pattern.”
“The pattern?”
“Yeah, you know, like the picture of the skull on a death’s-head moth. The pattern of stuff dying.”
And I got out of there while that one was still rolling around in his cerebral cortex.
At the end of the staff corridor, I almost bumped into Hart. My head was still back in the Shank’s office, or I’d have checked out where he was going. As it was, we both raised our chins in greeting, and then I was lost in the churning humanity of the school, as one lesson ended and the next began.
I know I should have tried to make my move on the Dwarf, but somehow the rest of the day contracted into a point, consumed itself, vanished. My mind was a black hole sucking in everything, matter, light, even time.
Things only snapped back into focus as I trudged out of school that afternoon. Every kid was being frisked at the gates. When I was through, I looked back to see Paine getting patted down by a nervous prefect. He beamed beatifically at me, gave a little tinkling wave like Oliver Hardy, then put his hand to his mouth, as if he’d just let slip an accidental burp.
A guinea-pig-flavoured burp.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
S OME A DVICE F ROM THE C AT
THE house was still empty. I checked the phone for messages. Just one. I hit play.
“Meds!”
That was it. Nothing more. My mum’s voice had an edge of hysteria. Nothing new there. Crazy school, crazy home. I was the sane centre of a mad world.
I picked up the dispenser from the top of the fridge and gave it a rattle. I was two days behind now. I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to take all the ones I’d missed. Or would that OD me? I could call my shrink… But the thing is, I felt good. Well, OK, not
that
good, but not crazy. The shrink had said that sometimes it’s a one-off, what happened to me. Sometimes… Anyway, taking pills when you don’t need them, that has to be nuts, doesn’t it?
I went to the bathroom and stared at my face in the mirror. There were black smudges under my eyes, but apart from that my face was as colourless as a meal of boiled fish in white sauce.
Tough day.
I went into my room and fell onto the bed. I didn’t even take my shoes off. There was something nagging at the outer rim of my consciousness. Something I was supposed to do. Or not do. The Dwarf. My pills. Other things. I rested my eyes for a few seconds. When I opened them again, two hours had slipped by. I had a taste like burnt hair in my mouth and the feeling that someone had taken out my brain and replaced it with scrunched-up aluminium foil.
I brushed my teeth and then went down to the kitchen and ate a can of peaches. That helped. It always helps. The house was eerily quiet. It was something more than just the absence of noise. The silence felt like an actual presence, something that had flowed like an inert gas into the rooms. The thought of the stifling gas made my throat tighten, and I knew that there was only one place to go.
Up on the roof, I waited for Cat to come.
I knew she would.
“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmm,”
she said.
I opened the sardines. She poked her nose quickly in and out.
“Not hungry tonight?”
“Already ate. Been checking out the neighbourhood. That old lady at number 14…”
“You ate the old lady?”
“Funny.”
“I work at it.”
Of course I knew that cats couldn’t really talk, and that I was imagining words in the random cat noises that she made, but her voice made me feel better, somehow. I guess I was missing my family.
“So, tell me, how are things at school?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“You can’t tell a cat what it wants.”
She jumped onto my lap. It made me start. I looked down. It was a long way.
“School’s fine. Struggling a bit with maths and physics, sailing through English lit and history.”
“Yeah, like
that’s
what I meant.”
“OK then. You asked for it. There’s trouble. Some sicko is bumping off the school pets. I’ve been on the scene once too
“The pattern?”
“Yeah, you know, like the picture of the skull on a death’s-head moth. The pattern of stuff dying.”
And I got out of there while that one was still rolling around in his cerebral cortex.
At the end of the staff corridor, I almost bumped into Hart. My head was still back in the Shank’s office, or I’d have checked out where he was going. As it was, we both raised our chins in greeting, and then I was lost in the churning humanity of the school, as one lesson ended and the next began.
I know I should have tried to make my move on the Dwarf, but somehow the rest of the day contracted into a point, consumed itself, vanished. My mind was a black hole sucking in everything, matter, light, even time.
Things only snapped back into focus as I trudged out of school that afternoon. Every kid was being frisked at the gates. When I was through, I looked back to see Paine getting patted down by a nervous prefect. He beamed beatifically at me, gave a little tinkling wave like Oliver Hardy, then put his hand to his mouth, as if he’d just let slip an accidental burp.
A guinea-pig-flavoured burp.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
S OME A DVICE F ROM THE C AT
THE house was still empty. I checked the phone for messages. Just one. I hit play.
“Meds!”
That was it. Nothing more. My mum’s voice had an edge of hysteria. Nothing new there. Crazy school, crazy home. I was the sane centre of a mad world.
I picked up the dispenser from the top of the fridge and gave it a rattle. I was two days behind now. I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to take all the ones I’d missed. Or would that OD me? I could call my shrink… But the thing is, I felt good. Well, OK, not
that
good, but not crazy. The shrink had said that sometimes it’s a one-off, what happened to me. Sometimes… Anyway, taking pills when you don’t need them, that has to be nuts, doesn’t it?
I went to the bathroom and stared at my face in the mirror. There were black smudges under my eyes, but apart from that my face was as colourless as a meal of boiled fish in white sauce.
Tough day.
I went into my room and fell onto the bed. I didn’t even take my shoes off. There was something nagging at the outer rim of my consciousness. Something I was supposed to do. Or not do. The Dwarf. My pills. Other things. I rested my eyes for a few seconds. When I opened them again, two hours had slipped by. I had a taste like burnt hair in my mouth and the feeling that someone had taken out my brain and replaced it with scrunched-up aluminium foil.
I brushed my teeth and then went down to the kitchen and ate a can of peaches. That helped. It always helps. The house was eerily quiet. It was something more than just the absence of noise. The silence felt like an actual presence, something that had flowed like an inert gas into the rooms. The thought of the stifling gas made my throat tighten, and I knew that there was only one place to go.
Up on the roof, I waited for Cat to come.
I knew she would.
“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmm,”
she said.
I opened the sardines. She poked her nose quickly in and out.
“Not hungry tonight?”
“Already ate. Been checking out the neighbourhood. That old lady at number 14…”
“You ate the old lady?”
“Funny.”
“I work at it.”
Of course I knew that cats couldn’t really talk, and that I was imagining words in the random cat noises that she made, but her voice made me feel better, somehow. I guess I was missing my family.
“So, tell me, how are things at school?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“You can’t tell a cat what it wants.”
She jumped onto my lap. It made me start. I looked down. It was a long way.
“School’s fine. Struggling a bit with maths and physics, sailing through English lit and history.”
“Yeah, like
that’s
what I meant.”
“OK then. You asked for it. There’s trouble. Some sicko is bumping off the school pets. I’ve been on the scene once too
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