‘What’s wrong with you, Jaz?’
‘I don’t care. It’s bloody exciting, whatever is it. Come on, let’s walk.’
Jazir had refused a bus ride, to make sure he got home after his father had left for the restaurant. His mother would be in, also his sister, but they wouldn’t mind him bringing Daisy home. It was only his father who had the purity streak. Still, he was nervous as they approached the doorway.
Daisy, for her part, was even more nervous. She’d never been to Jazir’s house before, never been invited or even told the address. It was all Hackle’s doing. Jazir had been waiting outside the office for her, chatting up the secretaries. He was full of himself, the knowledge that Hackle had responded to his work, and that he had a secret to impart.
The first thing was the smell. Daisy could catch the scent as Jazir led her upstairs to his bedroom; the high, thick stench of ultragarlic.
‘How does your family put up with it?’ she asked.
The door was labelled with a SPICELAB sign: RESTRICTED ACCESS! ‘They know I’d leave home without it.’ Jazir unlocked the door.
The second thing was the light. The curtains were drawn, the room was dark, except for a strip of ultraviolet that glowed over the garlic’s seedbed. Daisy went straight over to it as Jazir locked the door behind him.
‘Jaz, there must be a law against this. What if the cops find out?’
‘Who’s gonna tell ‘em?’ He turned on the main lights. ‘You’re not gonna tell ‘em, are you, Daisy?’
‘Bloody hell!’
Daisy had turned round to see the rest of the room. The floor was covered with burgerwraps, computer disks, Game Cat arcade mags (‘This Month: Sure-fire Unintendo Cheatmodes!’), discarded dominoes (cream), empty packets of individual-portion cornflakes, half-eaten curries, books on winning the game, losing the game, ignoring the game, cheating the game, loving the game, underpants and the odd sock (quickly stuffed behind a pillow), Frank Scenario recordings (including a rare vinyl edition of ‘How Cool Can You Go?’), hefty programming manuals, a map of Manchester (overdrawn by felt-tip markings, alternative routes), tubes of toothpaste, a box of chocolates, a green folder with his name on, spewing papers and diagrams.
‘It’s a tip!’
‘Yeah, you like it?’
‘Don’t you ever clean up?’
‘Me? That’s my mum’s job.’
‘So why doesn’t she do it?’
‘She can’t get in, can she? I keep the Spicelab locked. In fact…’
‘What?’
‘You’re the first… I mean, the first to come in here since… well, since years ago.’
‘Oh.’
For furniture, there was only a single unmade bed and an office chair that nestled under Jazir’s computer station. Along one wall, another table served as a workbench. This was the only tidy area. A rack of tools was fixed to the wall under a large poster of ‘Our Frank of the Cool’.
‘Nice computer,’ said Daisy.
‘Yeah. My dad bought it me. You know, keen? Erm, would you like to sit down, erm, on the bed, like, or something?’
‘I’ll go for something.’
‘The chair then?’ He pulled the office chair from under the desk.
‘I’ll stand, OK.’
‘OK. I’ll sit on the bed, anyway.’
Daisy couldn’t believe she was doing this. OK, Jazir’s mother had been happy enough for her to ‘help Jazir with his schoolwork’, but did she really have to be locked in this bedroom with him.
‘Maybe you should open the door,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘It’s a bit stuffy.’
‘I can open the window.’ He did so. ‘That better?’
‘Look, Jazir…’
‘Yes?’
‘Hackle said you were the key to the dominoes.’ Trying to break the mood.
‘Right.’
Jazir jumped up and took her over to the workbench, and Daisy saw for the first time that he was as nervous as she was. His hands were shaking, so very uncool.
‘You remember your birthday, right? At the club?’
‘Of course.’
‘After you left, I showed some of this to Joe.’ Jazir had taken a test tube out of a rack. Inside it the purple gunge slopped around.
‘Urgh! What is it? A new curry sauce?’
‘Almost. It’s from the insides of a blurbfly.’
‘How did you manage that?’
‘Simple. I caught a fly. I cut it in two. The juice poured out.’
‘Nobody catches a blurb. Aren’t they dangerous when cornered?’
‘Nah, it was a pussy cat. I drugged it, didn’t I? I mean, does this look dangerous?’ Jazir lifted up a dirty tea towel from his bench. Underneath was the splayed body of a blurb, dissected down the middle, each side of flesh pinned back. Bits of wire poked here and there from inside the opened gut, where drops of gunge were coagulating.