School Monitor

  I shrug, as if I really want to do a promo for how great this school is.

  “Rich?”

  I look at my feet as I try to get back in control.

  “Is everything all right?”

  I flinch as her fingers brush against my arm. “’Course it is.”

  She’s silent for a long time. “Look, I know you got into some trouble a while back. Are some of the other boys giving you a hard time?”

  It would be so easy to say yes, but I can’t. I just can’t.

  “Rich,” she says, speaking softly. “St. Bartholomew’s may have some very archaic rules, but I can assure you that bullying is never tolerated.”

  “I just don’t feel well!” I snap, every one of my defences up as she nears the truth.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologises, retreating. “Do you want to be excused?”

  Now I feel guilty for being mean to her when she’s my only friend here. “No,” I tell her; leaving here, my trench, and going upstairs into enemy territory where there’s no escape from the constant fire, scares the shit out of me. “I just want to get on with this.”

  “Okay,” she says, forcing herself to sound happy. “Well, let’s break a leg and make a killer film.”

  I wince. I probably will end up getting a broken leg — two of them if we don’t win the Challenge Cup.

  Chapter 39

  I spend the rest of the afternoon recording the footage I want from one tape onto another, leaving ten seconds of static between clips so I can easily slot them into my final documentary.

  It doesn’t take me long. I can visualise the finished story as easily as I can see the bruises covering my ribs. Still too spineless to go back and face Spencer and the others, I turn on some of the cameras to see what’s happening around the school.

  I start to feel a bit better as I watch Wilson giving Finny serious grief on the left-hand screen for running in the corridors. On the screen to the right, the orchestra rehearse for the Christmas concert, and on the bottom screen, Baxter’s having a boxing lesson.

  I turn on more cameras, but there’s nothing except empty classrooms, and finding some old security tapes, I spend the hour watching random segments of footage, but the only interesting clip I find is the Head practising his golf swings in his office.

  I put the tape to one side, when I notice the monitor in the middle of the deck is linked to the camera in the girls’ Common Room, and Chrissie’s in there surrounded by a whole gang of girls. For a horrible moment, I fear she’s going through the same hell I am, but she’s not the centre stage of a hate campaign; she’s Miss Popular, and they’re not laughing at her. They’re laughing at some story she’s telling.

  Figures. I mean, we’ve always been opposites, so I guess it makes sense she’s popular in the only place I’m not. Even more depressed, I head back to the dorm and get ambushed by Parker.

  “Jarvis!”

  My head smacks into the ceiling as he bawls out my name, and still quaking, I go to his room to find him polishing his rugby trophies.

  “Shut the door, Jarvis.”

  I shut the door and wait for him to lay into me.

  “You all right, Jarvis?” he asks, his gruff voice sounding almost sympathetic.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your media teacher, Miss Bell, doesn’t think so,” he says, looking me up and down. “In fact, she’s very concerned about you.”

  “I’m fine, sir.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he says, putting the big shiny silver tankard back into the display case. “Want a cup of tea?”

  Not sure what to say, I nod.

  “Take sugar?”

  “Two, sir.”

  He nods and hands me the mug. “You think you’ll be fit for the match on Friday?”

  I sip the tea that’s far too hot. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good,” he says, sitting on his desk in an effort to look more friendly. “So, everything’s all right?”

  His awkward small talk makes me wish he’d start shouting again.

  “So how are things with you and Spencer?”

  I shrug. What else can I say?

  “Well, what did you expect, Jarvis?” he says, turning from friend to bully in a flash. “You attacked him, so he’s entitled to defend himself.”

  I don’t believe it. He’s telling me it’s okay for Spencer to lay into me!

  “You know, Jarvis, I never took you for a mummy’s boy. An idiot, yes, but not a mummy’s boy!”

  “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “Really?” he says, raising a mangled eyebrow. “So why go crying to Miss Bell?”

  “I never asked her to come and see you!” But even though I’m shouting, he’s having none of it, and because I can’t run or punch anything, the anger leaks out of me in the worst possible way.

  “Mummy’s boy!”

  I fight to stop the tears, but I can’t. There’s a tsunami of them building up behind my eyes.

  “Have some pride, Jarvis!” he yells. “I know you acting lot can cry on cue, but that won’t work with me. I’m not a stupid little drama teacher.”

  I bite my lip to stop myself from saying something I’ll regret, but it’s not easy. I’m a volcano about to erupt.

  “Go and pack,” he tells me. “You’re moving to sickbay.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s the only one place in this school for scared little girls,” he tells me. “Run along. Matron’s expecting you!”

  Chapter 40

  Returning to sickbay after another day of being shoved about, I climb the lino-covered steps to find Spencer, Finny, and Baxter sitting in the corridor. I freeze, clutching the banisters as my battle-scarred senses register the signs of another imminent attack.

  “What’s wrong with you, Baxter?” asks Matron, looking like a Dickens period drama nurse with her white apron and stiff blue dress.

  “Must have been something I ate,” he complains with a groan. “I feel sick.”

  Even if I wasn’t going to be a famous director, I could tell Baxter’s faking it — shame Matron can’t.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” she says in her most simpering of voices. “Go into room two, and I’ll be with you in a minute. What’s wrong with you, Finnegan?”

  “Same, Matron,” he says, doing a more convincing impression of someone with food poisoning — he’s clutching his stomach.

  “You better lie down too,” she says. “And what’s wrong with you, Spencer?”

  “Got a migraine starting,” he says, sinking down in his chair. “I get them when I’m under stress.”

  “Stress?” she queries, placing a hand on his forehead.

  “Yes,” he says, telling us both. “Someone’s been bad-mouthing me, trying to get me in trouble with the masters.”

  “I’m sure that’s not the case,” she says, helping him to his feet even though he doesn’t need it. “Now lie down in the quiet, and I’ll bring you something through in a minute.”

  I lock eyes with him, and the alarm bells go off like air-raid sirens in my head. Spencer’s planning something tonight, but he can’t do anything to me here. Matron isn’t going to stand by and let him beat me up, whatever it says in The Code.

  I stay in my room and read, only it’s impossible to concentrate when I know any minute I could be fighting for my life, but unlike Captain Howard when he marched off to war, I haven’t got a battalion of friends to back me up.

  A knock at the door reminds me that there’s no all clear, and blinking, I see Matron standing at the door.

  “As we’ve got rather a full sickbay, do you mind taking your bath early?”

  I nod. It’s not as if I have anything better to do.

  “Thank you,” she says. “I won’t be long.”

  “Long?”

  “Yes. Mr Parker just called. There’s another two doubled up with stomach cramps, so we could be even cosier in here.”

  That’s it. It’s going to happen now, and there’s nothing I can do. In the c
orridor, I pass Jones, who’s still got a face full of scabby-looking spots after catching chicken pox, and I dive into the bathroom and lock the door. All I have to do is stay in here until she gets back, but it doesn’t matter how many times I try to tell myself I’m safe. I can’t relax.

  Unable to stand listening to my own fear a second longer, I turn up the volume on the MP3 player Chrissie bought me during half-term and run my bath. Another luxury of being in sickbay, hot showers and baths, but tonight this place doesn’t feel like a substitute home. It’s a trap.

  I check the door again, just to make sure I’ve locked it. I have. I’m safe. So why don’t I feel safe? I force myself to sing along to the song, keep my thoughts busy so they won’t get worked up about what Spencer and his army have planned, but nothing works. I brush my teeth, get into the tub, and let the hot waters rise up to my neck.

  For a few brief seconds, I forget where I am. I’m back home filming with Stew, Dave, and Beth, and we’re mucking around doing stupid things because we can… and then it’s all gone in a flash of panic as something brushes against my ankle.

  I pull the flannel from my face, and my heart becomes a thumping bass in my chest when I see Spencer, Finny, and Baxter standing over me.

  “Surprise!”

  Baxter pushes me under before I know it.

  Choking on the hot water, I lash out with my arms and legs as I fight my way to the surface, but Baxter pushes down on my neck, keeping me under.

  Head on the verge of exploding, muffled laughter echoing all around, I fail again and again to push him off, and just when my head fills with hot blackness, he releases me.

  Gasping for air, I sit up.

  “How dare you go to Parker,” Spencer hisses, grabbing a fistful of my hair and snapping my head back so far it hurts to breathe.

  “I never said anything,” I pant. “He guessed!”

  But for some reason, this seems to make Spencer even more lunatic psycho, and he holds me under so long that when he finally lets me go, everything’s spinning.

  “Just remember you started this!” Spencer tells me as I hang over the side, puking up bathwater.

  I could try to tell him it wasn’t me. That we’re both victims of the same sicko, but he’s not interested in hearing the truth. He just wants to hurt me. Fortunately, all the shouting brings Jones from his room.

  “What’s going on?” Jones demands, sounding brave but looking terrified.

  “Teaching him a lesson,” Spencer replies as Baxter drags me from the bath by my hair.

  “Let me go!” I buck and kick, but I can’t do anything, and using the belt from my robe, Baxter ties my hands behind my back.

  “Now listen!” Spencer tells me, closing his hand around my throat and pressing me up against the wall. “Considering what you’ve done, I’ve been bloody decent about the whole thing, but you just won’t leave it, will you?”

  Spluttering for breath as he continues to crush my throat, my eyes start to water as the terror eats me up.

  “You really don’t want to push me any further,” Spencer snarls, his face so contorted with rage he looks like some kind of mobster. “My father knows people: one word from me, and I could have you killed in your sleep, blinded, or crippled…”

  I hear myself yelp; he has me convinced.

  “Better,” says Spencer, the coldness of his voice making my heart stop. “Now, just in case you should get any more ideas about going to teacher…”

  He releases the pressure on my neck, but it isn’t over — not yet; while Spencer’s been putting the frighteners on me, Finny and Baxter have been busy, and the camera’s rolling.

  Steam rises from the bath and my whole body quakes as Finny records my torture with my own camera. Oh my God. I’m going to star in a snuff movie!

  “Spencer, it wasn’t me, on my mum’s life!”

  He stops, and some of the madness disappears from his eyes. “Do you know what, Jarvis?” Spencer says, cocking his head to one side. “I think I believe you.”

  The relief doesn’t last for long. Not even a second. He’s just playing with me.

  “You had me going there for a moment, Jarvis.” Spencer laughs, sticking his face in mine. “You really did. But I don’t believe a word of it.”

  Baxter hauls me to my feet and dumps me in front of the bath of steaming water.

  “FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” I cry, unable to stop the tears as my humiliation is captured forever on camera.

  “You getting all this?” Spencer asks, turning to Finny.

  Finny gives him the thumbs up.

  “YOU’RE CRAZY!” I cry as Baxter forces my head towards the water. “I haven’t done ANYTHING!”

  “Spencer, you can’t do this!” cries Jones, sounding almost as freaked out as me.

  “I can do anything I want!” Spencer yells, in full-blown psycho mode. “Now get out of here before I decide to play with you!”

  Everything stops. I never thought Spencer would turn on Jones, and from the uncomfortable silence, Jones didn’t think it either.

  “GO!” Spencer roars. “And if you say anything…”

  Jones runs. I don’t blame him. I’d run too if I could, but something’s changed. Spencer’s gone too far turning on his own, and the others don’t want to play anymore.

  “Do it, Baxter!” Spencer yells. “DUNK HIM!”

  “No,” says Baxter, releasing me.

  “NO?” Spencer’s completely lost it, and suddenly I’m not the only one cowering from his insanity.

  “DUNK HIM,” Spencer roars at Baxter, “OR I’LL PUT YOU IN THERE!”

  Chapter 41

  On my knees, my face held inches away from the steaming water, I fight to free my hands, but they’ve tied them up so tight the cord cuts into my skin. I try again, try to rip my wrists free, but it’s hopeless. Baxter’s giant fingers dig into the back of my neck, and I bite hard on my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out. This is going to hurt. Shit, this is going to really hurt!

  “DO IT!” Spencer yells again.

  My whole body trembling from the strain of holding it together, I close my eyes. Part of me wishes they’d just hurry up. This waiting hurts just as much.

  “BAXTER!”

  This is it. I can’t even hear myself crying over my terrified heart.

  “NO!” says Baxter.

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?” Spencer shouts.

  “I mean NO,” says Baxter, pushing me aside. “You said you just wanted to frighten him. He’s frightened!”

  Nostrils flared and eyes so deranged he’d pass for Alex in A Clockwork Orange, Spencer looks from Finny to Baxter. They’re both sickly white with fear.

  “YOU DO IT!” Spencer turns on Finny.

  The breath lodges in my throat as I wait to see if Finny’s going to back down, but he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with Baxter.

  “FINNY?”

  Finny shakes his head.

  “Fine!” Spencer snaps. “Be a pussy, and just film it!”

  Spencer elbows Baxter out of the way and makes a grab for me. I tumble back and lash out at him with my feet, but with my hands still tied behind my back, I can’t get any strength behind my feeble kicks.

  Once again, Baxter comes to my aid. “Spencer, that’s enough!”

  “Have you two forgotten what he DID?” Spencer cries, shaking Baxter off him.

  “I know,” Baxter agrees. “But this isn’t the way.”

  I hold my breath. It’s like watching the police try to talk the bank robber into letting their hostage go, only it’s tendon-snapping tension because I’m the one who’s going to die if this goes wrong.

  “Cowards!” Spencer lets me drop to the ground, but not before he kicks me in the guts. “Now clean this mess up, and if Matron asks, you slipped getting out of the bath, UNDERSTAND?”

  Chapter 42

  I don’t even realise I am still naked as I smear my blood around the tiles, until Jones comes back inside.

  “It’s all right,”
he says, handing me my towel. “I’ll clean up.”

  I’m shaking too much to wrap the towel around my waist, but somehow I manage to put one foot in front of the other and get back to my room, where I sit on my bed just staring down at the blood still running down my leg.

  I don’t know what’s happened, but I feel dead inside, like my will to live, my courage, any sense of dignity I had has been kicked out of me.

  I mean, there’s only so much you can take. They have it all on film; every kid in the school will know I cried and begged Spencer to let me go, and it’s that I can’t handle. Oh God, if they put it up on YouTube, I’ll die.

  A tap on my half-open door sounds like ten rounds of rapid machine gun fire. Flushed with icy sweat, my body braces itself for another battering, but it’s just Jones, looking sicker than he did when he first went down with the pox.

  “You all right?” he whispers, stepping inside and closing the door silently behind him.

  I nod, my throat still too constricted from all the tears to reply.

  “Got your camera,” he says, holding it up in front of me before placing it down on the empty chair. “It’s all right; they didn’t damage it.”

  “Thanks,” I hear myself stammer.

  “Rich, you need to clean yourself up.”

  I don’t know if it’s the shock of hearing someone other than Chrissie or Laura call me by my name, but it somehow stops me from tumbling deeper into myself.

  “Your knee, Rich,” he says, talking slower. “It’s bleeding everywhere.”

  I stare down at my right knee and see the blood still running down my shin, but I can’t be bothered to do anything. “Why didn’t you call me Jarvis?”

  “I’m breaking The Code by talking to you,” Jones replies, pouring some disinfectant onto a wad of cotton wool. “Might as well break a few more rules.”

  An hour ago, having Jones talk to me again would have given me the strength to battle on until the end of term, but even though I’ve stopped sinking into the darkness, the climb back into the light is beyond me. “Is this what it was like for the other guy who broke The Code?”

  “No,” Jones replies, dabbing at my knee and making me wince. “You’re getting it much worse because…”

  I nod. “You know that’s rubbish, don’t you?”

  “I dunno,” he confesses, looking even more torn. “Spencer said…”

  But what Spencer said I never found out, because at that moment the door opens inwards and Baxter steps inside. “What you doing, Jones?”