No other reptiles. Rusty’s heart sank. He looked at Bongo. The lizard had been chomping away on a cricket, his blue tongue flicking in and out, but at Mr Moretti’s words he glanced up at Rusty, tilted his head and fixed an unblinking eye on his owner.
Rusty’d had a lot of experience being average. He was kind of used to it, actually. But Bongo, well, Rusty had always assumed Bongo was special. Just how much do you understand, Bongo? Rusty wondered. Do you think we can do this?
As if in answer, Bongo’s attention returned to the bowl of insects.
Was his father right? Was Bongo just a stupid, lazy cold-blooded creature? Rusty sighed. He walked to the window, chewing on a fingernail, as the other children peppered the teachers with questions. Outside, large trees had been trimmed into animal shapes. Nearby, a leafy horse reared up on his hind legs, flowery mane flying. Beside it was a mouse as large as the horse, complete with stick whiskers. Further down the hill rested a sleeping cat, its leaves rustling like fur in the breeze. The hedges were remarkably lifelike and Rusty marvelled at the talent of the gardener.
He glimpsed movement from the corner of his eye. Two figures, moving quickly, ducked out of sight behind the bushy mouse. One was a muscular man wearing khaki pants and shirt and carrying a shovel. That must be the gardener. The other figure was as huge and green as the animal shapes around it. Rusty would have mistaken it for another hedge — perhaps a bear or a large dog — but for two things. One, the figure moved, and hedges did not move. And two, it had bright orange hair poking out from between the green leaves on its head.
Rusty peered closely at the mouse-hedge.
Nothing.
Rusty shifted his gaze back towards the horse and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the bald man with the octopus tattoo standing there, staring at him.
Where had he come from?
The man’s blue eyes shone in the midday light and, as usual, his expression was blank. And then Rusty’s heart skipped another beat as a woman’s voice came from just behind him.
‘Ah, Rusty, I see you’ve captured BJ’s attention.’
CHAPTER 21
AN APPLE FOR THE TEACHER
Rusty spun around and came face to face with Miss Alice Einstein.
In her hand was a shiny green apple. She bit into it with a crisp crunch and began chewing, not with her mouth open, exactly, but not particularly quietly either. Up close, Miss Einstein had friendly eyes and a snub nose. Her dark hair stuck out in all directions, just as it had on TV, but in real life it was softer and less crazy-looking. She wore a knee-length flippy skirt in emerald green, a white T-shirt covered in pink polka dots and yet another pair of sneakers, these ones orange with blue shoelaces. She swallowed before speaking again.
‘BJ doesn’t notice most people. He just doesn’t see them.’ She stuck out her tongue at BJ through the window, but he had turned away. Miss Einstein shrugged and smiled at Rusty. ‘He must see something special in you.’
Special? ‘He looks like he wants to kill me,’ Rusty blurted, then blushed. How rude Miss Einstein must think him. But she laughed, sounding genuinely delighted.
‘No, that’s just his way. I’ve known BJ a very long time and I can usually tell what he’s thinking,’ she said. ‘No matter how much he tries to hide it.’
The other children had finally noticed Miss Einstein and stood in starstruck silence.
She turned to face them all, waving her apple in the air. ‘Welcome and good morning, competition winners. Teachers,’ she said, nodding at Mr Moretti and Mr Fletcher, then starting at the sight of Mr Fletcher’s hair mishap before turning away without comment. ‘And welcome to your pets, of course.’
‘Good morning, Miss Einstein.’ The children spoke in unison as if back in their regular classrooms. Braithwaite immediately looked embarrassed to have done so. Akira just smiled, while Maximilian held his pen poised over his notepad, ready to take notes. Shelby was uncharacteristically silent. She bit her lip and Rusty thought she appeared a little shy. He’d known Shelby less than twenty-four hours, but he guessed this was a rare occurrence. The pets were quiet too. Even Bismarck had stopped sniffing and sat to attention.
‘Golly gosh, that’s lovely.’ Miss Einstein laughed again. ‘But there’s no need for formality here. I trust you’ve had something to eat, and Nader has told you a little about the school?’ They nodded. ‘Thank you, Nader, you’ve done a great job, as usual.’
Rusty looked over to where Nader had perched himself on a stool near the food table. In his paws, he held — Rusty had no idea how, for he had no opposable thumbs — a delicate teacup. The white fur around his squished-in nose was covered in frothy milk. He licked it away with a small pink tongue and set the cup on the table. ‘Certainly, Miss Einstein, it was no problem. Might I be excused?’ asked Nader. ‘My paper is due on Friday and I’ve still rather a lot to do. I haven’t had my violin practice today either.’
Nader played the violin? How on earth was that possible?
Miss Einstein waved the cat away. ‘Of course, Nader. The Lancet doesn’t extend deadlines for anyone. Not even geniuses of the Felis catus variety. But don’t work too hard, alright? You know the saying: all work and no play makes Nader a . . .’ She tilted her head and paused as if deciding whether to continue.
‘A what, Miss Einstein?’ Nader asked in a voice Rusty thought sounded a little tetchy.
Miss Einstein shrugged. ‘Well, if I’m honest, working too hard tends to make you a little . . . mean, sometimes, Nader.’
The children gawped, peering goggle-eyed from cat to woman and back to cat again.
Nader leaped down from the stool and stood with his tail in the air, visibly bristling. He narrowed his eyes but didn’t speak, and Miss Einstein must have realised she’d hit a nerve. ‘I was only joking, Nader. Of course you’re excused. And thank you for your help this morning.’ But as she turned away from her star pupil, Miss Einstein made an ‘it’s true’ face to the children.
Nader stared after Miss Einstein, his tail twitching back and forth. ‘Donna ingrata,’ he muttered. ‘Ma perché perdo tempo!’ The cat stalked away.
‘Italian is one of his languages,’ Mr Fletcher explained to the puzzled children before he and Mr Moretti said their farewells and followed the angry cat to the lifts.
The headmistress smiled from child to child, unconcerned by Nader’s irritation. She lingered a moment on Akira. ‘Gorgeous boots, Akira. Purple is my favourite. You’ll adore the Bowie Floor.’
Akira nodded shyly.
Miss Einstein glanced at Maximilian, noting his ready pen and notepad. ‘Maximilian, I see you are all set to learn. Excellent. And Shelby, what a beautiful guinea pig you have there.’
Both children blushed.
Miss Einstein caught Bismarck’s mournful gaze. ‘And Braithwaite, what a handsome dog you’ve brought with you.’ She strolled over and scratched Bismarck behind a floppy ear. He peered up at her hopefully and she held out the rest of her apple. The dog took it in his mouth, lay on the floor and crunched it, sending bits of apple spraying across the floor.
‘Apples are his favourite,’ said Braithwaite in surprise.
‘I know,’ said Miss Einstein in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Alright, everyone, once Bismarck has finished destroying that apple, we’ll continue. If you’ll follow me, we will head to a music room for your pets’ very first class, which will, of course, be Speaking 101.’
CHAPTER 22
SPEAKING 101
This time, they alighted on level −3: the Bowie Floor.
Braithwaite and Rusty were the last two out of the lift. ‘Can you believe we are actually here at a school for talking pets?’ a cheerful Braithwaite asked Rusty as they stepped onto a floor the colour of squashed purple grapes. ‘We are going to have so much fun this week.’
Rusty wished he had the British boy’s confidence.
‘That’s what I put on my application, you know: fun,’ Braithwaite continued. ‘My family are always terribly
busy. Off on a fox hunt, or buying specialty Sri Lankan tea at Harrods or lunching with the Queen. You know how it is. Now that I’m too old for Nanny, Bismarck is my only companion. He makes my life fun. That’s what I told Miss Einstein. That we have fun together.’ Braithwaite grinned, his veneer of cool vanished. He rubbed his dog’s head. ‘Let’s go.’
Bismarck raced off and Braithwaite lurched forwards, two hands on his dog’s stretched leash. Rusty adjusted Bongo in his usual spot on his shoulder and went after them.
Ahead, they spied Akira disappearing into the last classroom, Sora fluttering behind her. By the time the boys caught up, the others stood in a circle in the centre of a large, airy room. Near the door, various musical instruments had been assembled on a table. They were in a corner room, with huge windows open on two sides, the sea breeze fluttering the filmy curtains. The other two walls had been covered in egg cartons.
‘What’s with all the eggs?’ asked Braithwaite.
‘It’s for soundproofing,’ Maximilian said as Miss Einstein opened her mouth to answer.
‘Yes. That’s right, Maximilian,’ she agreed. ‘We get a little rowdy in here at times, and it’s important not to disturb the other classes.’ She turned to Rusty and Bongo. ‘Come in and join the circle.’
Rusty walked over and stood beside Akira. Braithwaite and a now-behaved Bismarck stood on his other side. Miss Einstein somehow effortlessly commanded the attention of even easily distracted animals. She beamed at them. ‘I am so excited to have you here. My first human recruits. And your pets, of course.’ Her eyes shone with excitement. ‘This is how it all begins. Here. With music. With laughter. With fun. With a little fear,’ she added, glancing at Rusty. ‘Contrary to popular belief, fear is not a bad thing. No, we all need a little fear sometimes. It helps us to learn and grow.’
Rusty really hoped she was right.
Miss Einstein cleared her throat. ‘So, let’s sing.’
‘I’m sorry, but what has music got to do with talking?’ Shelby objected. Some of her confidence had apparently returned. ‘I want my Porky to talk to me, not sing!’
‘My, my,’ Miss Einstein murmured, raising her eyebrows. ‘Animals are easier to teach than humans, it seems. They can’t answer back. Well, not at this point, anyway.’ She sighed. ‘Shelby, we will teach Porky to talk.’
The American girl frowned, apparently unconvinced. Miss Einstein looked her up and down, taking in the matching skirt and top, the swishy ponytail, the fine gold chain around her neck and the expensive phone poking out of the handbag hanging from her forearm.
‘You’re from Los Angeles, yes?’
Shelby nodded.
‘OK, let me put this in terms you’ll understand. You know how everyone thinks the best tacos in LA are the fish tacos from El Taco Mamas, but you and I both know the best ones are actually . . .’
‘Shrimp tacos with chipotle from Taco Tuesdays,’ they chanted together.
Shelby looked stunned but delighted. ‘How did —?’
‘Just trust me, Shelby. I know how to get animals to talk the same way I know tacos. The same way I know the best place to shop vintage is that little market on Melrose, and the funkiest handbags come from the Grove. It’s the same reason I could recite pi for as long as you could bear to listen. I just know important things.’
Shelby nodded eagerly, totally on board now. ‘OK, sure, Miss Einstein. Tell me what you want old Porky and me to do. I’m dying to hear my baby’s first words.’
Miss Einstein smiled at Shelby then moved her gaze to each of them in turn. ‘OK, as I said before, let’s sing.’
CHAPTER 23
LET’S SING
There was silence.
Miss Einstein sighed. ‘I kind of expected this. Animals often take some convincing too.’ She walked over to the instruments at the far side of the room and rummaged around, making a few musical ‘pings’ and ‘twangs’ as she did so. The children looked at one another self-consciously. Miss Einstein walked back with her arms full and passed out musical instruments. Braithwaite received a harmonica, Shelby the panpipes, Akira a tambourine and Maximilian was presented with two maracas, which he held at a distance from his body as if they might be dangerous. Finally, with a mischievous smile, Miss Alice Einstein handed Rusty a pair of bongo drums.
‘Bongo drums. Get it? Sorry,’ she said with a smirk. ‘I couldn’t resist.’
Rusty had to smile at her childish glee.
‘Music is an important learning tool,’ she said. ‘Sadly, most schools don’t continue to teach music after the first year or so of your school life. Which is a dreadful shame. Music is joyous; it encourages our brain synapses to fire. I could recite study after study detailing the importance of music to the development of the human brain. And animals, well they respond even more powerfully to music than humans do.’ Miss Einstein walked to a cupboard and returned with an aqua-coloured ukulele. ‘OK. Let’s begin.’ She began to strum the ukulele and then started singing.
Perhaps it was the heartfelt speech Miss Einstein had just made about the importance of music, or maybe the confidence with which she had started strumming, but Rusty had expected her to be good, maybe even great.
But . . . Miss Einstein was not a great singer. In fact, if Rusty were being totally honest, Miss Einstein was a terrible singer — tone deaf and a little screechy. And it soon became obvious she had no clue how to play the ukulele. The tune — if you could call it a tune — was terrible. But the worst thing of all was probably the words. The words Miss Einstein sang, well . . . they were just plain weird.
‘Ride the waves, feel the wind, eat the unicorn; yeah, yeah, yeah.’
What?
‘Jump the chair, swing the cat, boogie-woogie, yee-ha-yay.’
And then, if it wasn’t already bad enough, she sang louder. The rock song became a shrieking ballad so high-pitched that Rusty feared the windows might shatter. She put even Miss Chester to shame.
‘Love your chickens, swim with the tigers, dance like a storm cloud.’
Rusty glanced around and saw his embarrassment mirrored on the faces of the others. He couldn’t believe this was how Miss Einstein thought she could teach their pets to talk.
Had she gone completely crazy?
Maybe she was ill. Or needed a good night’s sleep. Once, after a night shift, his father had been so tired that Rusty found him asleep at the kitchen table wearing one of Rusty’s T-shirts inside out and too tight. He had a bowl of Bongo’s crickets in front of him. Fortunately for Mr Mulligan, he hadn’t eaten any. At least, Rusty thought he hadn’t. He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure.
Bismarck started first. ‘Yeow. Yeeoooowww.’ Nose in the air, he howled along with Miss Einstein. She nodded at him encouragingly. Next, Sora started cheeping and, when Hannah started to meow-wail, Rusty didn’t think the song could get any worse.
He was wrong.
Porky began to shriek.
‘What’s going on?’ Braithwaite muttered as the animals around them bayed and crooned.
‘Incredible,’ breathed Akira with wide eyes.
Rusty opened his mouth to respond with an emphatic ‘no’, but before he could, he was startled by a shrill kind of hissing sound coming from his left shoulder.
Bongo? He’d never heard his lizard make that sound before. Was he singing?
Bongo hissed some more and then Akira joined in. Her sweet voice rang out clearly from Rusty’s other side. Fortunately, Akira had far more musical ability than Miss Einstein. She beat her tambourine on her hip as she sang made-up words, or perhaps she just sang in Japanese — he couldn’t tell. Either way, the song suddenly seemed a little nicer.
Maximilian began to shake his maracas with gusto, humming a sort of ‘do-do, da-da’ tune at the same time. With a wild grin, Shelby and Braithwaite surrendered their dignity and joined the commotion. Shelby’s panpipes fluted tunelessly, and Braithwaite huffed into his harmonica, which blared loudly in response. The cacophony was now so great that it w
as impossible to hear any one voice or instrument over the others.
Laughing, and with Bongo hissing in his ear, Rusty began to whack his drums. His body began to move without him thinking about it. Beside him, Akira swayed in time, her eyes closed. Miss Einstein danced past, shimmying as she reached Rusty.
‘Blue bayou, goo-ga-doo, I’ve got a feeling, the rain is falling, falling on the ceiling,’ she sang, toneless and uncaring.
Rusty laughed again, all fear forgotten in the moment of joy.
The children and animals danced and stomped and twirled around the room, holding hands or paws, whistling and yelling, bleating and barking until the noise grew even louder. And then finally, as if by design, the song — although only a very kind, completely tone-deaf listener could have called it a song — reached a crescendo, and, as if on cue, the singing died off and the instruments faded away as the children and animals caught their breath and came back to themselves.
And in the quiet, a word was clearly heard.
‘Kirei,’ said Sora.
CHAPTER 24
THE BUDGERIGAR SPEAKS
Akira’s eyes widened. ‘Sora. You spoke!’
Sora looked pleased with himself, flicking his feathers out of his eyes and tweeting the word again and again as he flapped away, swooping and diving around their heads, watched intently by Hannah, who was fortunately constrained by Maximilian’s grip.
‘Kirei. Kirei. Kireiiii!’
‘Is that a real word?’ asked Shelby doubtfully. ‘It sounds made-up.’
‘No, it’s definitely a word,’ Miss Einstein said with some authority. However, her certainty was underscored somewhat as she asked, with just a smidgeon of doubt in her voice, ‘Isn’t it, Akira? What does kirei mean?’
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