by Jane Renshaw
Robin was running with Suzanne to the door, where everyone was getting into two lines, one on each side – the Big Class and the Infant Class. Robin put his hands on Suzanne’s shoulders as if they were a train and choo-chooed her to the front of the Infant Class line. His head stuck up higher than everyone else’s because he was ten, but he couldn’t be in the Big Class because he couldn’t do their work.
Helen walked to the back of the line. Her arm was sore and she could see in her cardigan where his nails had been. Her face was all wet and horrible.
Then the door opened and Miss Fraser was standing there in a long dress with big flowers on it holding Lorna’s hand.
Miss Fraser had told them that today would be a Lorna day, but Helen had forgotten. Lorna had on a blue dress with a sweet little duck on the front, and matching blue shoes and white socks with lacy patterns up the sides. Her hair was light brown and shiny like a Cindy’s. All the girls always wanted to play with Lorna at playtime and lunchtime and keep her with them, and pretend she was their little girl. She was only four. She came to school sometimes so she could get used to it for next year. Then she’d be here all the time.
She was probably the nicest and most beautiful little girl in the world – but she was Robin Beattie’s little sister.
At the front, Suzanne said, ‘Hello Lorna!’
Lorna smiled. Her eyes were big and round and she held on to Miss Fraser’s hand. Helen would have liked to have been Lorna, but then she wouldn’t have Mummy and Daddy and Suzanne and Uncle Jim and Auntie Ina and Baudrins. And she wouldn’t know how to be Malfolio. And she would have Robin Beattie as her brother.
Across at the gates someone was running. Hector. His socks were down at his ankles and he was swinging his schoolbag by its strap. Sometimes it bounced on the ground. He skidded up to the end of the Big Class line and Miss Fraser said, ‘Good afternoon Hector,’ and Hector smiled and everyone laughed because Hector was always late.
2
The bell would go for lunchtime when the clock was at half-past twelve. When it was at twenty past, Miss Fraser said, ‘Little Ones and Robin, have you finished copying this down?’ and when they said, ‘Yes,’ she started wiping their work off the board. They just had easy words like bat and cat, but that was still too hard for Robin, because if dominoes were brains he’d be chapping. That was what Auntie Ina said. He couldn’t even do a ‘d’ and a ‘b’ the right way round.
When Miss Fraser was picking someone to read the Little Ones’ words off the board, Helen always thought, Please pick Robin, and quite often she did. And Suzanne wasn’t allowed to whisper the answers. Sometimes Robin started kicking the legs of his desk and wouldn’t look at the board, and Miss Fraser said, ‘Well you’ll never be able to do it if you don’t try, will you, Robin?’
He once threw his pencil at Miss Fraser. It hit her arm. She grabbed him and his face went all red and so did Miss Fraser’s, and she had to pull him out of the door.
Miss Fraser put the blackboard duster down on the shelf under the board and said, ‘I’m going next door for five minutes.’ She wiped her hands, all chalky, on her dress, and the chalk puffed up round her. ‘Get your pictures out of your desks and carry on with them until I get back. And I don’t want to hear a sound.’
Helen wanted to run after her as she walked across the long bit of sun on the floor and opened the door into the other classroom. Helen’s desk was at the front, so when the door opened she could see through to the Big Class. She could see the back of Hector’s hair and his jersey. His hair was dark brown and Helen’s was light, but he was wearing a grey jersey that matched her pinafore dress. And their names matched: Hector and Helen. At playtime she’d pulled her pinafore dress out next to him and said, ‘Look, matching,’ and he’d said, ‘Um, yes.’
She’d given him her apple. That was okay, because it hadn’t been in the box with the poisonous sandwiches, it had been on its own in her schoolbag because it was her playpiece. Hector never had a playpiece.
He’d said, ‘Are you sure you don’t want it?’ and Helen had said, ‘Yes,’ and he’d said, ‘Thanks very much, Helen.’
Miss Fraser went through into the Big Class and closed the door.
Helen didn’t look round behind. She carried on doing the sky with the lovely dark blue felt-tip. She was doing a purple dinosaur with green spikes and a sky that came right down. She’d started just doing a blue strip at the top of the paper like she always did, but Miss Fraser had said, ‘Look outside, the blue of the sky comes right down to the trees, doesn’t it – maybe you’d like to try doing the sky right the way down.’ So she had, and that was why it was taking so long, carefully filling in round his spikes and his face. If she squinted her eyes she could sort of see him moving as if he was real.
Someone was standing in front of her desk.
She quickly looked up, but it was just Lorna.
Lorna took her finger out of her mouth and whispered, ‘Are you doing a dinosaur?’
‘Yes. Do you like dinosaurs?’
Lorna put her finger back in her mouth and nodded.
‘You can have him when he’s finished, if you want.’
Lorna smiled round the finger.
‘I’ll help you finish it.’ Robin Beattie grabbed her felt-tip case. ‘If that’s a dinosaur, where’s its ears? I’m good at ears.’
He shoved his big face right into hers and went cough-cough cough. His hand opened the flap of Helen’s felt-tip case and his fingers took out the black one and popped its top onto the floor. He drew huge big ears on the dinosaur. Helen grabbed at the pen but he jabbed at her hand with it. Lorna had gone back to Miss Fraser’s desk.
Helen looked at Robin’s face. She said in her mind, You’re going to be in a dirty cold coffin under the ground where there’s no air to breathe, and things crawling all over you.
She watched him scribble on the sky, and the trees, and the dinosaur’s smile. She couldn’t do anything to save the dinosaur so she picked up the blue felt-tip and started scribbling too, harder and harder over the dinosaur’s head until the paper ripped.
Suzanne skipped past to where Lorna was standing at Miss Fraser’s desk. Lorna was drawing with a brown crayon.
Suzanne said, ‘Is that Scamp?’
Lorna nodded.
‘You’re a really good drawer.’
Robin snatched up Helen’s picture. ‘Do you still want this, Lorna?’ He went to Miss Fraser’s desk and slapped down the picture. ‘Because if you do, you’ll be Smellie Nellie’s friend and not ours.’
Lorna looked down at the dinosaur. She took her finger out of her mouth and touched the paper.
Robin said in a squeaky voice, ‘Eeeeuch, don’t touch where she touched – it stinks. Do you know how come she stinks? Her mumindad are such spastics they don’t know how to make babies, so her mum knitted her from slurry.’
Jennifer and some other people laughed.
‘So do you want to be Smellie Nellie’s friend, or ours?’
Lorna whispered, ‘Yours.’
‘Good choice,’ said Suzanne. She picked up the dinosaur picture and came and put it back on Helen’s desk. She didn’t look at Helen.
Robin came too and jabbed at Helen’s head with the black felt-tip.
‘Leave her alone, Zombie,’ said Norrie.
Robin grabbed Helen’s ruler. Norrie ran behind the nature table and Robin ran after him. Helen felt all hot and horrible for being glad he was going to hurt Norrie and not her.
‘Robin Beattie and Suzanne Clack! Get back to your desks! And you, Norrie Hewitt! I can’t leave you for five minutes, can I?’ Miss Fraser stood at the door with her angry face.
As soon as the bell went and Miss Fraser said they could go, Helen took her lunch box out of her schoolbag and fast-walked to the door and through into the Big Class in front of everyone. Fiona Kerr was at the blackboard, writing under one of the sums. Hector and everyone else were still at their desks.
Mrs Mackay said, ‘Quietly please
, Infant Class.’
Helen walked down the side of the classroom. She could hear feet fast-walking behind and Suzanne giggling. As soon as she got to the corridor she ran, outside to the sun and across the playground and into the sort of passage without a roof that led to the toilets. But Robin was a fast runner and he was right behind her, she could hear him breathing and he grabbed her cardigan but she pulled away and in through the doorway to the girls’ toilets.
Safe.
She ran into one of the cubicles. She slammed the door and locked it.
The toilet was dirty and the floor was cold stone and smelt of wee-wee and cleaning stuff. She didn’t sit down on the toilet, she stood holding her box against her.
Bang bang!
The door of the cubicle shook.
‘I’m hungry. Can I have some food pleeeease Smellie?’
Robin Beattie had come inside the girls’ toilets!
But boys weren’t allowed!
She moved back until her legs were touching the dirty toilet. She didn’t want to be a murderer. She just wanted Robin Beattie to be dead.
A hand with white fingers came under the door.
She wished some of the other girls would come. She could hear a skipping rope on the ground outside and the skipper’s feet jumping between. ‘Where’s Lorna?’ someone shouted.
The hand waved. ‘Do you want me to die of hunger?’ Cough-cough cough.
She opened the box and looked at the orange, the Club biscuit and the sandwiches. She knelt down and put the Club biscuit into the hand. It disappeared and then came back. She put the orange in it.
‘Not fruit.’ The hand threw the orange away and it rolled into the next cubicle.
Poor little orange, getting all dirty. She knelt down and tried to reach it, but the hand grabbed her arm. She dropped the box, and the sandwich on top fell out next to the toilet. The two bits of bread flopped apart. Some of the tomato came out.
The hand was damp and sore on her skin, pulling her arm under the door so she had to stay kneeling on the horrible wee-wee floor.
She needed to go to the toilet.
‘I want proper food,’ said Robin’s voice.
She reached out with her other hand to put the tomato back on the bread. The cheese hadn’t fallen off because it was stuck to the butter, and so were the seeds. She covered them with the tomato and pressed the other slice of bread on top.
The hand was digging in to her arm.
She needed to go to the toilet. ‘Let me go!’
The hand loosened on her skin and she tried to pull away but then it suddenly dug in even more. She pulled and pulled, and hot wetness spurted on the inside of her legs. It ran down to her knees and onto the floor. She bunched up all her muscles and whacked the hand on the bottom of the door.
It let go.
There was a grunt like an animal, and it disappeared.
‘Right Smellie, you’re dead for that.’
She carefully lifted up the sandwich and held it out under the door.
The hand snatched it. ‘What kind is it? Better not be tuna.’
‘Cheese and tomato.’
Helen stood and hugged her hands under her arms and listened. She heard his feet scuffing on the stone floor, away from the cubicle. Going outside.
Hector’s voice said, ‘What were you doing in the girls’ toilets?’
Cough-cough cough. ‘Lorna needed me to help her.’
‘One of the girls could’ve done that. Is she still in there?’
‘No.’
Hector shouted, ‘Is anyone in there?’
Helen stood still. Hector couldn’t know she was here because then he might think, Robin probably took that sandwich from Helen, and even if Helen said she wanted Robin to have it, Hector would make him give it back.
Fish’s voice said, ‘British Bulldogs or British-and-Jerries?’ and Hector’s said, ‘Football. Where’s the ball?’
‘James burst it.’
‘Okay, British Bulldogs then.’ And he shouted: ‘Who wants to play?’
When their voices had gone away, Helen took the other sandwich out of the box. It didn’t have any seeds, but she couldn’t eat it in case some of the seeds’ poison had got on it.
She dropped it into the toilet and pulled the plug. Water whooshed down. Then she opened the door of the cubicle and went to one of the sinks. She took her knickers off, and her shoes, and her socks, and put in the plug. Robin was probably eating the sandwich now. The seeds would be going inside him. She hoped there would be enough.
‘Have you had an acc’ent?’ someone whispered.
Helen jumped round.
Lorna was standing inside one of the other cubicles. How had she got there? Maybe she had come in while the toilet was flushing, and that was why Helen hadn’t heard her.
Helen scrunched up her knickers and socks in her hand. ‘No.’
Lorna carried on looking at her.
The orange was squashed on the floor.
Helen said, ‘Do you need a wee-wee?’
‘No.’
She pulled her stinking knickers back on, all cold, and her socks and shoes. Then she went back into the cubicle and stepped over the pee. She picked up the empty lunch box and its lid.
Lorna squatted beside her. She was holding something between her thumb and her finger.
It was one of the seeds.
‘Don’t!’ Helen grabbed Lorna’s hand. ‘Give me it. It’s poisonous.’ She took the seed away from her and dropped it into the toilet and pulled the plug. ‘It’s dirty.’
Lorna started to put her finger in her mouth, but Helen grabbed her hand and spat on it and rubbed it on her pinafore dress. Just in case.
The seed must have fallen out of the sandwich. Helen looked at the floor in case there were more. She couldn’t see any, but she held onto Lorna’s hand and said, ‘You mustn’t ever pick things up off the floor of the toilet. It’s dirty. Okay?’
Lorna nodded.
There were footsteps coming. Helen stood up, and so did Lorna. Helen kept hold of her hand.
It was Katie and Shona and Jennifer.
Shona said, ‘What are you doing with her, Helen?’
‘Nothing.’ She let go of Lorna.
‘Have you peed your pants again? Eeeugh, is that wee on the floor?’
‘The toilet’s right there,’ said Jennifer. ‘Why couldn’t you do it in the toilet?’
Helen held her lunch box tight. Because of Robin, she wanted to shout. She pushed past Shona and Katie and Jennifer and ran out into the playground. Her feet squelched. They left wee-wee footprints on the ground.
She looked but she couldn’t see Robin.
On TV, when the lady in Victorian times had drunk the poisoned drink, her eyes had gone funny and then she’d lain down on her bed and held her stomach and gone, ‘Oh... Oh...’. And then she was dead. Robin was probably needing to lie down. Maybe he’d gone inside and said to Miss Fraser, ‘My stomach hurts,’ and she’d let him lie on the green sofa in the teachers’ room.
‘Helen Clack’s peed her pants!’ shouted Jennifer.
Helen ran away round the corner. The Big Boys were playing British Bulldogs on the football pitch marked out with white lines on the playground. Hector wasn’t wearing his grey jersey, he just had a shirt, and he was running towards the big wall between the playground and the river. Fiona Kerr and the other boys were running after him.
Hector crashed into the wall. Fiona Kerr did too, and sort of slid down it. They were both laughing. Fiona put her hand out and Hector took it and pulled her up, and Fiona’s ponytail bounced and she shouted, ‘We are the champions, we are the champions!’
Now Helen could see Robin. He wasn’t lying down. He was standing at the side of the shed with Suzanne.
3
She walked across.
Robin said, ‘I’m still hungry, Smellie.’ He threw a stone at the wall of the shed, and it bounced off and nearly hit Suzanne. ‘Give me your other sandwich.’
&n
bsp; ‘I haven’t got another one.’
He grabbed at her lunch box but Helen kept hold of it and looked at his face. Soon his eyes would go funny and his stomach would hurt and he’d have to lie down.
Robin said, ‘Give me it.’
But then Hector was there. He shoved Robin away.
‘What’s going on?’ His shirt was pulled outside his shorts on one side and his shoes were all scuffed. He had a scrape down his arm with dust on it.
Fiona came running up. ‘Is Robin bullying her?’
‘She’s peed her pants,’ said Suzanne. ‘She needs to take them off.’
Everyone was crowding round. Helen could feel her face going red.
‘She has wet herself,’ said Fiona. ‘Look.’
Helen put her head down so she couldn’t see Hector looking.
Norrie said, ‘Aye, because of Robin, probably. He’s been calling her Smellie Nellie. And scribbling on her picture. And jagging her with a pen.’
There was a scuffling noise and Robin shouted out. Helen looked up. Robin was trying to get away from Hector, and Hector was holding on to his jersey and his arm. Fish was staring with his mouth hanging open.
Hector kicked Robin in the bottom so he fell down on the hard playground. ‘Just because you’re a zombie doesn’t mean you have to go round proving it, bullying girls. Everyone already knows you’re brain-dead.’
‘Ha ha Robin Beattie!’ screamed Shona. ‘Zombie!’
Robin didn’t move or say anything, he just lay there looking at Hector with his teeth shut together. James Christie kicked him on the leg.
‘He can’t even write his name,’ said Fiona.
Suzanne scowled. ‘He can so.’
‘If this was a big school, he’d be in a special class. That’s what our mum says.’
Fish nodded. ‘She says he’s retarded.’
‘Your mum’s as glaikit as you,’ said Suzanne, ‘with your big glaikit mouth. She doesn’t know anything. He isn’t retarded. He’s a slow reader.’
‘He’s a zommmmmbieeeee.’ James Christie kicked him again. ‘Listen to him making that noise.’ Robin was doing his cough.