Free Itchcraft by Simon Mayo Page B

time.
    Itch explained again about the vomiting illness in the mine stories book, then stopped as the colour started to drain from Lucy’s rosy cheeks.
    She stared at her friends. ‘You mean you think . . . those rocks had killed before . . . before Dad?’
    ‘I don’t know, Lucy, really. I just think it’s what Watkins is looking at—’ Itch broke off as he saw the tears in Lucy’s eyes. He hadn’t thought about her reaction. When Cake died, he had lost a friend, a mentor, but Lucy had lost her father. He was annoyed with himself. ‘Sorry . . .’
    ‘I never thought . . . how can that even be possible?’ she said, so quietly they nearly missed it.
    Chloe and Jack linked arms with Lucy as they all walked into the CA and Itch told them about the conversation he’d had with Mr Watkins in hospital.
    ‘
Thrown away before?
’ they chorused. All four stood staring at each other, causing other students to detour round them.
    ‘You never mentioned it,’ said Jack.
    ‘Haven’t really thought about it since he told me . . .’
    ‘What are you going to do about the library?’ asked Chloe.
    Itch shrugged. ‘Dunno.’
    ‘I do,’ said Jack. ‘I know exactly what you’re going to do.’
    Lucy and Chloe left for registration, and Itch and Jack filed into Mr Hampton’s class.
    ‘Go on, then – what am I going to do?’ said Itch, smiling slightly.
    ‘We’ll go to English. And then you’ll think of a reason to disappear. Then you’ll reappear with a book by someone with the initials FLOW. How am I doing so far?’
    At 9.45 English teacher Gordon Carter – known as ‘the Brigadier’ for his constant marching around the school – was deep in the pages of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s
The Great Gatsby
. He hadn’t noticed that Itch’s hand was up.
    ‘Sir,’ said Natalie Hussain, ‘Itch wants you.’
    The teacher looked up, annoyed by the interruption. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’ he said.
    ‘Not feeling too good, sir. Think I might be sick.’
    The memory of the arsenic-infused wallpaper incident from the previous year was fresh enough in everyone’s minds to trigger a wave of groans. A few hands covered mouths, and there were calls of ‘Better let him go, sir!’ The Brigadier nodded at Itch and he grabbed his bag.
    ‘Good luck!’ whispered Jack, and he ran for the door.
    He went into the toilets first, in case anyone followed him, but he knew he couldn’t wait there long. He needed to be at the library when it opened, needed to get to the returns trolley first. Instead of risking a departure through the front door, he ran into the grounds from the science corridor, then to the coastal path through a crack in the fence. This had only appeared since the departure of the MI5 team, but Itch had seen it used and was thankful for it now.
    The wind off the sea was biting. He hadn’t had time to get his jacket, and anyway it would have raised suspicions if he’d worn it while ‘feeling sick’. He cut back to the road that led to the town centre and ran towards the library. He wasn’t sure how long he had before someone asked where he was – the Brigadier would probably have already forgotten about him.
    He crossed the high street, pausing briefly to allow the passing of a brown UPS delivery van heading down the hill. He glanced at his phone: 9.58 a.m. He was on time.
    He tried the library door; still locked. He could see movement inside and waved, then knocked. Morgan the librarian was talking to a colleague; she looked up, smiled at Itch, then mouthed, ‘Two minutes,’ and tapped her watch. She went over to her desk, and Itch watched as she fired up her computer and poured herself a cup of tea. She checked her phone for messages, then placed it in a drawer and rearranged some leaflets, then said something to her colleague.
    Itch realized he’d been concentrating on Morgan; and now he turned to look at her colleague. With a sharp intake of breath he saw that the woman was at the