The 13th Horseman - By Barry Hutchison Page 0,11

the three missing kids were, so he couldn’t be of any help, but he hoped someone would know something. Their parents had to be worried sick.

“OK, then,” said Mr Franks. “If any of you do remember anything, then let me or one of the other teachers know. Right away. I can’t stress that enough.”

He sat the paper down on his desk, then stood up straight. His eyes locked on to Drake and his mouth curved into a friendly smile.

“You must be Drake,” he said.

“Um... yeah,” Drake confirmed.

“Good to meet you. I’m Mr Franks, but everyone here knows my first name. Doesn’t bother me. It’s Darren, OK? Write that down if you want, so you remember. D-A-double-R-E-N. I’m not into that whole teacher-pupil thing. I like to think that we’re all friends here, just sharing knowledge. That’s all. We’ve all got knowledge and we’re just sharing it around. Sound good?”

Drake nodded. “Um... OK.”

“I thought it might,” said the teacher, smiling broadly. “I’m quite new here too, so I know it can be a bit daunting.” He looked around at the class. “But we’re a pretty good bunch, I think. We won’t see you stuck. If you need anything, just give me a shout.”

“Thanks,” Drake said.

“No bother,” Mr Franks replied. He had just started to say “Right, let’s crack on,” when a knock at the door interrupted him.

“Come in.”

The door opened slowly and a younger girl scurried a few paces into the class, then stopped, like a rabbit caught in headlights. Without a word, she thrust a note in Mr Franks’s direction.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it from her and reading it over. “You can go back to class,” he told her, and she retreated gratefully into the corridor.

“Looks like you’re already in demand, Drake,” he said.

Drake blinked. “Um... what?”

“Dr Black wants to see you,” the teacher said.

“He does? Why?”

“Doesn’t say,” Mr Franks replied. He looked down at the note again, in case he’d missed something. “Just says he wants to see you in his classroom as soon as possible.”

Drake realised every eye in the room was trained on him. A summoning to Dr Black’s classroom, he guessed, was not something that happened every day. A few rows away, he saw Mel looking back at him. She smiled encouragingly. For some reason, this made him even more nervous.

The legs of his chair scraped noisily in the sudden silence as he stood up.

“You’d better hurry,” Mr Franks said, as Drake made for the door. “It’s not a good idea to keep him waiting.”

Drake’s footfalls echoed eerily along the empty corridor. He turned over and over in his hands the photocopied map of the school that Mr Franks had given him, trying to figure out where in the twisting black and white labyrinth he was supposed to be. But he was coming to the conclusion that the map was a complete waste of time. He folded it neatly in half, stuck it in his back pocket, and went off in search of anything that might look familiar.

Why did the history teacher want to see him? That was the thought that occupied him as he wandered through the bewildering maze of corridors and passageways. Was he in trouble? He hadn’t done anything, so he didn’t think so.

Unless those three bullies had said something about him peeing on them, of course.

He walked on, up a flight of stairs that he vaguely remembered from yesterday. He felt himself becoming more anxious with every step. It had to be about the incident in the toilets. Why else would Dr Black call for him.

Self-defence, that would be his argument. It was a desperate, last-ditch attempt at avoiding a beating, and he wouldn’t, of course, even contemplate urinating on anyone again.

He stopped outside a gloss-painted door and read the little brass disc screwed into the wood. D9. This was the place.

Self-defence, he reminded himself, as he knocked once, then reached for the door handle. Dr Black would understand. He was probably a reasonable enough man, deep down.

Drake drew in a breath, assured himself there was nothing to worry about, then pushed open the door.

He paused with the door half open and stared in wonder. A sphere, about the size of a large beach ball, lay on the floor. Its surface shone like polished chrome. Drake saw a distorted reflection of himself as he leaned in closer to get a better look.

SNIKT!

Two blades extended suddenly from hidden compartments within the ball. Drake leaped back, as the sphere rose into the air,