Marked Read Free Page B

tilted her head in reply. Not unfriendly, but no warmth either.
    “Apparently, we’re in opposing teams,” I said hesitantly. “For the debates … the benefits of sport and all that …” I floundered to a stop and there was a long pause. Why the hell hadn’t I stayed outside in the rain?
    “Looks like it,” she said. Then she turned away, rummaging around in her backpack and pulling out her earphones.
    A bunch of younger kids suddenly burst in from the rain, and a few moments later the ferry eased alongside the wharf, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to her again. Even if I’d been brave enough. I sure as hell was
stupid
enough.
    Dad was waiting for me when we landed. He was in a foul mood because he’d had to stop and raise the hood of his convertible when the rain started. It was ages before he asked me how I’d got on at school, but I hardly noticed. I was looking at the station wagon parked about three cars along. I knew that wagon. A green Ford – the one Bullyboy had climbed into yesterday, after Kat had bolted onto the ferry. And here he was again, waiting to pick her up from school – he
had
to be her father.
    But when we stopped at the shop to pick up a couple of frozen dinners, a cyclist rode past. She’d been wheeling her bike uphill from the jetty, but she hopped on and began pedalling when the road levelled off, her head down into the rain.
    It was Kat.
    A few seconds later the green Ford powered past in a hiss of spray, swerving over the centre-line to leave her plenty of space. Then it slithered around a bend and disappeared.

CHAPTER THREE
    “Weird,” I muttered.
    “Eh?”
    I glanced at Dad. Kat must’ve been really hoofing it because we’d only just passed her. Still pounding the pedals into the rain, and no sign of the green Ford. But I hadn’t meant to speak aloud.
    “Um … it’s a bit weird. That kid on the bike we just passed. She’s in one of my classes.”
    “How’s that weird?”
    “Well, I sort of bumped into her yesterday at the ferry. She was with an older bloke, her father I suppose, and they were having a row. But he was there today too, waiting … and then he just drove off and left her on her bike. And it’s pissing down. Doesn’t make sense.”
    “Maybe they’re still having a fight.” He tossed me a devious smile. “Plenty of times I’d have happily left
you
to pedal home in the rain.”
    “Yeah, but …” I let it drop. Hadn’t planned to say anything about Kat and Bullyboy. I knew it would make me sound stupid. And anyway, Dad had other things on his mind. Like the car’s leaking hood. He’d been rabbiting on about it. Apparently, authors don’t earn enough to get things like that fixed properly, and the vinyl tape he’d used was peeling off. Nasty cold drips down the back of his neck. And to make matters worse, someone had nicked tonight’s cold chicken from the fridge, so we were both facing a meal of microwaved plastic Chinese. The idea of me biking home in the rain had cheered him up a bit. Even if he
had
been joking.
    But it didn’t seem like much of a joke for Kat. What the hell was going on? I’d had it all sorted. Convinced myself that Bullyboy was her father. I mean, who else could he be? A kidnapper? Get real. He had to be her father – and they’d been having an argument. Had to be. And the gun? Had I actually seen a gun? No, of course I hadn’t. Just an overeager imagination. No kidnapping attempt and no gun. Just a rebellious kid and an overbearing parent.
    So why had he powered past, leaving her to pedal home in a downpour? It was fine for Dad to joke about sending me out in the rain, but I couldn’t imagine Kat sharing his sense of humour. She’d looked miserable. Bullyboy could easily have stuck her bike in the back of that big Ford. So why hadn’t he? There was another thought too. If Kat was really biking home, then she probably lived pretty close to our cottage. And
that
was an interesting notion. I didn’t want to get