He wanted to turn round, to check that Tom was okay, to see how Shabz, Jibreel’s sister, was doing, to check on Annie and Jess but he didn’t dare risk it. They wouldn’t have welcomed his attention anyway, not after what he’d done.
Looking down at the screen of his phone, one hand supporting his head, he willed it to come to life, to fill with messages that help was on the way and that everything was going to be fine. Harley knew how childish that was though. Nothing about this was going to be fine. He would be excluded from school and probably arrested for what he’d done to Tom and all his plans for the future would amount to nothing – especially if he was sent to jail. He knew from the experience of some of his friends that there was no coming back from that.
Had his message got through? It was killing him not knowing. His first instinct when he’d eased the phone onto his lap was to text his mum. She’d know what to do. But he knew she turned her phone to silent at work and she’d not see a text until her first break. His dad’s situation was similar – as a GP he couldn’t check his phone every few minutes. Most of the other numbers stored in his phone were friends who would have been in school – some of them in this classroom – people who used to be his friends at least.
He’d thought about dialling 999 but there was no way he could speak to whoever answered and one of the men might hear the operator at the other end.
None of his apps were any good. He’d kept Instagram but never used it and Snapchat was pointless. Then he remembered. The phone had been his mum’s – she’d only used it for two weeks before her work gave her a better model with dual sim so she used that for everything now. Her Twitter app was still there, somewhere. There might be a way to contact somebody who could help.
It had taken forever to navigate to the app. Minute movements and tiny taps on the screen had eventually led him to his mum’s private messages. Ordinarily, Harley might have spent some time reading them, seeing if he could find out anything that he could use to his advantage. This time he just wanted to find a way to get help – nothing else mattered.
When he saw that she’d contacted the newspaper he couldn’t believe his luck. All he needed to do was compose a message and pray that somebody in the newspaper office checked their social media feed regularly.
After what felt like an hour of tapping, checking, tapping again he’d managed to word something that might be convincing. Then he’d used the distraction of an altercation between the masked men to add more information. He had no way to know if it would work but at least he’d done something. If somebody at the newspaper saw his message and believed him, the police might be on their way soon. If they weren’t already.
Harley looked up as one of the men – the one in charge – grabbed his phone from the pocket of his tactical vest and looked at the screen.
‘Not long now,’ he said to the other two.
‘How do you know? I’ve not had a message?’ The one named Mo crossed the room to peer over Larry’s shoulder.
‘Fuck off,’ said the other man, shrugging him off and stepping away, closer to where Harley was sitting. ‘If they’d wanted you to get a message, they’d have sent one. I’m in charge so I’ve got the message.’
‘So, what does it say?’ Curly asked from his position near the door. Harley could hear the challenge in his tone. If Larry was in charge, he wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping his troops in order – the other two were getting restless.
‘It says mind your own fucking business,’ Larry snapped, pocketing the phone. He moved even closer and Harley felt his heart rate pick up as the first tendrils of panic gripped his throat. Larry was going to see the phone. One more step and he’d be able to look directly down on where Harley was sitting, with the phone on clear view in the fork of his groin. He didn’t know what to do. If he shifted position even slightly to let the phone slip out of sight between his legs he ran the risk of it falling on the floor or, at the very least, drawing unwanted attention to himself.
‘If it affects me, I want to know what it says,’ Curly continued. ‘There’s been enough cock-ups this morning.’ He glared at Harley. ‘This little shit knifing people and that bitch trying to escape. If you’re in charge you need to take responsibility for what’s gone wrong.’
‘Hey, watch your language when talking about my students,’ Miss Frith said. She turned to Curly with two bold slashes of red across her cheeks. ‘You don’t know these kids so don’t talk about them like that.’
Larry turned to her, grinning. ‘Ballsy, I like that.’ He moved away from Harley, towards the teacher and Harley let out the breath that he’d been holding. The colour had gone again from Miss Frith’s cheeks, but her eyes were bright with a challenge.
‘I don’t know what’s going on here but I don’t think it’s got anything to do with the students and, from the way you’ve allowed us to get help for Tom, I don’t really think you want anybody to get hurt.’
‘How do you know we’re not here for you?’ Larry said, licking his lips ostentatiously. ‘I like the feisty ones.’
‘Pack it in,’ Mo said. ‘That’s not why we’re here. Stick to what we’ve been told. You said it’s nearly over, let’s just sit tight.’
‘Who died and put you in charge?’ Larry asked.
