The Gaps by Leanne Hall (classic literature list .TXT) 📕

drapes, tan carpet. A door to an ensuite bathroom.

White and tan tiles. Shower over the bath, half-screen door. Sink and vanity, wall radiator. Small frosted window up high, too high and too small to climb through.

It could be anyone’s house.

Maybe there was a time when I thought the police had a chance of finding Yin, but if this is the best they’ve got—this, an identikit of someone in a balaclava and a pretty vague profile of an imaginary man—then there is no chance at all.

DAY 32

I lurk outside the art rooms like a super-creep. My folio is tagged with pink notes. The last week has been a frenzy of sketching, finding visual references and trying to make my ideas gel. I feel like Arnold when he’s got the scent of something at the park and can’t let it be.

All my other homework has fallen by the wayside. I can only hope my concept makes sense, and that I can get Bochen excited enough about my project to help.

I can’t believe I’ve finally settled on an idea I like.

‘What are you doing?’

Natalia pops up at my left elbow, chewing gum and staring with those uncanny blue-green eyes of hers. She’s finally joined the herd and switched to winter uniform. I want to throw back a childish ‘none of your business’, but I don’t.

‘I’m waiting for someone.’

‘You’re always so cryptic, Cardell.’ She peers around the art room door, assessing the small group of girls inside. ‘Curiouser and curiouser. Who are you waiting for?’

I can see that she’s not going to let me be. I’m pretty sure Natalia is similar to Katie. If you resist her too much she’ll go out of her way to cause you trouble, but if you give her just enough info to satisfy her, then she’s more likely to let it drop.

‘I need a model for my art project. Someone with a certain look.’

‘One of them? Which one?’

‘Bochen.’

‘Why? She’s so strange looking.’

Bochen has long, straight black hair like Liana. I want the picture to be dark, mostly black and white with small accents of red. Snow White colours. Snow White is supposed to have dark hair and pale skin, and Bochen ticks both of those boxes.

‘She’s got an interesting face.’ And you’ve got no imagination, I want to add. Bochen belongs in an elegant woodcut from the nineteenth century.

‘Her mouth is so small I don’t even know how she can eat.’

‘Why do you have to always say stuff like that?’

Natalia’s mouth falls slack. ‘Uh, because it’s true?’

‘Plenty of things are true, it doesn’t mean you have to say them. You do have a choice.’

Natalia’s face is blank, like she really doesn’t understand what I’m saying. And she wonders why people call her names behind her back.

‘She’ll never do it,’ she says.

An exasperated huff escapes me.

‘I know she won’t,’ Natalia insists. ‘Show me what you need and I’ll suggest someone.’

Natalia snatches my folio out of my hands before I even realise what she’s doing. She slouches against the wall—she makes even our spinsterish winter uniform look like a deliberate fashion look—and flicks through my jumble of ideas.

I’ve added some crime novel covers and sketched out how I want the photo to look: a maybe-sleeping girl in a forest, or somewhere else, I haven’t decided yet. She could be asleep, or unconscious, or even dead. There’s an air of something supernatural, or slightly magical, about her. I might use fairy lights to create that atmosphere, or maybe even paint colours over the photo, like I did for my self portrait. I want the viewer to be confused about whether they’re looking at a fairytale or a crime scene.

I can’t read Natalia’s face at all as she turns the pages. ‘Can I have it back, please?’

‘This is kind of twisted, Cardell.’

I hold my hand out for my folio but Natalia hoists it above her head.

‘Come and get it.’ She dances backwards.

‘You do realise that I’m a foot taller than you, don’t you?’ I try to grab it but she jumps away. ‘I can take you easily.’

I grab again and Natalia shrieks like a child having a really amazing fun time and somehow my folio ends up spilling its guts all over the floor. I crouch down and try to stuff the pages in. Natalia tries to join me but I give her such a dirty look she steps back.

‘What’s going on?’ Bochen stands in the doorway of the art room. ‘Are you two spying on us?’

‘No,’ I say, at exactly the same time Natalia says, ‘Yes. Yes, we are.’

Bochen laughs. ‘Now I don’t know what I think.’

‘Chloe has something to ask you, Bochen.’

If I could make Natalia spontaneously combust using the power of my furious mind, I would. But there’s no way of avoiding it now.

‘I need help with my project.’ My voice squeaks and I swear Natalia smirks. I swallow and continue. ‘I need to take photos of someone and I think you’d be perfect for it.’

The smooth, casual things I’d planned to say to Bochen to persuade her to pose for me have fallen out of my brain.

‘So, would you do it? It’d be one afternoon of your time. They’re not close-ups. You’d be…lying down…’

My cheeks are flaming. Bochen looks surprised, pushes her glasses back up her nose.

‘Oh, not me, Chloe. You need a pretty girl, maybe Cherry. You should ask her. She likes to show off.’

I don’t need a show-off. That’s the last thing I need.

‘You’re pretty too.’ I don’t know who I’ll ask if she doesn’t do it.

‘Sorry, Chloe!’ Bochen gives me a big smile but I can tell she’s trying to escape. ‘You’re so talented! You’re going to beat my ass at this prize!’

‘It’s not for—’ I dribble out, but she’s gone. The heat from my cheeks spreads up my face and heads for my tear ducts.

‘Bochen is failing maths and her parents are threatening to bring her back home if her grades don’t improve.’

I turn my head away from Natalia and blink fast.