The first thing Oz did after he got home that afternoon was to look at his laptop again. The images were still there, but with a bit of experimentation, he could now make the images smaller by waving the pointer over the top left-hand corner of the screen. But they never went away altogether. He sent Ruff and Ellie some screenshots of the images. Within twenty minutes, Ellie was Skyping him back online.
“Ruff not around, then?” she asked, and Oz detected the little accusatory tone in her voice.
“He has a paper round most afternoons delivering the evening news.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Ellie frowned.
“Yeah. That’s his only pocket money these days, since his dad is working part-time now that Brockets has cut back.”
“Is that why his dad was painting chalets over half term?” Ellie asked, frowning.
“Yep.”
But they had no chance to discuss this any further as a bleep on the screen brought up Ruff’s shaggy-fringed face, and they immediately started discussing the images.
“Wow, these are amazing,” Ruff purred.
“I don’t know what the E thingy is, but the other thing looks a bit like my grandma’s old jewellery,” Ellie said. Even via the webcam, Oz could see her eyes glinting with excitement. “This is so cool, Oz.”
“Maybe, but the trouble is we can’t see how big it really is from the screen,” Oz mused.
“Never mind that,” Ruff said. “The question is, how the buzzard did these images get on your laptop?”
“All I know is that they weren’t there when I went to bed.”
“So does that mean that someone sneaked in and installed them while you were asleep?” Ellie asked.
“What, like a screensaver burglar in reverse?”
“Your mother?” offered Ellie half-heartedly.
“No way,” Oz said. “She still struggles with emails.”
“What about Caleb or Lucy Bishop or that Tim bloke?” Ruff suggested.
“But why? And besides, I would have heard them.”
All three of them sat back, befuddled. Finally, they agreed to do some thinking on their own and get back together in an hour or so’s time. Oz knew he wouldn’t find an answer because he’d been thinking of nothing else since he’d got home. But he was still mulling it over some time later when there was a knock on his bedroom door and his mother called, “Oz, it’s me.”
He shut his laptop lid and got up to open the door. His mother stood there with Tim, complete with leather tool belt, in tow.
“Tim mentioned to me that some of the radiators on his side of the house were not working properly, so he’s offered to check the central heating for us. That’s nice of him, isn’t it?” Mrs. Chambers was grinning.
“What sort of checking?”
“Bleeding radiators,” Tim said.
“They’re useless, I know,” Oz agreed.
“No,” said Tim earnestly, “that’s what I’ll be doing. Bleeding the radiators to let out trapped air. Makes them less efficient if there’s air in them. Can I come in?”
Oz stood aside and watched Tim fit a key to the top of the radiator under his window, whistling jauntily as he did so. Air hissed out, followed by a dribble of water.
“There,” said Tim. “Fixed.”
Mrs. Chambers grinned and gave Oz a thumbs-up. House maintenance always seemed to make her extremely happy.
“I’ll just check the other rooms on this floor, too,” Tim said, very businesslike.
“Would you?” Mrs. Chambers simpered. “I’ll leave you to it, then, shall I?”
Oz watched as Tim went into his dad’s study and heard his mother whisper, “He’s worth his weight in gold, that one.”
Oz shrugged and went back to his laptop just as a chat signal chimed. He accepted the call, and within seconds Ellie and Ruff were both staring back at him on his split screen.
“Well?” Oz asked.
“Nothing yet,” Ruff said.
“I’ve found something,” Ellie said, sounding pleased with herself. “In fact, I know exactly what that thing that looks like an insect is. It’s a brooch, and it’s from a sale of Victorian jewellery in a shop in Seabourne.”
“What?” said Oz, astounded. “But how…?”
“Like I said, it looked like some of my gran’s old jewellery. I showed her and she thinks it looks a lot like Bakelite, too.”
“Bakelite? Sounds like a sort of bread,” Ruff muttered.
“It’s a kind of plastic. All the rage when my gran was young, so she says. Anyway, I did a search for Bakelite brooches online, and this advert came up. ‘A well-preserved Bakelite dress brooch—with missing metal clip.’ The shop is called Garret and Eldred Antiques. They even have a catalogue. I’ve sent the image to both of you.”
Oz opened his email and looked at the image Ellie had scanned. It did look the same, though the quality was poor and it was difficult to be certain.
“You’re a genius, Ellie,” Oz said.
“Yeah, I know,” Ellie said with a dramatic sigh. “I vote we go and look at it on Saturday.”
“This is so weird,” Ruff said. “I’m sure I’ve seen that E-shaped thing somewhere, too. Just can’t think where.”
Oz shrugged. “I only wish I knew what it all meant.”
“We’ll find out, I know we will,” Ellie said.
Oz wished he had her confidence.
There was English homework, but Oz didn’t really mind because all he had to do was write a paragraph on Charles Dickens’ spooky story about a Signalman who kept getting premonitions. He heard the phone ring downstairs and didn’t think twice about it; he was too busy trying to work out what saturnine meant. But when he heard a firm knock on his door a few minutes later, he almost jumped out of his skin.
His mother opened the door and stepped in. She wore a serious, troubled expression. “Oz, I’ve just got off the phone with the deputy head, Miss Swinson,” Mrs. Chambers said.
“The Volcano? What did she want?”
“She rang to tell me that your maths teacher has contacted her. You re-sat your maths test today, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Oz said, intrigued.
“You got one hundred percent.”
After long, ticking seconds of shocked silence, Oz got up from the chair, punched the air and let out a whoop and a triumphant, “Yesss!”
Mrs. Chambers looked on, bemused.
“So the Volcano rang to congratulate me?” Oz said finally, after realising that his mother wasn’t exactly sharing in his ecstatic display of victory.
“Dare I ask why you call her that?” asked Mrs. Chambers warily.
“‘Cos she blows up when you least expect it,” Oz stated.
Mrs. Chambers let out an uncertain, “Hmmm,” and came and sat on the edge of Oz’s bed. “Well, anyway, she said that Mr. Boggs was…uncomfortable with what had happened.”
Suddenly, all the elation drained out of Oz like water from a leaky bucket. “Are they trying to say that I cheated?”
“No one has actually come out with it, but yes, I suppose that is what they’re saying,” Mrs. Chambers said unhappily.
Oz was on his feet in an instant. “That’s just rubbish, Mum,” he said, feeling his cheeks start to burn. “I don’t know how I did it, I just did. And I did revise last week, you know I did, but on Friday it was all muddled, and today…it just wasn’t.”
“So, no cheating?”
“I swear I did not cheat,” Oz said, his voice rising.
“So today, when you re-sat, things just clicked. Is that it?” Mrs. Chambers asked, her eyes boring into Oz’s.
“Exactly. Things just clicked…well, more like sort of moved about in colour in my head. But that’s what happened. Suddenly I knew what to do.”
It was as good an explanation as any, because it was the truth and Oz couldn’t think of any other way to say it. Mrs. Chambers held Oz in her steady gaze for a long ten seconds before getting up off the bed and holding him in a hug. “Then that’s what I’m going to tell the Volcano when I ring her back. But I’ve got a feeling they may want to talk to you at school about this as well.”
“Great,” Oz said, his eyes rolling up towards the ceiling as he let out a sigh.
After his mother left, Oz sat and pondered. He hadn’t thought about the maths thing that much, but he could understand that, to Boggs, it must have appeared very strange indeed. Still, that didn’t change anything. What had happened, as weird as it was, had happened. He felt his insides tingle with the memory of it. And as his mum always said, you should never look a gift horse in the mouth, even if it is totally bonkers.
He finished off the essay and then went up to the library. He was still utterly convinced that the answers to the footsteps and the weird appearances on the laptop were going to be found somewhere in this room, hidden amidst all the words on these shelves. He paused to look at the ornate carvings of letters and shapes on the panelled walls, all completely illegible to him, and which his dad had said were a mixture of alchemical and astrological symbols.
Oz leaned his forehead against the dark oak and closed his eyes. All was quiet except for the faint moaning of the wind outside and the ticks and pops of the house’s ancient plumbing. But then he heard another noise, one which made his heart stutter in his chest. It was faint, but it was enough to make him catch his breath and turn to press his ear against the wood. He strained, barely swallowing for fear of missing it. Then, from somewhere deep below in the bowels of the old orphanage, faint but definite, came once more the echoing footfalls that he and Ruff and Ellie had heard on Halloween. He stayed in the library for another half an hour pressing his ear to the paneling, but heard nothing more.
Finally, Oz looked out of the turret window over the pitched roof and parapets and spindly chimneys of the orphanage. Somewhere beneath that slate and stone was a mystery waiting to be solved. But then doubt reared its gargoyle head. Had he really heard the footsteps that second time? Was it just that he so desperately wanted to believe that this was all tied up with his dad that he was beginning to invent things? He shook his head to rid himself of the nagging voice. There was something in that orphanage. Something strange and intriguing that was begging to be found out. Glancing up, he saw a face in the glass and for a heart-stopping moment was convinced he was looking at a total stranger. But it was only his reflection that stared back at him, and it, too, had no answers to his questions.
* * *
The next morning, Oz and the rest of the students on his bus were late getting to registration because of some failed traffic lights on Rosemount Hill. When he finally made it, Ellie mouthed, “Where have you been?” As he sat down next to her she leaned across and managed to whisper, “I’ve found something else out,” before Miss Arkwright began reminding everyone that the final installment of money for the end of January skiing trip needed to be in by Friday.
“That’s you, Dilpak, and you, Sandra, I think.”
Both potential skiers nodded while Ruff eyed them wistfully and muttered, “The only time I expect I’ll ever go skiing is if Seabourne Hill freezes over and they give out free ski passes to over sixty-fives.” Oz had no chance of finding out what Ellie had to say, because Miss Arkwright was calling his name above the clamour of the mass exodus to first lesson.
“Oscar, can you stay behind for a moment, please?”
Oz had his back to her and made eyes to the ceiling in response to Ellie and Ruff’s questioning glances just before he turned around.
“Yes, miss?”
“Miss Swinson wants to see you sometime this morning,” she said. “Something about a maths test?”
Oz nodded glumly.
“Didn’t you do very well?” she asked.
“Got one hundred percent, miss. Badg…Mr. Boggs thinks it’s fishy.”
“Really?” said Miss Arkwright, looking surprised. “And is it?”
“No, miss.”
“I see. Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said, and gave Oz a reassuring smile while her eyes stayed flintily suspicious.
He’d almost forgotten about it by the time it came to third lesson. They were in geography. It was one of Oz’s favourite subjects, thanks largely to the teacher, Mr. Gingell. He, unlike Badger Breath, managed to make even the driest subject interesting. Today was no exception as he announced to the class as soon as they arrived, in his best Long John Silver, “Why can’t pirates read maps?” He paused expectantly before adding, “Because they think it’s too aaarrrd.”
The class let out a communal but good-natured groan.
“But they be wrong, mateys. Today we’re revising grid referencing and compass points. Divide into groups of three and answer the quiz sheet to find the treasure.”
It looked like it was going to be fun, but before the trio could settle in, Mr. Gingell called Oz out to the front. He was quite young as teachers went, knew quite a lot about music and films, and supported Seabourne United. Rumour had it, too, that he and Miss Arkwright were more than just friends, or so Ellie said. He looked apologetic as he spoke in a low voice so that no one else could hear.
“Miss Swinson apparently wants to see you straight away,” he said, and on seeing Oz’s face fall added, “Don’t worry, they’ll still be doing this quiz in half an hour. There’ll be plenty to do when you come back, arrr.”
Oz couldn’t help thinking that Mr. Gingell was missing the point a bit as he stifled an inward groan and sent Ruff and Ellie a dejected glance before trudging out into the empty corridors. The Volcano’s office was situated in the admin block, where two bespectacled secretaries regarded Oz with humourless expressions. Oz decided that this must be the feeling condemned men got when they walked to the electric chair. Near the main doors he turned into a long, freshly painted corridor.
The Volcano lived two doors down from the headmaster—a tall, constantly grinning man who seemed always to be in a hurry and whom Oz had only seen half a dozen times in the whole of his time at Seabourne County. The same could not be said of the Volcano, whose presence was a constant reminder of the need for “discipline.” She was forever bellowing at pupils across hallways, classrooms, fields and yards, unable, it seemed, to speak with anything approaching a normal volume. Instead, she barked orders such as “Pull down that skirt hem, you are not a pelmet,” or “Tuck in that shirt, you are not a tramp,” or “Pick up that piece of litter, this is not a rubbish tip.” In fact, Oz couldn’t remember her ever asking anyone to do anything. It was always an instruction.
When Oz reached the door with the sign “Miss V Swinson, Senior Mistress” emblazoned upon it, all he could think about was how hard his heart was beating in his chest. It felt as if it might burst through at any moment. But he told himself that he was just being stupid. He hadn’t done anything wrong and he had nothing to worry about. Okay, having your wisdom teeth out without anaesthetic was probably a more pleasant way to spend a morning than being interviewed by the Volcano, but so what? Her bark was a hundred times worse than her bite—or so he’d heard. And what was the worst that could happen? As far as he knew, the Volcano had never killed anyone—yet.
Oz knocked three times.
“Come,” barked a voice.
Oz opened the door and stepped inside a room that was more like someone’s lounge than a school office. There were at least three vases full of flowers, it smelled overpoweringly of roses, and the walls were painted a sickly burnt yellow. Two huge posters of exotic islands covered one wall. Three big grey filing cabinets stood one against another, and in the centre stood an enormous desk with a neat pile of paper on it and three pot plants, one of which was the biggest cactus Oz had ever seen. The Volcano was standing behind her desk, dressed in a voluminous silk blouse and pearls, her coiffed hair poker-stiff. She wore black-rimmed half-glasses perched on a vulture-like nose and her scarlet mouth was compressed into a familiar, disapproving expression.
“Come in, Chambers. You know why I’ve asked you here this morning, I take it?” The Volcano glared down at him, her eyes half-lidded, her voice accusatory.
Oz shrugged.
“It is at the request of another teacher. An unusual and unpleasant request, which—”
There was another knock on the door and it opened to reveal Badger Breath Boggs. He scowled at Oz and nodded at the Volcano.
“Ah, Douglas. Have a seat.”
Badger Breath sat to the side of the desk while Oz continued to stand.
The Volcano leaned forward over the desk. “Mr. Boggs has brought to my attention a very serious allegation—”
“I didn’t cheat,” Oz said, “if that’s what this is about.”
The room fell silent. The Volcano’s mouth twitched and she shuffled some papers on the desk and thrust one towards Oz.
“This is yours, is it not?”
Oz recognised the first test paper with the ten percent circled at the top right.
“Yes, miss.”
The Volcano found a second and handed that to him, as well. “And this?”
Oz read the much smaller one hundred percent written at the top of this second paper. The numbers were written in such a way as to suggest that the hand writing it had pressed very hard into the paper. He saw, too, his own familiar writing beneath.
“Yes, miss.”
“Mr. Boggs has brought to my attention the quite startling difference between these results which, you have to admit, are quite remarkable.”
Oz shrugged. “I still didn’t cheat.”
“Rubbish,” growled a red-faced Badger Breath, who jerked around in his seat to glare at Oz.
“Douglas,” said the Volcano in a silky voice, “I share your suspicions, but I am prepared to give Chambers one chance to explain.”
Boggs’ jaw muscles started working overtime, but he nodded reluctantly and sat back.
“Now, what we need is to understand how you could do so badly one day and so spectacularly well the next,” the Volcano said, peering at Oz, her eyes glinting in challenge.
“I don’t know, really. It just sort of clicked.”
“Oh, puh-lease,” sneered Badger Breath.
“‘It just clicked,’” repeated the Volcano. She looked at the papers. “A very spectacular click it must have been, then, to go from ten to one hundred percent, eh?” She glanced at Badger Breath, who smirked. “Had you done any extra revision?” the Volcano snapped, turning back to Oz.
“No, not really. I mean, I did for the first one, but Mr. Boggs didn’t warn us about the second one…”
“Did you copy from anyone?”
“The boy sitting next to me was Lee Jenkins. I don’t know how much he got second time around.”
The Volcano sent Badger Breath a questioning glance and got a mumbled, “Eight percent,” in reply.
“I see,” said the Volcano quietly. “So you want us to believe that some mysterious brainwave suddenly enabled you to get every single one of these questions right, where two days before you got them all, bar a few pathetic workings out, completely WRONG?”
The last word was roared with such force that it made Oz jump. The Volcano came around to Oz’s side of the desk. She wore trousers that were bulging in lots of places and she smelled strongly of a pungent, flowery perfume, which clashed nauseatingly with the rosy air-freshener pervading the room.
“I know all about you and your kind, Chambers,” the Volcano snarled. “Single-parent families are the bane of this school and…”
She was interrupted by a knock on the door, which opened to reveal Miss Arkwright, out of breath and flushed in the face.
“Ah, I see you’ve started already,” Miss Arkwright gasped.
“Miss Arkwright,” said the Volcano in a syrupy voice, “do join us.”
“Thank you,” said Miss Arkwright, frowning. “I thought we’d agreed on 11.30 as a start time?”
“Yes,” said the Volcano with a smile as genuine as a wax apple, “sorry about that. Had to reschedule. Never mind, you’re here now. But Chambers here has no explanation for what happened. We must therefore assume that he did cheat, as it is clearly impossible for him to have been otherwise able to complete this question paper after such an abysmal performance previously. It is my job to consider an appropriate punishment…”
“Did you cheat, Oz?” Miss Arkwright asked.
“No. Like I said, it just clicked that second time,” Oz explained.
Badger Breath let out an expulsion of air.
“Well, there is a very simple way to sort all of this out,” Miss Arkwright said suddenly.
The Volcano frowned. Badger Breath scowled. Miss Arkwright picked up Oz’s ten percent paper. “How many questions did you attempt the first time, Oscar?”
“Three. I got a bit stuck.”
“Good. So if I asked you to try the last seven now, could you do them?”
Oz froze. He had no idea if he could or not. Yesterday’s test seemed to have happened almost without him doing anything. But he nodded and gulped at the same time.
“Excellent. Here is a fresh piece of paper and a pencil,” said Miss Arkwright, clearing a space for Oz on the edge of the desk.
“I hardly think…” began the Volcano, but she was silenced by Miss Arkwright’s implacable gaze.
“Surely this is the only way to know if Oz is lying or not?”
The room fell silent as Miss Arkwright’s logic sank in.
“Very well,” the Volcano said finally with a glance at Badger Breath.
Miss Arkwright turned to Oz and spoke to him. “Now Oz, take your time.”
Oz looked at the maths paper, his stomach twisting. The last seven questions, Miss Arkwright had said. First glance revealed Egyptian tomb writing as usual. He knew that the first one was a substitution question and he knew vaguely what needed to be done, it was just that…and then the numbers started changing colour just as they had yesterday. Relief flooded through Oz and he began scribbling furiously. Within ten minutes he’d done all seven. He handed the paper back to Miss Arkwright.
“That was quick,” she said, but there was an approving smile at the corners of her mouth as she said it. “Now, if Mr. Boggs could do the marking?”
They all watched as Badger Breath scanned the page. When he spoke, his voice sounded like ice cracking on a lake. “They’re all correct.”
Miss Arkwright was on her feet immediately. “Right, I think we’ve detained Oscar for long enough. He needs to get back to lessons.”
“I’m not so sure…” spluttered the Volcano.
“There’s something fishy going on here,” Badger Breath said, and his words emerged through a tightly clenched jaw.
“Apparently it’s called ‘clicking,’ Douglas,” said Miss Arkwright as she began ushering Oz out of the door. But even as it closed behind them, Oz could hear Badger Breath’s whining complaints persisting. “But he’s an idiot. Like all the rest in that set. Probably did this just to make my life a misery.”
“I agree totally, Douglas. And Chambers is a prime example of everything that’s wrong in this town and in this country. The boy’s mother is…”
Miss Arkwright cleared her throat loudly and it drowned out what the Volcano was about to say. At the end of the corridor, Miss Arkwright stopped and turned to Oz. He could see that she was gently fuming, the smile which beamed down on him a bit too toothy and overly bright. “Well done, Oz. And I want you to take no notice of what you just heard. Go back to geography. I just want a quick word with Miss Swinson and Mr. Boggs.” Oz watched as she pivoted on her heel and stormed back up the corridor. He didn’t wait to hear anymore. He was too relieved to care.
When, an hour later sitting in the refectory, Oz managed to find the time to tell Ellie and Ruff about Badger Breath’s accusations, they were appalled. Ellie seemed a little more short-tempered than usual with Ruff, but listened avidly to Oz as he explained.
“That man is such a buzzard gonk,” Ruff muttered.
“And the Volcano is such an old witch,” Ellie said, frowning.
“Miss Arkwright was brilliant, though,” Oz said with feeling.
“But did you really get one hundred percent?” Ellie said, trying not to sound too surprised.
“I know. Don’t worry, I can’t believe it either.” Oz grinned.
“Oz has turned into a maths genius,” Ruff said, and clapped him heartily on the back.
“Never mind that now,” Oz said, turning to Ellie. “You said you’d found something out.”
“I have,” Ellie said, dropping her voice low. “Remember I told you I thought it looked like some of my granny’s jewellery?”
Oz and Ruff both nodded.
“Well, I showed her a picture and she said it looked like a scarab—”
“A scarab?” Oz asked.
“Yeah. When she was young, lots of jewellery was made to look like Egyptian stuff—”
“Whoa,” Ruff said, holding up a hand. “What’s a scarab when it’s at home?”
“Haven’t you come across one of those in Ancient Tombs 503 for the Xbox?” she sniped. “A scarab is a beetle. The ancient Egyptians wore them as amulets or something and they became popular again in the last century. It was just a fashion thing.”
“We are getting to the point soon, are we?” Ruff said, feigning a yawn.
Ellie sent him a blazing look. “A scarab is a beetle, and the old name for a common English beetle is a dor.”
“You’ve lost me,” Ruff said.
“What a surprise,” Ellie said, sighing heavily. “Watch my lips.” She proceeded with exaggerated slowness. “The. Black. Dor. One of Morsman’s artefacts?”
“Oh, so you mean dor, not door. Like in when is a door not a door, when it’s ajar?” asked Ruff, earning a withering glance from Ellie in the process.
Oz, who happened to be standing next to one of the refectory tables, ignored Ruff, too, but had to sit down on a bench. “So are you saying that those things on my laptop have something to do with Morsman’s artefacts?”
“I think that what’s on your laptop is everything to do with Morsman’s artefacts,” Ellie said confidently.
“But why my laptop?”
“Because you’re at Penwurt, and something or someone there is trying to send you a message, obviously.”
“And you think that this dor thingy is in a shop in Seabourne?”
“Worth a look, surely.”
“What are the chances of it really being the one? I mean, come on,” Ruff said.
“Shut up, Ruff,” Ellie said, nettled. “You’re such a doom-merchant. Yes, I do think it’s in a shop in Seabourne, and the only way we’re going to find out for certain is if you go there this weekend.”
“What do you mean, ‘you’?” Ruff asked.
“You and Oz. I’m busy.”
Oz frowned.
“Oh, come on,” Ellie said, flushing a dusky red. “You two don’t need me tagging along. I’m just a girl, after all, remember? I mean, you don’t want me there being all hysterical and overreacting.” She gave Ruff a pointed, icy smile and walked off.
“What was that all about?” Oz asked, shaking his head. “I feel like I’ve just been slapped in the face just for wearing a pair of trousers.”
Ruff was looking very uncomfortable. “Last night at football practice we sort of had an…argument.”
“Sort of had an argument? About what?”
“I can’t remember now. We were in passing practise and someone texted me, so I just answered it and…”
“You were texting during passing practise?” Oz’s incredulity made his voice high and weird-sounding.
“I forgot to turn my phone off, that’s all,” Ruff said, as if that sort of thing happened all the time. But Oz couldn’t ever remember seeing anyone taking a call when Spain played Netherlands in the World Cup final. Ruff, though, hadn’t finished. “I did after that. Turn the phone off, I mean. The coach gave me a roasting. Said I needed to prioritize. Think more about the team than myself,” he sighed. “But then Ellie started in on me.”
“And?”
“And we had an argument about stuff like attitude and wanting to win and I…I may have said that she was overreacting. Like, always overreacting. I mean, what is it with her and wanting to win all the time? I like to win, too, but it isn’t everything, is it?’
“It is to Ellie. You do know that she is really good at taekwondo, don’t you?’
“Yeah, but…”
“I mean, really good. She’s won the last three competitions she’s entered.”
Ruff was still frowning.
Oz decided that it was time to come clean. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?”
“‘Course.”
“Some of her coaches think that Ellie might be good enough to be an international; you know, represent her country, eventually.”
“An international? Wow.” Ruff’s eyes blinked rapidly.
“She hasn’t told anyone except me. Not her sisters or her mother or father or anyone. But I’m telling you so that you can understand why she is like she is.” Oz paused and then added, “Have you met the other Messengers?”
“No,” Ruff said, “except for Macy.”
“They’re great. A good laugh. But there’re five of them.”
“Five?”
“Macy’s the only other one in school.”
“Yeah, I know. She’s the pretty one that keeps waving at you and blowing kisses, right?”
“Yeah,” Oz rolled his eyes. Macy derived great pleasure from teasing Oz and seeing him squirm with embarassament. “The point is that Ellie’s right in the middle of that family and sport is her way of being different and standing out.”
“Yeah, but…”
“I’m not saying it’s right that she wants to kill someone every time she loses at ping-pong, I’m just trying to explain.”
“Okay, so now I understand. Sort of.”
Oz sighed. “Right, so does that mean you’ll apologise? We need Ellie.”
“She called me a waste of space. So yeah, I’ll apologise, in, like, a hundred buzzard years,” he said, and walked off to join the rest of 1C queuing outside the art room.
* * *
Oz spent a miserable hour in art trying to finish off the landscape he was working on. He was so preoccupied he didn’t even notice that he’d started to use red paint instead of white for the snow on the mountains. When he did finally twig, he couldn’t even be bothered to change it.
He just could not understand what was wrong with Ellie and Ruff. They were both great. It was just that they were so different. He’d hoped that Penwurt and the puzzle of the images might have been enough to make them forget their differences, but it clearly wasn’t.
The frosty atmosphere persisted though lunch and Oz, despite desperately wanting to discuss the dor and the other artefacts, decided that now was not the best time. He stayed away from them both and neither one made much effort to come and find him.
He got to room 33 as late as possible after lunch to find Ellie in animated conversation with Sandra Ojo, and Ruff discussing Death Planet Hub tactics with Marcus Skyrme. Oz made no effort to break into either conversation and was quite glad when Miss Arkwright flounced in at last. She immediately walked across the room towards a group of girls.
“Ellie, could I have a quick word?” she asked.
Ellie went with Miss Arkwright to the front of the class and an earnest, whispered conversation took place. Oz couldn’t hear, but he watched as a range of different expressions flashed across Ellie’s face. There was curiosity, followed by mild panic and then, after a moment’s thought, nods of enthusiasm. Ellie came back to her seat, but did not acknowledge Oz’s nosy glance.
“Right, 1C. I’d like to discuss a little project for Christmas with you all.”
Multiple groans emanated from the class.
“No, not that kind of project. It doesn’t involve any homework. Now, we were all thrilled by the London Paralympics this year, weren’t we?”
Several people said “Yes,” out loud.
“Well, I have a close friend who is a doctor—a surgeon, in actual fact. She’s been doing some work with limbless children in the poorest regions of Africa. She told me last night that just £30 would buy an artificial limb for one of these children. So I thought that, as a group, it would be a really nice gesture if, instead of sending your friends Christmas cards, you bring in the stamp money so that we can send a charitable donation.”
“Will it be one of those blade thingys like in the Paralympics, miss?” asked someone.
“Oh, wow. I want one of those,” said Skinner from the back. “They’re awesome.”
Ellie swiveled around to glare at him.
“What?” Skinner replied, in his usual thick-skinned way. There was no real harm in Skinner, he just had no control over what came out of his mouth.
“There are many, many children who would benefit, but all I’m asking is that we help one,” Miss Arkwright continued.
“Why have they lost their limbs, miss?” asked Dilpak.
“Well, some through disease, but mainly it’s through violence. My doctor friend has been working around the Great Lakes of West Africa. It’s an area ravaged by war. Some children have stepped on buried land mines while out playing, or worse, where there is still conflict, they may have suffered from direct attack.”
The class had gone very quiet.
“So, what do we all think?” Miss Arkwright asked brightly.
There was a general buzz of approval from the class. But then Skinner put his hand up.
“Can we write our names on it, miss?”
The back row sniggered.
“No, that will not be necessary, Kieron. But I will write a class letter which we can all sign.”
Then Jenks chipped in. “Thing is, miss, my brother says that it’s no good giving money and stuff to these people, ’cos they really need to help themselves. I mean, why don’t they make their own artifical limbs?”
“Probably because they haven’t got the equipment, Lee. I’m sure they would help themselves if they could.”
“How do we know they’re not going to just melt it down and sell it for scrap?” Jenks persisted.
“Yeah, so that they can buy iPods and stuff,” Skinner added.
Several people had turned to look at them.
“Well, you never know,” grinned Skinner who was, as usual, enjoying the attention.
Miss Arkwright, looking slightly exasperated and with eyebrows raised, said, “These prosthetics are not made of tin. Besides, I’m sure that this charity ensures that such things do not happen.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know miss, do you? I think I’ll keep my money if it’s okay, miss,” Jenks said.
But before Miss Arkwright could answer, someone else did.
“What for, Jenks? To buy another rubbish ringtone for your phone?” Ellie had turned almost one hundred eighty degrees in her seat and her sudden outburst took everyone by surprise. “And how can you make jokes about this, Skinner? How can you say you’d like an artificial limb?”
“Kieron would be brilliant at Paralympics. In fact, there’s a chance he’d get in as he is,” Jenks smirked.
The cronies laughed. Skinner grinned uncertainly.
“And anyway, who asked you, Messenger?” Jenks added with a sneer.
Oz could see Ellie’s colour rising. Now he knew why Miss Arkwright had spoken to her before she’d mentioned the collection for charity. He suspected that she’d even asked for Ellie’s approval. Being sensitive was Miss Arkwright’s way. And there was good reason in this instance, since Ellie’s little brother Leon had been born with a hand and part of his forearm missing. Not that you’d know that Leon had any problem at all; he was a great football player and almost as fast a sprinter as Ellie. It didn’t seem to affect him much, except for the stares he sometimes got.
Yet it was one of the reasons Ellie was so intolerant of people who didn’t make the best of what they had. Oz wasn’t sure how many of his classmates knew, but with Jenks’ malicious skill at baiting people, there was always the nagging doubt that he was yanking Ellie’s chain. And Oz knew that she wasn’t about to sit there and let him do that.
“You—” she began. But before Ellie could say any more, Jenks went to his shirt pocket and brought out the red-coloured card he had kept for Ellie-type confrontations since their last soccer match. He brandished it in her face, while his own contorted with spiteful glee. There were roars of approval from his cronies.
“Yeah,” Skinner said, joining in again, “get off the field, Messeng—”
But he didn’t finish. Suddenly, Ruff was on his feet, eyes blazing with some unnamed emotion at the two class wannabbe clowns. When he spoke, his words rang with a fierce anger.
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. What’s the cost of a first class stamp? 60p? You have no idea how much that’s worth to some of these people.”
“Oh, and you do, do you, Adams?” Jenks drawled, waving the red card at Ruff.
“No, I don’t. But my brother does. Unlike yours, he’s actually been there.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jenks mocked, but a little note of doubt had crept into his voice.
“He was a volunteer last summer in Tanzania. The photos he brought back to show me and my mum and dad…” Ruff paused to swallow. It sounded loud in the suddenly silent room. “There’s disease and unexploded bombs and mines and kids who even get their legs bitten off by crocodiles because they have to wash in rivers. They have nothing. If we all gave a quid it would mean someone our age or younger might be able to walk for the first time. You’re an idiot, Jenks. And an IPOD?” Ruff shifted his blazing glare to Skinner. “Most of these places don’t even have electricity. What planet are you from?”
Skinner hesitated and then babbled, “Five-nil,” obviously thinking that reminding Ruff of his team’s defeat at the hands of the Skullers was a devastating insult. Unfortunately, no one except Ruff had any idea what he was talking about.
There was a moment of total silence as a flummoxed Skinner looked around at his classmates in exasperation. Jenks, meanwhile, appeared so stunned by Ruff’s outburst that he couldn’t even speak. All he could manage was to frown at Ruff, his mouth working in a way that suggested that whatever it was he wanted to say had got stuck on its journey between his brain and his tongue. But Oz saw, too, that the only pair of eyes more shocked than Jenks’ belonged to Ellie, who was watching Ruff in totally bewildered awe.
Miss Arkwright broke the silence by clearing her throat.
“A good point well made, Rufus,” she said, smiling at Ruff, who suddenly did an impression of a boiled lobster and sat down quickly. “So, shall we put it to the vote?” Miss Arkwright continued. “Who would like to donate their stamp money?”
Thirty hands, including, much to Jenks’ astonishment, Skinner’s, shot up.
“I will look forward to your donations on Monday, then,” Miss Arkwright said. “And I will get IT to sort out an e-card for us to use, instead of posting one. Thank you, everyone.”
* * *
Oz was still thinking about Ruff’s outburst when he got home. So much so that he hardly noticed the funny mood his mother was in at teatime, until she dropped a plastic salad bowl for the second time in as many minutes.
“Mum, you all right?”
“Me?” she said, in a high-pitched, flustered sort of voice. “Yes, fine, absolutely. It’s just that there’s someone calling this evening that I want you to meet.”
Oz had just finished a yoghurt and was opening his second. “Oh? Who?”
“An old colleague of your father’s. She’s just dropping by for a chat.”
Oz nodded. People were always dropping by for chats, although there were far fewer now than when his father was alive. Usually that meant that he was expected to say hello, listen to comments on how much he’d grown and how much he looked just like his dad and then, after a few polite minutes, he’d make his escape with homework or football as his pretext. So, when his mother called to him at seven o’clock that evening, he saved the page he’d found on the Internet which explained all about dor beetles and headed down to the living room. There, Mrs. Chambers introduced him to a plump woman with orange-tinted glasses and mousy hair that needed a wash.
“Oz, this is Dr. Mackie.”
“Hi,” Oz said.
Dr. Mackie was so fat, she had to push herself out of the chair with both hands and not inconsiderable effort. She extended a sausage-fingered hand to Oz.
“Oscar, it’s nice to meet you.”
Oz took her hand, and it felt cool and a little clammy.
“I can see the resemblance quite plainly,” Dr. Mackie said. Her accent was Scottish, but soft and refined. Her clothes all looked a touch too small and her greasy hair was tied back in an untidy ponytail. “And how are things with you, Oscar?”
“Fine,” Oz said.
“Good, now we all know each other,” fussed Mrs. Chambers, and Oz couldn’t help thinking that she still looked a bit flustered. “Why don’t you two sit down and I’ll fetch some tea.”
She left the room and Oz watched Dr. Mackie lever herself heavily back into the chair. “So,” she said when she was finally settled, “Gwen tells me you’ve moved schools this year. How’s it going?”
“All right,” Oz said.
“Can be difficult, moving up. New challenges. All those new people. It’s often quite a stressful time.” Dr. Mackie regarded him through her orange glasses with a calm smile. “But Gwen tells me that you have some good friends.”
Oz nodded. He did, indeed.
Dr. Mackie leaned forward and several already-stretched seams strained in protest. “Oscar, I ought to explain to you that I am more than just an old friend of your father’s. I work in the psychology department. Gwen asked me to come here this evening because she thought you and I ought, perhaps, to have a little chat.”
“Psychology?” Oz said.
“You know what that is?”
Oz nodded. “Stuff to do with how your head works.”
Dr. Mackie smiled again, and once more Oz was struck by how unreal it was. Maybe it was because he couldn’t see her eyes behind the orange tints, but the smile looked as if it could be turned on and off by a switch, while the rest of her face didn’t seem to shift at all.
She reached into the bag at her feet and took out a writing pad and a pen. “Gwen told me all about your maths test.”
“What about my maths test?” Oz asked, suddenly quite unnerved.
“Well, I know that you were called to see your year master today and that it’s clear that you are very capable of doing maths, am I right?”
Oz nodded. For some reason, the saliva in his mouth wouldn’t go down his throat.
Dr. Mackie wrote something down and then looked up. “The more interesting question, from my point of view, is why you felt you couldn’t do the test the first time around.”
“I didn’t feel as if I couldn’t do it,” Oz said heatedly, “I just couldn’t. It was like trying to translate Latin.”
There was another plastic smile. “You’ve been through a lot these last few years, Oscar. Losing a parent at such a young age is very traumatic, very upsetting. How old were you when Michael died?”
“Eight and a bit,” Oz said, and felt suddenly very irked that this woman was talking to him about his father at all.
“We often do not appreciate fully the effect something like that has on us. It causes very deep scars and we’re always left wondering why such a terrible thing could happen. Sometimes, we even think it’s our fault.”
Oz kept quiet. This was worse than one of Miss Arkwright’s “little chats.” He even began wondering if they knew one another.
“Have you ever felt like that, Oscar?” Dr. Mackie continued to probe.
“No,” said Oz, wondering where all of this was possibly leading.
“Sometimes misplaced guilt can cause the mind to play all sorts of wicked tricks.”
Oz frowned. “Are you saying that I couldn’t do maths because my dad died?”
Dr. Mackie continued to press home her point in a calm, slightly irritating voice. “Perhaps Mr. Boggs, your maths teacher, reminds you of your father. Perhaps you wanted to punish him for leaving like he did.”
This was such a totally mad idea that Oz burst out laughing. “Badger Breath is nothing like my dad.”
“I know it may seem like that to you, but under the difficult circumstances of Michael’s death—”
“Look, I can explain the maths thing,” Oz said quickly. “It’s the way Badger—Mr. Boggs—teaches it. It’s just taken me a bit longer to understand it, that’s all…”
But Dr. Mackie wasn’t really listening. She was writing on her pad, talking as she wrote. “Close family members are often very resentful in circumstances like those surrounding your father’s death.” She looked up and leaned even further forward, her voice dropping low. “I knew Michael very well, and how the insurance company could even begin to suggest that he was suicidal is frankly laughable, but—”
An ice-cold needle pierced Oz’s stomach and he jerked upright.
“What did you just say?” he breathed.
The look on Oz’s face seemed to have paralysed Mackie. All she could do was return his horrified stare, all pretence at a smile long gone.
“You didn’t know, did you?” she said finally, and didn’t wait for an answer before adding quickly, “Oscar, listen to me, there is no proof. It was just a question asked at the inquest which the insurance company latched on to—”
“My dad’s car crashed,” Oz said through gritted teeth. “He died in an accident.”
“There’s no doubting that, Oscar. And there was no note, but the alcohol…”
Oz’s mind was doing cartwheels. The icy needle in his gut kept up an incessant stabbing. This explained everything. It explained why Arkwright was so protective, and it explained Pheeps’ sick little games. Oz stood up as a wave of sickness spread over him.
“Oz, sit down, please,” begged Dr. Mackie.
But Oz couldn’t. The floor was like marshmallow under his feet as he staggered to the hall and yanked the kitchen door open. His mother was arranging biscuits on a plate.
“Oz,” she said, startled by something she saw in his face.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Oz said thickly. “All this time you’ve known, and you didn’t tell me.”
“Tell you what?” said Mrs. Chambers, but in her eyes Oz could see that she knew very well what he was talking about.
“This stuff about Dad crashing his car on purpose.”
“Oz,” said his mother, suddenly ashen-faced, “it was the insurance company. They wanted to investigate. They’d do anything to wriggle out of paying—”
Dr. Mackie appeared in the doorway behind Oz. “Gwen, I assumed…”
Oz ignored her, anger driving him on. “But is that what people are saying? That he did it on purpose? Is it?”
“There was a smashed bottle, and whiskey all over the seat next to him,” Mrs. Chambers spoke in a kind of trance now, uttering the words, oddly emotionless. “There was some in his stomach, but none in his blood. He wasn’t drunk. He must have taken some just before the crash. I couldn’t explain it then, and I still can’t now, because he hated the stuff. But the insurance company wrote to all his colleagues, asking them if they’d noticed him acting strangely in the weeks before…” She shook her head and whispered desperately, “No one except the insurance company believes he did it on purpose, Oz.”
“I bet Heeps does,” Oz spat. “I bet he’s spread it all over the university.”
“Your father’s colleagues have been very discreet,” protested Dr. Mackie.
“Dr. Heeps’ daughter hasn’t been,” Oz said, his voice getting louder.
Mrs. Chambers stepped towards Oz and held out her arms beseechingly. “I am so sorry you had to find out this way, Oz. But it’s something I knew you’d eventually have to deal with.”
Oz took a step back. “What does that mean? Are you saying that you think he might have done it?”
“Oh, Oz,” Mrs. Chambers said, and started to cry.
Oz rounded on Dr. Mackie. “I didn’t pretend to be rubbish at maths to bait Badger Breath, okay?” He looked from the psychologist to his mother again. “I don’t care what any insurance company or inquest says. My dad didn’t crash that car on purpose. I know he didn’t. And anyone who thinks he did needs their heads examined. But not by you!”
He shot Mackie a furiously defiant glare and ran up to his room.