by Susie Bower
IT MUST BE A MISTAKE
‘Let me PAST!’
I elbowed through the queue, and some of the children glared at me. I didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to the front before my twin disappeared inside the gates. A tall girl with a hairband was standing in my way, and I gave her a shove. She turned, and I saw that she wore a prefect’s badge.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she snapped. ‘Get to the back of the queue.’
I dodged around her and craned my neck to see the girl with the marmalade hair. The security guard was ticking off her name and speaking into the walkie-talkie. The girl grabbed the handle of her suitcase and moved towards the gates.
‘WAIT!’ I shouted.
But the gates hissed open and the girl went through them, trundling her suitcase behind her.
I couldn’t keep still at all after that. It was like my heart was attached by a string to the girl with the marmalade hair. I jumped up and down on the spot, and twisted and untwisted my fingers, but it didn’t make the queue move any faster. The girls ahead of me whispered behind their hands and stared at me. I ignored them and looked instead at the boy sitting on the steps of the School for Nobodies. He was holding a sheet of paper in one hand and was waving the other arm around wildly, his dark curls bouncing. Maybe they were right about him being a weirdo.
At last, the girls ahead of me were signed in and the metal gates hissed closed behind them. The security guard stood before me with her clipboard. She stared down at my burn and I covered it with my hand.
‘Dame?’ she sniffed.
‘Sorry?’
‘Whad is your dame?’
I took a deep breath. ‘My name is Flynn.’
‘Last dame?’
‘Finklebottom.’
She ran a chubby finger down the list on her clipboard and frowned. ‘No one of that dame here.’ And she turned away.
I grabbed at her sleeve.
‘Try Claudia then. Claudia Finklebottom.’
The security guard glanced at her list again and shook her head. ‘No one of that dame.’
‘There must be a mistake—’
She stared at my clothes in a pointed sort of way.
‘Duh mistake appears to be yours.’
Then she flicked a superior glance at the boy with the glasses, who had stopped waving his arm about and was staring at me.
‘Try next door,’ she said, and waddled towards the Academy gates. They hissed open and shut behind her with a clang.
‘Wait!’ I ran to the gates and rattled them. ‘Call Sonia and Claude Finklebottom—they’ll explain—’
But there was no answer. The security guard’s sneezing faded away.
What should I do? The taxi was long gone. I’d just have to wait here until the security guard realized her mistake and returned.
The boy with the glasses was staring at my face. I felt myself going red. I turned my back on him and sat on my bag, just in case he tried to steal it. A few minutes passed.
‘Oi!’
I hunched up my shoulders and ignored him. What had those girls said about the Nobodies kids? No-hopers. Freaks. Dangerous.
‘Oi, you!’
I jumped. The boy was standing right behind me. His spotless white shirt and black jeans had been ironed into sharp creases and I could see my reflection in his polished shoes. His brown eyes were bright and sharp behind his glasses. He lowered his carrier bags to the ground. A battered violin case stuck out of one bag. Another was stuffed full of sheet music. The third was a jumble of trainers and sweatshirts and socks. In the fourth was a strange triangular metal object with a dial on its front and a wind-up key in its side.
‘The queue’s over there,’ the boy said, pointing at the School for Nobodies.
‘Go and stand in it then,’ I said. ‘I’m going to this school.’
‘So why wouldn’t they let you in?’ said the boy.
I shrugged. There was a long silence.
The boy hummed under his breath. Then he pushed his glasses up his nose and spoke again.
‘If you’re s’posed to be in that school…’ he jerked his head at the Academy, ‘why aren’t you wearing a uniform like all the others?’
‘It was a mistake,’ I muttered. ‘They made a mistake.’ Any minute now, the security guard would come out again, full of apologies and sneezes, and let me in.
The boy smirked. ‘A mistake?’ he said. ‘Yeah—like it’s a mistake I’m going in there.’ He jerked his head at the School for Nobodies.
At that moment, the Nobodies front door opened. A man stepped over the threshold and, leaning on a stick, limped down the steps.
The boy grabbed his four bags and hurried towards the man, shouting over his shoulder: ‘This is the queue, and I’m the first in it!’
I turned my back again. At least he’d soon be gone. After some low conversation, I heard the creak of the School for Nobodies door as it opened then closed.
A shadow fell over me. I turned. The man was standing there, leaning on his stick. He was short and strong-looking, and wore a blue T-shirt and bright red braces with suns and moons on them. The braces were holding up baggy green corduroy trousers. His hair was rusty-red and he had mad curls like corkscrews. His eyes were kind and crinkly, but they were the saddest eyes I’d ever seen.
‘Good morning,’ the man said. His voice was sort of rusty too. ‘My name is Felix Gold. Are you Claudia Finklebottom?’
I shook my head and opened my mouth to tell him my real name, but he said, ‘Come with me’ and began to limp towards the School for Nobodies.
I stayed where I was.
Eventually, he turned round and limped back.
‘Something’s wrong?’ he said.
‘I’m not going in there,’ I said. ‘There’s been a mistake.’
‘A mistake?’ said the man.
I cast a desperate look at the Academy, and its closed gate.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘I’m meant to be in that school. They’ve got my uniform waiting for me. It’s all arranged.’
The man looked at me and said nothing. I had the strangest feeling. As if he wasn’t really seeing me. Like I was there, but not.
Then he said, ‘I’d come with me, if I was you. You can’t sit there forever.’
The last thing I wanted to do was go into That Place. A bank of dark clouds had formed above it, as if to warn me away. But it was getting cold. And there must be a phone inside. I would ring Sonia and Claude—they would sort it all out.
Reluctantly, I picked up my bag and followed the man up the steps and into the School for Nobodies.
NOBODIES, AND CUSTARD
The front door opened into a long, narrow corridor. I followed Mr Gold’s baggy green trousers as he limped ahead of me, past an empty, old-fashioned kitchen with a huge stove and shelves of copper pans and a big scrubbed wooden table. I kept my eyes peeled for the freaks and weirdos. Maybe they were hiding. Maybe they were going to jump out at me. But there was no sign of any other children, not even the boy with the glasses. They must have been locked up in their rooms.
Mr Gold, who had said nothing more to me, was now climbing a flight of stairs—very quickly, in spite of his limp. At the top, he pulled open a door and stood aside to let me in. It was an empty room, apart from two beds and a loudly ticking clock over the door. The beds had sheets and rough blankets instead of duvets. On each one lay a small bundle of clothes.
‘The girls’ dormitory,’ said Mr Gold.
‘I want to make a phone call,’ I said.
‘No calls allowed.’ He waved a hand at one of the beds. ‘Your uniform’s there. Get changed, and I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.’
He closed the door and his footsteps, along with the click of his stick, disappeared down the corridor.
What kind of dormitory is this, I thought, with only two beds?
I tiptoed to the door and opened it. Everything was silent. The rest of the children couldn’t have arrived yet.
> I turned to the uniform. I certainly wasn’t going to put it on—that would be like admitting I belonged here.
I left my bag on the floor and walked over to one of the two windows. Maybe I could see into the Academy. Down below me, a long path meandered past a vegetable plot and a greenhouse. Beyond that was an orchard, with trees bending under the weight of apples and pears. Then the path disappeared into a wood. In the distance, beyond the school grounds, lay a dark, gloomy forest. I shivered. This must be the forest where they’d captured the lion.
I moved to the other window and pressed my nose to the glass. Below, separated from Nobodies by the high brick wall, was a long, low building with a flat roof. It was the back of the Academy! There were skylights in the roof and through them I could see children in navy blazers moving around. I pushed at the window. It slid upwards with a groan, shedding flakes of paint, and I was able to lean out a bit.
I stared down at the children, searching for the girl with the marmalade curls. What if she was making friends already? What if she found a best friend before I got there? I had to find a way! I pushed the window higher and a flurry of wings made me jump. A bird must have taken off from the windowsill above me. I peered up, but there was no sign of it. Then I slid out on to the windowsill and sat there, my legs dangling.
My heart sank. Even if I managed to somehow jump down on to the top of the brick wall, there was still no way of getting onto the flat roof without risking breaking my leg, or worse.
‘What are you d-doing?’ said a voice behind me, and I almost fell out.
I grabbed at the window frame.
A small girl with wispy blonde hair was standing in the doorway. She had a suitcase almost as big as herself. I couldn’t think of a good explanation for why I was sitting on the windowsill, so I shrugged, jumped back in and went and sat on one of the beds.
The girl watched me with wide, frightened eyes, as if she was too scared to look away. I was used to people staring at my scar with curiosity, but not staring at me with such fear. Maybe she thought I was one of the freaks.
‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘I don’t belong here. I’m meant to be at the posh—I mean, the school next door.’
The girl’s eyes flickered between me and the open window. She licked her lips.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You lucky thing. I wish I could g-go there.’ She looked round the room. ‘The man said I should come in and g-get into my uniform.’
I pointed at the bundles of clothes.
The girl came in hesitantly, trundling her vast suitcase behind her. She pulled it over to the bed furthest from the door and stood looking at it in a helpless sort of way.
‘C-could you help me lift my case, please?’
Between us, we hauled it up on to the bed. The girl unzipped it and pulled out:
A large alarm clock.
Six books, including The House at Pooh Corner, The Secret Garden and Black Beauty.
A family of pink woolly rabbits, a stripy cat, a frog and a penguin.
She lined the soft toys neatly up against the pillow. Then, from the bottom of the case, she pulled out a knitted yellow blanket, very worn and holey, and a fat teddy bear with one eye. She wrapped the blanket round herself and the teddy, stuck her thumb in her mouth and curled up in a ball on the bed. With her blonde hair and the yellow blanket she looked just like a bowl of custard. I couldn’t help remembering an old rhyme: cowardy, cowardy custard!
Then I heard her snuffling. I went over and sat beside her.
‘Look,’ I said awkwardly, ‘don’t cry. It’s not that bad.’
‘How d-do you know?’ said the girl. ‘It’s all right for you. You d-don’t have to stay here.’
‘Maybe they made a mistake about you too,’ I said. She certainly didn’t look like a dangerous freak.
‘D-d’you think so?’ She opened her eyes in a hopeful sort of way. They were very blue and watery.
It was then that I saw the phone, lying at the very bottom of her suitcase.
‘Can I borrow your phone?’
She looked at me suspiciously. ‘What for?’
‘I need to call Claude and Sonia—to tell them to get me out of here.’
‘Are C-Claude and Sonia your mum and dad?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘They adopted me. I’m an orphan.’
‘Oh.’ She stared at my scar. ‘I’m half an orphan.’
‘What?’ It was hard to concentrate. My eyes were stuck to the phone.
‘I’ve only got a mum. My d-dad died. And then my mum got ill and had to g-go into the hospital. I d-don’t have anyone else to look after me.’
‘Sorry,’ I muttered.
The clock, an old carved one hanging above the door, ticked on. Mr Gold would be back any moment and my chance would be lost.
‘So can I?’ I pointed to the phone.
‘What if I g-get in trouble for lending it to you?’
‘They won’t know.’
‘But the man’s c-coming back soon. He said so. What if he c-catches you?’
I twisted my fingers together to stop myself grabbing the phone.
‘He won’t. I promise.’ I glanced at the clock again. ‘Please?’
Reluctantly, Custard handed over the phone. Then she curled up on the bed again.
I tapped in Claude and Sonia’s number. It rang for ages. I stared at the door, praying that Mr Gold wouldn’t open it.
‘The Finklebome residence. Claude speaking.’
‘Claude,’ I whispered, my words tumbling over one another, ‘there’s-been-a-terrible-mistake-and-I’m-at-the-wrong-school-and-they-won’t-let-me-into-the-Academy-and-you’ve-got-to-sort-it-out!’
There was a long silence. ‘Is that you, Claudia?’
It wasn’t the best moment to correct my name.
‘Yes. But I’ve got to be quick because I’m at the wrong school and I’m not allowed to make a call and—’
‘The wrong school?’
‘The Cruet Establishment for… er… Nobodies.’
‘Why, Claudia,’ said Claude in a cold voice, ‘do you think that’s the wrong school?’
And then I finally understood. Claude and Sonia had meant to send me to the School for Nobodies all along.
I swallowed. ‘But the girls—the girls from the Academy said…’ I cast a quick glance at the custard girl, who was rocking from side to side on the bed, her eyes closed. I lowered my voice to a whisper. ‘They said it’s dangerous here. They said it’s where the freaks are sent.’
‘Nonsense, Claudia!’ said Claude. ‘We sent you there because you need discipline. The school will teach you to behave in a more civilized manner.’
‘But I don’t want to be here!’
‘No use crying over spilt milk,’ said Claude. ‘Maybe you should have thought of that before you disfigured Sonia’s masterpiece.’ And he put the phone down.
I handed the phone silently back to Custard.
‘Are you staying then?’ she whispered.
I nodded. I didn’t dare speak in case I burst into tears.
‘What shall we d-do?’ she quavered, pulling her thumb out. ‘Whatever shall we d-do?’
I went over to the window and looked down at the Academy. My twin was so close, just a few metres away, but she might as well have been on Mars. And here I was, stuck among the freaks and the Nobodies.
I looked round at Custard, whose eyes were wet with tears. I wanted to creep under her yellow blanket and cry along with her. But one of us had to be strong.
I swallowed, hard.
‘Come on,’ I said as bravely as I could, heading over to my new bed and my new uniform. ‘We’d better get changed.’
UNREGISTRATION
The uniforms were rough cotton trousers, drab and grey, and sweatshirts to match. Custard’s was too big for her. I helped her to roll up the trouser legs and sleeves.
‘Leave your old clothes in your suitcases,’ said Mr Gold, when he limped in, ‘and come with me.’
We fo
llowed him downstairs and along another dark corridor. At the end of this, Mr Gold pushed open a door.
We were in a classroom. It was nothing like the classroom at my old school, with its whiteboard and computers and pictures on the walls. This one had old-fashioned wooden desks instead of tables, and on the far wall was a chalkboard.
Standing in front of the chalkboard was a person. She was very short and old—about sixty. She looked plump, but that might have been because of the layers and layers of knitted clothes she was wearing: a lavender jersey, a green spotted cardigan, a stripy red waistcoat and three or four scarves. She was the untidiest person I’d ever seen. Her hair was almost as tall as she was, escaping in every direction from a bun. Every time she moved her head, hairpins fell to the floor.
‘Another two for you, Euphenia,’ said Mr Gold.
The untidy person looked down her nose at me and Custard.
‘Sit!’ she said, pointing at two empty desks.
We sat. She had the sort of face you don’t argue with.
There were only two other children in the room. Right at the front of the class was the boy with glasses I’d met outside. He was still wearing his shiny shoes, but the crisp white shirt and black jeans had been replaced by the Nobodies uniform of sweatshirt and cotton trousers. He sat bolt upright like a soldier waiting for a command. The other boy was tall and gangly, with a red face and a turned-down mouth.
‘Pay attention, if you please!’’
The untidy person drew herself up to her full height, which was not much taller than Custard, and rapped on the desk with a ruler. A purple and orange stripy scarf was unwinding itself from her neck and a button pinged off her green spotted cardigan.
‘My name,’ announced the untidy person, looking at us with sharp eyes, ‘is Euphenia… Esmerelda… Boudica… Cruet. You may call me Miss Cruet, or “miss” for short. Welcome to the Cruet Establishment for Lost and Wayward Children.’
The boy with the glasses waved his hand in the air. ‘Please, miss—’