Schooling Read Online Free PDF Page B

speed across the sun casting the group in shadow then lighting them again. The school cat flashes by. From far off comes the faint sound of a drum.
    Look at me.
    Well she won’t she’ll reach for the door past Sophie’s protective arm Sophie telling Paul You Bore Us and here’s her own voice apologizing no less for spilling on his—
    Jumper you mean?
    A movement in the shadowed doorway. Brickie steps out. He doesn’t register Paul only at her his shifting bastard hair an old tired light in what she can see of his eyes.
    Paul leans one shoulder slowly against the wall. Silence. Vanessa gives a little cough. Something has happened between Brickie and Paul.
    You saw what she did . . . Paul finally comes away from the wall . . . Leave this.
    Why does Gredville plead like that. What does Brickie have on him. Sophie’s arm on her back. In this world without end, when does she begin to protect herself.
    Brickie pushes back through the door toward History. Watching the door ease closed, Paul snorts, walks away. Then lopes across the courtyard tracking new springbok.
    That low tone of distant thunder grows loud and ominous. Louder, louder, it becomes a rattling vibration, resting at the height of an unbearable scream. The noise threatens deafness when suddenly a silver motorcycle appears spinning around the corner of School House. Ploughing through a flowerbed, it roars across the courtyard, heading straight for her and Sophie. At the last minute, the motorcycle jerks to a stop, spraying gravel. A helmeted figure cuts the motor and flicks down the kickstand. Sophie sucks in her breath, starts backing away. The driver’s tall, seventeen? Eighteen? He pulls off his helmet. Sophie goes ashen, the dust settles. The boy grins.
    Oh . . . Sophie whispers . . . Owen Wharton.

12
    Handel floats across the courtyard. Chorus rehearsing The Messiah. We Like Sheep, they profess. We Like Sheep, they baa.
    Their adoration of sheep carries down to practice room 9 in the basement of School House. She begins again. Carols against the din of radiators. Deck the wrong note Deck the. The? The halls with—
    A shadow falls across her music. She glances up. The boy from the motorcycle is crouching at her window, sliding it open . . . Fa la la la la . . . he jumps into the room.
    She splits a reed.
    You’d do better to improvise. God that sill’s filthy . . . the boy sets down a clipboard, dusts off his hands . . . School’s a muckheap. Never play a clarinet sitting down. It constricts the muscles in your throat. Besides, I want your chair.
    You can’t be in here . . . but she stands.
    Can’t? Let’s make it up as we go along, shall we?
    Who are you?
    Introductions! . . . he straddles her chair dramatically thunk thunk his boots one either side . . . Owen Wharton, Upper Sixth, taking three A levels including Theatre Arts . . . the boy has odd vowels . . . Passed only four O levels year before last bit embarrassing but consensus was that the Biology questions were absurd . . . is he American . . . I think you’ll find I’m intelligent enough for the job.
    What job?
    Assistance. It’s come to my attention that Paul Gredville—
    Paul Gredville?
    Yes, has made certain threats, certain overtures, if you’ll excuse the pun—
    I don’t need your help.
    Oh God. One of those. Something to prove. It’s trying, it really is . . . the boy checks his clipboard . . . Let me see . . . Owen leans back, throws open the door . . . Sophie Marsden!
    Down the hall, a piano stops playing midscale.
    There’s a POD . . . warning him . . . Right down the hall, Madame Araigny—
    Sophie Marsd—
    But Sophie’s in the doorway, breathless . . . Yes, Owen.
    Tell her . . . and Owen’s up and back out the way he came, the window shuddering down behind him.
    She turns to Sophie . . . What the hell? You’re not to go out alone. Especially at night.

13
    Alone. At night. After Prep’s sonnet debacle. Memorizing for Betts. Sad. Mortality, a fearful meditation! Or was