Back in school on Monday, Miss Hill was surprised by the warm reaction she received from the class. They cheered when she came in, then began vying with each other to tell her how strict and awful Miss Clarke had been.
‘Enough!’ she laughed. ‘I’m sure Miss Clarke did you all a power of good!’ She looked around the classroom. ‘Where are our friends, Rory, Shane and PJ? Did she take them with her? Couldn’t bear to part with them?’
Everyone laughed. Niamh explained that they were on report for another week, which meant they had to stand outside the principal’s office until lessons began.
‘Oh, we’ve a few minutes to go before they join us, then.’ Miss Hill tried her best to look disappointed.
At break-time Adam had to pass Rory as he went out to the yard. Rory wasn’t going outside; he would be spending another break-time standing by the office.
He caught Adam by the sleeve as he passed, and leered into his face. ‘Been feeding your little birdy, have you, Adam?’
Adam stopped in his tracks and glanced over at the window. Then he tried to pull free, but Rory held on long enough to give him a swift kick on the ankle. ‘You’re such a sap!’ he spat, walking off towards the office.
Outside, Adam began to feel uneasy. Niamh and Conor were their usual cheerful selves, but Adam felt very far away from his friends. He could hear and see them, but it was as if their voices came from a long way off, as if they were actors in a film. Boys and girls ran, chased and played around him, but the noises seemed distant.
Adam’s heart began thumping heavily. He didn’t even hear the bell ring for the end of break. Conor had to pull him into the line. ‘What’s with you today, Adam? Wake up!’
The line snaked its way to the doorway and waited to be let in. There was a roaring in Adam’s ears, drowning out the chat and laughter. Something was going to happen.
The children began to file into the classroom and sit down, and Miss Hill came in from the other door. Adam felt it straight away: there was something not right – some kind of atmosphere in the room. Shane and PJ were already sitting down; the principal must have sent them in early from the office. Rory was over at Adam’s desk. Adam’s first thought was, What’s he doing with my stuff? Then he saw it.
His starling was inside the classroom, pecking crumbs off the inner windowsill. A small trail of crumbs led from the sill outside, right onto Adam’s desk.
Suddenly Colm noticed the bird and yelled in his booming voice, ‘Miss Hill! There’s a bird in the classroom.’
Startled, the starling took off. Slam! Rory dashed the window down.
The starling perched on a trolley, its little chest heaving, its head darting from side to side. Miss Hill said softly, ‘Sit down, everyone. Try to do it quietly. Don’t make any sudden movements.’
The bird suddenly noticed the window behind Miss Hill’s desk. With a whoosh of feathers it flew directly towards the glass – and into it, with a sickening thud. The little creature lay stunned on the sill for a moment, then it took off again, perching on the top ledge of the blackboard. It was trembling all over, its tail-feathers vibrating with the shaking of its thin legs.
The class sat in their desks. They tried to keep still, but the bird began to dart and flit mindlessly, panic-stricken, from one side of the room to the other. Swoop, across someone’s head, whoosh – up to the top corner. Somebody screamed as it swished over her shoulder; the sounds of flapping and fluttering filled the room. The noise level increased as kids began to shout suggestions: ‘Close the blinds!’ ‘Open the windows!’ ‘Open the back door!’ ‘I’ll get it, Teacher! I’ll catch it!’
The starling flew, in blind terror, smack into the back window. It lay slumped again; then, unbelievably, it struggled to get up. It hopped a few metres and, with a pathetic scrabble of claws and wings, made it onto the blackboard ledge again.
Miss Hill opened the two side windows as wide as they would go, trying at the same time to quell the suggestions and the rising noise. ‘Hand me that towel,’ she instructed Niamh. ‘If I can just get the towel over it and catch it up that way …’ she murmured, almost to herself.
All this time, Adam stood at the back door, transfixed by the sight of the terrified starling. The bird clung to the narrow ledge, with trembling claws and a heaving chest.
A light breeze came from the partly open window at the side of the classroom. The starling felt the cool air and made a last valiant dash for freedom. It crashed heavily into the glass, fell to the floor and lay still.
Miss Hill started to go over with the towel. ‘Leave him!’ shouted Adam, with such force that she stopped abruptly.
Adam took his jacket off and gently covered the bird, lifting it carefully and wrapping the arms of the coat softly around its tiny frame. Then he walked out the door. The whole class sat in silence, staring at him.
Outside, Adam laid the bird gently on the grass and opened the coat slightly. The little starling’s head lolled back and its eyes were closed.
Adam cupped the tiny head in his hand and felt its impossible lightness. He stroked the soft feathers on the bird’s neck and chest. They were so soft, he could hardly feel them against his fingertips. Up close, Adam could see every colour. He wondered how he could ever have thought that the starling was just plain brown. The colour was more like – like petrol, the beautiful colour of petrol spilled on a path: greens, blues, a faint sheen of silver … A breeze ruffled the tiny feathers on his starling’s head, giving it the impish, scruffy look it had had the first time Adam had seen it.
Niamh came quietly down the path and took his arm. ‘Come on, Adam,’ she said gently. ‘Miss Hill sent me. You have to come in.’
Adam stood up.
‘It may live; it might only be stunned,’ she said uncertainly.
Adam said nothing. He turned and began to stride back up the path.
‘Wait!’ called Niamh, trying to catch up with him. But he was too quick. With a loud slam, Adam burst in through the door of the classroom and looked around wildly. The kids were all sitting at their desks; Miss Hill was trying to keep everyone calm.
Adam marched over to Shane and PJ and, in one movement, swept everything from their desks and sent it crashing onto the floor. Then he turned and strode up to Rory, who was ashen-faced.
Adam took a small step backwards, raised his foot and kicked Rory’s desk harder than he’d ever kicked anything in his life. The desk careered across the floor with a satisfyingly loud scraping noise, teetered on two legs for a moment, and then came smashing down, tipping all its contents to the floor in a muddled heap. No one spoke. No one moved.
Adam looked straight at Rory, swallowing a lump in his throat. ‘What did he ever do to you?’ he asked. ‘What did that starling ever do to you?’ he was shouting now. ‘It’s just a little bird. It’s just a – a creature! It flies around. It pecks up crumbs in the yard. What does it do to you? What does it do that makes you hate it, Rory?’
He was so full of rage and strength, he couldn’t stand still. He stamped down the length of the classroom, his anger like a boiling liquid trying to burst out of his skin. He grabbed a box full of pens and pencils and flung it wildly to the floor.
‘And what did I ever do to you, Rory?’ he shouted. ‘I’ve never done anything to you. Never! And I didn’t sneak on you, either. It was someone else.’
At the memory of the bin and Niall, Adam almost lost his courage. He could still remember the stench in that bin, and the awful fear …. His eyes stung, but he fought it and carried on.
‘You’re the sap, Rory! You smash everything. You hate everything! But I’ll tell you something.’ He paused, then said slowly and deliberately, ‘I’m not scared of you any more.’
Adam stood completely still in the middle of the room, startled by his own words. He looked at the pinched, petrified face of Rory Brennan, at his eyes darting all over the room.
A tiny smile appeared at the corner of Adam’s mouth. He took a deep breath. ‘I’m not scared of you!’ he yelled.
Adam walked slowly up to Rory, bringing his face so close that their noses were almost touching. ‘I’m not scared of you any more, Rory,’ he finished quietly. Then he turned and walked out the door.
Miss Hill had moved over near Rory’s desk, just in case. She had thought about intervening – maybe bringing the boys into the office – but there had been no need.
She watched Adam close the classroom door with a firm click, and then turned to look at Rory. His mouth hung open in shock and disbelief.
Good on you, Adam, Miss Hill thought with a tiny spark of happiness. He had it coming.