“Often the extraterrestrials will send a small recon craft first, for observation. Before they come.”
My eyes widened. I knew who this was now. I remember Mark telling me about him. This was microwave, conspiracy-theorist man. Mark poked me in the back again and I could see he was struggling to stifle his laughter.
“What do they come for?” I asked. “These extraterrestrials?”
“Shhhhh.” Frank raised his silver-gloved hand to his mouth and looked nervous. “I’ve said too much. I could put you in danger if you know their agenda.”
“Agenda?”
He nodded and then looked seriously nervous. “The less you know, the safer you are.” He gave me a strange little wink and then started backing away from us. “Welcome to Springdorp,” he said, still walking away from me.
“Thanks,” I nodded at him. He looked around the room once more, and then like he had rockets in his shoes, he turned and skidded away at speed.
I turned slowly and looked at Mark with wide eyes. “Well that was . . .” I stopped talking. I had no words really.
Mark nodded. “I know.” And then we looked at each other, smiles stretching across our faces and we both started laughing.
A loud throat-clear broke the moment. Samirah, Faizel and Harun were standing there. Samirah passed the dog leash over to me and I took it.
“I think you should get him out of here,” she said.
I looked to see who she was pointing at—it was poor Mrs. Marais.
“Okay,” I said to them all. I turned to go but Mark stopped me.
“Listen, I have a lot to do, so I’m not sure when I will be home. I don’t know if I’ll get to the cottage today, sorry. Do you think you can stay at Samirah’s one more night and I’ll do it tomorrow?” he asked.
I glanced over at Samirah and she gave me a small nod.
“Thanks,” he said.
I smiled, even though the idea ofnotstaying at his place suddenly didn’t make me feel that good. The idea of not continuing to share that laughter we’d just shared also didn’t feel good. The idea of not being near him . . . also not. I started walking away but stopped and looked back at him.
“Shit,” I mumbled softly to Harun. “I think I like him.”
CHAPTER 54
I stood outside the cottage at Mark’s house with Harun next to me. I’d gone back to Samirah’s after the town hall, but then started to feel really bad that Mark had to clean this place out on his own. He was so busy, and also, I guess, I wanted to stay there sooner, rather than later. The only reason he didn’t want me to clean it myself was that he was afraid of snakes, and I knew someone who was good with snakes.
I pushed the door open and let Harun off his leash. “Go look, boy,” I said to him and peered through the door. The curtains were closed and the room was dark and smelled dusty.
“And?” I peered into the darkness to see what Harun was doing. I could vaguely make him out, sitting in the middle of the room casually. He seemed to be completely chilled, which told me that there was nothing lurking in there that shouldn’t be. I walked inside and the first thing I did was open the curtains. The light rushed in, so bright and fast that I had to cover my eyes. The dust sprang to life. It glittered and glinted in the air around me like floating orbs. I swatted with my hands and opened the windows, letting some much-needed new oxygen into the room. Once the dust had settled, I looked around. I was shocked.
The cottage was cute and neat as a pin. A narrow bed, a little desk by the window and a small bathroom with a toilet and basin. Mark had implied this was some messy storeroom. But where was the storage? Where was the mess? The only storage I could see were three boxes on the floor that had been sellotaped shut. That was it. It was clear our definition of messy storage was completely different. I smiled to myself: the guy was clearly a neat freak. I could start staying in this room now, all I had to do was push the boxes against the wall and stack them. I moved over to one of the boxes and was about to pick one up when I noticed that the sellotape had peeled away a bit, the box flap sticking up just enough for me to peer inside. Something silver and shiny glinted back at me.
I shook my head:nope!I shouldn’t look. That would be bad. But as I walked the box over to the wall, the flap opened and closed and opened and closed with my movement. And every time it opened, the silver flash blinded me. By the time I’d set the box down, my curiosity was seriously piqued. But curiosity killed the cat and all. I looked over at Harun. There were no cats here, and as far as I knew no idioms that involved dogs and curiosity. I pulled the flap up a little more, and more silver stuff flashed at me. Like some great treasure that wanted to come out and be found. I looked at Harun.
“What do you think, boy? Should I have a look inside?” I asked him and waited for his response. He didn’t give me one. “I mean, what harm would it do?” I looked at Harun a little longer and when he didn’t seem to object, I pulled the flap back with a nervous bubbly feeling in my stomach. The anticipation and flutterings of knowing that I was doing something I shouldn’t was rather exhilarating. I’d never been much of a rule-breaker. A rebel. I’d always been a good girl. I wasn’t the kind who stuck her nose into boxes she shouldn’t.
I pulled slowly and peered inside excitedly, only to be sorely disappointed at what I found. A novelty silver-framed LP. Probably something he ordered to put up in the record store. I sighed and started closing the box again when the writing on the plaque caught my attention. My heart banged against my rib cage and I inhaled sharply and opened the flap again. This time I reached inside and pulled the framed record out, staring at the engraved words, my jaw dropping further and further open with each letter I read.
“Holy crap!” I said, when I’d read the name of my favorite band in the whole wide world. The band that spoke to me alone in my room when I was big and lonely and had no friends. The band that kept me company at night when I had no one to talk to, and the band whose posters had been up on my walls and ceiling. My first crushes. The band I had tattooed across my lower back, and refused to change, even though it was a crap tattoo, because they’d gotten me through the darkest times of my life. I read the words out loud.
“Presented to Step To That, in recognition of 1,000,000 album sales.”
I smiled. Who knew Mark was such a fan that he’d bought himself a novelty album? I shook my head. No wonder this was hidden away. He was probably embarrassed by it. I put the record down and reached into the box again; might as well go for it now that it was open. A pack of photos caught my eye. I hadn’t seen photos like this in years, the printed kind. I started flipping through them and it took me a few seconds to realize what I was looking at. And when I did, I gasped and dropped the pictures to the ground.
“What the . . .” I picked them up again and stared. These were photos of Step To That. The band. They were photos of them backstage, hanging out at a hotel, on a tour bus and . . .
