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“On this occasion,” said Dr Black, lowering his gaze in Drake’s direction, “I’m electing to believe you are solely the victim of this little encounter, and not the perpetrator. Should it happen again I will not be so certain. Understood?” Drake nodded quickly. “Good,” the teacher said. He returned his gaze to the three bullies cowering before him. “You boys,” he scowled. “My classroom. Now.”
“Hey, Chief, where you been?” asked Mel, appearing behind Drake as if by magic. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Toilet,” said Drake, hurriedly refastening the safety pin to his waistband.
“OK, so maybe I didn’t look everywhere,” Mel admitted. “You going for lunch?”
“Nah, not going to bother,” Drake replied, as casually as he could manage. He’d love to be going for lunch, but his free school meals card hadn’t been sorted out yet, and he’d forgotten to ask his mum for cash that morning.
“Very wise,” said Mel. “I’m not even sure the stuff they serve in there is technically food.”
They walked on in silence past three or four more classrooms. Drake considered telling Mel about the disappearing shed, but he had no idea how to bring the subject up without sounding like a maniac, so he didn’t bother.
Dr Black’s door was swinging closed as they strolled by. Drake caught a glimpse of Bingo, Dim and Spud being led through another door at the back of the room, then the classroom door shut all the way over, blocking them from view. Drake wondered what was going to happen to them as he and Mel made for the stairs.
When they reached the ground floor, Mel stopped in her tracks.
“Euw,” she winced, holding her nose. “What’s that smell?”
Drake’s mind raced. How could he tell her he had half a pint of urine all over his trousers? She’d laugh at him, or maybe never speak to him again. He’d only known her for a few hours, but for some reason he found that last possibility particularly disturbing. He was about to make up some excuse when a sour stench filled his nostrils and made his head go light.
“That’s disgusting!” he gasped, pulling the neck of his polo shirt up over his mouth and nose. “What is that?”
He suddenly became aware of movement on the floor behind him. Drake turned and looked down. A messy ball of hair and legs looked back up at him, its scruffy head tilted quizzically to one side. Flies buzzed round its flea-bitten ears, no doubt attracted by the overpowering stench that surrounded the animal’s body like a cloud of toxic gas. It was a cat. An unpleasant one.
“Hey, look, what a little cutie!” exclaimed Mel, apparently ignoring the evidence being presented by her own two eyes.
“A cutie?” Drake said. “It looks like a big scabby rat.”
The cat bared a dozen rotting teeth and let out a growl. The deep, rumbling sound didn’t fit the animal, and Drake found himself glancing around to see if a big dog was standing nearby, throwing its voice.
“I think you hurt his feelings,” Mel scolded. Holding her breath she reached down and felt round the cat’s neck. Below the matted fur she found a collar. Attached to the collar was a small metal tag shaped like a fish. “Toxie,” she read. “His name’s Toxie.”
“How appropriate,” said Drake, his shirt still pulled up over his face. “Now let’s go before we catch rabies or something.”
“See ya, smelly,” Mel said, standing up and saluting the animal. “You be good now.”
Toxie padded round in a circle and watched Drake and Mel continue along the corridor. His green eyes remained fixed on them until they had disappeared through a set of double doors.
“Woof,” he said at last, then he stretched, sniffed the air, and sloped off out into the afternoon sun.
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