Crater Lake

by Jennifer Killick

  I open the door, half expecting to be ambushed by a killer clown, but the room is boringly normal. I shove my clothes into a drawer, and hide my equipment under the bed, just in case someone decides to have a snoop. Sitting on my bed, on my own in the dead quiet of the centre, a little bit of sadness creeps in. I imagine the others mucking around in their dorms, having fun together. Then I text my mum from the phone I snuck in, knowing it probably won’t send because of the no-reception thing, to tell her I’m having a brilliant time.

  4

  Soup or Blood?

  After about thirty minutes I hear voices calling me from outside the door. ‘Come on, Lance – we’re going to dinner!’

  We all walk to the dining hall, which is in the middle of the building – a massive room with high ceilings and wooden floors – kind of like the gym at school. There are long tables with benches on either side and a hatch where the food is served. We grab trays and queue at the hatch, expecting to be greeted by dinner ladies wearing those weird fishing nets over their hair under hats that look like they’re made of the same stuff as shower curtains. But there is only one person behind the hatch, and it’s Digger.

  I’m towards the end of the queue but it soon becomes clear that there is only one choice of food.

  ‘Dinner is served,’ Digger says when it’s my turn. He dumps a bowl of tomato soup on my tray.

  ‘Err, thanks,’ I say and walk to a table to sit with my friends. Everyone looks confused, cos soup isn’t generally considered to be a dinner food; it’s the food your mum gives you in the winter when you have a cold.

  ‘No wonder we haven’t seen anyone other than Digger,’ I say. ‘They’ve obviously all been rushing around preparing this delicious feast.’

  ‘I think Digger did this on his own,’ Chets whispers, not noticing my sarcasm because he’s clearly deeply distressed. Chets is fond of his food.

  ‘Maybe that’s what the spatters on his clothes were,’ Katja says, stirring the soup around her bowl.

  ‘I know soup, and I know blood,’ Mak says. Which seem like two strangely specific and unrelated fields of expertise. ‘Those spatters were definitely blood and this is definitely soup.’

  ‘I don’t even think it’s Heinz.’ Chets has tears in his eyes. ‘It’s one of those supermarket value soups.’ None of us are keen.

  ‘Lucky I have a stack of brownies and crisps in my room, then,’ I say, giving Chets a nudge. ‘We’ll meet up after lights out and have a picnic. Or maybe not a picnic because we’re not toddlers with teddy bears, but a cooler version of a picnic. A sicknic. But not like vomit sick.’

  ‘Awesome,’ Katja says. ‘As long as I can sneak out of my room without the other girls telling.’

  ‘I’m in,’ says Big Mak.

  ‘But what if we get caught?’ Chets says.

  ‘You can always fill yourself up on this tasty tomato soup,’ I say. ‘Hold on, I’ll ask Digger if you can have another bowl.’

  Chets looks at his soup. ‘Fine, I’ll do it,’ he says.

  As soon as ‘dinner’ is over, Digger herds us into the lounge area, where there are comfy sofas, board games and a big TV, which is stuck on one channel no matter how hard we try to change it.

  ‘I guess they don’t want us watching World War Z,’ Mak says, as we sit on the wooden floor, hoping it will be a bit cooler than the giant cushions.

  ‘You’d think they’d have air con,’ Chets says. ‘It’s hotter in here than it is outside.’

  ‘I think they do – look at those vents,’ I say, pointing up at the ceiling. I slide myself across the floor on my bum so that I’m directly underneath one. ‘I guess it’s not working,’ I say.

  ‘This place gets better and better.’ Chets huffs, throwing his cap on the floor. ‘I’m sure there must be some kind of legal jurisdiction about imprisoning children in these temperatures.’

  ‘We’re not exactly imprisoned,’ Katja says. ‘We could get out if we really wanted to.’

  ‘We’re not allowed, though. I heard Digger telling Miss Hoche to make sure we all stayed here. He said the paint wasn’t quite dry in some areas of the centre and he doesn’t want us to get dizzy from the fumes.’

  Too hot and bored to do anything else, we look up at the TV. There’s a show about deadly animals on, and it’s talking about wasps.

  ‘Just my luck,’ says Chets.

  ‘There are two main subgroups of wasp…’ the presenter says, ‘…social and solitary. Social colonies are started by a queen, who wakes from hibernation when it starts to get warm, builds a small nest and creates a swarm of worker wasps to rapidly expand it.’

  ‘I wonder what makes the queen so special?’ Katja says. ‘Is she bigger? Or cleverer?’

  ‘Probably bossier,’ Big Mak says. ‘That’s the way with girls.’

  Katja thumps him on the arm.

  ‘If the nest is disturbed, the social wasps release a pheromone which drives their fellow wasps into a stinging frenzy. Solitary wasps do not form colonies. But unlike social wasps who use their stings only for defence, solitary wasps hunt using their venom to attack their prey.’

  Chets shudders and rubs his ear. ‘So there are nice little worker wasps, and nasty big hunter wasps.’

  ‘And all-powerful queen wasps who tell the others what to do.’ Hoche is standing behind us. ‘So everybody knows their job and does it efficiently. If only our school could be like that.’

  She laughs and clacks off in her heels.

  ‘Don’t judge me,’ I say, ‘but for the first time in my life, I feel sorry for Mr Moody.’ Mr Moody is our head teacher, and he’s kind of nice, actually, especially when you compare him to Hoche. ‘She’s probably just waiting for an opportunity to get rid of him.’

  ‘Imagine if Hoche was the Head-head,’ Katja says.

  ‘She’d be unstoppable.’ Mak makes a face.

  ‘She’d be a maniac,’ I say.

  ‘At least we’re leaving in a couple of weeks. Think of the younger kids.’ Katja’s eyes widen so you can really see how turquoise they are.

  We all look at each other for a moment and I imagine this was what it was like when the people safe on the lifeboats realised that everyone else on the Titanic was going to die.

  ‘May God have mercy on their souls.’

  ‘Some wasps use prey as hosts for their parasitic larvae. Though this is unpleasant for the creatures used as hosts, it is a highly efficient way of ridding the ecosystem of unwanted pests.’

  ‘Does that mean what I think it means?’ asks Chets.

  ‘They use the living bodies of other creatures to grow their wasp babies in,’ I say.

  ‘That’s disgusting.’

  ‘Yeah. Especially if you’re one of the unwanted pests.’

  ‘Maybe we could get a wasp to lay her eggs in Trent,’ Katja says, looking over to where Trent is refusing to let anyone else play on the football table unless they can name every player in the Arsenal squad from 1968 through to 2020.

  ‘I reckon the wasp babies deserve a nicer home.’

  We watch in silence as a bunch of squirming maggots burst their way out of a distressed caterpillar. It’s horrific.

  ‘I’m glad I’m not a caterpillar,’ Chets says.

  We agreed that the others would come to my room at 10.30pm. The teachers would all have had their sneaky glasses of wine and tucked themselves up for the night by then. Honestly, if you were an adult and could go to bed whenever you liked, why would you go as early as you could? Such a waste.

  I make sure my stuff is completely out of sight. Chets, Mak and Katja are my best friends, but for some reason I’ve never been able to bring myself to be straight with them about why I never stay round their houses, and why I never invite them to mine. At first it was just because of Mum, but when my own problems developed, what had seemed embarrassing and tough before became a thousand times worse. I was ashamed, I guess, so I kept it secret. And now it feels too late to tell them.

  Ten-thirty comes and n
obody knocks. I wait another ten minutes, then put my ear to the door. All I hear is silence.

  I’ve never been able to stand waiting for things to happen, so it isn’t hard to make the decision to find out what’s going on.

  I open my door as quietly as possible and creep up the stairs. You’d think it would have cooled down a bit, what with the sun having set, but if anything it feels hotter than it did during the day. I don’t bother putting my shoes on – I’ll be quieter in my bare feet anyway. I move quickly but carefully up the corridor towards the dorm rooms. If a teacher was to come along there would be nowhere to hide and I really can’t afford to get in any more trouble with Hoche. She’s had it in for me since the incident with Trent back at the start of Year Six. She’s decided I was responsible, and that’s all that matters to her.

  Chets and Mak told me their dorm room was first on the left in the main corridor, but when I reach it, I listen at the door, just in case. I can hear whispered voices, and when the handle suddenly turns I jump back, not knowing who to expect. But the door doesn’t open. Someone on the inside tries the handle again and rattles the door in the frame.

  There’s a key in the lock and it occurs to me that somebody has locked them in. I have a moment to make a decision. I turn the key and unlock the door.

  ‘What the hell?’ Big Mak is standing in the doorway with Chets right behind him. ‘Did you lock us in?’

  ‘Course not. You guys never showed, so I came to look for you and saw that your door was locked.’

  ‘Maybe it was that jerk, Trent,’ Mak whispers.

  ‘I don’t think it would have been Trent,’ Chets whispers back. ‘Maybe it was the same person who trapped Trent in the toilets at the start of the year. You know, the thing you got the blame for, Lance.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘Is Trent in a different dorm?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s next door, thank God,’ says Mak. ‘And Katja’s room is the one opposite.’

  ‘Is everyone else in your dorm asleep?’

  ‘We think so.’

  ‘Then let’s try Katja’s door,’ I say.

  We check both ways as though we’re about to cross the road, though I don’t really know why we bother cos if anyone comes, we’re absolutely sunk. I pull down the handle to Katja’s room and gently push the door. It’s locked.

  ‘This is messed up,’ I whisper, turning the key and pushing the door open. At least, because everything here is new, there aren’t any creaks to give us away.

  ‘Lance,’ Katja says when she sees us. ‘Someone locked us in.’

  Adrianne and some of the other girls are standing behind her. ‘Why would someone lock us in? It’s against all the fire regulations.’

  ‘It must have been Trent,’ Big Mak says. ‘Our room was locked, too.’

  ‘But your room wasn’t locked?’ Adrianne asks me.

  ‘No, mine was open. Otherwise you’d all still be locked in.’

  ‘Then I don’t think it was Trent. If he was going to lock anyone in, it would have been Lance. Especially after the incident…’

  ‘At the beginning of Year Six,’ I finish for her.

  ‘Ade is right,’ Katja says. ‘But there’s one way to find out for sure.’

  ‘We try Trent’s door,’ I say.

  ‘Everyone else, stay here,’ Adrianne says to the rest of the girls from their dorm. ‘If we all go, we’ll make too much noise. We’ll report back in five.’

  The girls do as they’re told and go sit on their beds. I have to hand it to Adrianne; she gets all the respect. She’s the type of person you want on your team.

  Me, Big Mak, Chets, Katja and Adrianne walk up the corridor to the next door on the boys’ side. I feel less worried about getting in trouble now that Adrianne is with us as I know she can talk us out of it – even the teachers do as she says.

  When we get to Trent’s door we hear a murmur of noise coming from inside.

  ‘They’re awake, then,’ Chets says.

  ‘Obviously.’ I can’t see Adrianne rolling her eyes cos it’s too dark, but I can practically hear it. Chets has that effect on people.

  ‘So what do we do?’ I say, knowing that Trent is waiting for an opportunity to get me into serious trouble.

  ‘I’m going to confront them,’ Adrianne says. ‘Then we can get this sorted and get back to our rooms.’ She turns the door handle.

  ‘Who’s there?’ a voice calls from inside. ‘If that’s you, Fangs, I’m going to tell Miss Hoche right now. And you’ll get your butt kicked out of school and into one of those special prisons for council-estate kids.’

  The door doesn’t open.

  ‘It’s locked, too,’ Adrianne says. ‘So it can’t have been Trent.’

  ‘Quick – someone’s locking us in,’ Trent shouts from the other side of the door and we hear footsteps thudding towards it.

  ‘It’s me, Adrianne,’ she says, loud enough to be heard through the wood. ‘And we’re not locking you in, we’re letting you out.’

  ‘Do we have to?’ I say.

  Adrianne turns the key, opens the door and barges into the brightly lit room. We follow behind.

  ‘What the hell are you all doing here?’ Trent says. ‘Not you, Adrianne, you’re allowed. But you others – you’re not welcome in this room.’

  There are six boys in Trent’s room, including him, and they’re all awake. There are cans of coke and sweet wrappers all over the floor.

  ‘Ah, a sicknic,’ I say, and Chets nods and looks hungrily at the sweets.

  ‘Just shut up a minute, Trent,’ Adrianne says. ‘We have a problem and we need to work together.’

  ‘What problem? Did Chubby and Fangy wet their beds?’

  ‘Somebody has locked all of us in our rooms,’ Adrianne says. ‘Except Lance.’

  ‘Then it must have been him,’ Trent says. ‘We all know he has previous when it comes to false imprisonment.’

  ‘It wasn’t Lance,’ Katja says.

  ‘You would say that, witch-eyes. Everyone knows you want to be his girlfriend.’

  ‘Why do you always have to be such a jerk, Trent?’ I say, angry now because Katja is the sweetest person in the world and doesn’t deserve to be spoken to like that.

  ‘Trent, it wasn’t Lance, I swear,’ says Chets. ‘We were supposed to be meeting him – he was the one who let us out.’

  ‘Lance’s room is rather out of the way,’ Adrianne says. ‘Maybe whoever locked ours forgot that he was down there.’

  ‘Well, if it wasn’t Fangface, who was it?’ Trent looks around at all of us. ‘The teachers?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Adrianne says. ‘They can be annoying but they wouldn’t do something so dangerous. If there was a fire, we’d be trapped, and then they’d get sacked for negligence. It doesn’t make sense for it to be them.’

  ‘Then it must have been someone from the centre,’ Trent says.

  We all look at each other. As much as I hate to agree with Trent about anything… ‘There has been a lot of weird stuff going on here,’ I say.

  ‘Digger was covered in blood,’ Big Mak says.

  ‘He was hardly covered, but yes, it did look suspicious.’ Adrianne bites her lip.

  ‘That poor guy Dale told us not to come here. He said they’d get us all.’ Katja tucks her hair behind her ear.

  ‘And, in case you all didn’t notice, HE WAS COVERED IN BLOOD,’ Mak says.

  I ask the question that all of us have in our heads. ‘So are we saying that it might have been Digger who attacked Dale?’

  ‘And what about the rest of the staff? Where are they?’ Adrianne asks.

  ‘Is Digger some kind of psycho serial killer?’ Trent looks excited at the prospect.

  ‘He did feed us tomato soup for dinner,’ Chets says.

  ‘Well, that settles it, then,’ I say. ‘Something’s got to be done.’

  ‘Our first step has to be to tell a teacher,’ says Adrianne.

  ‘You should definitely do that – they’ll
believe you.’ I hate to think of the response I’d get if I knocked on Hoche’s door to tell her there’s a mass murderer running around Crater Lake.

  ‘I should do it. I’m head boy,’ Trent says, in a way that provides a perfect example of why he should never have been made head boy.

  ‘We’ll go together,’ Adrianne says. ‘You guys wait here.’

  ‘Adrianne?’ I say.

  ‘Yes, Lance?’

  ‘Check if she’s wearing those dumb shoes with her pyjamas.’

  Adrianne and Trent set off noisily down the corridor. Adrianne is light on her feet, but Trent has the stealth of a zombie elephant. The teachers’ rooms are just around the corner.

  The rest of us stand around awkwardly in the dorm. My group and Trent’s group don’t usually hang out, so we don’t have much to say. Chets eyes up the pack of sweets and Katja reties her ponytail. Big Mak looks like he’s meditating or something.

  ‘I’m going to try the other girls’ dorm room door,’ I say. I can’t stand doing nothing.

  ‘On your own?’ Chets says, through a mouthful of chewy sweet.

  ‘I’ll just be a sec.’ I tiptoe across the corridor and try the handle of the final dorm. Unsurprisingly, it’s locked. When I turn the key and peep in, I can see all the girls asleep in their beds. Not wanting to look like a creepy stalker, I quickly back out but manage to walk smack into the door. One of the girls, I think Atul, sits up in her bed.