Raggy Maggie Read online

  ‘Earth to Kyle. Earth to Kyle.’

  I blinked back into the present. Mr Preston was standing there, waving a hand slowly in front of my face. I could feel all eyes in the room on me. Somewhere off to the left, someone let out a low snigger.

  ‘Just bumped into her outside my house,’ I said. ‘We…we hung out for a bit.’

  ‘What was her name then?’ asked someone else.

  ‘Ameena,’ I replied. My mouth was going dry. I felt like I was being interrogated by the Secret Service.

  ‘What kind of name’s that?’

  ‘A made-up one by the sounds of things,’ sneered Billy. He and his neighbour cackled and exchanged a high-five. I glanced up at Mr Preston imploringly, but he wasn’t ready to let me off the hook just yet.

  ‘And where is she now?’ he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. ‘This new friend of yours?’

  I was free to answer truthfully this time. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t see her again after that.’

  Mr Preston took his hands out of his pockets and waved them as if he was conducting an orchestra. ‘Ready, everyone? One, two, three…’

  On cue, the whole class joined together in one collective ‘Awwww!’

  ‘Fascinating stuff, Mr Alexander, truly fascinating,’ said Mr Preston sarcastically. ‘Now sit down, and please – for your sake as well as mine – don’t be late again.’

  I shuffled sideways along the slow-moving line, holding my breath when I passed the soggy mound of cabbage that seemed to be crawling up and out of the plastic tub it lurked in.

  Turkey burgers – I could hardly believe it. The first day back to school after the Christmas holidays and the canteen was serving turkey burgers. Someone somewhere had decided this was the perfect choice for the first-day-back menu. Incredible.

  ‘You not meeting your new bird for lunch then?’ I heard someone shout.

  Billy Gibb had barged into the queue a few places ahead of me. He was staring at me now, waiting for some kind of response. I just shook my head and looked down at my cracked wooden tray. I didn’t need this. Not today.

  I could spend all day describing the things that made Billy such an unpleasant person to be around. I could talk about his stupid, wispy facial hair. I could mention the way his nostrils were always flared and curving upwards, as if a dog had taken a crap on his top lip and his nose was doing its best to crawl away. I could even go on about his smell – fifty per cent stale cigarette smoke, fifty per cent even staler sweat, one hundred per cent revolting.

  Really, though, what bothered me most was his personality. Or, to put it more accurately, his total lack of one.

  ‘She must’ve been a right dog to fancy you,’ he continued, trying to goad me into a fight. I wasn’t going to rise to it. I was better than that. Plus, he could kick my head in with one leg tied behind his back.

  I heard him and a few of his mates jeering at me as I picked up my tray and walked away, but I tried not to listen. The healthy-eating counter didn’t have a queue – the healthy-eating counter never had a queue – so I could hopefully get served there and have my lunch eaten before he’d even ordered his.

  The dinner lady on duty had her back to me as I approached. I waited patiently at the counter. I didn’t dare say anything, in case the shock of having a customer in this part of the canteen killed her stone dead.

  After almost a minute, when she still showed no sign of turning in my direction, I gave a low, gentle cough.

  That seemed to do the trick. With her two-sizes-too-small nylon uniform almost bursting at the seams, she at last shuffled round to look at me. Well, not exactly look. As she turned, I could see she was holding a chipped and dirty plate in front of her, completely hiding her face.

  ‘Um…hi,’ I began, assuming she’d move the plate when I started speaking. ‘Have you got anything that’s quite healthy, but not too healthy?’ The plate didn’t move. Maybe this was what being stuck on the healthy-eating counter all day did to you.

  ‘Like, do you do low-fat hot dogs or something? Or veggie burgers, but with, like, a little bit of meat in them?’

  She just stood there, not responding, the plate not moving. I glanced across at the rest of the canteen. Everyone was going about their own business – ordering lunches, scoffing food, stuffing chips up smaller kids’ noses. No one was paying me or Plate Face the slightest bit of attention.

  ‘Er…hello?’ I tried. ‘Can you hear me?’

  A low breath escaped her lips, like the ominous rumblings of a once dormant volcano. Slowly, she leaned her head a little to the right, as she tilted the plate slightly to the left. A single eye peered at me from around the cracked crockery’s edge.

  ‘Peek-a-boo,’ she whispered. ‘I seeeee you.’

  The plate slipped from her fingers. A roar of delight went up from the kids in the canteen as the crockery shattered loudly on the patterned linoleum floor.

  ‘Nice work killing the dinner lady,’ grinned Billy, punctuating the sentence by punching me hard on the arm.

  ‘I didn’t kill her,’ I told him, pulling my schoolbag higher up on to my shoulder and quickening my pace along the science corridor. ‘She fainted.’

  She had fainted. The second the plate had shattered on the ground, she’d kind of slumped down, like a puppet whose strings had all snapped. Complete pandemonium had followed, with the teachers all trying to help her up, and the pupils all falling over each other to take photos on their mobiles.

  Most of the kids had been laughing, or chattering excitedly. Not me. There was something unsettling about the way the dinner lady had behaved. And what she’d said to me – she’d spoken the same words as Hector the postman had spoken this morning. Something was happening, I knew, but what that something was I had no idea.

  Two of Billy’s friends rushed up to join him, and all thoughts of the dinner lady and the postie melted away. The three boys surrounded me – a minion on each side, Billy walking backwards in front of me.

  ‘Must’ve been your way with women,’ one of the lackeys snickered.

  ‘Or his smell,’ Billy suggested. All three of them laughed at that. I wanted to tell Billy I couldn’t possibly stink as badly as he did, but on the other hand I also wanted to live to see my next birthday.

  Around us, other kids hurried on their way, not one of them so much as glancing in my direction as they scuttled past. I wasn’t expecting anyone to jump in and save me, but even a bit of supportive eye contact from someone would have been nice.

  Every few steps, Billy would jab one of his sausage-like fingers into my shoulder. Each time was harder than the one before. I had to get him talking and get his mind off pushing me around, before he did me some serious damage.

  ‘My mum’s babysitting your little sister today,’ I said.

  ‘I know. My mum’s paying her twenty quid to do it.’ Billy’s face stretched into a mocking grin. ‘She says she feels sorry for your mum because she’s too useless to get a proper job. It’s like charity, she says, since you’re so poor.’

  I felt my teeth clamp together and my fingers curl into fists. I didn’t mind him pushing me around. I could take that. But not my mum. Nobody made fun of my mum.

  I stopped dead. The other boys carried on a few paces before they realised what had happened. Billy stopped, then looked me up and down, pausing briefly at my clenched fists. ‘Oh yeah?’ he sneered.

  All three of them stepped in close to me, looming above me. Billy was right in my face, his nose next to mine, his stinking breath swirling up my nostrils. I stared up into his narrowed eyes, not flinching.

  The other two were right at my sides. There was no way I could swing a punch without them stopping it. They were both poised, ready to grab my arms. Ready to hold me while Billy pummelled.

  I felt my nerve go. The anger that had burned through me was snuffed out by a wave of fear.

  ‘You want to say something to me?’ Billy snarled. ‘Eh?’

  I wanted to say a lot of things to him, bu
t I didn’t dare. He made a sharp move towards me and I flinched. All three boys laughed at that.

  ‘So?’ he hissed. ‘What was it you wanted to say?’

  My mind raced. My mouth went dry. I had to think of something to say, and fast.

  And then I remembered – well, not exactly remembered, because the experience was one I would never, ever be able to forget. Right then, though, was the first time I’d put two and two together properly.

  While hiding from Mr Mumbles I’d somehow transported myself to somewhere called the Darkest Corners. It was a horrible, terrifying place, full of horrible, terrifying creatures. That was where I’d met the girl.

  She couldn’t have been more than five years old, but something about her had chilled me to the bone. Her skin was as pale as death, but caked here and there with thick blobs of make-up. A smear of lipstick across her mouth. Rings of black shadow around her eyes. A little girl playing at dressing up.

  She had mentioned Billy. Or a Billy, at least. I doubted she was talking about this one, but it was worth a shot.

  ‘I met another girl I think you might know,’ I said shakily.

  ‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ Billy crowed. ‘I know a lot of girls. What did she look like?’

  He stepped back a little, so I quickly continued.

  ‘She was young,’ I said. ‘Maybe five or something?’ I glanced up at him. ‘She had a doll.’

  ‘A doll?’ he snorted. ‘Don’t know who you’re talking about.’

  ‘Weird-looking thing. The doll, I mean. The girl too, actually. What was her name again…?’ I wracked my brains. ‘Caddie,’ I announced. ‘That was it.’

  The colour drained from Billy’s face, leaving him an ashen shade of grey. He eyeballed me, his head shaking ever so slightly from side to side.

  ‘Who told you about that?’ he demanded.

  ‘No one,’ I answered. ‘I met her. She asked if I knew you, said that you used to play with her or something.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Billy hissed. ‘You can’t…You…Who’ve you been talking to?’

  I smiled nervously. Billy looked like a bomb about to explode, and I was standing directly in his path. ‘No one,’ I insisted. ‘I wasn’t speaking to any—’

  The punch crunched into the soft bit between my stomach and my chest, and I felt my lungs instantly cramp up. Before I realised what was happening, Billy had me by the front of my shirt. He was shouting something, but all my attention was focused on trying to draw a breath, and I missed most of what he said.

  ‘…ever talk about that again,’ was the only bit I caught, before he pushed me to the floor and stalked off, his two minions following close behind.

  Fighting the urge to puke, I crouched on the floor, feeling my breath gradually return. A few of my classmates glanced pityingly at me as they rushed past, but none of them bothered to stop.

  Then, just as I had begun to think about getting up, a hand reached down, palm upwards. I looked at it, then up into eyes I hadn’t seen in a fortnight.

  ‘OK,’ frowned Ameena. ‘And you let that jerk get away with that because…?’

  Chapter Three

  FAMILIAR FACES

  Ilet Ameena help me up, then stood there brushing myself down, not quite sure what to say to her. I’d begun to think I would never see her again, and now I couldn’t decide whether to hug her or shout at her. I decided, for the moment, to do neither.

  She looked just as she had done when we’d first met, only now her long dark brown hair wasn’t matted to her face with rain, and her deep brown eyes weren’t wide with panic. She still wore the same shabby black jacket and jumper; still had the same oversized walking boots on her feet; still looked like she needed a good meal.

  Seeing her brought everything rushing back. Every feeling from Christmas Day – the pain, the fear – came washing over me, all hitting me at once, making my legs go shaky and my head go light.

  ‘You should’ve kicked that guy’s ass,’ she told me, glaring along the corridor in the direction Billy had gone. ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘Uh, well, because I can’t? You saw the size of him.’

  She looked at me like I was crazy. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘No, I’m not kidding,’ I said. ‘He’d kill me.’

  ‘What?’ she spluttered. ‘But…Christmas. The stuff you did. The stuff you can do.’

  I pulled my bag back up on to my shoulder and set off along the corridor. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe not, but it happened,’ she replied. ‘I saw it.’ She quickened her pace and stopped in front of me. ‘What, you think that guy’s anywhere near as tough as Mr Mu—’

  ‘Please,’ I implored, ‘can we not do this right now?’ I stepped past her and carried on towards my next class. ‘I’ll talk about it later, but just…not right now.’

  She hesitated for a few moments, not following me. ‘No can do,’ she said at last. ‘I’m leaving town. Just dropped in to say goodbye.’

  I stopped; turned to face her. I wanted to ask her where she was going. I wanted to ask her why she was going. There were a dozen questions I’d have liked the answer to. In the end, though, I just said: ‘Oh.’

  ‘Try not to get too cut up about it,’ she said sarcastically.

  ‘No, I…it’s…I thought you’d already moved on. I haven’t seen you since…you know.’ We stood there, several metres apart, all alone in the corridor. Virtually strangers.

  ‘Where were you?’ I asked, more forcibly than I’d intended.

  ‘I’ve been around,’ she shrugged. ‘Just thought you might need some space after everything that happened.’

  ‘What I needed was someone to talk to,’ I told her.

  ‘You had people to talk to. You mum. Your gran.’

  ‘Mum didn’t want to listen,’ I said. ‘And Nan…Nan doesn’t make a lot of sense half the time.’ I glanced down at the floor, then back up at her. ‘I needed someone who’d been through it. But you weren’t there.’

  ‘Hey, kiddo, I’m not a counselling service,’ Ameena shrugged. She folded her arms across her chest and shifted her weight on to one foot. She was about the same age as me, but insisted on calling me “kiddo”. It drove me nuts.

  ‘No. But I thought you were a friend.’

  ‘Friends don’t get you anywhere,’ she scowled, before wincing slightly at the harshness of her words. ‘Listen, you want to talk? Here I am.’

  ‘I told you, not now,’ I answered. ‘Can we meet up later?’

  ‘And I told you, I’m leaving.’

  ‘Just ten minutes after school,’ I said. ‘Please.’

  She looked at me for a few moments, then gave a sigh. ‘Ten minutes, then I’m gone. I’ll meet you outside.’

  ‘OK,’ I replied, fighting back a grin of delight. ‘I better run.’

  ‘Later.’

  I gave her a goodbye nod, then hurried off towards my next class. Halfway along the corridor, I paused. ‘Oh, and Ameena,’ I said, turning round, ‘it’s good to see—’

  But the corridor was empty. Ameena was already gone.

  I started the first afternoon lesson – History – the same way I’d started the first class of the morning – late. The teacher, Mrs Ennis, didn’t look impressed when I scurried in, but at least she didn’t put me through any ritual humiliation before letting me take a seat.

  It was a relief to see that Billy’s desk at the back of the class was empty. He skipped lessons quite a lot, and I was glad he’d chosen to give this one a miss. I’d had more than enough of him for one day.

  The rest of the class were already studying a textbook by the time I got settled at my desk. I peeked across at the girl sitting next to me to find out what book we were supposed to be looking at, then began rummaging in my bag for my copy.

  A faint, nervous knocking on the classroom door made everyone look up from their work. I ignored it, still busy looking for the book.

  ‘Enter,’ called Mrs Ennis, in t
he posh voice she only ever uses when inviting someone in, and I heard the door swing open just as I found the right textbook. As I pulled it out of my bag, I caught a glimpse of a first-year boy hurrying across the classroom, his face red with embarrassment. He thrust a note into Mrs Ennis’s hands, and then quickly beat a retreat.

  I flicked through the pages of my book, trying to find the right chapter. Most of my classmates had turned back to their work, leaving only the really nosey ones to watch Mrs Ennis unfold and read the note.

  ‘Kyle Alexander,’ she said. I looked up to find her looking back. ‘The headmistress would like a word.’

  Making my way along the deserted corridor, a sense of dread began to rise from the pit of my stomach. Whatever Mrs Milton wanted to see me for, it was unlikely to be good.

  Classroom doors lined the walls on either side of me. Teachers’ and pupils’ voices drifted out of every one as I passed. I recognised some of them, but not all.

  A clattering, jeering and the occasional sharp blast of a whistle could be heard from the gym hall, which was also accessed from this part of the school. The trophy cabinet stood proudly by the hall entrance, stocked with cups and shields and medals. My name wasn’t etched on to any of them.

  I pushed through the final set of double doors. A bleached, clinical smell wafted up to meet me as I headed towards the headmistress’s office. This was usually as far as any parents made it into the school, so Mrs Milton made sure the janitor kept it sparkling clean.

  I’d only been called to see the headmistress once before, and I’d been a gibbering mess of nerves by the time I’d made it down the first flight of stairs. No one ever got summoned for anything good. If Mrs Milton called for you, you could be pretty sure you were in serious trouble.

  This time, though, I wasn’t all that bothered. It’d be about the dinner lady, I was certain. She’d want to ask me what had happened, that was all. No harm in that. Nothing for me to worry about.

  Morag the school secretary was sitting behind the reception desk as I approached, her eyes fixed on her computer screen. It was common knowledge that Morag could be used as a kind of barometer as to how bad Mrs Milton’s mood was. If she was smiling, things were unlikely to be too terrible. If she didn’t make eye contact, you’d best get your will written before setting foot in the office.