The chewing gum makes my mouth feel sweet and next minute Im throwing up mucus that is making me gag.
Look what youve done, you arsehole!
I can see them both glued to the bars that separate us. The retching never seems to end, like its carving out my insides and I cant breathe. My windpipe feels like its choking me and I can smell the Hermits blood, the sickly sweet smell of it, and suddenly I see it, plastered all over my clothes, and I see the Hermit out there on that day when the sun was so hot and I hear his whispers and I try to keep my eyes closed, but I cant and there are parts of him around me and
the blood smacking at my face and I cant breathe and I can hear Jonah Griggs shouting and Santangelo calling out, Dad, Dad , get in here. Im making this gurgling sound because I just cant breathe and although Im bent over away from the bars I feel hands grab hold of me, pulling me towards them. I feel arms around my chest, a mouth against my ear whisperingwhisperingJonah Griggs whispering, Just breathe, just breathe, come on, Taylor, just breathejust breathe.
Mr. Palmer is wiping my face. Santangelos dad is there as well, placing a glass of water in my hands and helping me drink. Im gulping it down, feeling weak and pathetically teary.
Were going home, John Palmer says quietly. Can you stand?
I nod. Im sorry about the mess, I tell Santangelos dad.
He smiles. Well live.
As I walk past the other cell I see Santangelo sitting on the floor with his back against the bars, his head in his hands, and Jonah Griggs standing, watching me. Like he did on that station platform. Like he did those times we lay side by side on our way to Yass. Staring like hes never stopped. For a moment the mask slips from his face, but by that time Im almost out the door.
Its not until we reach the Jellicoe Road that Mr. Palmer speaks.
Hannahs fine.
How do you know? I ask, raising my head from where its been leaning against the door.
I spoke to someone who knows her. Shes in Sydney looking after a friendwhos sick.
All of a sudden Hannah has all these friends. Friends who have known her since she was seventeen. Friends who hand over letters. Friends who are sick.
Who? You dont understand. I know everyone she knows.
He is keeping something from me. I can tell by the way he cant look me in the face and that scares me. He seems to sense this and once again Im surprised by his kindness.
She calls her friend, Mrs. Dubose. Thats all I know.
Mrs. Dubose.
Have you heard of her? he asks.
Yes, I say sleepily. She lived in the same street as Jem and Scout Finch.
Chapter 9
Im riding as fast as I can. The faster the pace, the less thought-process, and being thoughtless suits me fine. I pedal hard, my face sweating, my hands clenched on the handlebars until I feel the blood stop in my fingers. I pedal on with eyes closed and we travel, the bike and I, as if it has a mind of its own and I have no control. I skid suddenly to the side and realise that Ive reached the ridge, an inch away from going over the edge. My face is drenched with perspiration and I look at the space below. The world sways and I sway with it until its like being in a hypnotic dance, almost enticing me to step over.
But my attention is drawn away by the rustling above me. In the tree. Theres something watching. I throw the bike to the side and crane my neck, my heart pounding hard. For a moment I think I see the boy, his limbs nimble and quick, his eyes piercing into me, and then hes gone. The knocking at my ribs in no way subsides and for a moment I dont move because Im petrified. Until there, in the corner of a branch, I see something else. The cat. Without thinking I start climbing. I dont know why but somewhere at the back of my mind is the thought that the cat was the last to see Hannah. When I reach his eye level, I straddle the branch and get as close to him as possible, my arm stretched out as far as it can go. I find myself having to lean my torso onto the branch to balance and for a moment I get close, but he hisses and swipes at me and goes flying through the air, while I half fall off the branch, hanging on with both hands.
I see his shadow first, and the shock of what I see makes me gasp.
Standing under the tree, holding the cat, is the Brigadier. With the cat so compliant in his arms, he resembles some kind of Mephistopheles. As I cling on for dear life, I try to control the breathlessness within me that spells trouble.
Its an easy drop, he tells me. Youll be cushioned by the leaves.
Id be happy to stay hanging off the tree for the rest of my life just so I dont have to deal with him. But my hands begin to hurt and I know I have to let go.
There is nothing easy about the drop. It hurts when I land and when he holds out a hand, I ignore it.
Hes looking at my face closely and like every other time this man is around there is havoc in my stomach. Like a warning against malevolence. I could easily put it down to the fact that Im still angry at him for being the one who stopped me and Jonah Griggs that time. But its more than that.