Chapter Eight
When Koral came in that night, she flopped down onto the sofa
next to Stacey, who was still awake watching Viva La Bam reruns on MTV. When Stacey ignored her, she decided to get her attention
by kissing her cheek. Stacey laughed and finally looked at her. “Good date?”
“Good location. Okay meal. Boring-as-hell date.”
When Stacey laughed even harder, Koral persisted. “No, seriously. She tried to talk to me about politics. I’m
sixteen! What do I care about politics?!”
“You try to change the topic?” Stacey asked, producing
a tub of popcorn out of seemingly mid-air. “Start talking about music or something.”
“Uh-huh…” Koral motioned for her to lean
forward, and took a few pieces of popcorn out the tub. “She thought that Beethoven was pop,” she whispered. Stacey’s
eyes widened drastically.
“What?”
“Aren’t you watching?” Koral pointed to
the TV. Stacey shrugged.
“Gabriel has every single episode back home. I’m
hooked on your story now anyway. Why’d it end?”
“I told her she wasn’t really my type, and she
accused me of being infatuated with someone else.”
“She’s just saying that so she doesn’t feel
like she’s being brushed off,” Stacey commented, chewing on a piece of popcorn. “It’s a typical method,
employed by those who have little-to-none self confidence.”
“So there’s no possibility that it’s true?”
Stacey leaned even further forward, “You’re going
to kill me with this. Is there a possibility that it’s true?”
Koral stood up, “I’m not telling you. Night.”
She walked off. Just as she was about to go up the stairs, Stacey caught her arm.
“Are you naturally this evil?” she whispered.
Koral grinned and yanked her round, shoving her up against the wall and kissing her slowly.
* *
* * *
Cali froze as she entered the computer
base the next morning. Stacey was running from one end of the room to the other, a mad gleam in her eye. “What are you
doing?”
Stacey ground to a halt, “I think there’s something
wrong. It doesn’t add up. It-” She frowned as Cali grabbed hold of both her arms and started staring into her eyes, “What are you doing?”
“Checking for signs of drug use.” Cali shrugged as Stacey shook her off. “I know that bisexuals
are a distant relative of gays, but you’re not normally this happy. Did I miss the part where you got a personality
transplant?”
“Get out.” Stacey commanded. Cali grinned at her and left. Almost straight after, Raymond entered.
Stacey looked back down at the table. “Hey, you come to accuse me of being stoned too?”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Stacey turned away, shaking her
head. “Ghost?” she asked a moment later. “Is there anything familiar about James Bourne to you?”
Raymond frowned, “Why are you asking me, he’s
circulating the British charts?”
“That’s
why I’m asking you.” When he frowned, she sighed, “I can’t ask anyone who knows of his music,
because that’ll be where they know him from. But there’s something familiar about him. I think I’ve met
him, face to face, before. And it wasn’t under normal circumstances…”
“Sorry, can’t help you.” Raymond moved closer
to her, “You’re from the same country, aren’t you?”
“He’s English.”
“Yeah, but you’re both British. It’s a small
island, Kenz. You could’ve run into him anywhere.”
She contemplated this, “True. But-” She looked
up at him. “-I think it was a Dananic meeting.”
“I thought he was Morte.”
She tipped her head to the side, “Well, Merta, now he
knows. But something doesn’t add up.”
“Yeah. I was looking at the security videos to see if
there was anything weird going on when Simpson was shot. Both he and Bourne seem to have randomly disappeared ten minutes
beforehand and Bourne returns a minute before we found him.” He took a seat at the table. Stacey sat on the surface.
“Are you sure?”
“I checked every room. They’re gone.” He
leaned on the table, cupping his face in his hands, “And I saw some…odd activity in the living room last night.”
“Shut up, Ghost.”
* *
* * *
This mornng you walked past my door, just like a daydream, but much more. I followed you round
to the store, and I was shell-shocked, when I saw…
Stacey frowned as James’ voice came onto the song she
was listening to. “I know you’re hiding something, Bourne…” she whispered. “But what is it…?”
