School for Nobodies

by Susie Bower

  ‘Shall we meet tomorrow, at seven thirty?’ said Mr Gold.

  I nodded. ‘When is full moon?’

  Mr Gold looked surprised. ‘Tomorrow night, I believe. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I… just wondered.’

  It didn’t matter any more about Feral. Nothing mattered except that tomorrow night, at full moon, I would see my twin again.

  For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel alone.

  THE LION TRAINER

  Next morning, I woke early. All night I’d dreamt about Silver. Tonight, at full moon, we would meet again. Excitement whizzed round my body, streaking about in my tummy and zapping like lightning bolts down my arms and legs. I jumped at a familiar sound from the wall next to my bed.

  TAP… TAP… TAP…

  My heart plummeted as I remembered that Feral would be coming to acrobatics lessons from now on.

  I got up and pulled on my clothes. Custard shot up in bed, clutching her blanket around her.

  ‘What’s that n-noise?’

  ‘It’s Feral, tapping on the wall.’

  ‘Why’s he d-doing that?’

  ‘He says he’s being friendly,’ I said crossly.

  ‘Oh,’ said Custard, putting her thumb in her mouth. ‘W-why are you up so early?’

  There didn’t seem to be much point in keeping the lessons a secret any more, not now that Feral was going to be there too.

  ‘Mr Gold is teaching me acrobatics, in the Amphitheatre. For the show.’

  ‘C-can I come and watch?’

  ‘If you want.’

  Custard hopped out of bed and began to pull her clothes on. At that moment, Feral appeared in the doorway, his eyes stuck to me as usual.

  ‘Is he c-coming too?’ said Custard.

  I nodded. ‘We’d better get a move on. The lesson starts at seven thirty.’

  Mr Gold was sitting on a stone seat, his stick propped beside him and the two mats laid out on the grass. His braces today had red-and-green stripes.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said, peering at Custard. ‘Do we have another recruit?’

  ‘I’m not d-doing it,’ said Custard. ‘I just want to watch.’

  She settled herself and her blanket on a seat.

  Feral ran round in circles, like a dog chasing its tail.

  ‘Wait, boy.’ Mr Gold searched in the pocket of his trousers. He pulled out a rubber band. ‘If you want to do acrobatics, you must tie up your hair.’

  Feral stared at the rubber band, then shook his head violently.

  ‘No mane,’ he growled.

  ‘It’s for safety,’ said Mr Gold. ‘Otherwise your hair may get caught, like it did when you got stuck in the tree.’

  Feral growled again. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No mane.’

  ‘Then you must sit and watch,’ said Mr Gold.

  Feral growled some more, but eventually went and sat beside Custard. She edged away from him. I began to feel better. I was going to be the only acrobat in the circus show after all.

  Mr Gold put me through my paces. I cartwheeled, and showed him my forty-second handstand and my juggling. Custard clapped. Feral growled.

  ‘Excellent, child,’ said Mr Gold, and I could tell he was really pleased.

  ‘Mr Gold’s been telling us about how he ran away from the circus with a lion cub called Kula,’ I told Custard, ‘and about a young lion trainer called Leonora. Please, Mr Gold, tell us more about Leonora?’

  Mr Gold looked sad. Maybe he didn’t like thinking about the circus when he couldn’t work there any more. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him about it. But Custard was excited.

  ‘Tell me the story! I l-love stories!’

  Mr Gold gave his lopsided smile. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘What did Leonora look like?’

  ‘She was small and thin, rather like you,’ said Mr Gold. ‘And very strong. She had long, curly hair. And she was covered in tattoos.’

  ‘Tattoos?’ I said. My fingers crept up to the back of my neck, where my name was.

  ‘What sort of t-tattoos?’ asked Custard.

  ‘Lions, of course. And birds,’ said Mr Gold. ‘Leonora loved birds. She had a pair of turtle doves which she hatched from eggs. She found an abandoned nest and took the eggs and warmed them until they hatched. Everywhere she went, the turtle doves went too, perched on her shoulders or on her head.’

  I thought of the dove that had brought me messages. Maybe I could ask it to be my friend if it appeared again.

  ‘How did Leonora get to be a lion trainer when she was only sixteen?’ I said. ‘She must have been so brave.’

  ‘She was the bravest person I knew,’ said Mr Gold. ‘But she was also the most frightened.’

  ‘Frightened?’ said Custard, her eyes wide. ‘But she t-trained the lions!’

  ‘She wasn’t afraid of lions. And she trusted Kula with her life. During their act, Kula would open her jaws wide—her teeth were very sharp—and Leonora would put her head right inside Kula’s mouth.’

  ‘In h-her mouth?’ Custard shivered and drew her yellow blanket around herself.

  ‘What was she frightened of?’ I asked.

  ‘People,’ said Mr Gold. ‘She didn’t trust them. She stayed away from the other circus folk. Sometimes, early in the morning, Fred and I would visit Kula and there was Leonora, curled up with her in the straw.’

  ‘Who was F-Fred?’ said Custard.

  ‘Fred was Mr Gold’s brother,’ I told her. ‘They were the Gravity-defying Golds.’

  I turned to Mr Gold. For some reason, he was looking terribly sad. ‘What happened next, at the circus?’

  Mr Gold gave a little shake of his shoulders, as if he was shrugging away a bad memory.

  ‘Fred and Leonora got married!’

  ‘But you said Leonora was frightened of people!’ I said. ‘How come she married Fred?’

  ‘Because she loved him,’ said Mr Gold. ‘Because he too loved Kula and she grew to trust him.’

  ‘Tell us about the w-wedding!’ said Custard. ‘Did they g-go to church? What did Leonora wear?’

  ‘They were wed in the Big Top,’ said Mr Gold. ‘It was a real circus wedding with a Grand Parade. And because we were the Golds, everyone wore yellow or gold. Leonora wore a golden costume, all sequins and pearls and crystals…’

  I remembered my own golden leotard, hidden under my pillow in the dormitory. I longed to try it on again. But I wouldn’t—not until the night of our circus show.

  ‘Fred and I dressed in golden costumes too, with our faces painted gold. I was Fred’s best man, and Kula was the bridesmaid—Leonora made her a collar of yellow flowers and brushed her golden mane until it shone. Even Leonora’s turtle doves had golden ribbons tied around their legs. They carried little boxes of rose petals in their bills and scattered them over Fred and Leonora as Fred put a gold ring upon Leonora’s finger, and they promised to love one another until—’

  Mr Gold stopped.

  ‘Until what?’ I said.

  But Mr Gold just ran his fingers through his mop of curls and shook his head.

  Feral, who had been listening to the story, suddenly jumped to his feet.

  ‘Train,’ he said, and looked at us all.

  ‘He’s saying he wants a trainer, for the show,’ I said. Then I added quickly: ‘I can’t do it—I’m going to be the acrobat.’

  We all looked at Custard. She shrank back.

  ‘Are you afraid, child?’ said Mr Gold. I remembered how he could see inside people, to what they were feeling.

  Custard nodded. ‘I’m really, really scared of l-lions.’

  ‘It’s OK to be afraid,’ said Mr Gold. ‘There isn’t a single person in the world who is fearless, though some make a better job at hiding it than others. But deep down inside, we are all afraid of something.’

  ‘Even you?’ I said, feeling a bit cheeky. ‘What are you afraid of?’

  Mr Gold picked up his stick and frowned. ‘Remember what I told you about Merrick Murgat
royd?’

  ‘The wicked fire-eater who took over the circus and shot Mabel?’

  Mr Gold nodded. ‘I feared him.’

  ‘But you wrestled the gun away from him and reported him to the police!’

  ‘I did. Because, just in that moment, Kula and Mabel were more important than my fear. But I still have the fear. I still fear Murgatroyd.’

  He turned to Custard. ‘Fear is nothing to be ashamed of,’ he said. ‘The bravest people are those who show courage when they are afraid.’

  There was a long silence, as he and Custard looked at one another.

  Then Custard shivered and said: ‘What does a trainer have to d-do?’

  ‘She teaches the lion to perform,’ said Mr Gold. ‘She uses a long stick—a bit like this one.’ And he held out his stick to Custard.

  ‘B-but that’s cruel,’ said Custard, putting her hands behind her back.

  ‘The stick isn’t used to hurt the lion,’ said Mr Gold. ‘It’s used to get its attention. Have you ever dangled a thread of wool in front of a kitten for it to chase? Well, it’s a bit like that.’

  ‘Claude and Sonia said lion taming was wrong,’ I said. ‘They signed petitions against having animals in circuses. Only… only they spent a lot of time trying to tame me.’

  Mr Gold nodded as if he understood. ‘There’s a difference,’ he said quietly, ‘between training and taming. Training helps someone to become stronger—your training in acrobatics is helping you develop your skills and your strengths.’

  ‘What about t-taming?’ said Custard.

  ‘Taming is just a way of stopping the wildness.’

  ‘Wild,’ said Feral. His tawny eyes gazed from Mr Gold to me and Custard.

  The wood around the Amphitheatre rustled and murmured.

  ‘What did Leonora w-wear when she trained Kula?’ said Custard.

  ‘She wore a golden cloak,’ said Mr Gold.

  Custard looked down at her yellow blanket, then she looked at Feral, who was still watching her, his head on one side.

  ‘How d-does a trainer teach a lion?’ she whispered.

  ‘She speaks to the lion very kindly and firmly,’ said Mr Gold. ‘And gives it instructions. She might point her stick and say, “Kula—roll over!” And Kula would lie on her back and roll.’

  Custard’s face was even paler than usual. Her legs were trembling so it seemed like she would fall over at any moment. Then, with shaking fingers, she wrapped the blanket over her shoulders like a cloak and picked up Mr Gold’s stick. She took a deep breath and pointed the stick at Feral.

  ‘Roll over!’ she whispered.

  Feral didn’t seem to hear her.

  ‘Try it a little louder,’ said Mr Gold.

  Custard took a deep breath.

  ‘ROLL OVER!’

  Feral lay on the ground and gave a great roll.

  Custard jumped up and down with excitement.

  ‘I did it! I did it!’

  Feral leapt to his feet, opened his jaws and gave an earsplitting roar. Custard screamed and fell over backwards into the ring, stuffing her fingers in her ears.

  Then Feral did a strange thing. He got down on all fours and very slowly padded over to Custard, whose eyes were tight shut. A sound came from his throat, gentle and vibrating, like a cat’s purr. Then he leant down over Custard and licked her cheek. Custard shot to her feet, wiping her face, her eyes like saucers. Feral went on purring.

  She and Feral looked at one another for a long time. Then, she reached out a trembling hand, and stroked Feral’s mane of hair. He purred even louder.

  ‘Train,’ he said.

  And he rubbed his head against Custard, just like a friendly cat. Custard looked half pleased, half horrified at Feral’s matted mane.

  ‘Your mane is in a m-mess,’ she said. ‘If I’m going to be your trainer, I have to l-look after you. I’ll wash it for you when we get back.’

  Feral took a step backwards, a growl in his throat.

  ‘OK,’ agreed Custard hastily. ‘No w-washing.’

  ‘Hooray!’ I shouted. ‘We’ve got a lion-training act for the show!’

  Mr Gold grinned.

  ‘In the best circuses, people look after one another. They trust one another. They never let one another down. Remember the Three Musketeers?’ He held up his hand. ‘All for one…’

  ‘… and one for all!’ we shouted, high-fiving him.

  MIDNIGHT

  That night, I lay wide awake in bed, tingling with excitement. It was quite light in the dormitory, in spite of it being so late, and streaks of pale moonlight crept around the curtains and made strange patterns on the walls and over the floor.

  The clock ticked towards midnight. My legs itched to get out of bed and run up the stairs to the Room of Reflection, but I made myself wait. ‘Full moon,’ Silver had said, ‘at the stroke of midnight.’ So midnight it would be.

  The clock said twenty to twelve when I heard a sound: the faint creak of a bed from the boys’ dormitory next door. Then the lightest of footfalls and the sound of a door gently opening and closing. I groaned inside. If someone else was awake, it would make my mission hard, if not impossible. I held my breath. Footsteps passed the door and disappeared down the corridor. I waited while the clock ticked on another five minutes, then, as quietly as I could, I got up and pulled on my clothes over my pyjamas.

  Custard was deep in dreamland. All I could see of her was her yellow wispy hair under her blanket. I tiptoed to the door, opened it and looked up and down the corridor. It was empty.

  Silently, I climbed the stairs towards the floor where Miss Cruet and Mr Gold slept, careful to avoid the second-to-the-top one, which creaked. Loud snoring rumbled from Miss Cruet’s room. Moonlight flooded from the window opposite her door, shining on a pile of hairpins on the floor. I stepped over them and made for the spiral staircase. Round and round I climbed, groping my way up the stairs in the dark. Halfway up, where the window was, I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, and looked out.

  A huge, full moon floated over the garden, making ghosts of the greenhouse and the plants and trees. The light was silver, full of magic. The best kind of night for meeting my twin.

  Then I saw something move.

  A figure crept down the garden path, almost hidden in the shadow under the wall that divided Nobodies from the Academy. Who was it? I pressed my face to the window and squeezed my eyes, but it was too dark to see, and it was moving quickly. The figure dipped down into a crouching run and disappeared into the wood.

  I climbed the final steps until I stood outside the door of the Room of Reflection.

  I grasped the handle, turned it, and the door creaked open. I stood very still on the threshold, listening in case the sound had woken anyone, but all was silent apart from Miss Cruet’s distant snoring. Quietly, I pushed the door closed behind me. The room was in pitch darkness. My heart cartwheeled in my chest.

  I felt for the light switch and clicked it on.

  The room was empty, just as I had left it last time. No cabinet, no Bird. But the old mirror was there, hanging on the wall between Nobodies and the Academy, the glass gleaming in its carved surround. My heart thudded. Would Silver be there, in the mirror, waiting for me?

  I tiptoed over to it.

  Silver wasn’t there. There was just my own reflection—my hair tousled, my clothes pulled on any old how, my burn mark a dark patch in the dim light. I pressed my ear to the glass and listened. Maybe Silver was in bed just on the other side of the wall; or maybe, like me, she’d climbed the stairs from her dormitory towards an identical mirror in an identical room. Except that in the Academy, the room wouldn’t be bare and empty: the walls would be painted in glowing colours, and there’d be a rich carpet on the floor, a window with soft, billowing curtains and bowls of pansies on the sill.

  There was no sound at all.

  What must I do to summon Silver? I remembered how we’d parted, our palms touching in the mirror’s reflection, and I carefully placed
my hand on its cold surface, and waited.

  Far away in the distance, a church clock chimed midnight. I held my breath. Surely she would come now?

  But she didn’t.

  My mind began to race. Had she forgotten our meeting? Had she fallen asleep by accident?

  No. She couldn’t have. This meeting was just as important to her as it was to me. Nothing would stop her from coming. And I’d wait here until morning if I had to.

  I leant closer to the mirror, so close that my reflection became a blur. Then I whispered, right into the glass: ‘Silver… Silver… I’ve come, like you told me to.’

  My voice sounded empty and alone, like my words were leaking away into the air and there was nobody to hear them.

  ‘Please…’ I whispered. ‘Please come. I need to see you again. I need to know—’

  Then I stopped. The surface of the mirror had begun to mist over; my reflection slowly disappeared. The faintest sound drifted from the other side of the glass, like waves slipping back and forth on the sand. Then I felt it, like a gentle breeze on my face, whispering and pausing, whispering and pausing…

  Someone was breathing on the other side of the glass.

  I held my own breath, just in case it was all my imagination— just in case it was only me, breathing on the glass and misting it up.

  Then the mist began to clear, and I saw a hand, exactly like mine, meeting my own in the mirror.

  And there, smiling at me, was Silver.

  SECRETS

  ‘Flynn,’ Silver whispered. Her voice was green leaves and roses and birdsong. ‘My own sister. You came!’

  I swallowed. Tears wanted to leak out of my eyes, and I blinked a few times to stop them. We just stood there, staring at one another, smiling. Silver was in her uniform, just like last time, her shirt freshly ironed, her hair brushed and shining. She didn’t look like she was wearing her pyjamas underneath her uniform, like I was. I tugged my sweatshirt down and ran my fingers through my mop of curls.

  Silver spoke again. ‘You’re so… so beautiful!’

  Was she laughing at me? I couldn’t bear it if she was but she didn’t seem to be.