Nathan Sanders pushed his mouth further into his pillow, trying to suffocate his sobs. He couldn't bear his mother coming to comfort him, only to end up trying to calm her again when she crumpled to his bedroom floor. Jerome had been missing for six days, and Nathan wished that he could be as staunch as his father, driving the streets relentlessly looking for his son, returning only for food and brief naps in his chair before heading out again.
Nathan replayed for the hundredth time the words he'd said to Jerome on the last night he saw him. He whispered a prayer, and told God that he could never forgive himself or his father if his brother did not come home alive.
Into his wet pillow, he offered God more promises and threats. No-one else at his school had these sneakers yet. Vans, skaters' shoes; his dad got them from America at Christmas. Not even Scott Emery in Year 8 had 'em, and he always got everything first. Jerome found that focusing hard on his clothes, stuff from home, helped him to not cry so much. His throat hurt from crying and he needed to stop.
But they'd all been pretty nice to him, actually. Well, except forkidnapping him. Jerome gave himself a mental head slap.
When he realised the big man was not going to call his mum, and they were going to keep him, Jerome's mind had filled with every horror he'd heard about in his twelve years. And that was a lot. Like the time he'd had nightmares for a week after the party at Logan's house. Assam Ravinder, whose dad was a cop, had snuck over this police magazine. There was a picture of this guy in there who'd tied a rope to the trunk of a tree, got in his car, tied the rope around his neck, and driven forward. They showed the head next to the body, really close up. Braydon had been sick in his sleeping bag and had to go home.
But, except for that guy who said his name was Tadpole putting his hand on Jerome's back and leg a couple of times, no-one here had touched him. And they'd even been pretty nice to him. He could help himself to anything in the fridge, they'd told him, and he'd had a few of cans of Coke, some cake and sandwiches, but mostly he didn't like to move. Tadpole had brought pizza down a couple of times, but it had those anchovy things on it, and he hadn't been able to make himself eat much. He had no idea how long he'd been here, but he thought it had to be more than four nights. He could hear nothing from the outside. When the white van had left, the big room seemed more like a lounge room than a garage; there was a big TV on one wall, some chairs and stuff, a kitchen and a bathroom. Feeling like he was going to have a heart attack, he'd tried once to open a door at the end of the room, but he couldn't make it move. It was the same story with the door they drove the van through.
Sometimes he'd forget anything was wrong. He even fell asleep a few times. Mostly, though, there was this bad feeling, like when Nathan would jump out from the hallway in the dark, except the feeling just went on and on.
At least Big Nose hadn't been back. They called him Jamaal. Jerome had seen him opening and closing his hands like he wanted to choke something. He did it mostly when the big one was talking. Once when he saw Jerome watching him, Jamaal had smiled and Jerome had nearly gone to the toilet in his pants.
Until today, he hadn't left the underground room, but maybe half an hour earlier, after Tadpole had found him crying again, he'd told Jerome he'd take him to see the ocean if he promised not to say a word. With a tea towel wrapped around his eyes, he'd climbed some stairs with Tadpole behind him. He'd smelled the outside air, but then Jamaal's voice made him freeze. Tadpole had shoved and sort of carried him back down the stairs, back to the big room. Tadpole had been giggling, with his hands over his mouth, but Jerome didn't think it was funny. He wanted to be at home, but down here was much better than up there with Jamaal.
He wondered what time it was. What his mum and dad were doing. He hoped they were still looking for him. Maybe Assam Ravinder's father would be trying to find him too. How long do people keep looking for you when you've been kidnapped? Is there a time when they decide you're not coming back and they stop looking?
Jerome rubbed his eyes, and focused hard on his sneakers.