St Grizzle's School for Girls, Geeks and Tag-along Zombies

by Karen McCombie

  “But WHY are you here?” I ask Arch as we pass the sign for “St Grizelda’s School for Girls” and turn into the school’s drive. The smart “Grizelda” part of the sign has a spray-painted line through it and a hand-squiggled “Grizzle’s” added above.

  Arch is in too much pain to notice. He’s limping – he climbed over a stile in a fence on his way here and the rotten wood gave way under him, leaving him with a bruised and scraped knee.

  As for Swan and the others, they’re up ahead of us, and just now I overheard Swan phoning Lulu to tell her to expect an unexpected guest.

  Well, not EVERYONE is up ahead of us. Boudicca is tagging along by Arch’s side, making herself useful by holding his backpack, which he dropped when he blundered out of the hedge. She keeps gazing up at him as if he is a famous pop star or something instead of a dishevelled eleven-year-old boy who shouldn’t be here.

  “I’m here cos of the film you posted last night.” Arch answers my question, leaning on my shoulder for support. “You said in your poem that all that was missing at St Grizzle’s was ME. So I thought I’d better pay you a visit!”

  As ever Arch is trying to sound jokey. But him turning up like this – truanting from school on a Thursday, travelling all the way here on his own … it’s not really funny ha-ha stuff, I think, as a pancake-of-worry flips in my tummy.

  And no wonder we mistook Arch for a wild-eyed monster – he looks like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. Which he pretty much has – it took both me and Swan to pull him free of the thorny branches back when he made his surprise appearance.

  “So how did you get here?” I ask, remembering the long, long drive from home on the day Mum dropped me off at St Grizzle’s.

  “Well, I worked out I needed to take three buses and that was fine – till I jumped off at the wrong stop. I ended up using the map on my phone to go cross-country,” he says in a bright and breezy voice as if it was all a bit of a lark.

  I glance at my friend as he talks – he has twigs and leaves of several different species of tree attached to his hair and clothes, plus cheeks smeared green with grass and criss-crossed with vivid pink scratches.

  “That was fine, too,” he continues, “till I had to take a detour through a marsh – thanks to being chased by a grumpy cow…”

  Arch nods down at his supposed-to-be-white trainers, which are now a fetching shade of sludge brown, with socks to match.

  And just like the photo of Arch at the lido last summer, he looks odd.

  “Hey, what happened to your baseball cap?” I ask.

  “I dunno… I think I might have lost it when I fell off a stile. Or maybe it was when I was running away from the mad cow or when I squeezed through the hedge.”

  However he lost it, without his hat, Arch’s skinny face seems skinnier, his nose a little pointier, his flip of fair hair a little floppier as it falls into his eyes.

  “Arch…” I begin, my tummy-pancake-of-worry flip-flapping madly as a thought suddenly strikes me. “Do your mum and dad know you’re here?”

  I’m not sure what I’m expecting Arch to say. Maybe he’ll make another jokey comment? Give me an excuse? Tell me a lie? Cos something is just not right.

  But I’m kind of knocked sideways when all of a sudden, my funny, easy-going friend begins to cry…

  He’s still sobbing silent, snotty, hiccupping tears when Granny Viv runs down the driveway to meet us.

  “Hello, Arch!” she says warmly as if she’d been expecting him. “Here, let me give you a hand.” And she puts her arm round his waist so we can BOTH help him hip-hop inside the school.

  He’s still crying in that can’t-quite-get the-words-out way when Granny Viv plonks him on a beanbag in Lulu’s office. I pull the other one as close as I can and sink down into it.

  “There, there … take slow, deep breaths,” says Lulu, kneeling down beside Arch and rubbing comforting circles on his back.

  “I’m going to pop and get the first-aid kit so we can get you cleaned up,” Granny Viv says from the office doorway, but I know that’s code for “AND I’m off to call Arch’s parents”.

  I’m glad. Although it’s brilliant to see my best friend, I’m feeling MORE than a little freaked out. I mean, even without the collapsing bits of fence and stampeding cattle, Arch has put himself in real danger by taking off on his own, without anyone knowing.

  And of course someone from the office at my old school must have called his parents by now, to ask why he’s absent. They must be going out of their minds with worry…

  “Now then, Arch,” Lulu begins in a voice as soft as fluffy clouds. “I’m Lulu, the head teacher here. I’ve heard SO much about you, and seen a lot of the great films you and Dani have made together!”

  I don’t know whether it’s the calming back rub or hearing the nice compliment but Arch manages to look up at Lulu and give her a watery almost-smile.

  “I think my favourite one has to be the giraffe Beanie Boo singing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ to the audience of assorted dinosaurs,” she carries on. “Very moving. Nice touch to have a tissue in the claws of the brontosaurus.”

  “Velociraptor,” Arch corrects her as he sniffily wipes away his tears with the back of his hand.

  “Ah, yes, silly me. Of course it was a velociraptor!” Lulu says with an easy laugh. “Anyway, Arch. It really is a treat to meet you. But what exactly has brought you here? I’m guessing it’s more than just a sudden fancy to catch up with Dani?”

  At her gentle probing, Arch’s eyes fill up like miniature paddling pools.

  “I HAD to see her. I had to tell her… I…”

  “What? What’s wrong, Arch?” I ask as a choke blocks the words in my friend’s throat.

  “It’s… It’s Mum and Dad, Dani,” he says, after a moment and a deep breath. “They’re splitting up. They told me at the weekend…”

  No!

  WHAT?

  Mr and Mrs Kaminski, who I’ve known ever since I was weeny, are getting divorced?!

  But suddenly it all starts to make sense – THAT’S why Mr and Mrs Kaminiski have been sounding so sad and weird whenever I’ve phoned Arch at home recently. It was nothing to do with them feeling sorry for me being stuck in boarding school … it was all to do with the two of them falling out of love and dreading telling their son.

  And of course once they’d broken the news to Arch – well, THAT’S why he’d been out of contact the last few days.

  Oh, poor Arch…

  His shoulders are shaking as sobs take hold of him again.

  I try to squidge closer to give him a cuddle but beanbags are notoriously hard to move in and I’m only halfway to a hug when I see a small hairy blur run over from the corner of the room.

  Boudicca – she must have hunkered down there without me, Granny Viv or Lulu noticing.

  “Here,” she says, passing Arch a crumpled ball of already-used tissue.

  “Thanks,” he mutters, taking it from her. “Sorry for, you know, crying and everything. The last few days … sometimes I’ve been so angry I can’t cry and sometimes I’ve been so upset I can’t stop.”

  “I wish I could’ve been around when you found out,” I tell him.

  “Me, too,” says Arch, parping his nose. “It’s been horrible at school, having no one close to talk to. And when I’ve got upset a couple of times, some of the kids just stared at me like I had a luminous alien fish-head or something.”

  Just then, Boudicca puts a hand out and begins to do something bizarre – she strokes the flop of fair hair hanging over Arch’s forehead.

  “You don’t look like a fish,” she reassures him.

  Now Arch looks confused as well as upset – he’s staring at this small stranger with a frown that seems to say “Who?”, “Why?”, “What?”.

  “What a kind girl you are,” says Lulu. Quickly getting to her feet, she takes the hand doing the stroking and swiftly leads Boudicca out of the office. “How about you get your violin and play something
soothing out in the hall? I don’t think I’ve heard you do any practising since you’ve been here. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

  “No, I don’t want to,” I hear Boudicca grumble as she’s led away.

  “Ah, well, let’s see if we can find you something else to do then…” Lulu’s voice drifts off down the corridor.

  “Which kid is she?” Arch asks as he blows his nose.

  “She’s a new girl,” I tell him. “She started yesterday – which I’d have told you about if you’d answered ANY of my messages!”

  My teasing is rewarded with a wobbly grin.

  “OK, let’s get out of here and go somewhere private to talk,” I suggest. “The tree house is good – it’ll just be me and you. And maybe Granny Viv, if she needs to fix your scratches. And Twinkle will probably be up there. And I bet Downboy will follow us. Some of the Newts might try and sneak up, too, but I’ll send them away.”

  “But apart from that, we’ll be totally alone.” Arch grins in a less wobbly way.

  “Totally,” I assure him.

  Then we both try and wriggle and squiggle our way out of the rustling beanbags – and fail miserably cos in the squashy circumstances we just can’t help sniggering.

  Arch might have turned up at St Grizzle’s for a totally SAD reason but right now I feel totally HAPPY to have my best friend here…

  “Are you staying for a while?”

  “Can you help us make a film?”

  “Do you want to see how many cartwheels I can do in a row?”

  “What’s your favourite pudding?”

  “Would you like to have MY pudding?”

  “Can you sign this bit of paper?”

  “Can you sign my arm?”

  “Can you sign my FOREHEAD?”

  Granny Viv has been trying to shoo all the girls away from Arch but pretty much failing.

  It’s like a celebrity has landed in the dining room this lunchtime, and they’ve all gone starry-eyed and giddy. Especially Boudicca, who’s been staring at him in what looks an awful lot like wonder.

  “No he’s not… He won’t have time… Don’t do cartwheels inside or you’ll knock something – or someone – over… No thank you, Arch has pudding of his own… He isn’t going to sign that scrap of paper… OR your arm… And he definitely isn’t signing your forehead, Blossom!” Granny Viv skilfully answers the scattershot of questions aimed Arch’s way.

  But I think Arch has kind of enjoyed the attention and it’s certainly taken his mind off the fact that his parents are due here any minute. Mind you, his fingers are squeezing mine so tightly under the table that I know he’s suffering from a bit of tummy-pancake-flipping of his own right now.

  “OK, that’s enough!” Granny Viv calls out, banging two metal lunch trays together like out-of-tune cymbals. “Everybody, back to your tables and finish your lunch!”

  With a groan of disappointed “awww!”s, the various Newts, Otters and Conkers and Boudicca slouch away, leaving me, Arch, Zed and Swan alone.

  “You should charge them for autographs before you go, Arch,” Swan jokes in her usual dry, sarky way. “You’d make a fortune!”

  “Yeah, and you’d make even MORE for a selfie!” Zed joins in. “Wouldn’t he, Dani?”

  “Yeah, ha!” I laugh, then wonder why Arch suddenly isn’t.

  All he’s managed is a half-hearted smile. He’s not even looking at Swan and Zed – his gaze has dropped to the half-finished red velvet cake and dollop of gloopy ice cream in his bowl.

  Uh-oh, is he thinking about his parents and worried he might cry again?

  “OK?” I mumble to Arch.

  “Mmm,” he mumbles back.

  “Hello? Hello, Dani?” I suddenly hear Toshio call out from the doorway of the dining room. “Your friend – he can come now, please!”

  “Your parents must be here…” I say, giving Arch’s fingers an extra-tight squeeze. “Go on – it’ll be OK. Your mum and dad are lovely.”

  With a deep, nervous gulp of air, Arch gets up, and follows Toshio as he smiles and waves for Arch to follow.

  “Do you think his parents will go crazy at him?” Zed asks me.

  “I think they’ll just want to give him a big hug,” I say, staring over the heads of the various chatting, eating, yelling girls in the hope that I can catch a glimpse of Mr and Mrs Kaminski heading to Lulu’s office.

  “Anyway, Arch’s parents might be feeling too guilty to be mad at him,” Swan points out. “You know, them splitting up making him so unhappy that he runs away?”

  Before lunch, Granny Viv took Arch off to fix up his knee, giving me time to tell Swan and Zed his sad news.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I agree.

  As I speak, I feel a tug at my leg under the table. I move my leg away, my thoughts too lost in Arch and the meet-up that’s about to happen in the room just down the corridor.

  “Right, I’m done,” says Swan, standing up and piling her empty plates on one of the trays that Granny Viv was using as cymbals just now. “Coming, you two? We’re on wash-up duty…”

  “Sure,” says Zed, balancing his plates on his lap and manoeuvring off.

  “I’ll be there in a sec – just finishing this,” I say, pointing to the bowl in front of me which might be full or empty, I’m not sure. Like Arch, I haven’t had much of an appetite this lunchtime.

  But just as I dip my spoon in, THERE goes that tugging at my leg again.

  “Stop it! Go away!” I say, bending right over and gazing under the table, expecting to find a furry someone under there.

  But it’s not Downboy. And it isn’t Twinkle either. It’s Boudicca. And she’s saying something.

  Only I can’t hear a word of her mouse-squeak, so – with a sigh – I slide under the table to join her.

  “What are you doing under here?” I ask her.

  “It’s too busy and loud out there,” she says, pointing to the room in general. “So is the boy going to stay?”

  “No,” I answer her, realizing that’s what the mouse-squeak was all about. “His parents are having a chat with him and Lulu but they’ll be taking him home.”

  Boudicca looks as crestfallen as I feel.

  What is it about Arch that she likes so much, so quickly, I wonder? I almost feel a tiny bit jealous. What does he have that me and Swan and Zed and the others don’t?

  “Look, how about I find you a seat with the triplets?” I suggest. “You’ll be doing your lessons with them this afternoon and moving into the Otters’ dorm tonight.”

  Boudicca shakes her head.

  As for MY head, I crack it on the underside of the table as I try and find a more comfortable position. We can’t stay here or I’ll get concussion.

  “Well, come with me to the kitchen and help me, Zed and Swan do the dishes instead. At least it’ll be quieter in there…”

  And so Boudicca wordlessly follows me through, and wordlessly picks up a tea towel to help dry the plates and pots and cutlery that Swan’s pulling out of the deep, soap-foaming sink.

  Swan, Zed and me swap looks over Boudicca’s head. This isn’t chatting or fun in any way but our newest student is sort of joining in with something, which has to be a good sign, right?

  “Hey, Boudicca,” Zed calls over to our little helper as he dips his hand in the sink. “Catch!”

  Zed blows a rainbow-tinted soapy bubble through the circle he’s made with his finger and thumb. With a wobble and a tremble, it separates itself from his skin and tumbles around in the soft breeze drifting in through the window.

  Boudicca’s grey eyes fix on the bubble and the three of us hold our breath. Will she do what she did with the Dory ball and the packet of crisps and let it sail on by? Or will she act like a normal human and hold her hand up to catch it like a delicate blob of a butterfly?

  Before we’re able to find out, Toshio suddenly barges into the kitchen, a smile a mile wide on his face. The bubble rises in the air and pops.

  “Yes! It is OK! Everything is OK!”
he announces, holding his thumbs up. “But the goat – it will have to move, I think.”

  “Is Twinkle on top of Arch’s parents’ car?” I ask.

  “Excuse me?” Toshio asks back, as confused by our conversation as I am.

  Then someone else comes barrelling into the kitchen. Someone who can explain it all, by the look of the happy expression on their face.

  “Mum and Dad – they say I can stay for a few days!” Arch bursts out. “Lulu suggested it. She said that if it helped give them a bit of space to sort stuff out…”

  “So you’ll be with me, in MY room,” Zed says, his face lighting up at the thought of having a dorm-mate that isn’t a goat.

  “Yes – the goat must move!” says Toshio, pleased that people seem to understand what he’s on about at last.

  Arch, understandably, doesn’t take too much notice of Zed or Toshio. He’s just grinning madly at me, knowing that we will have some precious, best-friend time together.

  I walk over to high-five him – but Boudicca gets there first.

  She wraps herself tightly round his waist, pressing her head into his chest and beaming an enormous smile of pure joy. Stopped in my tracks, I raise my eyebrows at Arch and shrug. He seems to have found himself a small-girl fan club!

  Whatever, it looks like the next few days at St Grizzle’s are going to be pretty interesting…

  “I can’t believe I’m actually at St Grizzle’s!” says Arch, staring around the clearing in the woods as the campfire slowly dies down in front of us.

  We’re sitting on one of the logs that are placed in a haphazard circle round the fire. Our one’s the smallest, just big enough for Arch and me, plus the teeny super-fan squished on the other side of Arch.

  It’s been a pretty great evening… Lulu decided we’d have a barbecue with toasted marshmallows for pudding to celebrate Arch being here.

  “Do you think you’ll mind sharing the room with Twinkle as well as Zed tonight?” I ask my friend.