Much later, after the lights had been switched off, he found himself wide awake. For a few minutes, Kip couldn’t recall where he was. He lay in the darkness, trying to remember. It felt as if everything he’d ever known had been erased. Then gradually, recent memories came back to him: the winding drive up the hill with Aunties B and C, the principal’s boots, the game of War and his new friend, Scruggs, asleep on the upper bunk.
At the same time, he was overcome with an empty sense of abandonment, remembering what had happened several months ago, when his parents were taken away from their apartment. Two police constables stood in the drawing room as one of the officers showed Kip’s father an arrest warrant. Sick with fear and feeling as if the world was coming to an end, Kip had watched from the bedroom door, before his aunts shooed him inside. He could hear his mother and father’s voices arguing with the police. His aunts were weeping, dabbing at their eyes with tissues and snuffling. Kip had felt angry and powerless at the same time, wishing he could do something to save his parents but knowing that there was no way to stop the police from taking them to prison, even though they were innocent. It was so wrong and unfair! In the end, he remembered the slamming of the apartment door, and then, a few minutes later, the sound of a car starting up and driving off, followed by a silence as hollow as a drum.
Now, in the darkness, Kip heard a strange sound, a gentle snicker of amusement. It was so soft at first that he thought it might just be the breeze against the windowpanes, but then he heard a distinct chuckle, as if someone had whispered a joke. After a moment, he realized that Scruggs was laughing in his sleep.
Five
‘You’ll have to go and get your class schedule from the placement office,’ Scruggs explained the next morning, ‘right after parade and assembly.’
They were marching up the ramp from their dorm to the courtyard, where the whole school gathered. Kip kept putting his right foot forward when everyone else stepped out with their left. He swung his arms at his sides, the way Scruggs had showed him, elbows straight. A bass drum was beating, and there were whistles and commands that he didn’t understand, but he did his best to follow along. Eventually, they paraded into the auditorium, which was a cold, dark hall with a stage at the front. The steady pounding of feet echoed in the cavernous space.
As soon as they were seated, the principal appeared on stage and limped across to the podium. He was wearing a dark-blue nautical hat with a gold anchor embroidered on the brim. The spotlight came on and followed him as he slowly made his way forward. Captain Lovelock coughed into his fist and blinked at the crowd of students. There was complete silence.
‘Good morning,’ he barked.
‘Good morning, sir!’ the students responded in unison.
‘All rise!’ He gestured with his hands and everyone got to their feet.
‘Now, we’ll take the school pledge. House marshals, step forward.’
Six students left their seats and walked up on to the stage. Standing at attention, they put their hands over their hearts and recited the pledge. Kip looked around and noticed that everyone else had their shoulders straight and feet together, as well as their hands held to their hearts, so he quickly did the same.
‘We solemnly swear to uphold the ideals and virtues of our beloved school, Paramount Academy, and preserve its reputation through the purity of our thoughts and the righteousness of our actions . . .’
Kip could see that Scruggs was mumbling along with the rest, his eyes staring straight ahead, but, at the same time, he sensed that his friend wasn’t reciting the pledge with any conviction.
‘. . . We dedicate ourselves to preserving the honour and dignity of the human race, believing in the superiority of our species. Humanity is our guiding principle. Humanity is the only truth. Humanity is the key to knowledge and excellence. In everything we do, excellence must be our goal. Excellence in body and spirit. Excellence in reason and rhetoric. Excellence in science . . .’
Kip hardly registered what the words meant.
When they all sat down, the principal cleared his throat and spoke to them about the importance of honesty.
‘Excellence and truth! Integrity and achievement! These are our goals,’ Captain Lovelock exclaimed, waving his hands about as if he were directing a battleship to set sail upon a stormy sea. Though he had retired from the navy years ago, Lovelock still looked as if he were in command. His voice grew louder and more passionate. ‘Paramount Academy has always set a course for the furthest horizons, with noble ideals of duty, discipline and loyalty. Mark my words! Each of you must swear allegiance to the truth . . .’
As Kip listened, he realized what Lovelock was really saying: Students should keep no secrets from the staff.
‘If you hear a rumour, be sure to tell us. If someone whispers a secret in your ear, it is your responsibility to share it with your masters. In our quest for knowledge, nothing should be hidden, for it is through the transparency of knowledge that we triumph over ignorance and deceit. Withhold nothing, not even the smallest fact or opinion. If we are to maintain the high standards of excellence that our school’s reputation is built upon, nothing must remain secret. And if you have something to confess, my door is always open,’ the principal said with a generous wave of his hand. ‘I am always ready to listen. And remember the words of our founder: Truth is Liberty. Verum Libertas!’
All of the students repeated the Latin motto: ‘Verum Libertas!’
Scruggs glanced across at Kip and thought he noticed a cynical look in his new friend’s eyes. Kip wondered whether Scruggs would ever betray him for the greater good of the school.
After assembly, Kip ran down the ramp to the placement office. He was worried that his answers on the test would put him in a remedial section. The woman, still chewing her lip, handed him his schedule:
Period A: Taxonomy Menagerium
Period B: Poetics Scriptorium
Period C: Provenance Room 23
Period D: Lunch
Period E: Humanities Room 84
Period F: Numerology Room 1
Period G: Toxicology Laboratory 3
Staring at the list of courses, he wasn’t sure what any of these meant. Kip was used to maths, history, English, science and a few other subjects, but the courses here were as puzzling as the placement test itself.
‘Excuse me,’ Kip asked the woman, ‘where is the Menagerium?’
‘At the top of the ramp, take a left, then another left, then right,’ she said without raising her eyes from the magazine she was reading.
Kip set off with these directions in his head, but by the time he got to the top of the ramp, he couldn’t remember if it was two rights and a left or two lefts and a right. The bell had rung ten minutes earlier and he knew he’d be late. After searching down a hallway without any numbers or names on the doors, he finally came to a brass plaque that read ‘Menagerium’. Pushing the double doors open, Kip entered an enormous room that smelled of chemicals and mildew. Thirty students were seated at desks near the front of the room, facing the teacher, who was writing something on the blackboard. Most of the Menagerium looked like a museum full of stuffed creatures. When the teacher turned around, he spotted Kip and stopped.
‘You’re late!’ he cried in a voice that sounded like a hammer pounding a nail.
The teacher had almost no hair. What little there was stood straight up from his scalp like the bristles on a toothbrush. He wore a pair of old-fashioned glasses, the lenses as thick as marbles. His clothes were wrinkled and his fingers were white with chalk.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Kip. ‘I’m new. I just got my class schedule.’
The students were staring at him. They seemed glad to have the lesson interrupted and relieved to see the teacher getting angry with someone other than themselves. The only one who wasn’t smirking was Juniper, who was sitting in the back row. She watched him with sad, sympathetic eyes. Kip noticed the desk beside her was empty and he quickly slid into the seat.
The teacher sniffed and looked back at the blackboard.
‘As I was saying,’ he continued where he’d left off, ‘the anatomy of a snub-nosed salamander is unique, for it has a sixth toe on each foot . . .’
Juniper caught Kip’s eye, then silently mouthed, ‘Boring!’
After another ten minutes, the teacher ended his lecture and told the class they had half an hour to explore the Menagerium and choose an animal that interested them. They would then have to research and write a report on it for the following week.
Juniper beckoned to Kip and the two of them set off down one of the aisles, which were lined with glass cases full of dead birds and mammals. A dozen different kinds of owls stared out at them from the shadows, and there was a vulture with outstretched wings more than 8 feet across. On a lower shelf was a line of rats and mice, as well as a number of larger rodents, such as marmots, flying squirrels and a porcupine, which had been mounted with all of its quills flaring out like a basketful of knitting needles. Each specimen was carefully labelled and organized by genus and species.
Kip would have liked to take his time and have a closer look at some of the stuffed animals, but Juniper hurried him along. When they turned a corner at the end of the aisle, she stopped beside a cabinet with rows of narrow drawers rising all the way from the floor to Kip’s chin. Pulling one out, Juniper showed him a display of butterflies, carefully pinned and labelled. Their colourful wings were like jewels.
Juniper opened another drawer and Kip saw that it was full of cockroaches. They looked as if they were ready to crawl out of the box and scuttle away into the corners of the room.
‘Are there any tigers?’ Kip asked, wondering in disbelief at this strange collection of dead creatures.
Juniper nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘over there.’
She led him across to another gallery in the Menagerium, with wider aisles and windows that let in more light. Most of the other students were gathered here, and Kip could see lions and tigers mounted in ferocious poses. There was even an elephant with ivory tusks. He wondered how all of these huge animals had been collected and brought up here to the school.
‘Everyone’s going to want to do a report on these,’ said Juniper. ‘We should find something more interesting.’
They passed a large glass case full of hyenas, jackals and wolves. Beyond this was a sign: EXTINCT/UNKNOWN. None of the other students had entered this part of the Menagerium and the lights were off. Juniper pressed a switch and a couple of bulbs flickered on.
In the first case was a display of birds, including a pink-headed duck, one of the last specimens, killed in 1929. Farther ahead was an Asiatic cheetah with the date of its extinction—1947. Kip shuddered at the thought that these moth-eaten exhibits were the only remains of creatures that once flourished in the jungles and plains. At the far end of the gallery, he saw a strange-looking beast, taller than a man but with an ape-like appearance, standing on its hind legs, both arms reaching forward.
‘What’s that?’ Kip asked.
Juniper shook her head and frowned. ‘It’s a mistake,’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘Somebody made it up,’ replied Juniper. ‘It’s not a real animal.’
By now they were almost in front of the display, and Kip leaned over to see what was written on the pedestal.
Abominable Snowman
Also known as the Yeti
Glancing up, Kip saw a shaggy mass of hair covering the creature’s body. Its feet were almost human, with five calloused toes. From this angle, the snowman looked enormous, and Kip felt as if its hairy arms were going to reach down and grab him. The beast had a menacing, monstrous appearance. Though he couldn’t see much of its face, Kip was able to make out the teeth, which were bared in a threatening snarl. Next to the specimen was a white plaster cast with a large footprint, at least fifteen inches long. Under it was a small sign that said:
True impression of an Abominable Snowman’s footprint, discovered at 16,325 feet above sea level on the Zemu Glacier by G.H. Marshfield, 1922.
‘Come on,’ said Juniper, ‘we’re wasting our time.’
Kip could see a troubled expression in her eyes.
‘Why don’t you think it’s real?’ he asked.
‘Somebody just sewed a couple of bearskins together and made it look like a gorilla, but there’s never been any creature like this. It’s a hoax,’ she said.
‘But it looks real enough, as real as any of the other specimens in the Menagerium,’ said Kip.
‘Taxidermists can do all kinds of things,’ said Juniper.
She sounded so sure of herself, Kip didn’t want to argue. As they walked away, he took another look over his shoulder and saw the yeti’s dark silhouette reaching out in the gloomy light. It was as if the hairy beast was trying to catch its last victim, or maybe it was running away from something more dangerous than itself.
Six
The rest of Kip’s classes went by in a confusing blur. Everything they were taught at Paramount seemed out of date or irrelevant. After taxonomy, he had poetics in the Scriptorium, which was a large library, even dustier and darker than the Menagerium. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Kip could see that the walls were covered with shelves upon shelves of books. In the middle of the room stood an oval table, and above it was a ring of low-hanging bulbs with green shades. More than a dozen students were already seated at the table, each of them under a separate pool of light. They were writing intently and didn’t look up as Kip entered. At one end of the room was a high desk, behind which sat a woman with a beak-like nose and feathery white hair, wearing a pink floral-printed dress that clashed with the striped purple scarf wrapped around her neck. The teacher’s chair looked as if its legs were ladders, so she could climb up. In a strange way, the woman reminded Kip of an exotic bird staring at him from her perch. The teacher beckoned to Kip and, reaching down, handed him a slip of paper without uttering a word.
Kip could see signs on the walls:
SILENCE!
NO TALKING!
KEEP YOUR THOUGHTS TO YOURSELF!
The paper had a call number on it: H32.4 EJ (p. 312). The woman pointed towards the bookshelves behind her, and Kip realized he had to find the book. It took him a while, but he eventually figured out the sequence of letters and numbers and located a thick leather-bound volume.
The woman in the high chair had been watching him. She now pointed to an empty seat at the table. When Kip sat down, the chair made a scraping sound, and the teacher glowered at him. On the table were a notebook and several pencils, along with a sharpener. Across from him, a girl with her hair in pigtails was scribbling furiously, copying passages, as if she were racing to get to the end.
Kip opened the book and his heart sank when he saw the title.
COLLECTED WORKS
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The pages were full of dense stanzas printed in two columns, the type so small he had to squint to read the verses. Picking up a pencil, Kip turned to page 312 and found a poem titled ‘Excelsior’. He began to copy it down by hand, printing each stanza as neatly as he could.
The shades of night were falling fast,
As through an Alpine village passed
A youth, who bore, ‘mid snow and ice,
A banner with the strange device,
Excelsior!
His brow was sad; his eye beneath,
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,
And like a silver clarion rung
The accents of that unknown tongue,
Excelsior!
It took about ten minutes for him to copy the whole poem. By the time he finished, he still didn’t understand what it was about, except that the young man died at the end, though Kip wasn’t sure why.
There in the twilight cold and gray,
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,
And from the sky, serene and far,
A voice fell like a falling star,
<
br /> Excelsior!
Seeing the teacher scowling at him, he began to copy the poem again. Before the class was over, he had written ‘Excelsior’ five times and knew the words by heart, though he had absolutely no idea what any of it meant.
When the bell rang, he went over to the teacher’s chair and handed her his copybook, which she examined for a moment and then gave back to him with a disapproving sniff that made Kip feel as if he hadn’t tried hard enough and had somehow failed at his task.
Each of the classes that followed seemed an even greater waste of time. Provenance was a kind of history class in which they learnt about countries that no longer existed. Humanities was all about great books and ideas written in languages nobody used any more; though the words had been translated into English, they were stilted and sounded old-fashioned, like archaic philosophies that no longer made sense. Numerology was the most confusing of all because it wasn’t ordinary maths or algebra but simply a way of calculating things that didn’t add up.
Finally, at the end of the day, it was time for toxicology, and he was glad to find Juniper in this class with him again. Brother Lazarus, the teacher, was a frail old man with a white beard and fingers that looked like the crooked tines of a bent fork. His voice quavered and he kept stopping mid-sentence to wipe his glasses, as if he’d forgotten what he was going to say, though he always picked up exactly where he left off. As Meghna had explained earlier, the class was similar to chemistry, but instead of focusing on the periodic table and compounds, he taught them about poisons—how to make them, how to disguise them and how to administer their antidotes.
The Cloudfarers Page 3