Things the Eye Can't See. Penny Joelson

Of course, we didn’t have mobile phones.

      ‘But the guy questioned why we didn’t like ice cream. I was terrified. I couldn’t speak any more. Charlie just said, “Maybe another time?”

      ‘Then he said he’d got chocolate biscuits and that no boy could say no to that. I was trying not to piss myself. We’d been warned about getting into cars with strangers. We’d seen the news stories. This man had got us on purpose. He was going to do bad things to us – and then he was going to kill us.’

      ‘So what happened?’ I ask, wondering if I even really wanted to know.

      ‘Then the car came to a stop,’ says Kyle. ‘The man was taking off his seatbelt. I was still paralysed, but Charlie moved so fast. He got the back door open – grabbed me and dragged me out and pulled me and we were running and I’d never run so fast in my life. We didn’t look back, not for ages. We were sure he was coming after us. But when we stopped, there was no sign of him. I’d never have got out on my own. Charlie saved me. He got me out.’

      ‘So did you go to the police?’ I ask. ‘Did they get him?’

      ‘No. Looking back, maybe we should’ve done. But we didn’t even tell our parents. I mean, we’d been stupid, hadn’t we? We’d have got a right telling off, both of us. We were OK. We’d learned our lesson. The man was long gone. There was no point in telling anyone. I’ve never told a soul until today.’

      ‘Oh Kyle, I’m so sorry.’ It sounds lame as I speak the words, but I don’t know what else to say. ‘Charlie helped me once too. But nothing like that.’

      ‘I know he can be trouble, but he’s not all bad,’ Kyle says quietly. ‘We . . .’

      ‘We’ve got to help him, haven’t we?’ I finish Kyle’s sentence for him. ‘We’ve got to do something.’

      ‘I want to. But what?’ asks Kyle.

      My mind is whirring. ‘Do you know where he lives?’ I ask.

      ‘No. He’s moved since primary school. I only knew his old address.’

      ‘There must be someone who knows more,’ I say. ‘Someone we can talk to.’

      ‘Hang on,’ says Kyle. ‘He’s got a sister. Maybe she can help.’

      ‘A sister? How old is she?’

      ‘Three years younger,’ says Kyle. ‘I can picture him picking her up in the playground at primary school and swinging her round and she was laughing. She must be in Year 7.’

      ‘Great!’ I say. I feel relieved that there is something we can do. ‘Surely she’ll know something. Let’s find her at school on Monday and ask her.’

      ‘Sounds like a plan,’ says Kyle.

      I’m about to ask Kyle if he can see Samson, when I hear the jingle of Samson’s bell and then panting as he bounds up and rubs his body against my legs. I stroke him gently. ‘Good boy, Samson. Let’s get the harness back on you. It’s time to go.’

      ‘Can I ask you something about Samson?’ Kyle says as we start walking back to the gate. ‘It may be a stupid question, but I can’t help wondering . . .’

      ‘What?’ I ask. ‘Ask me anything, I won’t mind.’

      ‘When Samson poops, how do you know where he’s done it? How do you scoop it up if you can’t see? Or don’t guide dog owners have to do that?’

      I laugh. ‘We don’t have to, but Samson usually goes in the same place, in our garden, so I know where to scoop. Or if we’re out for a long time and we’re in a good place for him to go, I can tell him and he’ll do it if he needs to – and stay put so that I can find the spot.’

      ‘Clever dog you’ve got there,’ says Kyle. ‘You two are so good together. Like proper friends.’

      ‘Yeah. Though I don’t go round picking up all my friends’ poop, you know,’ I joke.

8

      On Monday, it doesn’t take us long to find Tia, Charlie’s sister. The Year 7 girls tend to hang out in the quad, so Kyle and I head there at lunchtime.

      ‘You’re Tia Smithson, aren’t you? Charlie’s sister?’ I hear Kyle say.

      ‘Who are you?’

      ‘Kyle. You probably don’t remember me. I used to walk to school with Charlie sometimes when we were at primary.’

      ‘No, you’re right. I don’t remember you,’ she says abruptly. ‘What d’you want?’

      ‘We’re looking for Charlie,’ I tell her.

      ‘Why?’ There’s a suspicious tone to her voice.

      ‘Do you know where he is?’ Kyle asks, ignoring her question.

      ‘I might. I asked you why you’re looking for him.’ Her voice is defiant, but young. I’d take her for nine or ten, though she must be eleven or twelve.

      ‘Is he OK?’ I ask. ‘We were just worried. He was in our form group, and it’s ages since he’s been at school.’

      ‘Yeah, six months. And now you worry?’

      ‘Is he at home?’ Kyle asks.

      ‘No,’ she replies. ‘I haven’t seen him for ages. But I do know where he is. So why should I tell you anything?’

      ‘I’ll be honest with you,’ I tell her softly. ‘We’ve heard he’s in trouble – in danger. We don’t want anything to happen to him. Maybe you could just check on him and let us know?’

      ‘Me?’ Tia sounds stunned. ‘You want me to go checking up on him?’

      ‘Don’t you care about him?’ I ask. ‘He’s your brother. If my brother was in danger, I’d want to check on him.’

      ‘Look,’ she says. ‘Oh – sorry – I shouldn’t say that, should I? You can’t.’ She sniggers. She’s mocking me and I don’t like it. But I put up with it as I want information.

      Kyle has other ideas. ‘Whoa, Tia . . .’ he says, jumping in to defend me, which is rather sweet.

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say.

      Tia pauses, then says, ‘Sorry. I don’t want to be mean to you because I know you can’t see. But you don’t see. You don’t get it, you don’t know what he’s like. I’m glad he’s gone. Life’s better without him. And you’re right, I don’t care. He’d changed. He never spoke to me any more, you know? Not a word – not an answer to a question. When he bothered to come home, he shut himself away in his room. And I reckon he was stealing ’cos he was buying stuff, and Dad’s asking him, “Where d’you get the money for that?” and he just swore at him – and Mum too. That’s not the way you treat people you care about, is it? So why should I care about him?’

      ‘If you don’t care about Charlie,’ says Kyle, ‘then why do you care about telling us where he is? Why does it matter?’

      She’s quiet now. Then she sighs. ‘You really want to find him that much?’ she says. ‘I’ll tell you then, just to get rid of you. If you’re trouble for him, so what? He’s staying at our nan’s. I’ll give you the address. You got a pen? I’ll write it down. Just don’t tell him I told you, OK?’

      ‘Thank you so much,’ I tell her.

      ‘You don’t have to thank me. Just leave me alone.’

      ‘Come on Libby,’ says Kyle, once Tia’s written the address and given it to him. ‘Let’s get some lunch.’

      Kyle actually wants to eat lunch with me? I’m relieved,