Playschool

by Colin Thompson

  ‘No, Matron. I have toad’s feet, remember?’ said The Toad, adding wistfully, ‘I can’t even light matches any more.’

  ‘Someone did this to you, didn’t they?’ asked Matron gently.

  The Toad didn’t answer.

  ‘It was that vile Orkward Warlock, wasn’t it?’ said Matron. ‘It’s all right, you don’t have to say. It’s obvious. You just lie there and rest while I go and get the nasty little devil.’

  As soon as Matron had left, The Toad climbed down off the bed, grabbed the tin of wax and made for the door.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going, sunshine?’ said Nurse Romeo.

  ‘I’m better now,’ said The Toad. ‘I should get back to class.’

  ‘And what do you think you’re doing with Matron’s Enchanted Wax?’ said Nurse Juliet.

  ‘Umm, oh, I must have picked it up by mistake,’ said The Toad, reaching for the door handle behind his back.

  ‘Put it down.’

  ‘I’ll just, erm, er, take it to Matron,’ said The Toad. ‘She might need it.’ And he ran out the door.

  As the two nurses flew after him, he managed to hide behind a statue and give them the slip. When he was sure there was no one about he made his way to the secret place up in the thirteenth clock tower,19 where Orkward was waiting for him.

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Orkward. ‘You’re almost useful. Now get lost.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’ said The Toad. ‘I could carry the polish.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Orkward agreed. If they got caught at least he could blame it all on The Toad.

  It took a while to slip out of the school without being seen, but finally they reached the path in the dark forest where Orkward had spoken to Narled the day before.

  ‘Right, we sit here and wait,’ said Orkward.

  ‘Do you really think he’ll come?’

  ‘Yes,’ Orkward replied with great confidence. He didn’t actually think Narled was going to come, but sure enough a few minutes later there was a rustling in the bushes and there he was.

  He was not alone.

  There was another suitcase creature with him, slightly smaller than Narled, and around their feet were six little handbags.

  Orkward and The Toad were speechless.

  Narled was not, as everyone assumed, the result of an experiment gone wrong, but a real animal. Sacculus Pluscruris Patagonius was a very rare species of creature that only survived in the safety of Quicklime’s remote valley. Once, similar species had lived on every major continent but they had been hunted to extinction everywhere except for this one place. Their skins had been made into suitcases and holdalls, and even their babies had been made into little bags and purses. Nowadays suitcases are usually made of nylon and plastic, but in the past, the more endangered the animal, the more desirable was the luggage.

  ‘I’ve … I’ve, er, got the polish,’ Orkward mumbled as the tiny handbags ran between his legs.

  The Toad sat down and reached out to stroke them. One of them climbed onto his lap and nuzzled into him. It smelled of warm leather and brought a lump into The Toad’s throat that stirred up a feeling he’d spent the last few years trying to forget. When he had blown up the toilets and been turned into a toad as a punishment, his parents had been unable to accept it. His father had rejected him instantly and his mother, although she had tried really hard to keep loving him, had found it impossible to pick him up and cuddle him ever again. Since then, he had spent every school holiday in a pond at the bottom of his parents’ garden with a lot of toads who were real toads and really, really stupid.

  Now this little handbag’s affection brought it all back and The Toad felt tears welling up in his eyes. He tried to hide them. He knew how Orkward would sneer at him and, as horrible as Orkward was, he was the closest thing The Toad had to a friend. But two more of the tiny handbags climbed into his lap and The Toad couldn’t stop himself.

  He wept uncontrollably.

  The first handbag opened itself, took out a tissue and handed it to The Toad. This kindness only made him cry more. Narled’s wife came over and patted him on the arm. She undid her zip, took out pen and paper and wrote: ‘We feel your pain. We are here for you.’

  What had made the near extinction of their species even sadder was that Sacculus Pluscruris Patagonius had finely tuned emotions, much finer than ours, that could not only pick up other creatures’ feelings, but get inside their heads and discover the reasons for those feelings and then respond in a deep and meaningful way.

  Meanwhile, Orkward was so obsessed with his plan that he noticed none of this. He was too busy polishing Narled and pretending to be his friend. Of course, being super-sensitive, Narled didn’t believe a word of what Orkward was saying, but hey, he was getting the best polishing he’d had in a hundred years.

  The delirious smell of turpentine seeped through the little gaps in his zip and into his brain, where it brought back long-buried memories of centuries past when every suitcase family had had a faithful servant who had polished them every day. Even in those days Matron’s Enchanted Wax had been legendary, the finest polish of all, which only the most noble suitcases were allowed to use. Thoughts of the past and its former glories filled his heart with sadness. How had it come to this, a life of picking up after those who had once been their servants?

  ‘Right,’ said Orkward. ‘It’s agreed. I will bring you a small package and you will take it to the Floods when they are in the middle of the stadium next week on sports day.’

  Narled wrinkled up, and Orkward took this to mean that Narled would do what he wanted, but Narled was just wrinkling his skin to make sure the polish got right down into his creases.

  ‘And to show how much I really, really like you,’ said Orkward, who had just thought of another plan, ‘I’ll come back tomorrow and polish you again.’

  Mrs Narled, or Narlene as she was known to the rest of the cloakroom,20 handed The Toad another piece of paper: ‘Don’t be a stranger.’

  And the family trundled off into the dark forest.

  ‘I expect you’re wondering why I said I’d come and polish that suitcase again,’ said Orkward, completely unaware of The Toad’s unhappiness. ‘Well, I have an absolutely brilliant plan.’

  The Toad said nothing. All he could think of was going back and being with the baby handbags.

  ‘Listen,’ Orkward raved on. ‘I’m a genius – more of a genius than that idiot Winchflat Flood! Next time I polish Narled, I’m going to fix a tracking device to his straps, then the idiot will lead us straight to his treasure.’

  ‘Oh,’ said The Toad as they walked back to the road. ‘Wait,’ said Orkward. He took a jar out of his pocket, scooped a big lump of polish out of Matron’s tin and put it in the jar.

  ‘You better take the Enchanted Wax back,’ he said. ‘I’m going to hide this here in the bushes for next time.’

  ‘I think I’ll just creep up and leave it outside Matron’s door,’ said The Toad. ‘She’s a bit formidable when she’s angry.’

  Lesson: Economics and Other Forms of Burglary

  Teacher: Aubergine Wealth

  The two strongest boys in the class stood behind Aubergine Wealth, who was stuck in the doorway, and pushed. This was always happening, not because he was too fat, but because he had so much money, his wallet wouldn’t fit through the door.

  ‘Thank you, boys, and a gold star to each of you for stealing my gold watch and signet ring without my realising it,’ he said. ‘Today, we will continue working on our plan to remove all the gold from Fort Knox, but first I’d like Morbid and Silent to give us their report on how they got on “borrowing” the Crown Jewels from the Tower of London.’

  Morbid and Silent went to the front of the class. They were each wearing a priceless crown. Morbid was carrying the royal sceptre and Silent the golden ball.

  ‘Well, as you can see,’ announced Morbid, ‘we achieved our goal.’

  The rest of the class, except Orkward Warlock, cheered. The only t
reasure Orkward had ever managed to steal was a jar of marmalade from the school kitchen. Although he was useless at theft and international money laundering, and consistently failed Aubergine Wealth’s class, this was not really Orkward’s fault. When the boy had been sent to the school at the age of three days, his parents had paid Quicklime’s headmaster, Professor Throat, NB, PDF, PS, to cast a spell that made it impossible for Orkward to leave the valley. The last thing they wanted was their beloved son turning up unexpectedly.21

  ‘We also got this,’ said Morbid, dragging a chair out from behind a cupboard. ‘King Edward’s coronation chair.’

  Silent grunted and proudly held up the chair, which had a small pink cauliflower sitting on it.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Morbid added. ‘We also got a bonus – a prince’s brain.’

  ‘Oh, well now, I’m not sure that was such a good idea,’ said Aubergine Wealth.

  ‘Well, sir, we thought that too. So we put it back, but no one could tell the difference, so we thought, what the hell, and kept it.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Aubergine. ‘That’s not what I meant. The reason I said it wasn’t such a good idea is that it’s not really worth anything, is it?’

  ‘Actually, sir,’ said Morbid, ‘we’ve had seven bids for it on eBay. It’s up to seven hundred dollars so far.’

  Silent was so excited that he nearly spoke. Not that anyone could tell, though later on when they got home Silent handed his twin a piece of paper, which said: ‘I got so excited today I nearly spoke.’

  ‘Ah! Now that, boys and girls, is what this class is all about – enterprise and the unbridled joy of making lots of money,’ said Aubergine Wealth. ‘Well done the Flood twins, ten out of ten and two gold stars.’

  Orkward was livid. It seems that whatever the lesson was, the wretched Floods always got top marks and a gold star. He could feel the veins in his head beginning to throb and that meant only one thing. As soon as he possibly could, he would have to kick someone smaller than he was.

  All The Toad could think of was going back to Narled and his family. Matron’s polish could wait. While Orkward was busy hiding his jar and marking the spot with some twigs so he could find it again, The Toad went round a bend in the path and hid behind a tree. A few minutes later Orkward went by and The Toad walked back into the forest.

  When he reached the place where he’d first met the family, it was deserted, but the branches that had parted to let Narled’s family through were still open so he followed the path into the darkness. Instead of closing him out like it had with Orkward, the forest opened its arms to him. The branches moved aside, welcomed him in, then closed gently behind him. The ground was covered with the little footprints and tiny wheel tracks of Narled’s family. Here and there other paths crossed the main one, and they too were covered with the same marks, but The Toad kept walking straight ahead.

  He had never been into the dark forest before and didn’t know anyone who had, student or teacher. Even Orkward Warlock, who spent the whole of every holiday at Quicklime’s, had never been any further than the closed branches. The entire forest was out of bounds, and even to wizards and witches it was an ominous and terrifying place, a kind of impenetrable nightmare that surrounded the entire school. There were those who thought the dark forest was not a forest at all but some huge living creature.

  The Toad was the sort of animal who always thought the best of everyone. If someone hit him over the head, he would admire the stick they had hit him with. It simply didn’t occur to him that things could be deliberately bad or unfair. When he’d been turned into a toad – which was a very, very extreme punishment for accidentally blowing up a few toilets, especially considering that the only injury caused was a nasty burn on Orkward’s bottom, which everyone agreed the boy deserved – even then he hadn’t complained.

  ‘I suppose I deserve it,’ he had said, flicking a fly off the ceiling with his tongue. ‘You know, I’d never realised just how delicious flies were,’ he added, looking on the bright side.

  Now as he walked deeper and deeper into the gloom, it simply didn’t occur to him to be scared. After all, why would anyone want to harm him? He was just a little toad.

  ‘Hello?’ he called out from time to time, but there was no answer.

  Dinner time came and went. The dark forest grew darker and The Toad began to falter. His little legs had been aching for a while but he had been so intent on his mission he hadn’t noticed. He turned a corner, tripped over a tree root and fell flat on his face.

  ‘Oh well,’ he said to himself. ‘Seeing as how I’m already lying down, I might as well have a little rest.’

  He curled up in some wet leaves. In seconds he was fast asleep.

  Lesson: Elocution22 and Howling

  Teacher: Mademoiselle Fifila Venus

  The noise was deafening. The entire class was howling, screaming and wailing at the top of their voices, not in harmony like a choir, but each student practising his or her own specialty.

  This was the only subject that Orkward Warlock was any good at. He could scream with such a piercing whine that he could make goldfish explode, and often did. He hoped today’s class would be focusing on screaming.

  Mademoiselle Fifila Venus held up her wings and waited for the class to quieten down. They didn’t, so she fluttered up to the ceiling and opened her mouth. Instantly, before she could utter a sound, everyone stopped in mid-scream. They all knew only too well what could happen when the Mademoiselle shouted. Almost every child in the class had had at least one eardrum transplant in Matron’s sick bay.

  ‘Right,’ said Mademoiselle Fifila Venus, ‘now we have loosened up our voices, we will begin today’s lesson. Orkward, get a cloth and wipe the goldfish off the back of Howard’s head.’

  Orkward didn’t so much wipe Howard’s head as push it down inside his shirt and jacket. Howard started counting to himself, which he always did when it got dark suddenly.

  ‘Today, children, we are going to practise throwing our voices,’ the Mademoiselle continued. ‘We’ve all learned how to throw our voices around the valley without losing them. Except you, Howard. How is your new voice, by the way?’

  ‘It’s a bit odd, miss, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen,’ squeaked Howard. ‘Every time I speak, I think it’s someone else talking. What? Who said that?’

  ‘Well, until you find your own voice again, you’ll just have to make do with that one.’

  ‘Yes, miss. What, twenty-seven, twenty-eight?’

  ‘Be quiet, Howard,’ said the Mademoiselle.

  ‘I didn’t say anything, miss. Did I? What, forty-three?’ Howard squeaked.

  ‘Now, class, we are going to learn to throw our voices further away.’

  ‘Are we going to practise on goldfish?’ Orkward asked.

  ‘Shush please, Orkwood. By the end of term I want every one of you to be able to throw your voice back to your own home. I want you to be able to say something to your parents from the other side of the world.’

  Orkward Warlock felt a lump coming into his throat. Not only had he been sent away from his own home at the age of three days, he didn’t even know where that home was. He had a terrible feeling that he was going to cry and had to bite his lip so hard it bled. The absolutely, totally, completely last thing he ever wanted was for any of the other children or teachers to see him cry. Pretty well everyone knew he cried quite often and they thought they should feel sorry for him, but because he was so horrible, they absolutely, totally, completely wouldn’t. Except The Toad, who thought Orkward was wonderful, even if he did keep exploding the goldfish The Toad was about to eat for lunch.

  ‘We are going to aim to all throw our voices at the same place. First, we will practise with harmonised humming. When we’ve mastered that, we’ll go on to throwing actual words. Follow me,’ she said, pointing to a map of Patagonia and beyond. ‘We will aim south and all focus on this point here in Antarctica.’

  The twenty-seven children and their teacher began to hum in perfec
t synchronisation. Softly and low at first, then gradually rising in volume and pitch until they sounded like a single high-pitched ear-splitting scream. The windows began to vibrate and then shattered, not into hundreds of pieces like a normal high note would do, but into a fine dust that blew away in the wind.

  A line of trees in the dark forest shivered, shedding leaves as the voice, now too high for normal ears to hear, climbed up the side of the valley and over the mountains towards Tierra del Fuego. The sound tore a furrow across the sea as it flew towards the South Pole and finally reached the exact point that Mademoiselle Fifila Venus was pointing at on the map.

  The ground shook and cracked as a massive shelf of ice broke free and began to float north.

  ‘Merlinmary, you threw your voice the furthest last week, so would you like to take over?’ the Mademoiselle asked.

  Merlinmary went to the front of the class and put her finger on the map, which, because of all the electricity she generated, began to smoulder around the edges. She moved her finger north and, as she did so, the greatest iceberg in history moved north too and began to rotate.

  Faster and faster it spun, creating a wider and wider circle of waves. By the time it reached the Equator, the iceberg was spinning so fast that it rose up in the air. Without the sea to hold it back, it flew with incredible speed towards Africa. The class’s humming followed it, gradually turning into screaming that shook the wallpaper off the classroom walls. When the flying iceberg reached the middle of the Sahara desert, Merlinmary held up her arms and everyone stopped screaming.

  Bolts of lightning leapt from Merlinmary’s fingertips and flew around the room. They shot up the chimney, taking the blazing log fire with them, and up into the sky. Clouds, heavy with impending rain, exploded into steam as the lightning raced across the ocean towards the iceberg. Merlinmary clicked her fingers, shorting out the circuit, and the iceberg exploded.