Every head in the classroom swivelled as Rhyllann entered. Becky patted the seat next to her. Rhyllann flushed, but before he could make his way over Marcus and Alex mobbed him. Clamouring to know where he’d been, how Wren had broken his foot, and why they’d been driven to school.
‘Well, I can’t really say too much – it’s on-going – but …’ The class quietened as the headmaster stalked into the room, looking as though he’d caught a whiff of rotten eggs.
‘Rhyllann Jones – if I can tear you away for a moment.’
Wren waited in the corridor, swamped in Rhyllann’s out grown jeans and a borrowed shirt and hoodie, he looked about twelve.
‘Hey Annie. You and me are special. We’re having private lessons.’
Mr Robinson sniffed. ‘You certainly are special. Follow me please.’ He flicked at Rhyllann’s hair and frowned. ‘I thought I told you to get this cut?’
Wren snapped. ‘He can’t. It's his religion.’
Robinson’s eyebrows rose, wrinkling his bald scalp. ‘Pray do tell. And what religion would that be?’
‘Pantheism.’
Rhyllann sniggered as Robinson unlocked the naughty kids’ room, his bony fingers white with rage. He’d never heard of Pantheism either; from the look on Robinson’s face he couldn’t wait to scurry back to his office to look the word up.
Catching Robinson’s glare, he slumped into a seat, slinging his bag on the desk.
‘I see you know the drill.’
Wren protested shrilly. ‘This isn’t right! Why are we here? We haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘I’ve been asked by a Detective Inspector Crombie to ensure your security at all times. He seemed to infer that my position here as headmaster depended on it.’
Rhyllann groaned. Way to go Crombie, he thought.
‘But …’
‘But nothing. Get your books out, and settle down to work.’
‘I don’t have my books. I don’t have anything.’ Wren sounded sulky.
‘Then I suggest you sit quietly, and contemplate on how much easier all our lives would be if everyone minded their own business, stuck to their own jobs, and let others get on with theirs.’
Robinson swept out the room, having got his own back on Pantheism.
‘Annie … say something Annie.’
Rhyllann refused to answer. Something about this room sapped his will to live. He didn’t even protest when Wren reached over, rummaging in his bag.
‘Sit down Master Prenderson.’ Wren spun round, his head swivelling as he searched for the cameras.
‘This is an infringement of my human rights.’ He stated to the room.
‘Duly noted. Take it up with Detective Inspector Crombie.’
‘At least let us sit in the library – I haven’t done anything. We haven’t done anything. We’ve got a right to an education. You’re just picking on us. It's because we’re Welsh.’
A melody of electronic bleeps sounded. Rhyllann frowned over at Wren, hands busy under the desk while he kept up an non-stop triage against injustice.
‘My mobile!’ he hissed.
Wren made a fierce face at him. Seconds later he passed Rhyllann's crappy old mobile, held together with duct tape, back. With mounting incredulity Rhyllann read the text sent to all contacts in his friends’ folder.
‘You little turd. You’re gonna get me killed.’
Wren jerked his hands upwards. ‘I said they can blame me.’
‘Yes. You sent “blame me” on my mobile. Everyone’s gonna think it was me!’ Not to mention using up all his credits.
‘Whoops!’ Wren rocked with suppressed laughter, Rhyllann clenched his fists.
‘You bastard!’ he hissed. At that moment the fire alarm sounded – clamouring throughout the building. Wren grabbed his elbow crutch.
‘C’mon Annie – I think the quickest way out is through that window.’
Snatching up his bag, Rhyllann followed, murderous thoughts rampaging through his mind.
They shuffled through excited throngs of chattering kids towards the school gate. This was just stupid. They’d never make it – outside the school grounds they’d stick out like sore thumbs Rhyllann thought, spotting WPC Hewes darting from group to group.
Rhyllann chewed his bottom lip, thinking he could bluff his way out of this, pretend the fire alarm text was a joke which someone had taken seriously. Then the stork like Robinson appeared on the school steps. He could put up with Hewes’s sarcasm and Robinson’s scorn; but not both. Not today.
Dragging Wren with him, he strode away from the gate. WPC Hewes had seen them! She was headed this way! Oh hell, at worst they’d be thrown back in the naughty room.
‘Nothing to do with us – someone playing a silly joke …’ The lie died on his lips. Ignoring him, WPC Hewes broke into a trot, tilting her head to speak into her radio, passing them blindly.
Wren pulled at his arm. ‘Quick! We can crawl through that hedge – into that back garden.’ Rhyllann scanned the playground again – no one looked in their direction. He squeezed after Wren praying there was no-one in the house.
A narrow side passage connected the rear garden to the front. Unbolting the wooden side gate, Rhyllann peered out cautiously. Half the neighbourhood crowded onto the pavement to watch as three massive fire engines roared up to the school, sirens howling, lights blazing. Some residents had kids at the school, they hurried to the gate, straining for a closer look. There was no sign of the policewoman, or any teachers, and the street would never be busier.
‘C’mon. Now or never. Just carry the crutch – hang on to my bag.’
Wren nodded. With an odd lurching motion they moved unnoticed away from the crowd. Rhyllann tried to ignore the persistent little voice in his head telling him to turn back: Turn back and face the music before it was too late.