“Hyenas? They think you’re a monkey, then.”
Her eyes glared and her face burned.
“See? See what I mean? They know nothing about me but they hate me.”
“And of course you know everything about them.”
“I know enough. There’s nothing to know. Kicking, screeching, being stupid.”
“Ha!”
“Yes, ha! And that little red-haired one …”
“Blake was little and red-haired.”
“How do you know that?”
“See? You think nobody but you can know anything!”
“No, I don’t!”
“Ha!”
Her lips were pressed tight together. She pressed her head back against the trunk of the tree.
“Go home,” she said. “Go and play stupid football or something. Leave me alone.”
I gave the wall a last kick; then I left her. I went into my front garden. I went through the open front door. Dad shouted hello from somewhere upstairs. I went straight through into the backyard and squatted there and squeezed my eyes tight to try and stop the tears.
Chapter 30
THE OWLS WOKE ME. OR A CALL that was like that of the owls. I looked out into the night. The moon hung over the city, a great orange ball with the silhouettes of steeples and chimney stacks upon it. The sky was blue around it, deepening to blackness high above, where only the most brilliant stars shined. Down below, the backyard was filled with the pitch-black shadow of the garage and a wedge of cold silvery light.
I watched for the birds and saw nothing.
“Skellig,” I whispered. “Skellig. Skellig.”
I cursed myself, because in order to go to him now I had to rely on Mina.
I lay in bed again. I moved between sleeping and waking. I dreamed that Skellig entered the hospital ward, that he lifted the baby from her glass case. He pulled the tubes and wires from her. She reached up and touched his pale dry skin with her little fingers and she giggled. He took her away, flew with her in his arms through the darkest part of the sky. He landed with her in the backyard and stood there calling to me.
“Michael! Michael!”
They stood there laughing. She bounced in his arms. They had lost all their weaknesses and they were strong again.
“Michael!” he called, and his eyes were shining with joy. “Michael! Michael! Michael!”
I woke up. I heard the owls again. I pulled on some jeans and a pullover and tiptoed downstairs and out into the yard. Nothing there, of course, just the image of them burning in my mind. I stood listening to the city all around, its low, deep, endless roar. I went out through the shadows into the back lane. Though I knew it was useless, I began to walk toward Mina’s boarded house. Something brushed against me as I walked.
“Whisper!” I whispered.
The cat went with me, slinking at my side.
The door into the garden was ajar. The moon had climbed. It hung directly over us. Behind the wall, the garden was flooded with its light. Mina was waiting. She sat on the step before the DANGER door, elbows resting on her knees, pale face resting on her hands. I hesitated and we watched each other.
“What took so long?” she said.
I looked at her.
“Thought I’d have to do this all alone,” she said.
“Thought that was what you wanted.”
The cat prowled to her side, brushed itself against her legs.
“Oh, Michael,” she said.
I didn’t know what to do. I sat on the steps below her.
“We said stupid things,” she said. “I said stupid things.”
I said nothing. An owl silently flew down into the garden and perched on the back wall.
Hoot, it went. Hoot hoot hoot.
“Don’t be angry. Be my friend,” she whispered.
“I am your friend.”
“It’s possible to hate your friend. You hated me today.”
“You hated me.”
The other owl descended and perched in silence beside its partner.
“I love the night,” said Mina. “Anything seems possible at night when the rest of the world has gone to sleep.”
I looked up at her silvery face, her ink-black eyes. I knew that in a dream I would see her as the moon with Skellig flying silently across her.
I moved up to her side.
“I’ll be your friend,” I whispered.
She smiled, and we sat there looking out at the moonlight. Soon the owls rose and headed for the center of the city. We lay back together against the DANGER door. I felt myself falling into sleep.
“Skellig!” I hissed. “Skellig!”
We rubbed the sleep from our eyes.
Mina pushed the key into the lock.
Chapter 31
WE HAD NO FLASHLIGHT. THE LIGHT that came through the chinks in the boards was pale and weak. We blundered through the dark. We held hands and stretched our free hands out in front of us. We walked into the wall. We caught our toes on loose floorboards. We stumbled as we climbed the stairs. We shuffled across the first landing. We felt for the handle of the door to the room where we thought we’d left Skellig. We inched the door open. We whispered, “Skellig! Skellig!” No answer. We moved forward carefully, arms outstretched, feeling forward with our feet before we took each step. Our breath was fast, shallow, trembly. My heart was thundering. I opened my eyes wide, glared into the dark, seeking the shape of his body on the floor. Nothing there, just the blankets, the pillow, the plastic dish, the beer bottle rolling away from my stumbling feet.
“Where is he?” whispered Mina.
“Skellig,” we whispered. “Skellig! Skellig!”
We turned back to the landing again, we stumbled up the next flight of stairs, we opened many doors, we stared past them into pitch-black rooms, we whispered his name, we heard nothing but our own breath, our own uncertain feet, his name echoing back to us from bare floorboards and bare walls, we turned back to the landing again, we stumbled up the next flight of stairs.
We halted. We gripped each other’s hand. We felt each other shuddering. Our heads were filled with the darkness of the house. Beside me was nothing but Mina’s face, its silvery bloom.
“We must be more calm,” she whispered. “We must listen, like we listened to the squeaking of the blackbird chicks.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Stand still. Do nothing. Listen to the deepest deepest places of the dark.”
