The Chaos by Rachel Ward Read Free Book Online Page A

gone?’
    ‘One look was enough, then she fucked off!’
    ‘Aah, he’s all on his own.’
    I don’t like what they’re saying, their stupid, ignorantcomments, but I try to ignore them. They’re not important. Nothing here is important.
    I sit in lessons and it just feels like I’m wasting time – the teachers don’t know squat. They spend their days wittering on about history and geography, literature and science, when I know everything’s going to come crashing round our ears in a few months’ time. It’s all words, just words – plate tectonics, global warming, peak oil, peak water – I can’t see how it connects with what’s happening outside, in London, now. Something’s already started out there, something that’s going to change everything, kill half the people in this room. School’s got nothing to say about it.
    I need to find Sarah. She knows something, I’m sure of it. She’s out there somewhere, and I’m not going to find her sitting here. The teacher’s put up a map of the world on the front screen, telling us to copy the shapes of the earth’s plates onto the base map she’s sent to our palm-nets.
    I reach down into my bag to get my palm-net out, and I pull out Sarah’s pencil case instead. I picked it up after she ran out of the art room, thought I’d keep it for her, give it back to her the next day with her picture of me. I unzip it and look inside. There’s only pencils and pens and rubbers, but it feels like I’m looking at something private. I go to zip it up again and something catches my eye – there’s writing on the inside, her name and address printed clearly in black biro. I run my thumb across it, like I did with my mum’s letter, hoping to pick up something of her. I read it a couple of times, and the words stick in my head. All the rest of the lesson, I’m running over and over them, until by the time the bell rings, I know what I’m going to do.
    Instead of going home, I check out Sarah’s address on my palm-net, and it sat-navs me there. It’s more than sixkilometres to Hampstead and it takes me just over an hour, but I don’t mind the walk. It feels like the right thing to do. It feels right to be doing something.
    I start to get second thoughts when I reach her neighbourhood. It’s all detached houses, big ones, with electric gates. Is this really where Sarah lives? I know she comes to school in a posh car, I’ve heard people talking about it, but this is something else. I can understand why she’d want to stay here instead of coming to school. If I lived somewhere like this, I’d never leave.
    Number six is hidden behind a high brick wall with two scanners perched on the top. The gate is metal, solid, so you haven’t got a clue what’s behind there. There’s an intercom grill with a button under it. It’s the only way I’m going to get in, so I press the button. A woman’s voice comes through almost straight away.
    ‘Yes?’
    I clear my throat.
    ‘I’m here to see Sarah. I’m a friend from school.’
    ‘Which school?’
    ‘Forest Green.’
    There’s a long pause. Then the gate starts swinging open. I take it that’s an invitation to go in and start crunching up the gravel drive. The house takes my breath away. It’s painted white, with big pillars propping up a porch at the front. There’s a black Mercedes parked by the door, next to a red Porsche. Jesus! Her family isn’t just loaded, they’re super-rich!
    The front door opens as I get close, but it’s not the woman who spoke to me on the intercom, there’s a man standing there. He’s a big bloke, tall, looks taller because he’s standing in the doorway, and I’m at the bottom of the steps. His shoesare black slip-ons, shiny and expensive. He’s wearing dark suit trousers and a crisp white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. He’s yanked his tie loose around his neck. He looks at me like I’m something his cat’s just dragged in and I clock his number. 112027. Another one.