Leah Giarratano - Disharmony

He shook his head, still feeling sleep-addled.

His door burst open.

‘I’ve made brunch,’ said Georgia.

‘Get dressed,’ said Zac, right behind her. ‘I need you to come with me.’

‘Don’t you knock?’ said Luke.

‘You don’t need him, Zac,’ said Georgia, smiling sweetly. ‘You’re a big boy; you can go out on your own.’

She was obviously in a good mood today. She’d given in to a splash of colour: under a black mini-dress, a blood-red tulle skirt frothed and foamed over black-and-white-striped tights.

‘There’s a shop on the corner,’ she said to Zac. ‘There’s fifty dollars in the jar by the front door. Buy whatever you like.’

‘Luke,’ said Zac.

‘Zac,’ said Luke.

‘Could you come to the shop with me, please?’

Luke wavered. It would be good to get some fresh air…

Georgia stalked across the room and grabbed Luke by the elbow, dragging him out of bed.

‘No, he won’t,’ she said. ‘Just because you want to buy soy sausages and hay, it doesn’t mean you have to spoil our pancake breakfast. Now, shoo.’

Luke grinned over his shoulder at Zac as he was dragged down the hallway by Georgia.

‘Pancakes!’ he mouthed silently, his eyebrows almost meeting his hairline and his dimples out for a rare showing.

‘Breakfast time was over hours ago,’ said Zac loudly. ‘It’s past lunchtime now.’

‘Oh, um-ah!’ said Georgia, even louder. ‘Someone should do something about that. Maybe you should find a vegetarian policeman while you’re out, Zac, and make a full report. They can come and arrest us for sleeping late and murdering butter.’

Luke laughed as Georgia led him, barefoot, down the stairs to the kitchen.

Luke absolutely massacred the Halo aliens on Level Four.

‘I’ve never made it that far,’ said Georgia, sprawled out on the red lounge beside him, striped-stockinged feet in his lap. She alternately flicked through a magazine and watched his progress on Halo. The black cat lay upside down beside her, spread like an oil slick across the couch. Every now and then the cat made a noise like an old man with a back problem lowering himself into a chair.

‘More nachos?’ said Georgia.

‘I’m good,’ said Luke, and belched, hovering his thumb over the control to enter Level Five.

He tried to ignore Zac, perched on a corner of the lounge opposite, almost humming with tension. The rain splashed and smashed at the full-length windows on the other side of the room. Green-black clouds, pregnant with more foul weather, scudded across grey skies over the bay. He still felt strangely super-tired.

‘Are we going to do anything today, Luke?’ said Zac.

‘Like what?’ said Luke, grabbing a handful of nachos from the big bowl in front of him, even though he was already uncomfortably full.

‘Like finding the empath?’ said Zac.

‘What’s the empath?’ said Georgia. ‘Some kind of animal activist? Maybe you should search for it online, Zac? There are computers upstairs.’

‘Luke?’ said Zac.

‘Busy,’ said Luke, pressing the button to enter Level Five.

Samantha woke to find that she’d just slept for ten hours straight.

She freaked.

She had meant to use her time in the sky to plan her Sydney airport escape. She quickly calculated her remaining hours in the sky. When she realised that she had almost another whole day just sitting there, she figured that if she couldn’t come up with some kind of plan in that time, she was never going to.

She knew that these people – whoever they were – would try again. They’d been there in London, and she assumed they could arrange for someone to grab her in Australia. Seraphina had assured her that the gypsy king was nowhere near her greatest threat, and that his reach did not extend beyond Romania. But because of this Telling thing, the other people trying to capture her would use any means necessary to do so, and they wanted her alive. But Sera hadn’t been able to tell her if the gypsy king was part of the whole prophecy drama or not. But he had to be: why else had he suddenly turned up and wanted to own her, whatever the cost?

The Telling made absolutely no sense to Samantha and she’d told Sera exactly that.

‘Well, that’s because I’ve only told you bits and pieces about it,’ Sera had said.

‘Well, isn’t it about me? I need to know everything,’ she’d responded.

‘It’s not only about you, Samantha,’ said Sera. ‘It’s about everyone, and I’m not authorised to tell you more than you need to know.’

‘Who says so?’

‘The Grand Council.’

‘Well, who are they?’

‘That’s another thing you don’t need to know.’

This was one of many times during those frustrating conversations that Samantha wanted to just walk away and ignore everything this woman had told her. Only one thing stopped her – Seraphina had warned her that her family and friends would never be safe while she remained in Romania.

‘Their next strategy,’ said Sera, ‘will be to hurt one of your family, to weaken you. They’ll then abduct someone else you love and force you to come to them.’

‘How do you know that?’ said Samantha.

‘Because they know that everyone has a weak spot, and it’s usually their family,’ said Sera. ‘The only way that Lala and the rest of the camp will be safe is if you’re as far away from them as possible, if they have no idea where you are, and if you stay on the move until you find your brother. These people won’t stop.’

So on the plane, Samantha leaned her forehead against the window, peering out into the night, and tried to come up with as many strategies as she could to make it out of Sydney airport. She began by thinking through every chase she could remember – running with the other kids from Gaje farmers, shopkeepers, police – recalling just how high she could climb and how small she could make herself when she needed to jump over, under or through something.

Then she reviewed the scams. The long cons – requiring days or weeks to set up – obviously wouldn’t work here, but a short con might, playing a hustle to recruit an ally to defend her. She thought through every trick she could remember to make money, to evade detection, and to escape when the latter failed. She filed them away as possible strategies.

She sighed. The biggest problem was that she didn’t know how they’d come for her. If somebody approached her, it could be someone genuine who Sera had asked to help her; or it could be a trap.

Oh God, I need to walk, she thought. She had never sat still for so long in her life. She grabbed her bag, slipped past the man asleep beside her and through the heavy curtain that screened Business Class from the rest of the passengers. She began padding down the aisle of the aircraft, mentally perusing all the good luck, bad luck and curse spells she’d been taught by the gypsies. She discarded each of them fairly quickly. The only good she’d ever seen them do was to open the purses of the Gaje, and they did that because of what she told them, not because the spells actually did anything.

She met other sleepless souls walking the aisle and nodded when they smiled at her. Her appearance was unremarkable in the Economy section. Plenty of people were dressed like her. In that way, she would have felt a lot more comfortable back here than up the front with the posh people, but halfway down the aisle she turned back. There were so many more people in the main cabin and thousands more emitted emotions – they wafted up from each seat with nowhere to disperse. Frustration, lust, envy and grief blasted endlessly back into the cabin with the recycled air.