Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ereader for textbooks txt) 📗

Grandad walked me to and from work for a week after that, and Mum dragged me to the doctors in an attempt to get me ‘fixed.’ He just said I was a little different and a bit anti-social.

The incident was the sole reason I no longer followed women. And children, you may ask? Well, I never followed them. I might not have known a lot, but even I knew that was a big no-no. Besides, children didn’t know who they were yet.

‘Why do you do it? Can you at least tell me that much?’ PC Williams had asked me this question before, and I always gave the same answer.

‘I’m looking for something,’ I whispered.

‘Looking for what?’ He glanced over his shoulder to look at me.

‘I’m not sure… I’ll know when I’ve found it…’ I trailed off.

‘I think you just need to find some friends.’

People often asked me why I was the way I was, but I was never able to give them a reason. It was like a compulsion, and I couldn’t tell them what it was I was searching for exactly in The One, either. All I knew was I had something missing, and somebody out there had what I needed to make me whole again.

When I found what it was, I’d shout the answer to the whole world. Then maybe Mum and Grandad would stop fretting about me for a while.

The officer exhaled loudly. ‘You are one odd lad,’ he tried to mutter under his breath. I’d heard that term, odd, loads of times; it didn’t hurt so much anymore, but there were still some words that could sting my eyes.

‘You want to be giving up this following malarkey. Get yourself some friends, a girlfriend, a full-time job, and stop wasting my time and yours.’

‘I’m not wasting my time,’ I said, rolling my eyes and turning my gaze to the window.

‘What’s she doing on her own?’

The car slowed, and I looked to the opposite window to see an approaching WPC. It was indeed peculiar to see a female officer out on her own. This WPC was slim but had a swagger to her stride, as though she would start running at any minute. She had a round, smiling face, and you could just see her dark hair peeking out from under her hat. I’d seen her before, and I liked her. Well, her clothes, anyway. Her uniform was pristine.

PC Williams pulled over and wound down the passenger-side window. ‘What’s all this, lacy legs? Where’s Thomas at?’

‘He’s getting some fags. He said he’ll catch up in a minute, sir.’

Everyone called PC Williams sir. He wasn’t a senior officer, so his colleagues didn’t need to, but he was the longest serving and most experienced officer in the station—that’s what Grandad told me, anyway. He had a lot of respect in the community, and if he told you to do something, you did it.

He scoffed. ‘He’s most likely gone to see his fancy piece round the corner. He shouldn’t be letting you walk around on your own.’

‘I know. I’m sorry, sir,’ she said, though she didn’t sound particularly sorry to me.

I looked back to the rear-view mirror to watch their exchange.

‘Hey’—PC Williams waved his hand—‘no need to apologise to me. It’s you that’ll be sorry if any of them low lives see you out and about on your own.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Get in. I’ll take you back to the station once I’ve dropped off young John here.’

It’s John-Michael! my brain shouted. How many times did I have to tell him?

PC Williams moved his helmet from the passenger seat and chucked it over his shoulder to make room for her. I tutted under my breath as it landed next to me. It could have easily hit me.

‘Hey, John-Michael,’ the WPC said.

‘Hello,’ I mumbled, my eyes now firmly focused on my hands folded in my lap.

I knew the WPC from around town. She was only a few years older than my twenty-one years. I didn’t speak to girls often; I was too self-conscious. But they probably wouldn’t go out with me, anyway.

‘What’s he done?’ she asked PC Williams.

‘He’s been following someone again. I’m going to have a quick word with his grandfather,’ he replied.

I switched off from their conversation then. I was used to being talked about, even if I was in the same room. Mum was the worst culprit for it. I used my brain as a radio or record player when I needed to escape. I would swap the channels around in my head when I was uncomfortable. I placed an album on the imaginary record player in my mind and lost myself in the sounds of The Beat’s I Just Can’t Stop It.

I mumbled along to Mirror in the Bathroom. It was my favourite song on the album, not only because they sang about mirrors and reflections but because the song resonated with me somehow, somewhere deep inside me.

The WPC shifted in the passenger seat and turned to look at me. I looked out the window again. ‘What’s with the mumbling about a bathroom, John-Michael? Do you need the toilet, or something?’

‘No,’ I muttered.

Why would I tell them I needed the toilet?

‘You want to get yourself a girlfriend,’ she sniggered. ‘Instead of loitering about. Have you ever spoken to a girl ’cept for me?’

I ignored her and carried on listening to my record.

‘Give over now. Leave him alone,’ said PC Williams.

‘Alright, sorry, sir,’ said WPC Thompson, still giggling to herself.

I didn’t know why she was laughing. I didn’t think she had a boyfriend; I hadn’t seen her name written on any of the benches around town.

I balanced my elbow on the car door and rested my chin on my hand to gaze out the window. But I turned off my internal jukebox as a strange man caught my eye. A shiver ran right through me at the sight of him. He wasn’t walking; he was slinking, the same way a cat stalks a