‘So, what have you got to say for yourselves this time?’
They were back in Mrs. Franklin’s office, standing in a row before her desk while she sat behind it, drumming her fingers again and waiting for an answer. It was just like before, everything was just like before. But this time, there was something extra. This time, their dishes were on the desk, arrayed in baleful accusation before them. She’d been studying them for some time before she spoke, dabbing at them with a fork, lifting the corner of Al’s rat and peering underneath. She had not looked very pleased about what she was seeing.
‘Well?’ she said again.
‘It was just a bit of fun,’ Al ventured.
‘Yes, I seem to recall we’ve had a conversation already about your sense of “fun”,’ she retorted dryly. ‘Well, this time, you’ve really excelled yourselves. You do realise that Miss Palmer has had to be taken home and Mr. Lockyer has had to take over your Cookery class.’
They stifled a grin. Lockyer didn’t know one end of a sausage from the other. The class must be having a great time.
‘First things first, I suppose,’ she went on. ‘Why did you do it? I take it that this was meant as some kind of protest at being made to do Cookery?’
‘Sort of,’ said Al. ‘We thought if we did something really gross, we’d get ourselves kicked out.’
‘Did you, now! Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but as I said at our last meeting, Cookery is on the curriculum, you are subject to the curriculum, and never the twain shall part.’
‘Uh?’
‘You do Cookery, come what may. So tell me, just out of interest, how did you manage this?’
‘We learned a bit of cooking,’ said Jon, ‘like you wanted us to.’
‘Yes and it’s a pity you couldn’t have put that learning to a more constructive use. But what I meant was these—these rats. Where did you get them?’
‘Uh…we made them.’
‘You made them! How?’
‘It was easy,’ said Al. ‘First, we tack-stitched the bits of cloth together—’
‘—just into a rough shape,’ said Tony, ‘an’ then we did a proper back-stitch to make the bits really strong—’
‘—so’s they wouldn’t fall apart,’ said Jon. ‘An’ for the eyes, we used small buttons. Attaching them, that was the hardest part.’
‘No it wasn’t,’ said Eddie. ‘Putting the tails on without the stitching showing, that was worse.’
‘Nah, the legs! Nothing to get a needle into.’
‘No, it was the, er…the…’
They trailed off into silence, very aware that Mrs. Franklin was watching them with studied interest, a faint smile creasing her lips.
‘Most informative,’ she said, ‘but again, that wasn’t what I actually meant. What I really wanted to know was who taught you how to sew?’
Silence. They just stood there, glancing at each other uneasily but determined to say nothing.
‘I see,’ she said. ‘The ancient and misguided code of not ratting on a mate, eh?’
Her choice of words was unfortunate, and they burst out laughing.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said. ‘The English language is full of unfortunate little traps, as I am sure you will come to learn. Now, as to my question…actually, I already know you made them and who it was who taught you.’
‘Uh…you do?’ said Al.
‘I do. Sebastian Pike asked to see me—his hand, you will doubtless be glad to learn, is fine—and he wanted it known that he played a large part in your little plot. He also admitted acting as stooge while you set things up for Miss Palmer to discover, even if that part didn’t quite go according to plan.’
‘He did that?’ said Al.
‘He did. Very honourable of him, don’t you think?’
Al certainly did think. A good friend he’d become, a very good friend, indeed.
‘What are you gonna do to him, Miss?’ he asked quietly.
‘I’ve sent him home. He’ll be going back to Chapworthy College post haste, a report about him and his part in this whole sorry episode close on his heels.’
They nodded glumly. Somehow, things weren’t going to be quite the same without that refined accent around.
‘What are you gonna do to us?’ was the next question.
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ she said ominously. ‘There are a number of options open to me, as I’m sure past experience will remind you. Detention?—’
They felt a sneer coming on. A good excuse for another laugh, detention, if only because it was usually Lockyer who took the class.
‘—Or a letter home to your parents?—’
Oh yeah? And what notice would they take? Glance at it, mutter Don’t do it again and go back to watching the telly, that’s what.
‘—Or even extra homework. But since you hardly do any, anyway, I don’t see the point. So I’ve decided on something really special for a punishment.’
Al glanced at the others uneasily. ‘Uh…you have?’ he said.
‘I have. I’ve decided to award each of you a merit mark.’
It took a moment for that one to sink in, then they were erupting into a chorus of protests.
‘Aw, come on, Miss!’—‘We was only having a laugh, Miss!’—‘That’s why we did it, Miss!’—‘So’s we wouldn’t get a merit for Cookery, Miss!’
She held up a hand for silence. ‘I think you misunderstand me,’ she said. ‘The merit mark will not be for Cookery but for Sewing.’
They blinked disbelief…realisation…then sudden, utter horror. ‘What!’ Al almost screamed. ‘But you can’t do that, Miss!’
‘I can,’ she said, ‘and I have. Even as we speak, your names are being added to the board.’
‘But—but everyone will know we’ve been doing…sewing!’
‘Well,’ she said reasonably, ‘you have, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah but—’
‘But what? You made the effort to learn the techniques, you then applied that learning in the making of your “rats”, and you retained enough of that learning to give me that brief but very informative little rundown just now. I think that deserves some recognition, don’t you?’
They stared at her, dumbstruck, somehow unable to move.
‘So,’ she went on, smiling sweetly, ‘unless there are any further questions, you may go.’
They shuffled out of her office and into the corridor. There, kids were milling round, break-time obviously upon them. And that could only mean—
‘Everyone’s gonna see it,’ said Al.
Even as he spoke, two girls from another class passed by, pausing to glance their way and start giggling. Any other time, they might have ignored it, put it down to maybe one of the girls fancying one of them, but not now, not this time. They felt embarrassed, felt small and helpless, felt the shame burning their ears.
‘What are we gonna do?’ Eddie wailed.
‘If my sister gets to hear about this, there’ll be no stopping her,’ said Tony glumly.
‘Never mind your sister,’ said Jon, ‘it’s Mad Max you’ve got to worry about. An’ here he comes.’
It was Mad Max, too, swaggering towards them, a big grin lighting his stupid face.
‘Oi, Bristow!’ he yelled for the whole corridor to hear. ‘I got ’ole in me sock! Gonna mend it for me?’
He passed on by, laughing loudly at his own joke. There would be more in the days to come, they knew, and not just from him. Suddenly, the whole school seemed to be their enemy. But then Al was staring after him, his eyes narrowing like a cat that had just spotted dinner. He had a hole in his sock, did he? The most unpopular boy in the school had a hole in his sock. Well, there was more than one way to stitch someone up.
‘Listen up, guys,’ he said. ‘I’ve got an idea…’
~oOo~
For more children’s books for all ages,
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends this-inline-share-buttons">