‘What appals me, 3KM,’ Mr Kempsey’s nickname may be ‘Polly’ but he’s dangerous when he’s this angry, ‘is that these acts of intimidation have been going on for weeks. Weeks.’
3KM hid behind a funeral silence.
‘WEEKS!’
3KM jumped.
‘And not one of you thought to come to me! I feel sickened. Sickened and scared. Yes, scared. In five years you’re going to have the vote! You are supposed to be the elite, 3KM. What kind of citizens are you going to make? What kind of police officers? Teachers? Lawyers? Judges? “I knew it was wrong but it wasn’t my business, sir.” “Better to let someone else blow the whistle, sir.” “I was afraid if I said anything, I’d be next, sir.” Well, if this spinelessness is the future of British society, heaven help us.’
I, Jason Taylor, am a grass.
‘Now I strongly disapprove of how Taylor brought this woeful business to my attention, but at least he did. Less impressive are Chaceley, Pike and Briar, who only spoke up under duress. What is to your collective shame is that it took Taylor’s rash act this morning to force events to a head.’
Every kid in front’d turned round to look at me, but it was Gary Drake I went for. ‘What is it, Gary?’ (Hangman’d handed me a free pass for the afternoon. I sometimes think Hangman wants to come to one of Mrs de Roo’s ‘working accommodations’, too.) ‘Don’t you know what I look like after three years?’
The eyes switched to Gary Drake. Then to Mr Kempsey. Our form teacher should have opened fire on me for talking while he was talking. But he didn’t. ‘Well, Drake?’
‘Sir?’
‘Feigned incomprehension is the last resort of the fool, Drake.’
Gary Drake actually looked awkward. ‘Sir?’
‘You’re doing it again, Drake.’
Gary Drake nicely stamped on. Wayne Nashend and Ant Little suspended. Chances are, Mr Nixon’s going to expel Neal Brose.
Now they’ll really want to kick my face in.
Neal Brose normally sits up front in English, slap bang in the middle. Go on, said Unborn Twin, take the bastard’s seat. You owe it him. So I did. David Ockeridge, who sits next to Neal Brose, chose a seat farther back. But Clive Pike, of all people, put his bag next to me. ‘Anyone sitting here?’ Clive Pike’s breath smells of cheese’n’onion Outer Spacers, but who cares?
I made a Go ahead face.
Miss Lippetts shot me a look as we chanted, ‘Good afternoon, Miss Lippetts.’ So swift and crafty it was almost not there, but it was. ‘Sit down, 3KM. Pencil cases out, please. Today, we’ll exercise our supple young minds on a composition, on this theme…’ As we got our stuff out, Miss Lippetts wrote on the board.
A SECRET.
The slap and slide of chalk’s a reassuring sound.
‘Tamsin, do me the honour, please.’
Tamsin Murrell read, ‘“A secret”, miss.’
‘Thank you. But what is a secret?’
It takes everyone a bit of time to get going after lunch.
‘Well, say, is a secret a thing you can see? Touch?’
Avril Bredon put her hand up.
‘Avril?’
‘A secret’s a piece of information that not everybody knows.’
‘Good. A piece of information that not everyone knows. Information about…who? You? Somebody else? Something? All of these?’
After a gap, a few kids murmured, ‘All of these.’
‘Yes, I’d say so too. But ask yourselves this. Is a secret a secret if it isn’t true?’
That was a tight knot of a question. Miss Lippetts wrote,
MISS LIPPETTS IS NANCY REAGAN.
Most of the girls laughed.
‘If I asked you to stay behind after class, waited till we were alone and then whispered, in all seriousness, this statement, would you go, “No! Really! Wow! What a secret!” Duncan?’
Duncan Priest had his hand up. ‘I’d phone Little Malvern Loonybin, miss. Book you a room with a nice mattress. On all the walls.’ Duncan Priest’s small fan club laughed. ‘That’s not a secret, miss! It’s just the gibberish of an utter nutter.’
‘A pithy and rhyming assessment, thank you. As Duncan says, so-called “secrets” that are palpably false cannot be considered secrets. If enough people believed I was Nancy Reagan, that might cause me problems, but we still couldn’t really think of it as a “secret”, could we? More of a mass delusion. Can anyone tell me what a mass delusion is? Alastair?’
‘I heard loads of Americans think Elvis Presley is still alive.’
‘Fine example. However, I’m now going to let you in on a secret about myself which is true. It’s a touch embarrassing, so please don’t spread it around at break-time…’