Jane Higgins - The Bridge

‘Senior Year, stand!’ said Gorton. ‘And forward!’ Forty of us marched down to the floor of the auditorium.

Stapleton, who was having a good day, front and center in everything, gave his annual lecture about what a great moment this was. He wittered on for so long that when the ISIS guy finally had his chance at the podium he didn’t bother with introductions or niceties, he just cut straight to it.

‘Make no mistake about why I am here. We are in a fight for our lives, against an enemy with no soul. Everything your parents and grandparents built in this city, everything they fought for, is at stake. This enemy craves our land, our homes, our livelihoods, our way of life. They crave our annihilation. Those of you chosen today will join the fight: together we will drive them into the desert. It will be challenging, even for the best of you. You will be expected to give everything of yourselves, and more. But have no doubt: we will win this war.’

He flicked on his notebook. The Tornmoor senior year held its collective breath.

‘When your name is called, come forward. Form a line in front of the stage.

‘Ashleigh Bannister, outstanding in physics and engineering.’ Dash beamed at me and strode forward.

‘Stephanie Domaine, outstanding in organic chemistry, applied mathematics, and scripture.’

‘Christof Freklin, outstanding in genetics and scripture.’

And on he went: Steve, Alistair, Jono (which drew an audible but unrepeatable crack from Lou), Ellis, Gaby (nods of approval all round), Mark, Jenna.

‘That’s all. God bless the city.’

That’s all. My brain jammed on all . That couldn’t be all. He was supposed to say, Nikolai Stais, outstanding in… I didn’t care what, as long as he said my name. But instead he was nodding to Gorton and Stapleton. He was clicking off his notebook. He was saying something to his new charges. I couldn’t hear what because my heart was pounding in my ears. Then he was walking towards the door and my classmates were marching behind him, already squaring their shoulders and walking taller. Some of them turned around to look at me, but the female agent said something and they turned away and then they were gone. The door slid shut with me standing on the wrong, wrong side of it.

Lou was saying, ‘No, hell no! That can’t be right.’

Gorton said, ‘Hendry, be quiet. Stais, sit down.’ Everyone else was heading back to their seats and I was still standing, gawping at the door.

‘But what about Nik?’ said Lou, loud enough for the entire auditorium to hear.

‘You heard me,’ said Gorton. ‘Be quiet! Stais! Don’t make me tell you again.’

And that was that. A key moment, maybe the key moment in my life, gone. You can’t apply for ISIS. They choose you. Or not. I went back to my seat, heart still pounding. The whole auditorium had got too bright and hot. Lou was muttering furiously beside me but I didn’t hear a word.

People steered clear of me for the rest of the day, the way they do when you’re deep in it and no one knows what to say. Or maybe they do know what to say but they don’t want to say it when you’re around to hear.

We all landed back together in the dining hall that night: Lou and Bella, Fyffe and Jono, Dash and me. The lock-down siren had sounded so we were on generator power. The hall was the same vintage as the chapel, and gen-power made the place feel like a drafty old warehouse, all dark corners and dusty stores where the walls were lined with portraits in thick cracked paint, forgotten by their owners. The gargoyles grinned and screamed silently from up in the gloom. Everyone’s face was shadowed, everyone’s voice muted, as though turning down the lights turned down the volume as well. But at least gen-power made it hard to see what we were eating.

Dash was bright and buzzy, but trying not to show it. Jono just sat, pleased with himself and the world, and didn’t say shit. Fyffe pushed her bowl of stew away and tried to change the unspoken subject. ‘That’s so disgusting! Whatever happened to real bread and butter? And roast potatoes, remember roast potatoes?’ She looked around at us but she got nothing – just some nodding and mumbling. She crushed her cracker and pushed a finger through the crumbs.

We looked at the watery custard and pseudo-fruit something that was supposed to be dessert and everybody passed, except Jono, who’d eat anything that wasn’t actually moving. Another silence arrived, so I said to Dash, ‘When do you start, then?’

‘Straightaway. Tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow!’ Bella peered over her horn-rims. ‘That’s some hurry they’re in.’

Dash nodded. ‘Well, it’s escalating isn’t it. You heard the man. I know we’re supposed to think the army’s on top of it all, but ISIS knows the real score. They need everyone they can get.’

‘Yes they do.’ Lou looked around at everyone, but no one looked back. ‘So, if they’re desperate, why’d they pass on Nik?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ I said.

‘Sure it doesn’t.’

‘Maybe there’ll be a second round,’ said Fyffe. ‘You know. Later in the year.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Lou. ‘Because Nik really needs that chance to improve his grades, doesn’t he?’

Jono woke up. ‘Don’t take it out on Fy. It’s not her fault.’

‘It’s someone’s fault,’ said Lou.

Fyffe and Lou Hendry – and Sol, their little brother – were as close to family as I had. Their parents had a house out in the country: a huge place, sprawling like you wouldn’t believe, with about twenty-six bathrooms and a front lawn the size of a football field and you had to travel for about a day and a half just to get down the driveway. They were the Hendrys of Hendry fuel cell fame – wealth-on-wheels, literally, since their cells powered all our vehicles and more besides. We’d had a normal enough start, Lou and me: rich kid wants assignment done, tries to beat not-rich kid into doing it for him. That didn’t work, but bribery did. His hampers from home were mind-boggling, packed with chocolates and biscuits and fudge and apples and plums and you-name-it, turning up fresh and frequent every term. Fyffe arrived in school a year later and was so primly shocked by this arrangement that she shamed Lou into inviting me home. I’d been going home with them for holidays ever since.

I pushed my chair back. ‘I got work to do. I’ll see you later.’ I tried to smile at Dash, and escaped. Crowds parted for me like I was Moses walking the Red Sea. They closed behind me though, whispering, like crowds do. I lay on my bed and went over it again. I’d stayed behind in Gorton’s class that afternoon, but he took one look at me and held up a hand. ‘Don’t ask, Stais. It’s not for me to say.’

‘But, sir…’

‘What did I just say?’

‘Did you know?’

‘Did I know what?’

‘That they wouldn’t take me.’

‘Of course not.’

But you know, Dr G, you’re avoiding my eye. I don’t believe you.

When people started drifting into the dormI left – hurried down the stairs hoping not to be noticed. As I landed in the hallway, an arm shot out from under the stairs and pulled me into the shadows where the cc-eyes couldn’t reach.

Dash.

I muttered, ‘Hi,’ and didn’t know where to look.

She put her arms round my neck and rested her forehead on mine, studied me with that blue-black stare. ‘What’s going on?’

‘How do I know?’

‘Nik!’ She gave me a shake. ‘Think! Something’s wrong – a mistake in their records, or you’ve done something…’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Anything! It could be anything. This wasn’t meant to happen!’