The Name of the Star - Maureen Johnson [94]
“Hey!” Jerome called. “Wait! Rory!”
“It’s not a game,” I said, turning around.
“I know that,” he replied. “Look, I know you were a witness. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t know anything,” I snapped.
I regretted it even as I said it, but the simple fact was—something had to give. The kissing had distracted me for a little while, but reality was back.
Jerome looked at me in confusion and shook his head, unable to come up with the words.
“I’m going back,” he said. “I’ve got desk duty all night.”
I watched him as he cut across the square, turning up the collar of his blazer against the rain and stopping only to adjust his messenger bag.
Stephen was standing by the door in his uniform. I noticed Callum as well, also in a police uniform. It took me a moment; the helmet was low over his face. Usually, Stephen wore a police sweater, a dark V-neck with epaulettes on the shoulders. Tonight, he and all of the other officers, including Callum, were wearing heavy tactical vests covered in tiny pockets. Stephen gave me a nod as I went in.
There was a mild commotion in the common room. It turned out to be a group of people gathered around Boo, who had triumphantly returned in a wheelchair. It’s not that Boo had been hugely popular or anything, but she had been hit by a car and she had come back in a wheelchair. That kind of thing draws a crowd. Jo, I noticed, was standing just behind the chair, her arms politely crossed. I didn’t even go in to greet them. I went right upstairs.
I had promised my parents a call after dinner, so I went upstairs to take care of that. They extracted some very serious promises from me that I would remain in the locked building surrounded by all the police officers. Bristol, from the sound of it, was also under a state of high alert, as were most of the major cities. Would the Ripper suddenly cross the country? Would copycat killers join in? It seemed like people didn’t want London to have all the fun. Everyone deserved to share the fear.
I got off the phone as soon as I could and shut my eyes. I heard Jazza come in.
“Did you see Boo?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“You didn’t come in to say hello. And Jerome was wandering around out in front of the building looking upset.”
“Argument,” I said.
“You’re not saying very much.”
I felt her sit on the end of the bed.
“Everyone is scared, Rory,” she said.
The impulse to scream was very great, but I held it down. Screaming at Jazza would be bad. I just kept my eyes closed and rubbed my face.
“You should go down and say hello,” she said.
“I will.”
Jazza was disappointed in me. I could tell from her light-asair sigh and the way she got up and went out without saying another word. I’d managed a trifecta—Alistair, Jerome, Jazza. Really, the only three people at Wexford I had any special bond with. If this was going to be my last night, I’d done a great job so far.
The dark had come, and Ripper night was here.
30
IT WAS A LONG NIGHT, AND I WASN’T SURE WHAT WAS worse—the terror I was just managing to keep at bay or the boredom. We sat in that study room for six straight hours. Boo tried to keep me entertained by reading to me about celebrities, mostly English ones that I’d only recently learned the names of. My butt went numb from sitting. My back hurt from the chair. The air in the tiny study room got stale, and I grew to hate the powder blue walls.
It seemed to me that things should be more dramatic—not just sitting around with the ever increasing weight of time on my shoulders.
“You can go to sleep if you want,” Boo said, just after one in the morning. “Not to bed, but if you want to lie down.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I can’t do that.”
She rolled herself back and forth in her chair.
“You’ve seen Callum and me, yeah?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure what this question meant. I’d seen Callum, and I’d seen Boo.
“Do you think . . .” Again, she said fink instead of think. “Okay. I . . . I really like him. I have for the whole time, yeah, but I’ve had no