That was when she first felt the hate. She hated her aunt for not letting her try to help her parents. She hated the people for just watching – why wasn’t some one up there trying to help? She hated the fire department for not being there. And most of all, she hated God for being so cruel as to let this happen to her family.
That was night she ‘turned off’ (as her psychologist had described it). She had her own world where she went when she wanted to be alone. No one new about this world, this perfect world of magic, and more and more often she began to spend time there, trying to screen from her mind the memory of seeing her parents burn in agony in their own home.
As she walked stiff-leggedly down the pathway to the school gates (skipping joyfully in her mind), she was brushed aside by uncaring, evil people who talked about her behind her back and snickered to her face. That was one thing that she didn’t have in her magical land: People. Friends. That was the one thing she missed. When anyone was mean or horrible to her she would turn away, tears of absolute sadness pricking her eyes but she didn’t cry. Well at least not in the real world. She broke down and wept in a corner in her mind and the words her mouth mimed – unable to make any sound – ‘I wish’.
And she did wish. She wished a lot of things. She wished people could understand. She wished some one would just come and comfort her, talk to her. She wished she could just hug her parents one more time.
In the halls of the school she shrank until she was almost invisible. She weaved in and out of the crowd. She noticed how they did not even give her a slight glance and tears pricked her eyes again. She made her winding way to her classroom, sat down and sang to herself.
It was the finals of the swimming tournament the next day and Harpington C of E School had qualified. The whole school were constantly on the edge of their seats waiting for that day. They were in the lead by only three points all would be decided in the next twenty-four hours. Gemma came to watch. In spite of her mind not caring who won or not, she was quite curious about the outcome.
The swimming pool was a very large one in the school grounds. It stretched along about half of the total school grounds and was slightly larger than an ordinary public pool. Harpington was very proud of it.
It turned out a lot of people were curious about the tournament. Masses of people crammed into the pool area and squashed and squeezed uncomfortably around the sidelines. Although being pushed and shoved about in the crowd, Gemma felt she was floating. Floating above everybody. She looked down and saw the writhing struggle of students trying to see the race that was about to take place. The shrill shriek of the whistle blew over her head and in a splash of water and cheers, the swimmers were off, propelling forward furiously.
Then without warning a chunk of something fell from the ceiling into the pool right ahead of the lead swimmer (which happened to be Harpington’s swimmer) and he pulled up to get out of the way. When the other swimmers realized some one had stopped suddenly, they raised their heads to see what was going on. More chunks fell into the water making great splashes around the swimmers and turning the water a murky grey. Gemma’s eyes rose slowly to the ceiling and felt a sudden twang of fear. The crowd had felt the same twang too and began pushing and shoving trying to get out of the building. The ceiling was falling in.
The people in the pool were now swimming furiously again, but not because of the race. They were swimming to get away. A few had reached the sides already and had begun trying to climb out. Some were being forced back in by the powerful moving mass of terrified bodies trying to escape. There were four doors but the crowd, trampling each other and blocking the exits even more, blocked each one. Gemma looked towards the pool and her eyes fixed on one swimmer – the one who was last in the race. He was trying frantically to get to the edge of the pool but was so terrified his arms refused to work. She could hear his confused and frightened cries as he thrashed the water and stared on as a chunk of plaster caused a massive wave to sweep over him and submerge him under the wispy brown water. Seconds later she saw him rise above the water again, struggling to breath, his arms flailing but becoming weaker and weaker with every shout. He was alone in the water now and too weak to swim. No one thought to help him. They were only concerned for themselves – Their evil selves. Their selfish selves. – and mindlessly ignored people in need of help.
Suddenly Gemma saw her parents there in that pool. She saw them helpless, burnt and terrified. Then she saw something that brought the hate welling back up inside her. One girl started to go towards the pool to help the boy and another boy – her boyfriend most likely – pulled her back and she went willingly away with him to an exit leaving the swimmer to die in that pool. Suddenly the hate was too much. How could some one do that? She couldn’t watch this happen again. She couldn’t be held back while another person died. And she dived into the glassy grey water and swam towards the swimmer who had now been under water for nearly half a minute.
She dived under and saw his limp body, eyes closed, floating below the surface. Gemma wrapped her thin arms around his waist and tugged with all her might. Somehow she managed to get him to the side and heave him out of the water. He was surprisingly heavy despite his skinny, bony appearance.
It was only once she had got him onto the side (the ceiling was still falling down around them) that she realised with dismay that he was not breathing. Her heart skipped a beat and she struggled to remember what the doctors and lifesavers on television did in these circumstances and without thinking, she pushed her lips up against his and breathed hot, salty air into his lungs.
The last thing Paul remembered properly was being trapped in the middle of the pool with the ceiling falling down on top of him and being unable to swim. He remembered going under and feeling the churning water slip through his fingers as he tried to get above it again, but to no avail and he felt his last breath being used up and he descended into unconsciousness.
Then he felt hands clutch his waist and felt himself being dragged along. He was drifting in a muddy cloud… drifting away… slowly…
Then sour air was being pumped into his body. The taste was awful but it kept coming. It happened again and again and eventually he found himself choking up the water in his throat and breathing just so she wouldn’t do it again. He thought he’d like to have died, gone to a better place but this person wouldn’t let him and he opened his eyes to see who was stopping him from letting him go where he wanted to.
As he did so and light poured into his eyes, it was like opening a window! Light flooded back into his mind and he realized he didn’t want to die! He wanted to see his family again, he wanted to go home! This girl had saved him! And he hadn’t wanted her to! As the light, like life itself came rushing back into him, he pulled himself up and kissed her soft lips.
The kiss was totally unexpected to Gemma but it was wonderful. It was all she ever dreamed of. All hate seemed to seep from her and she gave into the wonderful feeling that now grasped her. She had a friend! Even if nobody else noticed her she had a friend! The kiss lingered and eventually she pulled away. She had been totally unaware of the building, which was falling down around her and the piece of plaster that hit her outstretched foot brought her back to reality. She tugged him up to his feet and they ran, hand in hand out of the building (which were now empty) and onto the grass outside where they fell over each other and kissed and kissed. Gemma had never felt so happy, she remembered what life was like before she ‘switched off’ and it felt good – no wait – it felt great!
