by Matt Drabble
“Alex Thompson!” she boomed loudly across the room at the boy sitting snuggled up to his latest attempted conquest, Anna Thomas. “Is there something wrong with your own desk?”
The youth rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and she swallowed a little rising tide of anger. It was pupils like Alex Thompson who drove her closest to despair.
He was intelligent and capable, but he had little drive to push himself further than doing the absolute minimum.
He was one of life’s winners and would always land on his feet; his attitude derived from the fact that he was fully aware of this.
He stood and started to drag his chair across the floor back to his own desk.
The metal legs scrapped and squealed horrendously, as was his intent. She waited for his slow noisy walk to take him back to his desk before she spoke.
“You forgot your pen,” she smiled.
His smug face faltered and his grin froze. She watched as he internally debated whether or not to drag his chair screeching across the floor back to Anna’s desk again.
Their eyes locked as she looked to shoot down his rebellious streak and the rest of the class suddenly became embroiled in the tug of wills.
Sarah wasn’t overly fond of the confrontation that seemed to come with every new class. But she had once overcome Tolan Christian’s will as the world burned around her and some snot nose 13 year old just wasn’t in her league.
“Sit down, Alex,” a small voice piped up from the back of the room.
She didn’t need to break the contact with Alex to look and see just who had spoken.
The American accent could only belong to one student: Joshua Bradley. To her amazement, Alex suddenly looked down at the floor and she thought he might have even mumbled some sort of apology under his breath. He put his chair down, retrieved his pencil from the girl’s desk and sat back at his own.
“I know that I’m new in your class Ms Mears, but I would like to know a little more about Giorgio de Chirico; you do seem to have a passion for his work and I’m sure that we would all like to hear more,” Joshua said pleasantly.
The rest of the afternoon lesson passed as pleasurably as any that she could ever remember.
Her students hung on her every word and there was a bond that passed between them.
Their faces were rapt as she shared her passion for the artist and his work and their questions were for once forthcoming which showed their seemingly genuine interest.
She couldn’t remember the last time that she’d had such an attentive audience and she felt like she had Joshua to thank somehow.
----------
Mavis Merryweather packed up her desk for the holidays. She was one of the few commuting staff and Mr. Barnaby had told her that her services would not be required for the last day of term. She was not best pleased at being dismissed for the year and didn’t see his offer as generous. As far as she was concerned, the place couldn’t possibly run better without her.
She tidied her things away and made sure that nothing was left out of place in the office.
The room was compact and well organised as she wouldn’t have it any other way.
She considered herself to be Mr. Barnaby’s right hand, no matter what Ms Tibbs, the annoying PE teacher, thought. She was the one who organised not just Mr. Barnaby’s day, but also his life.
She stacked the files away in the cabinets. She was old school and had no use for computer boxes that hid their information behind shining screens. If she wanted to lay her hands on a piece of information, then she wanted to physically lay her hands on it.
She sorted the last few files and suddenly paused as her hand hovered over one in particular.
She frowned heavily at her oversight. There was an empty folder that contained no information with only a name on the cover which read “Joshua Bradley”.
The files on his transfer should have been brought immediately to her upon his arrival. She was angry with herself that she had overlooked a duty, no matter how minor.
His parents or guardian should have been in Mr. Barnaby’s office when they dropped the boy off. She tried to remember their faces, but came up blank. Surely they would have been here and she had been on duty as always, but she just couldn’t recollect them.
She stood and walked to Mr. Barnaby’s office door and tapped lightly on the glass.
“Come in,” he answered.
She entered quietly and respectfully. “Mr. Barnaby, I’m sorry to trouble you but I’m afraid that I can’t find the new boy’s files anywhere. This is a little embarrassing but were his parents here when he arrived? It’s as if I just can’t seem to remember.”
“Of course they were,” he answered without looking up from his desk.
“What day would that have been?”
“It was…” He paused and looked up with the first touch of anything less than total control that she had ever witnessed. “I mean it must have been…”
“I couldn’t remember either,” she added softly.
“Well there is a lot going on this week Mrs. Merryweather, and the last time I checked young boys didn’t just start appearing out of thin air,” he blustered. “If you have lost his files then you will just have to sort it out after the Christmas break. Perhaps if you didn’t insist on running a prehistoric filing system then you wouldn’t make such mistakes.”
She stood there ashamed and perilously close to tears. She had never received a rebuke, nor given cause to be rebuked by Mr. Barnaby before and she found that his words cut deeply.
“I’m sorry, I’ll sort it out,” she said, retreating quickly before her emotions crumbled.
She sat back at her desk determined to fill the gap in her files and show her boss that she was still capable of fulfilling her position, hopefully before he started to wonder.
----------
The end of term party was a tradition borne out of the fact that the pupils would always have organised their own if one wasn’t provided for them. Alastair Barnaby had learnt this lesson from bitter experience.
Several years ago, some of the older children had arranged their own party and things had rapidly spiralled out of control.
Alcohol had somehow been smuggled onto the grounds. This had resulted in several children, including the young son of one of the Prime Minister’s closest family friends, becoming seriously ill and only just avoiding hospitalization.
It had been a close thing and one that would have ruined the school’s exclusive reputation.
Since that night, he had taken the pragmatic decision to provide a party for the pupils every year at Christmas. The occasion was heavily supervised and kept closely under control.
He tried to push the conversation with his secretary away from the front of his mind.
He was positive that he had sat in his office with the boy’s parents discussing the young man’s future at length. But whenever he tried to picture their faces, it was all just a swimming blur.
Mrs. Merryweather had never failed in her duties since she had been with the school and he found it difficult to believe that she had slipped now. And yet, what was the alternative?
He knew that she wasn’t a young woman anymore and perhaps the time had come to look for a replacement.
He found it easier to convince himself that his assistant was growing slack than believe that his own mind was slipping.
He made a mental note to discuss her retirement with her after the holidays. It was high time that the school’s systems and records were updated anyway. He would search for someone younger with a more modern approach.
Pleased with his assessment and decision, he took a stroll towards the main hall.
The corridors were decorated with tasteful Christmas apparel. Green holly and ivy were intertwined with soft white lights in a festive swirl. The music was loud enough to rattle the walls but he held his tongue; it was the season after all.
He followed the noise that seemed to consist of little more than repetitive beats and n
othing like the sounds of his own youth.
He poked his head around the door to make sure that everything was in order.
He’d barely had a chance to check over the proceedings when he saw Ms Tibbs making a hasty beeline for him.
The PE teacher seemed to be constantly in his ear these days and he was growing tired of her tattle tales. She seemed to be living under the misconception that he needed her input as to what was going on under his own roof.
He wondered if Ms Tibbs might not be going the way of Mrs. Merryweather come January, a clean sweep - out with the old and in with the new.
----------
Sarah nursed her one glass of wine making it last. She knew her own weakness and didn’t want to start garnering a heavy thirst under such circumstances as a school dance.
Her hip flask had stayed in the back of her wardrobe where she had placed it on Monday night when it fell from her pocket in plain sight of several members of staff.
She had made a subconscious decision of sorts to refrain from using alcohol as a sleeping aid. She had been concerned about how the removal of her crutch would affect her physically, but she had been pleased to find that perhaps the bottle hadn’t grabbed her as hard as she had feared.
The kids were all enjoying the DJ even though he was constantly checking the weather outside. She didn’t blame him; for an outsider Ravenhill could be a pretty intimidating place and not one where you would wish to find yourself stranded.
The main hall had been stripped of furniture and now the huge parquet floor was filled with a throng of dancing students. Some of the older kids were gyrating a little too much than was appropriate for their age, but she had always been a little bit of a prude.
She was high on the buzz from the party and of the class that afternoon. Stuart was parading around the dance floor joining in with his rugby team’s dancing and making a fool of himself. His beaming smile, however, was infectious and the ribbing from his boys seemed good-natured.
“What’s got you grinning like the cat that’s got the cream?” Jemima startled her from behind as she watched the maths teacher.
“Nothing,” she answered, rather too quickly.
“Oh I can see that,” Jemima smiled as she followed her gaze to the dance floor. “Just as the weather starts to freeze, you start to thaw.”
Sarah wondered if there was a little bitterness in her friend’s voice, but Jemima linked her arm through hers and gave it a soft squeeze. It had been so long since she had interacted with people that she figured she was bound to misread signals.
----------
Alex Thompson found himself ensconced in the position of number two. It was a strange sensation for an alpha male to be in, but somehow he didn’t mind. He had thought himself above all others, until he had met Joshua.
The American held court effortlessly and without the threat that Alex had always found necessary. The other kids lived in fear of him but they just gravitated towards Joshua. The boy had some kind of natural magnetism that drew everyone to him and they all wanted to gain his favour.
They had only known each other a couple of days and yet it felt like a lifetime. Alex felt strangely protective of the smaller boy and he found himself willing to listen and obey whatever he was asked to do.
They were surrounded by a group of around 10 other kids crowded in close to hear Joshua speak.
They were away from the bulk of the party and Alex couldn’t have cared less about the festivities. He had been intending to take another swing at Anna Thomas, but now he just wasn’t interested.
“So tell us more about where you come from Joshua,” an 11 year old called Billy Moffet asked shyly.
“Where I come from was something of a paradise,” Joshua answered to the rapt faces crowded around them in the corner of the main hall. “We had a spirit of community and friendship that sought to care for all of us. A society is judged only by its weakest link; that is where our faith is tested.”
“Faith? You mean like a church school?” Billy asked.
“God is everywhere, young William; he has no need for buildings devoted to his name,” Joshua smiled. “He is the air around us and in the whisper of the trees. He is our voice and our judgment. He is what we should aspire to live up to and worship and his rewards are bountiful to those chosen few who are prepared to follow his word.”
Alex had always considered religion to be a crock of shit and merely an excuse for dirty old men to shove their hands up the legs of kids, but Joshua’s ideas had intrigued him. The thought that there was someone who watched over them all was oddly comforting.
“What a load of bollocks!” A voice spat from behind their small gathering.
Alex turned in anger to see James Corner standing with a lopsided grin on his face.
James had always been his rival for the position of top dog at Ravenhill.
He was a broad-shouldered kid with quick fists and a hard head. They had tangled several times, especially when contesting the captaincy of the rugby team.
“Watch your fucking mouth, Corner,” he growled, but Joshua reached out and took his arm firmly.
“Am I to take it that you are not a believer, James?” Joshua asked, with seemingly genuine interest.
“Are you shitting me?” James laughed. “All of that Holy Roller crap is for those who don’t know any better. There’s nobody in this life that looks out for you except yourself; if you believe anything different then you’re a bunch of mugs.”
Alex stepped back as Joshua strode towards James. He wanted to warn him that the Corner kid wasn’t to be trusted and he was a dirty fighter given half the chance, but Joshua flashed him a reassuring look.
“Yeah, keep on coming pal and I’ll belt you into next week,” James said menacingly. “Just because you’ve got some accent, you helped us win a game, and all the girls want to drop their knickers for you, don’t think that you impress me any.”
Joshua reached out and touched James lightly on the shoulder. Alex expected the kid to swing a punch at Joshua and he tensed himself to defend his friend, but the anger that was raw on James’s face didn’t seem to reach his fists.
“Who was it James?” Joshua whispered. “Who hurt you? Whose face do you see in the dark when you close your eyes at night? Who comes for you with trembling hands and hunger in his eyes?”
It was only because Alex was standing in close attendance, as he knew just what a bastard James Corner could be, that he heard Joshua’s voice at all. He watched as the anger drained from James’s face and his skin paled.
“I don’t know what you mean,” James stammered.
He was much bigger than Joshua and normally not shy of showing his physical dominance but now he seemed much smaller and weaker.
Joshua stepped in close and placed his head on James’s shoulder and whispered into the bigger boy’s ear.
Alex couldn’t hear what Joshua said but James seemed to crumple.
His face became pained and stricken with leaking tears. The others in their group could only see what appeared to be Joshua comforting James.
Some of the girls whimpered at Joshua’s perceived kindness as James’s shoulders began to shake and quiver and he was soon sobbing uncontrollably.
Alex suddenly felt a strange inclination that Joshua wasn’t so much comforting the tears as causing them. He watched on as James suddenly broke away and ran for the exit.
“God loves all of his sheep and eventually we all find our way home,” Joshua said sadly. “It just takes some of us longer than others.”
Alex looked at the boy with his wavy blonde hair and easy manner.
He was slender and trim, with a handsome face and winning smile that seemed to enthral both sexes with equal ease.
For just the briefest of seconds, as the spinning disco lights flashed across the room, he thought that he saw something beneath Joshua’s calm exterior.
It looked like something old and cruel, something with naked hunger in its eyes. In the same flash
it was gone and Joshua was staring back at him now with a sparkle in his eyes.
“So which of you lovely ladies are going to show me how to dance?” Joshua asked and Alex found himself almost crushed under the race to be first.
----------
Sarah couldn’t shake the smile from her face. It was a strange euphoria that seemed to have affected everyone at the party. Even the usually stern faced Headmaster was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Dora Tibbs had shed a few inhibitions and was actually dancing in the middle of the room to much acclaim from the kids.
Hannah Marks, the school nurse, was buzzing around looking three sheets to the wind despite having not touched a drop of alcohol.
Sarah’s head was full of happy thoughts and festive cheer. She finally felt completely at home here and safe amongst her family for the first time since before her eyes had been finally opened in Eden.
She remembered the time before the fire and the terrible events that culminated in her own guilty actions.
Her childhood had been a blissful experience full of joy and a sense of safety. One of her most complicated emotions to work through was the fact that despite everything that Tolan had been responsible for, she still missed the home of her youth.
There was still a dull, aching longing to return to a time of absolute clarity where everything had been perfect before they had tasted the apple.
The kids were dancing and enjoying themselves immensely as the music pounded to an infectious beat. Mr. Barnaby had even appeared and had toasted the occasion, cracking his usually unyielding exterior.
She looked out across the dimly lit dance floor and her eyes caught the new boy’s.
Joshua Bradley was surrounded by an adoring audience and she noted that even Alex Thompson appeared to be deferring to the American.
Joshua suddenly looked up and stared directly at her. She felt an odd wave of rapture flow directly into her very core. It was an overpowering and intoxicating aroma that was really rather pleasant. She felt drunk and high and like everything was perfect; she hoped that the feeling would never end.