The Diamond Fist: Chapter 3

Hi all! This is chapter 3.

As a reminder, we last left Liam confessing to Lauren that he had something to do with the disappearances.  Mustafa, in chapter two, was recalling his "resignation".

Chapter Three
 
Liam
 
I woke up suddenly, gasping for breath, sweating. My eyes looked around my room, with clothes sprawled all over the floor, pools of colour splashed all over the place. Just another dream. My dreams were haunted by my body falling into water, disappearing and sucked into murky depth of water. I glanced at the clock. It was only four in the morning. I closed my eyes, hoping to fall asleep.
 
Yet again, I woke up, my heart racing. This time, the murky depths of water transformed into the shape of the face of a fuming Chinese dragon, its mouth gaping open. Hate life. I shut my eyes. Life sucks.
 
7:58 AM
 
14-FEB-2011
 
My eyes flickered open again. I considered staying home that day, until realising what the day was.
 
Valentine’s day... CRAP!
 
 I dashed to the bathroom for a quick shower and to brushing my teeth. Once I finished, I leapt for the door handle but slipped on the white carpet flooring the bathroom, finding myself eye-level to the door hinges.
 
“For God’s sake!”
 
I stood up again and flung open the door, and ran back to my bedroom. I put on my uniform: a light blue polo shirt and some beige combat trousers. I then grabbed my bag before pelting out of the house.
 
I could tell that the weather would be nice that day, even though I found myself barely able to look at the floor from the level of light outside. The weather was always nice actually, except for the freak storm we’d get once a year. Apart from that, it was great.
 
That day was no exception–the clear sky was an azure blue, the sun’s rays almost blinding and reflecting on the shimmering sand smeared over the pavement that drifted onto the road after the wind blew lightly again.
 
I glanced at my watch, growling. Like this, I would never get there on time.
 
 
 
I arrived late to school, interrupting Arabic. Thankfully, Sir didn’t say anything, but even so, I still couldn’t ask Lauren.
 
A few minutes later after checking that we did our homework which for once wasn’t as hard as A-Level maths, we began our spelling test. We usually had one every Tuesday, but Sir announced after Christmas that we’d have to spell the words without knowing what they were beforehand, to my dismay. Why? Seriously...
 
I was terrible at spelling in Arabic. Who could tell the difference between ?? and ?? ? Sometimes, Omar was kind enough and to flick a scrunched up piece of paper with all the letters that had the same sound but had something to do with emphasis. James sniggers every time we do the test, glancing at the frustration written on my face while I’m trying to work out how to spell a word. It doesn’t help that James was fluent in Arabic. His parents gave him special Arabic classes before he moved here. He’s been in Sharm for ages, six years or something.
 
“Spell camel,” our teacher said, in Arabic. Easy words first, hard ones later. “Spell plane.” Second word in and already we had a word that would confuse me.
 
Just before our teacher was about to tell us the third word when James shouted, “Give us hard words–these are for babies.”
 
James was dead.
 
“I was doing the easy ones for Liam,” he replied, smiling, revealing a set of even white teeth.
 
Everyone in the room’s eyes darted to me. I felt my hollow cheeks go a fiery red, so I put my head down, where my face couldn’t be seen. I doodled on the corner of the sheet, as if I wasn’t concentrating, but my cheeks gave it away.
 
“But fair enough. I will do harder spelling.”
 
Nice practical joke, James.
 
Halfway through the test, I felt something hit my ear. I found a hastily-scribbled note, from Omar, with another tip. I smiled. It was nice to know that there was someone who was willing to help. That didn’t stop me from failing the test–again. To my dismay, there was a much more important test in two weeks. I knew what my result would be.
 
“How was... spelling?” James had just stood up and walked to me, folding his arms with a smug look on his face.
 
“James, you’re dead.”
 
He sniggered, brushing the brown hair out of his eyes. “Your facial expression was hilarious.”
 
“Just because you actually understand it. It looks like gibberish to me. They don’t even read the same way as us.”
 
“I–apparently–have a gift for languages. That’s what our teacher said. I’m already fluent in English and French, near fluency in Arabic, alright at German–”
 
“Stop showing off.” Just because you’re half-Swiss. And have four national languages. Lucky guy.
 
***
 
It was lunch and I went out searching for Lauren, having been unable to speak to her at break where she was with her friends. Her giggling friends. Her loud, giggling friends. It seemed like there were more than normal, because even Jasmin was there. Lauren didn’t exactly like her. It might’ve not have been completely obvious...
 
Their presence around Lauren made me extremely nervous. If I spoke to Lauren, the topic would be spread like a wildfire.  It was OK this time last year, but ever since that boy left for his home country, it was like everyone was talking about me.
 
Huh. Least I wasn’t asking someone like Jasmin to come with me. A “bitch” as James described her.
 
I found her sitting at the front, on the grass, picking off the petals of one of the roses that lined the garden. She’s... pretty. I smiled to myself, as I walked closer to her. Understatement. I grinned.
 
 She still didn’t notice me. I slowly sat next to her, my greeting only alerting her of my presence. She seemed a little surprised but happy all the same. “Hey.”
 
“It’s Valentine’s day today,” I said, a few minutes later.
 
“Really?” replied Lauren, in a sarcastic tone. Her eyes were still on the petals she was playing with. I smiled.
 
This is it. “L-Lauren,” I began, my gaze set on the grass, biting my lip. I could taste the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. “D’you–do you want to–” I stopped, feeling my cheeks go ablaze for the second time that day. You’re a fail. “Would you like to go the cinema tonight?”
 
Lauren stopped playing with the flower and from the corner of my eye, I could see her facing me. “What?”
 
“Would you like to go the cinema with me tomorrow?” I repeated. I turned to her, holding my breath.
 
“You’re asking me?”
 
No, I’m obviously asking my pet rock.
 
I nodded.
 
“I’d love to,” she beamed.
 
Mission accomplished.
 
 
 
***
 
 
 
I met Lauren at the cinema, slightly late after being told off by Mum for leaving the bathroom looking like a warzone, being forced to clean it up and getting grounded. Not like she’s ever in the house anyway ‘cause all she seemed to be doing was working. Trust her to do something like that.
 
“Sorry I’m late–Mum was being a pain,” I said after greeting her. My mouth was uncomfortably dry but I tried to ignore it.
 
“It’s fine,” she replied, beaming. We walked to the cinema through the square in front of the cinema was large and busy. The sweet smell of hookah filled the air, accompanied by words of conversation wafting with it.
 
Entering inside, we were welcomed by the smell of popcorn. “Right, er, which film shall we watch? “
 
“What’s this one?” she asked, pointing at a name of a film on the wall mounted screen behind the cashier. “It sounds exciting.”
 
“Can we watch another one? Think it’s a blood and guts one and... it’s not really my... thing.” I looked down at my feet, dragging my trainers back and forth, watching the pattern on the carpet change slightly.
 
“Or... I don’t know... you pick, Liam.”
 
I looked up, glancing at the board which film times. “All the good films aren’t now ‘part from stupid films for eight year olds about them defeating the cardboard alien race invading or a sloppy romantic film about the mother in-law being a pain. Or that blood and guts one.” I hated small cinemas.
 
“I have to agree,” she smiled. “It’s a shame there’s no films worth seeing.”
 
“We could go and have a bite at the food court...” I mumbled.
 
 
 
“...she tried to be a hair dresser and put bubbles in my hair.”
 
“Wish I had a little sister,” said Lauren, taking a bite out of her jacket potato. Lauren had opted for the ‘healthier option’ of food a few minutes before. Burgers were way tastier, personally. “It sounds so amazing.”
 
“But I’m a boy,” I protested. “I–hairdressing isn’t fun. She and her friend were trying to make my hair full of bubbles.” Last year that was. Beth and her friend, Helen or something, were the hair dressers in a bubble factory while I babysat them. They poured the bubble mixture into my dirty blond hair which trickled into my eyes and nearly burned them.
 
“Bubbles? Sounds creative.”
 
“Horrifying. But she’s too adorable to resist. It sucks.”
 
I finished my burger and stood up, throwing my plastic box in the bin before returning.
 
“At least it weren’t Tuna,” she smirked.
 
I rolled my eyes. “That stuff’s disgusting.”
 
“Our lass–” she began. I sniggered like every time when a word from Manchester–her hometown–cropped up in her speech which most of them weren’t in her vocabulary because no one else at school was from Manchester. “–what?”
 
“Our lass,” I smirked.
 
She looked back at me sheepishly. “You put me off speaking sometimes, Lee.”
 
“But it’s funny, though...”
 
She finished her jacket potato as we sat in silence–comfortable silence though, with the occasional grin, or smirk. I held her gaze, before we both burst out laughing.
 
We walked home, the square being busier than before. The Egyptians never slept before one in the morning, or at least, that’s what it felt like. It was like some law that everyone adhered to. Soon if they made a new constitution they’d probably change it to four in the morning.
 
The floor vibrated with the loud bass of subwoofers from the clubs at the hotels nearby. The cold felt like it was wrapped around my fingers and plastered to my cheeks. “It’s cold,” I said. It was supposed to be a desert, for God’s sake, not a cold night in Scandinavia or whatever. Baked sand anyone?
 
We walked through a quiet street, lined with two or three story apartment blocks. Absent-mindedly, I ran my hand along every lamppost we passed, until my hand felt something rougher than the smooth, ice cold surface I was expecting. I stopped abruptly. Lauren carried on walking ahead, ‘til she stopped as well, further down the road.
 
“Why did you stop?” she called.
 
Holy...
 
It was a piece of paper. With photos. Of... faces. Most of them were ones I recognised from diving. There were a few older faces on there...
 
My stomach bubbled with acid before twisting into a knot. I knew what it was.
 
My face glazed over the photos of faces on the paper and onto the bright red title, written in both English and Arabic. “Missing...”
 
Holy crap, there are more people. More people gone. Older people. Tourists. Probably snorkelers.
 
You’re such a flipping coward Liam. You should’ve gone after them to see what happened. Soon there’ll be more people.
 
More people...
 
More people...
 
Soon, there’ll be James, a photo of him smiling and probably with his headphones hidden between the thick, chocolate brown hair on his head, his eyes full of happiness from a photo taken a long time ago. A photo of a younger James, with his cheeks even chubbier than now, even happier...
 
Soon, Lauren will be there. Her electric blue eyes dazzling as usual, her hair floating in the wind.
 
And soon, you’ll be there–the thin boy with the bottle green eyes, the hollow cheeks and the dirty blond hair. Soon the person who started all this mess will be up there because he was such a coward and didn’t do anything about it. Soon...
 
“Liam, are you all right?”
 
“W-w-what?”
 
“Are you OK?”
 
“I...” I looked around, avoiding her gaze. “I–got a text from Mum, I’ve got to go, there’s something, I–bye Lauren–”
 
I ran.
 
 I ran, leaving her completely bewildered.
 
You’re not gonna let yourself forget the mess you’ve got to clear up.