by Cari Thomas
‘Hey, witchy.’
She fell forwards onto her desk with a moan.
Attis smiled. ‘I love the effect I have on you. I’m not sure if it’s pleasure or pain.’
‘It’s the latter, I assure you.’
‘It’s a fine line, I assure you.’
He walked over, stretching as he did so, his arms almost touching the low ceiling, making the classroom seem suddenly small. He was wearing the same jogging bottoms as always.
‘Do you ever change your clothes?’
‘Of course.’ He looked offended. ‘Except my underwear. Is this desk free?’ He sat down beside her before she could answer.
‘Why are you early? You’re never early.’
‘Oh, I just love reading,’ he replied and Anna noted that he hadn’t actually brought any books with him or even a bag.
‘I can imagine. Is that something you do in between hooking up with girls and picking your toenails?’
He laughed. ‘Are those the only activities you imagine I engage in during my spare time?’
‘I’m trying to think of other ideas but I’m drawing a blank.’
‘You forgot all the wanking.’
Anna threw her pen at him, grimacing with disgust.
‘Thanks, I needed a pen.’
She was about to swear loudly when the door swung open and Peter, Tom and Andrew came in.
‘I’ll give you the pen back after class, yeah, Anna? Behind the science building?’ Attis said loudly, breaking into a laugh at the look on Anna’s face. At that moment, she could have stabbed him through the eye with the pen in question.
‘Are there any girls in this school you haven’t yet harassed, Attis?’ said Peter. Great, he’s finally noticed me and now he thinks I’m one of Attis’s conquests.
‘He’s living proof that evolution can go in reverse,’ sneered Andrew, his mousy nose twitching. Anna was not a fan of Andrew – he followed the popular boys around wherever they went, hiding behind them while making snide comments and statements designed to provoke. They seemed to tolerate him, likely because his family were rich and influential. He turned to Anna with his oily stare. ‘I wouldn’t get your knickers in a twist over him if I were you.’
Tom banged Anna’s desk as he passed. ‘You’ll only be disappointed. Three humps and it’s over.’
‘Three very tender humps in my defence,’ Attis replied. ‘And, Andrew, don’t talk about a girl’s pants. It’s disturbing for everyone.’
Andrew looked as if he was going to retaliate but Peter and Tom had started to chat and he retreated in their direction. The room slowly filled. Mr Ramsden arrived with a frown that anchored the rest of his face downwards, pulling deep marionette lines through it. He always wore the same one-size-too-big grey suit, today with an orange tie with elephants on it. Anna thought of one of those sad old clowns and found the image entirely fitting.
He announced they would continue reading Macbeth when Felicity Gibson rushed into the room. ‘It’s seven minutes past the hour, Miss Gibson, what do you have to say for yourself?’
‘Sorry, Mr Ramsden. Cheerleading practice ran on.’
‘Waving pom poms around in the air ran on? How much can there possibly be to learn?’ he sneered. He was in a foul mood.
‘We were working on a new routine.’
‘Oh, a new routine! I didn’t realize. Why don’t you show us?’
Felicity laughed nervously.
‘Show us,’ Ramsden repeated, the lines of his face hardening. Headmaster Connaughty had made Mr Ramsden deputy head and he liked to take full advantage of his small handful of power.
‘Mr Ramsden, I—’
‘Show us. Now.’
Felicity began to dance, looking as self-conscious as it was possible to be. The class sniggered. Anna turned away, feeling awful for her.
‘Wooo, shake that booty,’ Tom hooted.
‘Kellman,’ warned Ramsden but he let Felicity continue for a few more moments. ‘Please stop. After that performance I can see why you need more practice.’ He grunted a laugh. Felicity ran to a spare desk looking as if she was on the edge of tears. ‘Right. Peter, can you begin reading?’
The class quietened down and Anna sat back, wondering how Mr Ramsden got away with his little power trips. She let Peter’s soothing voice wash over her, each word level and smooth as a pebble.
‘Would you like to give your thoughts on this scene?’ Mr Ramsden said when he had finished.
Peter cleared his throat. ‘It’s clear that Lady Macbeth is manipulating Macbeth into committing murder. She knows he is a man of war and valour and she provokes him, calling his manliness into question—’
‘Is your own manliness so delicate that a few words would call it into question?’ Attis spoke up behind him.
‘Lockerby, no harassing someone’s interpretation,’ Ramsden barked.
‘I’m not. I’m debating. Isn’t that what we’re meant to do?’
‘Mr Ramsden, if Attis wants to debate my answer I’d be happy for him to lend his thoughts. I’m sure they would be enlightening.’ Peter turned to Attis with a faint smile.
‘A kind offer, Mr Nowell, but Lockerby is not interested in genuine debate, only disruption.’
‘Can I have both?’
Ramsden seethed. ‘You can read the next scene is what you can do.’
‘I would but I don’t appear to have a copy of the book.’
‘Where is your copy?’
‘To be fair, sir, he probably can’t read,’ said Andrew.
Ramsden assessed Attis’s desk, his lips snarling. ‘Lockerby! How dare you come into my class without the book we’re studying. It was explicitly stated at the start of the year that everyone had to buy a copy of Shakespeare’s complete works.’
‘It’s fine, Mr Ramsden, I know it all already.’
‘Oh!’ Ramsden’s bulldog face flushed. ‘You know the entire play already.’
‘Well, roughly.’
‘If you know Shakespeare so well why don’t we play a little game?’
‘Sure.’
‘Come up here.’
Attis jumped up from his desk and walked to the front.
‘You can recite Macbeth’s “Tomorrow” speech to the rest of the class and for every line you get wrong, you get an evening of detention.’
‘What happens if I get it right?’
Mr Ramsden looked at Attis like a bug he was about to squash beneath his shoe. ‘Oh, you can decide.’
‘OK, if I get them all right then you have to perform a cheerleader routine in front of everyone.’
Anna, like the rest of the class, couldn’t help laughing at the image. Mr Ramsden slammed his hand onto the desk to quiet them. ‘Absolutely, Mr Lockerby. I’ll dance around the room with bloody pom poms.’
‘And you can apologize to Felicity,’ Attis added.
Mr Ramsden’s fists balled up, but then he smiled graciously. ‘Of course.’
Andrew looked back and forth with glee between Tom and Peter, who broke into a smile. Anna didn’t blame them for wanting to see Attis humiliated, but she took no pleasure in watching it herself. Attis, however, looked entirely unperturbed. He straightened his shoulders, held his head up and in a booming voice began to speak.
‘Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow …’ His face morphed into a diminished and tortured soul, each tomorrow seeming more desolate than the last.
‘Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.’
His last word rang out across the silent and stunned classroom. Andrew shrank down in his chair. Mr R
amsden remained motionless at the back of the class. His silence was the loudest.
‘Now personally,’ Attis continued. ‘I don’t think Lady Macbeth is responsible for Macbeth’s downfall. She has her part to play but Macbeth wants her to play it. It’s fear that truly drives him on. He fears events unravelling beyond his control; he fears he is unable to fear and feel human suffering; above all he fears his own disintegration. He’s having a bloody existential breakdown. “Life … is a tale told by an idiot … signifying nothing …” It’s this nothing that drives him on. He seeks transgression, damnation, to destroy himself and – feel something.’
The class burst into applause. The sound startled Anna; she’d been lost in his words.
‘Of course, the witches are also to blame, but witches normally are.’ He winked at her. Anna shrank down in her chair. ‘Now, Peter, I’d be fascinated to hear your thoughts on the subject? I’m sure they’ll be most enlightening.’
Peter gave him a cold smile and went to speak but Mr Ramsden regained the power of speech. ‘Lockerby! You obviously planned this whole charade!’ His face had begun to resemble the colour and turgidity of an aubergine.
‘I thought we had a deal, Mr Ramsden? I can perform another if you like.’ Attis flung his head back dramatically:
‘It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul.
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars—’
‘Get out!’ Ramsden yelled.
‘You want me to fetch some pom poms?’
‘OUT!’
Attis took a deep bow and made his way out, the door swinging behind him.
By lunchtime, everybody was buzzing about what had happened, all accounts blown completely out of proportion. As Anna entered the canteen she caught herself smiling, recalling the look on Ramsden’s purpled face. She’d suspected Attis was smarter than he let on, but even so, had he studied the speech before or did he really know the entire works of Shakespeare? She was reminded of the fact that she barely knew who he was at all.
‘Yo.’ She heard Effie call out and looked up to find Effie, Rowan and Miranda – who looked as though she’d been taken hostage – sitting together. Effie beckoned her. Anna had spent every lunchtime for as long as she could remember alone, a nobody. It felt entirely unnatural and unnerving as she walked towards their table and took a seat.
They surveyed each other. It was the first time they’d all been together in public.
‘I normally have Bible Study on Wednesday but the room is in use today so I’ve moved it,’ said Miranda defensively.
‘It’s OK, Manda, we won’t tell anyone you’re coming over to the dark side,’ said Effie.
‘It’s Miranda! And I’m not! It’s simply an exploration into the darkness and back out again.’
‘You make it sound dirty.’
‘I do not!’
‘Manda, you’re going to have to learn to deal with Effie’s humour if you want to survive,’ Rowan advised. She turned to Effie eagerly. ‘So what happened in English with Attis? Everyone’s talking about it. Wish I’d been there. Apparently he’s being suspended from Ramsden’s classes.’ Anna was not surprised to hear that but couldn’t help being a little disappointed; class would not be as entertaining without him. ‘I saw this.’ Rowan sniggered, holding up her phone. It was a clip of a cheerleader waving pom poms around; Ramsden’s head had been edited onto the body.
Effie laughed. ‘Attis did something stupid and brilliant as usual, I presume.’
‘I was there,’ said Anna and then found herself recounting the story in full.
‘So he just recited it on the spot?’ Rowan repeated. ‘Had he just memorized all of Macbeth in case one day this situation arose?!’
‘Oh, he has a photographic memory. He’s the smartest person I know, a voracious reader,’ said Effie with a begrudging kind of pride. Anna tried to piece together this new side of Attis with the boy she had begun to know. ‘His dad, an old friend of Selene’s, was a professor of English, and a history buff too, so Attis grew up around it all. They lived on campus and by the time he was fifteen he was making money writing essays for stressed-out students. He’s resourceful.’
‘Where?’ Anna asked, wanting to know more.
‘The University of – I can never pronounce it – Aber … ystwyth in Wales. Beautiful place. Right on the beach. Selene used to drop me off for whole summers there.’ She smiled distantly.
‘Maybe we can all go there in the summer?’ said Rowan excitedly. ‘Coven road-trip?’
‘His dad’s not there any more,’ said Effie, distractedly – she was waving at a boy who had just come into the room. He waved back and promptly walked into a chair, looking terribly embarrassed. Anna recognized him as the large one Effie had taken a liking to during their trip to the café.
Rowan elbowed Effie vigorously. ‘I heard you two were a thing now.’
Effie smiled. ‘Just trying him out.’
‘Can I try Attis out in the meantime?’ Rowan asked with an eyebrow waggle.
‘Speak of the Devil, or should I say devils …’ said Effie.
Darcey entered the room arm in arm with Attis. She was laughing with flirtatious exaggeration at something he’d just said. Attis broke away to get food and Darcey trailed past their table, Olivia and Corinne behind her. Miranda froze. Rowan pretended to read something on her phone. Anna reached for her Knotted Cord.
‘Wow. Are these the best you could do, Effie?’ Darcey made a face. ‘You must be desperate, but we knew that already, didn’t we? I guess that’s how you end up going down on Tom Kellman in the back of his car …’
‘Well, he said I was better than you,’ Effie replied.
Corinne giggled and Darcey gave her an acid look.
‘Miranda Richards.’ Darcey tutted. ‘You ought to know better than to hang out with whores, or have you finally decided to drop the Virgin Mary act?’
‘If you’d like to attend my Bible Study class,’ Miranda replied with a nervous gulping, ‘I’d be happy to explain more about—’
‘Uh oh, I think I’m about to be saved!’ Darcey put a hand to her mouth, making Olivia and Corinne laugh. ‘The day I go to your Bible Study Club, will be the day you get laid. You really should get laid, you know. It’ll help with that uptight grimace you call a face.’
Corinne started massaging Miranda’s shoulders. ‘I highly recommend it. Twice a day keeps the doctor away.’
‘She’ll probably manage it before you, hey, Beast?’ Darcey nudged Rowan. ‘No one’s going to want to touch your large …’
‘Thighs? Ass? Cankles?’ Olivia suggested.
‘Hey. There’s no need—’ said Anna, quietly.
‘Hold. The. Phone. Did the Nobody just speak?’ Darcey turned to her, eyes narrowing. Anna kept her head down, instantly regretting her moment of protest. ‘Look at you, defending your new friends. Afraid they’re going to tire of you just like everybody else did? Realize you’re just a nobody with nothing to offer? Even your own parents couldn’t bear to stick around—’
‘Hey, Peter! Over here!’ Effie shouted. Peter had just entered the room and was trying to determine the source of his name. ‘I wonder when he’s going to tire of you, Darcey? I’m sure I can help that along.’
Darcey’s eye twitched slightly. She smiled sweetly and walked over to Peter; Corinne and Olivia followed. Darcey said something to him and he looked over at Effie with a frown.
‘Well, there we go, we just got Juiced,’ Rowan groaned. ‘Our lives are officially about to become hell. Super glad my year eight nickname is back though. Thought we’d moved on but no.’ Rowan nudged her dessert away.
Attis banged his tray down. ‘Ah, Darcey’s gone, what a shame.’
‘I knew this would happen,’ Miranda cried, distraught. ‘They’re going to ruin us.’
‘Why are you all so afraid?’ said Effie impatiently. ‘This school is backward. They wouldn’t have got away with this shit in New York. Darcey’s just an old-fashioned bully; she
tears at people, divides them. Now we have each other, she can’t win.’
‘She can win,’ said Anna. ‘She always wins.’
‘Depends what you think of as winning.’
‘Expulsion? Social extermination? Online harassment for the rest of our lives?’ said Rowan.
‘Expulsion is a possibility,’ Effie conceded. Miranda turned pale. ‘But social extermination – no. There’s a new social order in town and only we know the rules. You all just need to open your minds. We have a whole magical world at our fingertips, do we not?’
Anna wasn’t sure she could claim to have any sort of magic at her fingertips.
‘And what does Darcey have?’ Effie continued.
‘Excellent contouring skills?’ Rowan suggested.
‘The ability to make our lives hell,’ Miranda groaned.
‘Miranda’s right. Provoking her isn’t a good idea,’ said Anna. ‘She controls the gossip in this school. The last thing we want is people talking about us.’
‘Too late, sorry.’ Effie smiled, looking around the room. With a sinking heart, Anna noticed the glances in their direction. ‘I’m news and if you hang out with me – so are you. It’s not my fault the people here have nothing better to do with their lives.’
Anna shook her head, giving in to Effie’s smile. ‘So long as we don’t wind up on the news.’ She thought of the Faceless Women, the Binders’ fears swirling around the story. Anna knew she might get laughed at again, but she was tired of avoiding the questions that had been driving her mad since the summer: searching for scraps of information when Aunt wasn’t in the house. ‘Hey, does anyone know anything about that story from a couple of months back, those women hanging in Big Ben? This might seem silly but – was magic involved?’
Rowan lowered her eyes. Effie turned to Anna with a dry smile. ‘You mean the hanging witches?’
‘What?’ Miranda gasped. ‘Were those women witches?’
‘I forget you two know so little about the magical world,’ said Effie. ‘Yes. They were witches.’ Her eyes shone hungrily. ‘The Seven. The most powerful witches of all.’