Morningstar stopped walking, offered up a hard look.
‘I got a hundred people calling for info,’ he said, ‘and we’ve had over sixty moms and dads show up, freaking out, wanting to know where their kids are.’ The muscles behind the pink shades twitched. ‘We got over three hundred kids in this school, which translates into damn near six hundred parents. Laroche keeps directing them to me, and I got nothing to tell them. We haven’t even completed the list of the dead. Got kids sent to every damn hospital from here to New Westminster, and I don’t even know which kids are where.’
‘I’ll help you with it.’
Morningstar shook his head. ‘Got Patrol for that. You just catch this whack job and bring him in, preferably dead.’
Striker said nothing.
They stopped outside the entrance to the teacher’s lounge, where another patrol officer stood guard. Striker stepped closer to the cop, a tall white guy with scruffy facial skin — he clearly hadn’t had time to shave and shower before getting the mandatory Call Out — and peered through the small window in the door.
Standing at the far end of the room, her head down, her posture so still she looked like a part of the furniture, was a young Asian girl. Thin build, small face. Too much make-up smeared around her eyes, a lot of which had drizzled down her face from the tears. She was maybe fourteen.
Striker turned back to Morningstar. ‘Who is she?’
‘Name’s Megan Ling. And she’s a survivor. She tried to help the others. She’s seen a lot — and she’s pretty fucked up.’
‘Where’s her parents?’
‘Mother’s already on the way down.’
Striker nodded. ‘Felicia will be back soon enough,’ he said. ‘Hook her and the mother up, will you?’
‘Done.’
Striker looked back through the window. Megan Ling hadn’t budged. He gave the patrolman a nod to move out of his way. When Striker started through the door, Morningstar put his hand flat against Striker’s chest.
Striker turned, gave him a questioning look. ‘What?’
‘Brace yourself for this one.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re not gonna like what she has to say.’
Fifteen
Courtney and Raine walked southward through the mall. Earlier in the day, both had dumped their St Patrick’s school uniform in their locker before getting into their usual attire — white Capris and a red half-top for Raine; standard blue jeans and a white v-neck for Courtney.
They stopped near an aisle kiosk. Raine pulled out her phone, tried to call someone, got no answer, then hung up.
Courtney’s face lit up when she saw the cell. ‘You got an iPhone?’
Raine raised an eyebrow. ‘Like, so totally not. My mom got pissed my minutes were over, so she put me on a shitty prepaid plan. Now my minutes run out, like, the first week of every month. So I got to use this one for the rest.’
‘But how’d you get that?’
‘It’s not mine, it’s a friend’s. Here, I’ll put the number in your phone.’
Courtney felt suspicion rise in her chest. ‘What friend?’
‘Oh my Gaaawd, look at those things.’ Raine gave Courtney back her phone then ran up to the aisle kiosk, grabbed a pair of earrings and held them up. ‘These will go perfect with my nurse costume!’
Courtney just nodded. Across the way from them, a group of twenty or more people huddled and murmured near the television sets at the Sony store. The news was on. The group made a collective shocked sound.
‘Something must be happening,’ Courtney said.
Raine shrugged and tried on the earrings. ‘Something’s always happening around here. It’s Vancouver, Court. How do these earrings look? Hot?’
Courtney looked. ‘Super-hot. Like everything looks on you.’
Raine smiled. She pulled out a wad of twenties and bought the earrings.
The jewellery kiosk sat across from a small Cinnabun shop, and the whole area smelled of sticky-hot, gooey cinnamon and melting cream cheese icing. It made Courtney’s stomach rumble, and she realised how long it had been since they’d eaten. She checked her watch. It was two.
She looked at Raine, who was holding a pair of black hoop earrings up to her ear and trying to see herself in the small mirror the kiosk offered.
‘Those cinnamon buns smell so good, we should get something to eat.’
‘We will be soon, we’re meeting someone.’
‘Who?’
Raine got frustrated with the mirror, turned to buy the earrings.
While waiting, and trying to divert her mind from the hell she was going to get from Dad when she got home, Courtney opened up the black Warwick’s bag and stared at the Little Red Riding Hood costume Raine had bought for her. A twinge of guilt fluttered through her stomach when she thought of the cost. Two hundred bucks was a lot of money; she shouldn’t have let Raine pay for it. It was too much.
Raine counted her leftover cash. Stuffed it in her purse. ‘You’re gonna look delicious in that costume, Court. Bobby’s gonna be drooling all over you.’
‘If I can keep him away from you.’
Raine laughed. ‘Bobby’s nice, but he’s yours. I’m into older boys myself. Men.’ She spoke the words softly, giving Courtney a quick sidelong glance.
And then Courtney caught on. The phone, the money, the avoidance. ‘Who are we meeting?’ she asked, almost cautiously.
Raine flashed a mischievous smirk. ‘What can I say? I’m weak.’
‘Oh Gaaawd no, not him.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Quenton Wong?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘You’re with Que again?’
Raine let out a nervous laugh. ‘For real this time.’ She leaned closer to Courtney, then, and as if everyone else in the mall was eavesdropping, she whispered, ‘We did things last night. I did things for him.’
Courtney knew what things Raine was talking about, but she still had to ask. ‘Things?’
‘With our mouths. You know.’
‘You mean…’
Raine smiled. ‘We’re going all the way tonight.’
Courtney said nothing at first. Aside from her heart skipping a beat, she felt divided. Part of her was excited, turned on. She knew Raine was still a virgin — hell, she was a virgin herself, hadn’t done anything so far. And how depressing was that? She wanted to know more, to hear all about it, the things they did, how it felt, what he said to her, how he touched her. She wanted it all, too. Just thinking about it made her body hot and tingly, and her thoughts turned to her supreme fantasy.
Bobby Ryan.
But another part of her was scared about this whole thing. The first time was exciting and all, but this was Que Wong they were talking about. He was a dropout, and three years older than them. And you knew for sure it wasn’t his first time. Que had already broken up with Raine two times over the last three months, and Courtney had little doubt that the moment he got into Raine’s pants, he’d be gone for good, leaving her brokenhearted again.
‘You sure you want him to be your first?’
