School Monitor

  “I decided not to inform your grandmother about this latest incident,” he continues. “I will of course be speaking to your father, as you’ll be staying with us this weekend.”

  I close my eyes and groan; I knew this was coming, but it still feels like a blow.

  “If I understand things correctly, you were the instigator, Jarvis?”

  I look at the Head and nod. I still can’t face Spencer. I know from behind the fake wincing, he’s smirking.

  “Care to tell me why?”

  “I thought he was giving Chrissie a hard time, sir.”

  “And why would you think that?”

  I shrug and wait for Spencer to drop me in it.

  “Well, Spencer?” asks the Head.

  To my surprise, Spencer keeps quiet. “Just keep him away from me, sir.”

  “We will,” says the Head. “We’ll be keeping Jarvis away from you all for a very long time.”

  As Spencer heads off for a shooting weekend at Jones’s uncle’s big country estate in Gloucester, all I’ve got to look forward to is another grilling from Dad and life in a room most prisoners of war would refuse to stay in.

  Unable to stand watching everyone else leave with their friends and families in a buzz of excited chatter, I decide to go back to my dorm, when a gap opens up in the cluster of parents, and I see her, Beth, waiting for me with her dad.

  My heart sinks all the way to the bottom of my feet. She looks like a film star in a cute red dress that skims the tops of her knees, and suddenly I wish the Head had expelled me; at least I’d have been able to leave with her.

  “That your girlfriend, Jarvis?” asks Parker, who has the job of watching me until the Head’s spoken to my parents.

  I nod, unable to look at Beth or her father as they walk over for an explanation as to why I’m being flanked like a criminal.

  “What’s going on?” Beth’s father enquires, his wrinkled eyes hovering on my torn blazer and bloody forehead. “Rich?”

  Parker speaks first; I’m still looking for a hole to swallow me up now Beth and I are centre stage.

  “Mr Wallis,” says Parker, offering his hand. “I’m Mr Parker, Richard’s dorm master.”

  Beth’s dad shakes Parker’s hand. Dressed in jeans and a duffle coat, with his long hair tied into a ponytail, Beth’s dad still manages to look relaxed even though he’s getting some strange looks from the other parents.

  “I’m afraid we won’t be able to let Richard come home with you as planned,” says Parker, sounding surprisingly gentle. Like me, he can see the tears welling up in Beth’s big brown eyes. “He’s just attacked another boy—”

  “Rich has?” Beth’s dad interrupts, because what he’s hearing is as crazy as finding out aliens have landed on his farm.

  As Parker proceeds in giving Beth’s father all the gory details, I find the courage to look at Beth. She stares at me open mouthed, as if she doesn’t know me, and why wouldn’t she? The Rich she knows doesn’t start fights.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  She manages a faint smile, but her eyes are still full of tears, and I know without words she’s hurting just as much as I am.

  “We’ve driven a long way,” I hear Beth’s dad tell Parker. “Can the kids just spend a few minutes together whilst I have a rest?”

  Parker nods. “Of course. I’ll arrange for some coffees.”

  Beth’s dad smiles his thanks.

  “You can go to the library,” Parker tells me. “But you’re to report to my rooms by five o’clock — not a minute later.”

  Beth’s dad goes for coffee with Parker, and taking Beth’s hand, I lead her down the corridor into the empty library. To my relief, she just throws her arms around my neck, and even though it hurts because I think Spencer managed to crack one of my ribs the other night, I never want to let her go. It’s finally got to me how screwed I am.

  “What’s happening?” she cries, looking right into me. “And don’t tell me nothing!”

  I want to hold her, but at the same time, I have to push her away. Stop her from finding out what’s going on; she won’t want me anymore.

  “Rich?”

  “It’s nothing,” I tell her. “I thought Spencer was giving Chrissie grief—”

  “Chrissie!” Beth yells, throwing up her arms. “Of course, I should have known she was behind all this!”

  “No, you’ve got it all wrong—”

  “No, Rich!” She’s still crying, but she’s angry too. “Don’t you see?”

  “See what?”

  “She did this to split us up!”

  “You’re wrong!”

  But Beth’s having none of this. “No, Rich. I bet she was mad as hell when you told her you were coming to stay with me!”

  “It wasn’t Chrissie’s fault,” I explain, deliberately not answering her. “She was crying, and I thought Spencer had upset her; he’s got it in for me…”

  “Why?”

  I find myself hesitating; I don’t want to tell her. I didn’t steal the bloody mobile, but it’s still my fault this has escalated out of control.

  “Why?” she demands again.

  “He thinks I stole a mobile and…” I tell her the basics. I don’t tell her no one’s talking to me and that they’re making a fool of me, or I took one hell of a kicking trying to get back Hermit’s glasses. I don’t tell her because it’s embarrassing and I don’t want her to dump me.

  “And what does Chrissie know about all this?”

  “Nothing!” I can’t believe Beth won’t let this thing with Chrissie drop, and shaking my head because it’s all too much, I walk towards the window and stare out onto the car park, where everyone else is being driven the hell out of here.

  “Rich, I’m sorry,” she says, hugging me from behind. “I’m just worried about you.”

  I’m worried about me too, especially when I see my reflection in the glass. “I’ll be fine as soon as I’ve sorted things with Spencer.”

  I can see she’s not convinced when she pulls me round to face her. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  I shake my head and try to avoid making eye contact.

  “Rich, I’ve known you forever, and I know when you’re keeping things from me.”

  “It’s nothing,” I say, deciding to lie so she won’t worry about me. “I’m just scared I’ve blown things with you.”

  “Well, you haven’t,” she says, giving me a kiss. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

  “Just keep on writing,” I say, relieved she isn’t going to drill me for any more information. “And let me come and stay at half-term.”

  Chapter 33

  I’m now a prisoner of war. Stripped of even more privileges, back in solitary as I wait to hear what’s going to happen. I roll over and bury my face in my pillow, unable to stretch out because my hands and feet collide with the depressing grey walls.

  A knock at the door makes me jump. “Come in.”

  To my relief, it’s not Parker coming to inform me that Dad, along with the rest of the world, wants to kill me. It’s Chrissie.

  “Thought you might be hungry,” she says, shuffling inside with a breakfast tray.

  “You shouldn’t be doing that,” I say, surprised to find it’s not stale bread and water. “You should be resting your ankle.”

  “I’m fine,” she insists, sitting down at the foot of my bed. “Anyway, I didn’t want you missing out on breakfast.”

  I take a mouthful of juice, but I can’t handle toast — I think I’m going to puke. “You spoke to Mum yet?”

  She shakes her head. “Don’t worry. It’ll be all right.”

  “How exactly?” I know people say Chrissie’s away with the fairies most of the time, but even she can’t be that stupid. “I attacked Dad’s boss’s son!”

  “Yes,” she says, squirming for me. “But you didn’t hurt him.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I cry, unable to ignore the terror that’s turned my stomach into a ball of pain
. “I could still get expelled, and if Dad doesn’t kill me, I’ll never get into another school with a record for fighting and thieving.”

  “I think you’re overreacting.”

  “Oh really?” I say in my most sarcastic voice. “So laying into Spencer for no good reason, and him thinking I tried to stitch you up for stealing Parker’s mobile is no big deal.”

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, I don’t think you’ll get expelled.”

  “This school gives you detention for running in the corridors,” I point out. “And even though they didn’t expel me last time, Spencer’s going to be pushing for it!”

  “He won’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I saw Jones,” she replies. “And he says he’ll get Spencer to drop this.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Spencer’s father’s really strict,” she explains. “So Jones is going to remind him that if he gets into any more fights, there is a chance his father would send him to military school, and so…”

  It does and doesn’t make sense, but my brain’s turned to mush by all of this, and it’s taking all my concentration just to hold a glass of orange juice.

  “Try to eat something,” says Chrissie, rubbing my arm. “You don’t want to get sick.”

  This makes me laugh because it’s what Mum’s always telling her. “Since when did you like eating?”

  “Since I decided not to be stupid,” she says, stealing one of my slices of toast. “I know you’ve always had to look after me, but I’m trying really hard now to make my own friends and stop being such a pain.”

  “Chrissie, I don’t care how much of a pain you are.”

  She smiles, and for the first time I notice how different she looks; all confident and strong, the way I used to be.

  “Rich, get ready. The bus for the cinema leaves in an hour.”

  “I’m not allowed to go,” I remind her, putting the toast back down.

  “Sorry, didn’t think,” she says. “I’ll stay here with you.”

  “No, you go,” I tell her. “I just want to be on my own.”

  Waiting outside the Head’s office while he finishes speaking to my parents, every inch of me shakes. I know the worst is over, that the only thing Dad can do is shout, but as I hear Mum crying on speakerphone, the guilt rips right through me, and when I finally get called inside, I’m in no state to put up any kind of defence.

  “Richard is here now,” says the Head, indicating I should sit down in the chair in front of his desk.

  I sit, and my voice goes into hiding.

  “I don’t know what to say to him!” It’s Dad, talking to Mum. “You say something, Celia. I’m washing my hands of him.”

  I sink even further down the chair and wait, staring at the glass eagle paperweight.

  “Rich, it’s Mum,” says Mum. “How are you, dear?”

  I don’t get a chance to answer. Dad beats me to it.

  “I don’t care how HE is. HE’S out of control and HE needs disciplining…”

  Dad explodes into one of his tirades about what a useless waste of space I am, how he’s going through hell for my benefit, and it’s all my fault if he doesn’t get this deal… I’m not sure what else he said. I switch off somewhere between Mum begging him to calm down because it wasn’t good for his blood pressure, and the Head putting the call on mute to tell his wife he’d be late for golf.

  “Well?” Dad demands. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

  What can I say? It seems Dad won’t be happy until he sees me dead. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Too right it won’t!” Dad tells me and launches his second attack. “Any more trouble from you, and I’ll stick you in one of those Singapore boarding schools where they’re not afraid to use the cane…”

  I’ve been staring at the eagle paperweight so long without blinking it’s gone all blurry.

  “I’ve got to go,” says Dad, stopping mid-rant. “Important call.”

  The line goes dead, and after being dismissed, I go to the only place I feel safe, the editing room in the tower wing, where I sit in the dark, chair wedged up against the door so no one can get me. I’ve avoided expulsion because Dad’s made some generous contribution to the school fund, but something’s telling me I’m going to wish I was kicked out when Spencer comes back from his weekend away.

  Chapter 34

  “You can’t stay in bed the whole weekend,” Chrissie tells me, shaking my shoulder. “Get up; we’re going out.”

  I can’t be bothered to tell her to go away, so I just roll over and face the wall.

  “Don’t be such a spoilsport!” she complains, deciding if she pulls my arm enough times I’ll get up. “Let’s go out and have some fun!”

  I think I prefer sulking Chrissie when I feel like this, so I rip my arm free and go back to hugging the pillow. “Go away!”

  “I thought you had filming to do.”

  “Don’t feel like it,” I mumble, wishing I could get back to sleep and escape the throbbing depression of this place for a few more hours.

  “But you love filming things.”

  “I don’t anymore.”

  “Rich, get up!”

  I give up when she switches tactics and tries to drag me out of bed by the ankle. I just wish she could have been happy when we had something to be happy about.

  I’ve never found filming to be a chore. Acting’s great, but the real rush for me is in the directing, setting up the scene, deciding upon the lighting, whether to have the actors deliver their lines with intensity or indifference. After I finish filming some establishing shots of the school and the surrounding countryside, I realise why Chrissie insisted I do this. Filming takes me out of myself, and even though nothing’s changed, I don’t feel as bad.

  I check the footage and, leaving the camcorder on its tripod, join her on the bench, where she’s waiting with a flask of hot chocolate.

  “Do you remember making The Magic Unicorn for me?”

  I nod. Chrissie, she isn’t the biggest of talkers, but every word she speaks is a book.

  “I wish unicorns were real,” she continues, hugging my arm. “If they were, do you know what I’d wish for?”

  Her question takes me back further into the past. I made it for her after Goldmeads, because I felt so guilty that it was my friend who led the bullying campaign against Chrissie. It was a stupid story, about a brother who goes off in search of a unicorn who can grant him the wish he needs to save his dying sister.

  “I’d wish for the best brother in the world to be happy again,” she says, bringing me back to the present.

  What she says is so lame, I can’t not smile.

  “See, it’s worked!” she exclaims, all giggles.

  I wish it were that simple. Trouble is, the smile isn’t real, just like all the films I make. I’m for it, and if I thought things were bad before, it’s nothing to how things are going to get when Spencer comes back.

  “What are you thinking about?” Chrissie asks me.

  “Talking to Spencer,” I confess. “I’ve got to do something to convince him I’m not the one behind all of this.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” she begins but never finishes. “Why don’t you let me speak to him when we go riding next?”

  “You go riding with Spencer?” I think the shock was the only thing that stopped me from losing it even more. Spencer’s making my life hell, and my sister goes riding with him!

  “What’s wrong?” she demands, looking all hurt.

  “You go riding with Spencer!” I’m so mad I can barely get the words out.

  “Yes,” she says, as if it’s no big deal. “What’s your problem?”

  “What’s my problem?” I cry, hurling my cup of hot chocolate onto the grass as the anger explodes out of me. “You’re hanging out w
ith the guy who’s out to kill me!”

  She shrinks back from my rage, shaking with fear, and now I have to contend with feeling like a shitbag as well as everything else. I get up, stomp around a bit, and kick at the grass, but the anger won’t go away, it just makes me want to cry.

  “Rich.”

  “SHUT UP!” Chrissie was the one person I thought I could count on, and to find out she’s fraternising with the enemy –

  “Rich, I’m being friends with him for a reason.” Pulling on my arm, she forces me to look at her.

  “He’s making my life hell!”

  “I know,” she agrees, talking me down from the raging anger. “That’s why I’m letting him think I like him. So I can find out who’s been saying all these things to him.”

  The anger fizzes out, and exhausted, I sit down on the bench and bury my face in my hands. My twin’s going undercover because I can’t sort this out. My sister, who’s terrified to go anywhere without me, who I promised to look after. God, how pathetic am I?

  “Has he said anything?” I don’t want ask, but I’ve got no choice.

  “No,” she says, sitting close. “But he will.”

  “And you’re sure he doesn’t suspect anything?” It really doesn’t make me feel good that she’s taking such risks, and I’m letting her.

  “No,” she assures me. “Don’t worry, Rich; it’ll be all right.”

  “Yeah, right,” I say, sinking further down the bench. “Dad wants to kill me, I can’t call my mates, and Bollinger’s censoring all my letters.”

  “I’ll post your letters,” Chrissie offers. “Just slip me them in study hall.”

  Just knowing I can write to Beth without Bollinger reading them out in front of the whole class releases a mountain of weight pressing down on me, and with Chrissie using my shoulder as a pillow, we watch the sun go down — just the two of us.

  Chapter 35

  Sitting on my bed in the dark, I wait for Baxter to come. He’s never late. He always comes at 4:50 a.m. exactly. The routine never changes, just me.

  The door opens, and Baxter fills the space. “Ready?”

  I swallow my heart back into my chest, stand up, and follow him out.

  “You better get your act together!” he warns me. “If we lose again…”

  We’ve lost three times straight. Screwed our chances of winning the League, and the Challenge Cup’s the only silver we’re chasing. “Perhaps you should get a new fly-half.”

  “There isn’t one,” he tells me, pushing the doors open the way he pushes me around. “We’ve been holding try-outs for weeks — you’re the best there is.”