Search For Missing Student Continues
A spokesperson for South Wales police today said they were gravely concerned for the safety of 21-year-old Hamish McClelland. The Seabourne University history student went missing seven days ago on a hiking trip to the Brecon Beacons National Park. Despite a massive search by mountain rescue and police, no trace has been found of McClelland so far.
An image of a fit-looking, curly-haired young man in shorts and a backpack looked out at them.
“What date is that?” Ellie asked. “August twenty-first, 2008, Ellie,” Soph said. “That’s seven days after Bendle said he’d met him,” Ruff said.
“It must be the same McClelland,” Oz nodded. “It’s too much of a coincidence not to be.”
“So, this McClelland goes to see Bendle and ends up going missing on the top of a mountain somewhere. Sounds a bit trout and salmon sandwiches to me,” Ruff said.
“Could you explain that, Ruff?” Soph asked.
“That’s ‘fishy’ in Ruff-speak,” Ellie said. “He means it sounds suspicious.”
“Did they ever find him?” Oz asked Soph.
“There is no record,” Soph said.
“What else do you know about McClelland?” Ellie asked.
“I normally would be able to access the university database. However, the network has been powered down for two days of weekend maintenance,” Soph said.
Oz groaned.
“So, we just have to wait,” Ellie said.
The others nodded reluctantly.
There was no sleepover that Saturday night. Ellie had a hockey tournament the following day, and Ruff was helping his dad on another patio project, but Oz didn’t mind that much. By ten that evening, Ruff and Ellie had gone, and he chilled out in front of the TV for half an hour, exhausted from the day’s excitement. The encounter with Bendle had taken quite a lot out of him, and since there was orchestra practise the next day, he went to bed early.
His dreams were of mad pink billiard balls sporting whirling copter blades, chasing him with shrink-wrap bombs. It would almost have been funny if he didn’t know how close to the truth it really was.
Mrs Chambers dropped Oz off at school at 9.30 the following morning. He walked into the hall to find a dozen or so bleary-eyed jazz orchestra members already there, unpacking their instruments. He went to the drum kit and began setting up. A couple of year nine girls gave him wary glances, but he didn’t think twice about them until he had to get the Allen key to adjust his drum heads. It was kept in a box, along with the tuning forks, batons, and spare reeds for the woodwind instruments, in a backstage storeroom. He slipped behind the curtain and went in search of the box. As he was returning along the dark stage, he overheard some whispered voices drifting up from the front of the hall.
“I heard that Kieron Skinner may have to have plastic surgery for the slash on his face,” said a voice Oz recognised as belonging to Martha Trump, one of the year nine girls who also happened to be one of Pheeps’ Creeps.
“Can’t he remember anything about what happened?” asked another voice, which, Oz assumed, belonged to one of Martha’s year nine friends.
“No. Phillipa went to see him, and all he can remember is being knocked over, hitting his head, and something making a terrible noise and gouging at his face.”
Oz crept closer to the curtains.
“OMG! It sounds horrible,” said the friend.
“I think it’s definitely Chambers,” Martha Trump said. “Phillipa says he has a vicious temper and he definitely threatened to kill Skinner at the five-a-side competition. And—”
Oz took another step closer, but his attempt at stealth backfired in the gloom of the stage as he half-stumbled over a discarded Roman shield from Friday’s year 12 drama lesson. The jolt caused the box he was carrying to jangle loudly. The whispering on the other side of the curtain halted. Quickly, Oz retraced his steps in a cartoon tiptoe jog as Martha Trump ran up to the stage steps and poked her head through the gap in the curtains. He ducked down behind a cardboard rock in time to hear her turn back towards the hall and announce, “I’m sure I heard someone up here…”
Luckily, Mr Fidler’s cheery voice called out a hearty “Good morning” from the back of the hall, and Oz seized the opportunity to steal around to the other side of the stage. He went for a nonchalant whistle as he meandered back towards his drum kit, doing his utmost to not to let the box jangle again and not daring to look over at Martha Trump and her friend.
Mr Fidler was looking alarmingly casual in a roll-neck sweater and jeans. He urged them all to their places for a warm-up number. Oz tried to concentrate and enjoy the practise, but the overheard gossip had been an unwelcome reminder of how much the Beast of Seabourne—and Oz’s supposed guilt—was still on everyone’s minds. Oz just couldn’t get his head around the music, though not through lack of trying. Several times, he found himself getting lost or, worse, going off on a solo while everyone else waited for him to finish.
“Much as we admire your enthusiasm, Oscar,” said Mr Fidler in exasperation as Oz lost his place for the third time in the same passage, “this is a team effort. There are other drummers in the school, may I remind you.”
“Sorry,” Oz said, feeling his face burn.
He concentrated hard after that and things improved, until he got halfway home and realised that he’d left his Lions football hoody under the stool next to the drum kit.
“Don’t worry, Oz. It’s got your name in it, hasn’t it?” Mrs Chambers said when he told her.
“Yeah,” Oz said, looking glum.
“You’re surely not worried about someone pinching it, are you? It’s not exactly Prada.”
“It’s my Lions one, Mum,” Oz protested.
“Yes, it is,” Mrs Chambers agreed. “Your faded Lions one with a torn sleeve, a hole in the hood, and a ripped hem. I doubt it features on anyone’s desirable-items-ofclothing list other than yours, so I’m sure it’s quite safe.” She smiled and then added under her breath, “Unless the school is suddenly burgled by a gang bent on stealing old clothes for dusters.”
Oz threw her a withering look. She was probably right, but the reason he forgot his hoody in the first place still brought a flush to his neck whenever he thought about it. He’d wanted to get away from Martha Trump and her friend as soon as he could once practise had finished, because he was fed up of the way they kept looking at him and whispering.
He even thought he heard one of them blurt out the word “beast” as he returned the Allen key backstage.
Him, the Beast?
It was mad. Completely insane. Yet he couldn’t help feeling it was just a taste of what was yet to come.
Monday dawned a beautiful spring morning. By the time Oz arrived at school, the sun felt welcoming and warm on his neck. End of term and holidays were tantalisingly close, and there was a definite whiff of anticipation in the air. Despite his mind whirling with thoughts of Bendle and McClelland and the Beast, the prospect of no school for two whole weeks and the forthcoming field trip to Cornwall were beginning to worm their way into his head like insistent, buzzing insects. Oz hurried across from the bus bay and saw Ruff sitting on a low wall to one side of the main entrance.
“All right?” Oz asked.
“Not bad,” Ruff said.
Oz noticed straight away that Ruff ’s normally eager reply was a bit forced.
“Tough day yesterday?”
Ruff shrugged. “Helped my dad finish a patio. He’s got two more to do before Easter.”
“Keeping you fit then,” Oz said.
“Suppose,” Ruff agreed with a hollow laugh. “How about you?”
Oz was about to tell him all about what had happened during the orchestra rehearsal when a sudden shadow fell across them. Oz looked around and saw Pheeps looking, as usual, quite pleased with herself and bursting to say something. Behind her, a posse of three clones hovered. One of them was Martha Trump.
“I expect you’ve heard that Skinner is
going to need plastic surgery,” Pheeps announced with a very unpleasant smile.
“Yeah, I did,” Oz said.
“That’s buzzard,” Ruff said with genuine regret.
But Pheeps’ eyes didn’t leave Oz’s face. “Don’t pretend you’re sorry. I mean, why slash at him in the first place if you were going to feel sorry for him afterwards?”
“I didn’t slash anyone.”
“Oh, come on. Why did the police interview you, then?” The smile played on her lips still, but her eyes glinted with feverish challenge.
“They interviewed loads of people,” Ruff said.
“Yeah, but not for forty minutes like Chambers,” Pheeps taunted.
“Why don’t you just go away?” Ruff said.
She rounded on him. “Or what, Adams? What are you going to do if I don’t?”
“Uh, get up and walk away?” Ruff said, pushing himself up from the wall.
“Surprised you still can after carrying bricks all day yesterday,” she sneered.
Ruff frowned. “What’s it got to do with you, anyway?”
“Nothing. Except what sort of father makes a kid help him lug bricks? My dad would never force me to be a labourer. Not that he would ever need to do stuff like that anyway. He’s got a proper job at the university.”
Ruff ‘s face turned a furious scarlet.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Oz hissed at Pheeps. “You just can’t help having a go at everyone.”
“The truth hurts, Chambers,” she said with a poisonous inflection. “And there’s a lot of pain coming your way.”
“Get lost, you witch,” Ruff said.
It happened in an instant. Ruff ’s heartfelt insult struck home, and a seething Pheeps stepped forward and aimed a slap at Ruff ’s face. But Oz saw it coming. Without thinking, he reached up and grabbed her wrist just before it struck.
Pheeps, shocked by Oz’s speed, decided to play the injured party. “Ow, that hurts,” she wailed, trying to twist out of Oz’s restraining grip.
Oz let her go, but not before a booming voice roared across from the front entrance to the school.
“What’s going on there?”
They all looked up to see the Volcano striding across the teeming schoolyard towards them, her oversized metal necklace jangling as it bounced around on the mounds of flesh beneath. Pheeps was still dramatically massaging her wrist, while Oz and Ruff sent each other a sideways looks of disbelief.
“Phillipa, are you all right?” asked the Volcano, bearing down on them.
“Yes, Miss Swinson,” Pheeps said in a pained, simpering voice.
Ruff made eyes to the heavens and shook his head.
“Did I see Chambers strike you?” She shot Oz a look of disgust.
“I grabbed her arm,” Oz said.
“Ask her why,” Ruff said.
“Be quiet. I will speak to you in a moment. Phillipa?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Let me see.” The Volcano peered at Pheeps’ wrist.
A small but inquisitive crowd had gathered to watch the fun.
“A little red but no harm done.” She snapped around towards Oz. “Does it give you pleasure to bully girls, Chambers?”
“That’s a laugh—” Ruff began.
The look on the Volcano’s face was fierce enough to stop Big Ben. Having made Ruff shut up, she turned back to Oz. “Well?”
“I don’t bully anyone,” Oz said.
“I’m delighted to hear it. Then you can apologise to Phillipa for what you just did.”
Oz said nothing.
The Volcano drew herself up. “I’m waiting.”
“Sorry,” said Oz through gritted teeth, “for grabbing your wrist. And by the way, there’s no need to thank me.”
Behind the Volcano, Pheeps’ and her Creeps’ smirks froze.
“Why on earth should Phillipa thank you for being manhandled?” The Volcano glared at Oz.
“Because Ruff has a head like concrete, and if she’d hit it as hard as she was trying to, I was worried she might break her arm.” Pheeps’ smirk dissolved into a look of pure malice.
The Volcano looked at Oz as if he’d just crawled out from under a rock. The bell for registration went, and people shuffled off.
“Be very careful, Chambers,” said the Volcano with a steely glint in her eye. “I know you consider yourself something of a comedian after tormenting poor Mr Boggs into retirement, but be certain of one thing: I have my eye on you.”
From behind her, Pheeps grinned. Ellie joined the boys as they made their silent, glum way to registration, took one look at the both of them, and said, “Who died?”
“No one, worse luck,” Ruff said. “Although I have a couple of names on my wish list.”
They told her about their little encounter with Pheeps and the Volcano.
“She is such a cow,” Ellie said with feeling when they’d finished. Whether Ellie was referring to the pupil or the teacher didn’t seem to matter to the boys. They both grinned in response.
“‘Cow’ is dead right,” Oz said.
“Yeah,’ Ruff nodded. “If I heifer need a reference, I won’t be knocking on her door.”
“Oh, come on, pull the udder one,” Oz replied.
“Oh, sugar,” Ellie said with a long-suffering sigh. “I knew it was a mistake as soon as I said it.”
They had science just before lunch. As always these days, Skelton insisted that everyone wear their lab coats the minute they walked in through the doors. Oz collected his, Ruff ’s, and Ellie’s from where they hung on the back wall. The door to a small annex, which housed microscopes and slides for sixth-formers, was ajar. Oz glanced in and saw Niko busy gathering his things. It was remarkable only because year eights were banned from the annex. Yet Niko breezed out the door and to his seat with no comment from Skelton.
“What’s he doing in there, then?” Oz asked when he’d told Ellie.
“Marcus Skyrme says Niko’s in there every break and lunchtime working on his animal transducer thingy. He’s really serious about developing it as a gadget to sell,” Ellie explained.
“Imagine choosing to spend your free time in a classroom working,” Ruff said, earning him worried looks from Ellie and Oz. It was exactly the kind of thing that Ruff would say, but the way he’d said it added an extra level of disgust.
“This coat is really stiff and honks of plastic,” Ellie said, flexing her arms.
“Reminds me of hospitals,” Oz added.
“Talking of hospitals, anyone find anything more out about that nutter Bendle? I actually had a nightmare about him last night,” Ruff said.
“Me too,” Oz said. “I was being chased by bomb-dropping dirigible drones.”
“Well, I didn’t have any nightmares,” Ellie said. “But I looked it up and I found that Chivyon House is the most expensive property in Bog Sturgess by a mile.”
“I don’t care if he knows everything about the ceramic ring; he can keep his expensive house and his freaky aprons and hats, ’cos I don’t want to go anywhere near that mad git ever again,” said Ruff with feeling.
From the look on Ellie’s face, Oz twigged that she agreed. He shrugged. “Maybe we won’t have to if Soph finds out the stuff about—”
“Before we start,” Skelton announced from the front, “I have the results of last week’s electrolysis and rock cycle test. Overall, not too bad, although several people remain confused about cathode and anode. Remember LEO RED CAT. Loss of Electrons is Oxidation. REDuction occurs at the CAThode.”
Half a dozen people in the class groaned as they realised they’d gotten things back to front.
Skelton handed out the marked papers. Oz scanned his eagerly. Fifteen out of twenty. There were ninety people in the year, and he needed to be in the top nineteen to ensure his place on the field trip. On the top right of the paper was a second number in a red circle. This was his post-test position in the science class league table. Oz made a small fist and hissed, “Yesss.�
�� Inside the red circle was a fourteen. He glanced across at Ellie’s paper. Sixteen out of twenty.
There was a ten in the red circle, and she was grinning.
Ruff, on the other hand, didn’t say anything, and from the black look on his face, he didn’t need to.
“Well?” Oz asked.
Ruff slid his paper across to Oz silently.
“Eleven out of twenty?” he said, trying not to sound too incredulous.
“Told you I’d messed it up,” Ruff mumbled.
“Sugar, Ruff, you total gonk.” Ellie snatched his paper and stared at it. “That puts you down into twenty-third position.”
“I did try and tell you,” Ruff protested, his cheeks pinking up.
“Yeah, but—” Ellie began.
“You always say stuff like that,” Oz finished.
“This time, I meant it,” Ruff said through gritted teeth, taking back his paper and folding it.
“But there’s only one more test before the field trip,” Oz said. “You’re going to have to get full marks—”
“Who cares?” Ruff snapped.
“Who cares?” Oz repeated, frowning. “We do, don’t we? I thought we were all up for the trip? It’s going to be a laugh, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.” Ruff’s face was maroon now. “Prancing about on a beach, counting whelks. Yomping over moors, looking at bits of heather with Lardy Ladrop and going to bed by ten in a tent sounds a real hoot. And we all know Skyrme’ll be sick on the bus like he always is.”
“At least we’d be together and away from here,” Oz pleaded.
Ruff shrugged.
Ellie’s mouth had become a tight line. She was staring at Ruff in bewilderment. “We’ve been looking forward to this trip for months, haven’t we?”
“So?” Ruff said, his tone sullen
“Well, haven’t we?” Ellie said again.
Ruff ’s response was to slam his books on the desk and scowl. Luckily, Skelton chose that moment to claim their attention and cleared his throat loudly.
“As you know, there is one more test before we break for Easter. This will be on all the work done this term and will take place next Monday. It will be your last chance to improve your position in the class table and get into that elusive and exclusive top nineteen. Now today, we’re going to look at the reactions of acids with bases…”
The Beast of Seabourne Page 15
