Ja, he was rude to Misty here. Does him good to be pushed out of his comfort zone; he so rarely is.’

  Michael sighed with mock sorrow. ‘Miss Coetzee out of the dating game—and I’d been hoping she’d wait for me.’

  ‘In your dreams, partner.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Michael grinned.

  This was venturing into boy-banter territory so I decided it was time to mingle with other guests. ‘Nice meeting you and, er, congratulations on your win in the competition.’

  ‘Thanks, Misty. See you around maybe?’ Hugo was the only one paying attention as the other two were watching Uriel and Tarryn. The couple were making their way through the guests. It looked a little like a royal progress from here as Tarryn introduced her prince to her closest friends; a few of them had to be savants from their enthusiastic welcome. At least two women were wiping tears of joy discreetly from their eyes before their mascara gave the game away.

  ‘Yes, see you.’ I scooted off to the nearest clump of shrubbery to bolster myself for the next attempt at socializing. That hadn’t gone too badly. That Alex guy had been a bit blunter than polite but I couldn’t be to blame as I had all my spillikins tightly gripped. I was determined not to spoil Uriel’s special night by releasing too much truth upon the party. Summer and Angel would be proud of me.

  Then Jonas tapped his glass in the time-honoured signal to gain everyone’s attention. The noise fell away, leaving only the hiss of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of traffic. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate with us. I’ve asked Alex to say a few words on behalf of the team.’

  Alex joined him at the top of the steps leading to the garden. He really was gorgeous even from this distance. I noticed that his stance was less stiff than when we had spoken, his relaxed poise restored. This was the Alex who had won every debate. He wasn’t the first person to do better out of my radar range.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Burns.’ He ruffled his hair in a sweet just-gathering-my-thoughts-folks gesture. ‘My team mates and I wanted to thank all of you who have supported us on our journey to the final. We wouldn’t have made it so far without your generosity during the weeks spent with us on preparation.’

  I closed my eyes, just enjoying his voice.

  ‘Thanks must go to our friends and family for sponsoring our travel and putting up with hours of voice practice in the shower.’ The crowd laughed. They were eating out of his hand and he’d only strung a few sentences together. As for me, I was busy trying not to think about Alex rehearsing with streams of hot water pouring over his seriously buff body. I held my ice-cold glass to my cheek. ‘We would like to give two very special people a gift to express our gratitude.’ I opened my eyes as Alex turned to Jonas. ‘Mr Burns, we know you have a taste for the finest malts coming from the land of your ancestors so we’d like to present you with a bottle of Scotland’s best whisky.’

  Applause from the guests. Jonas held the bottle up like a Grand Prix winner, shaking it exuberantly.

  ‘Careful, it’s too good to waste on the front row,’ joked Alex. His voice took on a deeper, even sexier tone. ‘And Miss Coetzee, we cannot begin to say how helpful you have been to us, devoting so much of your free time to travelling with us around the country. It has been a pleasure to be in the company of such a lady, gracious under every circumstance.’

  Gracious? That settled it: Tarryn was my female opposite.

  ‘We dedicate this victory to you, Miss Coetzee—and we’ve prepared something special to say “thank you”.’ I felt a surge of power from Alex—something only another savant would pick up. He had just outed himself: Alex was one of us. He was spreading his gift to the audience like a fisherman casting a net. His team mates emerged from the edge of the crowd to stand at his shoulder. The audience seemed to be expecting something—I couldn’t think what—then Michael tapped a beat, Hugo hummed the tone, and they began to sing unaccompanied. It was the kind of scene that worked in TV shows but I hadn’t thought to see in real life. I recognized the song: ‘Lucky Strike’, a fast energetic track I happened to have on my ‘Going for a run’ playlist. She’s such a motivator … One in million, she’s my lucky strike. It could have been embarrassing, it could have been lame, but they came across as amazing. They had the crowd bopping along with them, the other boys from the school used to this impromptu break into song.

  Why did this work? Closing my eyes to stretch out my savant senses, I realized that the performance was boosted to a sure success by the force of Alex’s gift persuading us to love it. Under that influence, the boys aimed at cool and hit it in the bullseye. Was that cheating? Maybe, but great fun. I decided just to enjoy it.

  Checking their reception with the chief audience, I saw that Tarryn was laughing along with Uriel as the group broke out some seriously good dance moves; I didn’t need Francie’s gift for thought-reading to know Tarryn was moved by their tribute. I was left thinking that, even with the help of a savant gift, you had to be super-confident to carry off what Alex and his friends were doing. I was the kind of person who struggled to join in a round of ‘Happy Birthday’ fearing I sounded a twit.

  Whistles and cheers greeted the end of their performance. Alex produced a bouquet from behind his back like a magician pulling a dove from his sleeve. He bowed as he presented it to her. Letting go of Uriel, she kissed Alex on the cheek, then hugged the boys one by one.<
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  ‘I didn’t deserve that,’ she said when the applause had died down. ‘These boys create their own success, as I’m sure you’ve realized. This is the most amazing night of my life and your song has really put the icing on the cake.’ She reached back for Uriel’s hand. He squeezed it in support. ‘For those of you who haven’t had a chance to meet him yet, this is Uriel Benedict. My Uriel.’ She brought him forward. ‘You’ll be seeing a lot more of him so do come and say hi before the party ends. For now, enjoy the barbecue and have a great time.’

  The audience broke up now the formal part of the evening was over. The quartet was the first to take up the invitation to meet Uriel and he was quickly setting them at their ease. They challenged him to a game of table tennis and it was no hardship to watch such fine sportsmen engaged in a cut-throat competition. I guess they were testing if he was worthy of their favourite teacher.

  I was so caught up in my spying from the shrubbery that I did not notice that Tarryn had found me.

  ‘There you are, Misty. Uriel sent me to check on you. We didn’t meet properly earlier but I hope you are enjoying yourself?’

  I was embarrassed to be discovered lurking undercover when I should have been mingling. ‘Um, yes, it’s been very interesting. I’m so pleased for you and Uriel.’

  ‘So you’re a savant too?’ She took my arm and propelled me gently back to the other guests.

  ‘Truth power. And you?’

  She grimaced. ‘I see a person’s fate.’

  ‘You mean the future? Uriel’s mother and youngest brother can do that.’

  She shook her head. She struck me as having a deep seam of sadness running under the surface glamour; her eyes had seen too much even though she was only in her late twenties. ‘I wish. I see their death and I’d really prefer not to know.’

  No wonder she kept that quiet. It was far worse than my problem. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been landed with that. Maybe, you know, with Uriel, you’ll discover new sides to your gift? That’s what has happened to other soulfinder couples I know.’

  She bent her head towards me, trying to see if I was telling the truth—which of course I was. ‘You’re sweet.’

  ‘I really mean it.’

  ‘Then I hope you’re right. It’s always been hard for me, being around other gifted people like my sister, feeling such a grim ghost at the feast.’ She frowned, wondering at her admission to a near stranger.

  ‘Sorry, that’s me. I make people leak the truth without meaning to.’

  ‘I’ll have to remember that.’

  I wished she didn’t have to. I had to do something about my control; it was getting worse. Now I didn’t even know when I was letting it slip. ‘I feel sure I’m right that you’ll discover good things about your gift. I’m luckier than most savants; I’m surrounded by soulfinder couples back home and I’ve seen some amazing things.’

  ‘Your parents?’ She led me over to the tables set out with salads and bread.

  ‘No, not them. They’re the exception. Mum didn’t marry a savant, deciding that by normal standards Dad was the one for her. They’re happy together. I wouldn’t have Dad be any other way: he’s the best man I know. And the sanest compared to us savants at least.’ She laughed at that. ‘Makes me wonder sometimes if it’s better to be outside the savant community than in.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Mum’s told Crystal—that’s my aunt, the soulseeker who sent Uriel here—that she doesn’t want to know who her soulfinder is.’

  ‘Sensible woman. That is what I think about my having foreknowledge of someone’s death: best not to know. I hate it when people ask me to tell them. It might change things—close down the escape routes from fate.’

  I couldn’t imagine asking for such a hard truth. It would radically alter how you lived the rest of your life, surely? ‘Are there any other savants here?’ I wanted to know if my guess about Alex was correct.

  ‘Would you like a fruit salad?’ Tarryn handed me a cup of exotic fruits. They looked like little jewels resting in honeyed water. ‘Some of the older people belong to the community but I don’t really mix with that crowd; they’re more Francie’s friends than mine. Of the younger ones, the only one I’ve identified at the school is Alex.’

  So I was right. ‘What year is he in?’ A girl has to check, after all. Just in case.

  ‘He was in the Junior Form—that’s Lower Sixth here, but we’ve just advanced him a year: he’s that good.’

  So he had been in the year above me and now was at the top end of the school. Oh well. ‘What’s his gift?’

  Tarryn patted my arm. ‘Charm. You must’ve noticed. He can persuade a leopard to change his spots, talk the fish into leaving the sea, and make any girl fall for him.’

  ‘Now that I did notice.’ Not that he had been that charming to me, truth to be told. Which it always was around me.

  ‘He doesn’t use his power in debates—that would be unfair, like putting Superman in an arm-wrestling competition—but I think the residual glow stays with him and makes him more riveting than any of the other speakers.’

  I frowned at the back of the boy who was now battling Uriel over the ping-pong table. ‘You mean his charm has like a radioactive half-life?’

  ‘That’s Alex: radioactive.’ She chuckled, a rich, generous sound.

  ‘I’m guessing that he is either the most annoying boy in the school or the most popular: which is it?’

  She arched a brow. ‘Most popular, of course.’

  Something about the life-handed-to-him-on-a-plate Alex rubbed me up the wrong way. By contrast I was the life-sliding-off-the-plate-as-I-trip-over. ‘I think I’ll go challenge him to a game.’

  ‘I’m glad to see you’re brave enough to re-enter the party atmosphere,’ she teased. ‘When you splash down by them, maybe you could send Uriel back to me?’

  ‘I don’t think I could keep him away.’ I put my empty fruit cup on the table and went over to the ping-pong with renewed enthusiasm. I poked Uriel in the side. ‘Hi, there. Tarryn wants you.’

  He passed me the bat with no argument. ‘Be right back.’

  ‘Don’t hurry on my account. I’ll take over here.’ I turned to wave the bat at Alex and friends. ‘Hi again. What’s the score?’

  ‘You want a turn?’ asked Alex.

  ‘That’s why I’m here. Good singing, by the way. For a moment I thought it was going to be so embarrassing, like when I acted the Angel Gabriel at my primary school nativity play with my robe tucked into my knickers’—did I really have to blurt that out?—‘but no, you really carried it off brilliantly.’

  ‘Brilliantly?’ Michael grinned at the other two. ‘I told you it was the right song choice.’

  Alex was still watching me with something like suspicion. Maybe my praise had been too gushing.

  ‘You think I’m not telling the truth? I never lie.’

  ‘Now that has to be a lie,’ he said, throwing the ball and knocking it to me over the net—an easy shot to a beginner. ‘Everyone lies.’

  I smashed it past him. The white missile disappeared into a bush. ‘No, I really don’t.’ I smiled innocently.

  ‘Uh-oh, Alex, looks like your title as ping-pong champion might be at risk,’ crowed Hugo as Alex fished among the thorns to retrieve the ball. ‘A new game, Misty?’ Hugo’s hand hovered over the slate on which they had been keeping count. ‘Uriel was a couple of points behind so it wouldn’t be fair to let you inherit a handicap.’

  ‘OK. If Alex agrees.’

  ‘You’re on. Are you sure you don’t want a few points as a head start? The guys will tell you I’m pretty good and I don’t want to be cruel to a visitor. I play to win.’ He was taunting me, confident in his own ability.

  ‘No need to cut me any slack, champ.’ I have one useful skill in my repertoire and that is hand-eye coordination. If I had my way, Alex was about to have his perfect record ruined. ‘Your serve.’

  He threw the ball from an open palm and hit it s
o it bounced once on his side then over the net. I connected and sent it back with spin. He got to it but it flew off at an odd angle, missing my side of the table.

  ‘Nil to one,’ reported Hugo cheerfully.

  ‘Played before?’ Alex rolled the ball between his fingers.

  ‘Some.’ My hair was bobbing in my eyes. As I pushed it back he served. I couldn’t get a bat to it in time.

  ‘No fair!’ challenged Phil, our ginger-haired referee.

  ‘Weren’t you ready? You should’ve said,’ said Alex dryly.

  Michael fetched the ball for me. I noticed he had a school baseball cap tucked in the belt of his trousers.

  ‘Can I borrow that?’

  ‘Sure.’

  I balanced the ball on the table under the bat then bundled my hair into the cap, pulling the spare length out the back. Not an attractive look but this was war.

  ‘I’m ready now,’ I said, turning on extra sweetness to make Alex’s teeth ache. ‘Are you?’

  ‘Always.’

  I tossed the ball and snapped it over the net. He slammed it back. I returned the favour. Our rally pushed us further and further back from the table as we put more power behind the shots, shoes squeaking on the polished wood. Our little audience had to retreat to get out of the way. Then I saw my chance: I placed a nicely judged return that hit the very edge of the table just out of his reach.

  ‘Two-one.’ Hugo drew another line on my side of the tally.

  Super-cool Alex was getting hot under the collar. I could see how it would appear to him: I didn’t look much of a threat but I had taken an early lead. He glared at me across the expanse of dark green table. ‘Good shot,’ he said grudgingly.

  ‘Yes, it was.’ I can’t do false modesty, which makes me sound a bighead most times but on this occasion I felt fully justified.

  ‘Got any more like that in your locker?’

  ‘Yes.’ I served. The ball streaked by him. ‘Oh, sorry, weren’t you ready?’

  Buckling down for a serious competition, he grabbed the ball and served. He wasn’t going to catch me out again. I struck back, forcing him far to the left. He retaliated with a high shot that hit the veranda roof and came down at a weird angle. The gods of Ping-Pong were with him this time and it hit my side by the net, too far away for me to get a touch.