Breaking News

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘Not this again,’ Autumn groaned, as two exercise bikes were wheeled onto the stage by the caretaker. They were curiously facing away from the audience. When Kensy asked her what it all meant, the girl grimaced. ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘Do I have a volunteer?’ the headmaster boomed.

  Nobody moved. Hands were firmly clasped in laps and eyes focused straight ahead.

  Kensy wondered what was wrong with them all – surely whatever the headmaster was proposing couldn’t be that bad. She was about to raise her hand when she felt a sharp nudge from Autumn and decided against it. Max, meanwhile, had taken a sudden interest in his shoes.

  Carlos looked over at him and blanched. ‘Oh no, you don’t want to look down otherwise –’

  Too late.

  ‘Maxim Grey!’ the headmaster exclaimed. ‘Brand new today and he’s already volunteered. Please make your way to the stage – there’s a fine lad.’

  Max froze. ‘But, I … I didn’t volunteer, sir.’

  ‘Of course you did! The minute you looked away, you were mine.’ The man waggled his eyebrows somewhat maniacally.

  ‘What’s going to happen?’ Kensy whispered, as Max made his way to the stage. In the row behind them, Lola snickered loudly, adding to Kensy’s mounting unease.

  Max glanced back at the crowd and almost wished he hadn’t. They looked like a pack of grinning hyenas. Kensy touched her left earlobe, and Max flashed a tense smile then did the same. It was their secret signal that everything was going to be all right – they hoped.

  The headmaster pointed to one of the stationary bikes. ‘Hop up there, son. You and I are going to have a race.’

  Max recoiled. ‘A race, sir? You and me?’

  ‘Yes, of course you and me. Just because I’m over the age of eighteen doesn’t mean I’m past my use-by date!’ Magoo rolled his eyes at his staff, who giggled like schoolgirls.

  Max climbed onto the seat, and the caretaker set about making adjustments. He also equipped both the headmaster and Max with small microphones pinned to their shirt collars. Magoo, it seemed, liked to commentate the event, although it was a little risky having the student miked up, given one past episode when his opponent completely forgot himself and swore loudly no less than three times.

  ‘He’s a dead man walking,’ Sachin murmured. ‘Or should I say sitting? Magoo never loses. He knows London like the back of his hand.’

  All eyes watched as a giant screen descended from the ceiling. The teachers who had been sitting across the stage stood up and moved their chairs off to the sides.

  ‘What’s the challenge this time, sir?’ a lad called out.

  ‘Let’s see,’ Magoo said, tapping his chin. ‘Mr Reffell, our esteemed History teacher, can nominate the destination.’

  A teacher dressed in a black academic gown stood up and walked to the podium while the headmaster quickly briefed Max on the rules of the activity.

  ‘Does this happen very often?’ Kensy asked. She noticed that the screen directly in front of the stationary bikes now displayed the view of the street outside the school gates. Judging by the traffic whizzing to-and-fro, and the time stamp in the corner, it appeared to be streaming live.

  ‘About once a term. It’s actually hilarious, unless you’re the poor kid up there,’ Autumn said. ‘But your brother looks pretty calm for someone who’s about to be completely and utterly humiliated in front of the entire student body.’

  Kensy grinned with an air of confidence Autumn feared was extremely misplaced. ‘Don’t be so sure of that. My Max can … well, let’s just see what happens.’

  ‘I think, Mr MacGregor, that your destination will be Westminster Cathedral,’ Mr Reffell announced.

  The headmaster nodded. ‘Good choice, old chap. I’ll be there in a jiffy.’

  ‘Excuse me, sir, but can I ask how this thing works?’ Max fiddled with the handlebars on the bike. ‘If I turn a particular way, will I go there on the map or the street view?’

  ‘Aha! Very good question, dear boy. The answer is yes to both, but you can’t see the maps, can you? They are behind us, so unless you have eyes in the back of your head, I assume the answer is no.’

  Magoo removed his blazer and threw a yellow bicycle helmet to the boy before plonking a blue one onto his own tuft of snow-white hair.

  ‘The screen will split in two,’ he continued, ‘so you can see where you’re going and I’ll see where I’m going. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to eat my dust the whole way?’ The headmaster chortled, stretching his hamstrings.

  Max gripped the handlebars and swivelled them about, realising that on the screen he’d turned to face the other way. He quickly pedalled back into position.

  ‘Ready?’ Magoo looked over at the boy, who sucked in an anxious breath.

  Max nodded. ‘May I ask what the prize is, sir?’

  ‘Good heavens above, I think Maxim actually believes he might beat me!’ Magoo looked at his staff, some of whom were slapping their knees and guffawing.

  ‘I don’t think I will, sir. I know it,’ Max muttered under his breath, forgetting for a second that he was miked up. His words hissed out from the speakers, garnering a loud gulp from the assembly.

  Carlos shook his head sadly. ‘He’s really going to cop it now. He’ll be on Kevin duty for the rest of the term.’

  Kensy was almost afraid to ask. ‘Who is Kevin?’

  ‘Magoo’s Venus flytrap,’ Carlos explained. ‘Whoever has to look after Kevin –’

  The boy’s words were drowned out by a loud thumping beat as ‘The Eye of the Tiger’, one of Fitz’s favourite training songs, blared from the speakers.

  ‘Ready?’ the headmaster shouted. ‘On your mark, get set, go!’

  Magoo began pumping the pedals, leaving Max sitting outside the school gate. But the lad was determined and in his mind’s eye he was looking at the map of London he’d committed to memory. He sprinted into action, following the headmaster down Erasmus Street. He then peeled off, veering left into a side road and garnering a collective groan from the assembly.

  ‘He’s done for. That’s a one-way street,’ Carlos murmured. ‘It’s against the rules.’

  Lola sniggered loudly, earning a glare from Kensy.

  Max soon recognised his mistake and did a U-turn, emerging back on to Erasmus Street. By now, the headmaster was ahead by two hundred metres. When the boy turned left on to Page Street, Magoo grinned like a Cheshire cat. Maxim Grey clearly had no idea where he was going. Perhaps he’d been a little unkind in choosing the lad, but it would be a good test nonetheless. The headmaster was about to turn right into Horseferry Road when a kid bellowed, ‘Mr Reffell said Westminster Cathedral, not the Abbey!’

  Magoo hit the brakes so hard he almost flew over the handlebars. ‘No! No, no, no!’ he yelled, furious with himself for being so careless. He quickly backtracked and sped along Horseferry Road, which for a little way ran parallel to the street Max was in.

  The boy, meanwhile, was sure there’d be a tiny alley up ahead that would provide a short cut.

  ‘No! It’s a dead end!’ a girl called.

  But Max trusted his instincts. It was a good thing too because he was right. He pedalled harder, as if his life depended on it – which, at the moment, he thought might actually be the case.

  Perspiration was now pouring from the headmaster’s brow as he rounded the corner into Greencoat Place. He let out an astonished cry as he spied Max flash past on a street up ahead. ‘Heavens to Murgatroyd, how did you get there?’ he yelled, and stood up on his pedals, pumping his legs faster and faster.

  The students leaned forward in their seats and watched as the blue and red dots converged upon Westminster Cathedral.

  ‘Look out!’ Kensy screamed as her brother swerved to miss a London bus that had turned a corner sharply into his path.

  It felt as if the hall roof was about to lift off with all the cheering and stamping and shouting.

  ‘Go, Max!’ Kensy leapt to her feet and was jo
ined by the rest of the children. Except for Lola and Misha, who were sitting with their arms folded in sullen protest. Kensy jumped up and down screaming as her brother pedalled furiously. He took another turn away from the main road, which was met with more groans but proved once again to be right.

  Magoo was struggling to retain any composure at all. ‘Nooooo!’ he puffed, barely able to get the word out.

  Max turned the final corner and swerved in and out of oncoming traffic before dodging a lady with a baby in a pusher and executing a skid against the cathedral steps, which was no mean feat on a stationary bicycle.

  The assembly went wild.

  ‘You’re a legend, Max!’ one lad yelled.

  ‘You’re my hero!’ a girl exclaimed. ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’

  Max turned bright red and was glad he was facing away from the crowd.

  ‘He’s eleven!’ Kensy scolded.

  The girl, who looked to be at least fifteen, winked at Kensy. ‘He’s not my type, anyway.’

  ‘That’s good because I think he could be mine,’ Autumn breathed, then glanced around, hoping no one had heard her.

  Max jumped off the bike, removed his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair, restoring it to perfection. He walked over to shake hands with Mr MacGregor, who had finally reached the destination. The head master almost fell off his bike, his trembling legs barely able to hold his own weight.

  Daphne Potts appeared from the side of the stage carrying a tray with two large glasses of iced water. She quickly passed one to her boss and one to Max. A hush fell over the assembly as the lad held out his hand.

  ‘Do you think he’ll get into trouble for winning?’ Kensy whispered to Autumn.

  ‘Who knows what Magoo might do – no one’s ever beaten him at a cycling race before,’ the girl gushed, unable to tear her eyes from the winner. ‘This is totally outside my experience.’

  ‘First day here, Maxim Grey, and you’ve managed to defeat me. I think that deserves –’ there was a pregnant pause and the entire school swallowed in unison – ‘a handshake,’ the headmaster said with a grin. The students clapped and stamped their feet. Magoo leaned in close to Max, removing his lapel mike and covering Max’s with his other hand. ‘How did you do it?’ he asked.

  ‘I just have this thing, sir, where I can look at a map and remember it,’ Max said. ‘All of it.’

  The man patted the lad on the back. ‘Well, Maxim, that’s a wonderful skill to have. Good for you.’

  Afterwards, the children spilled out of the school hall, all a-chatter. The only name on anyone’s lips was Maxim Grey. So it seemed, whether the boy liked it or not, he had just acquired something akin to hero status.

  As the children romped along the corridor to their first class, Max collected a steady stream of high fives and pats on the back. He’d certainly won the admiration of his peers and, while Kensy was rightly proud of her brother, she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy too. They’d been at school less than an hour and everyone knew Max’s name.

  Autumn led the way into a bright white room. Kensy’s jaw dropped as she cast her eyes about. Unlike their primary-school Science classes, which were generally conducted in the ordinary classroom or at best in a room with a few bits and pieces of scientific-looking equipment, this was a proper lab. There were gas points on the benches as well as an array of beakers and tubes. Kensy marvelled at a distillation process taking place at the front of the room, only to turn and find a collection of deceased creatures, perfectly preserved in tall jars of formalin. To top it off, there was a large glass tank with a piece of driftwood, and coiled around it was a pretty yellow snake.

  Max walked over to take a closer look.

  ‘That’s Beatrice,’ Carlos said, as the serpent’s tongue flicked in and out. ‘She’s a corn snake. Those guys over there are her dinner.’

  Max glanced across the room at a cage wriggling with little brown mice. ‘Really?’

  ‘No, just kidding,’ Carlos said, grinning. ‘We feed Beatrice dead rats that Mrs Vanden Boom says she gets from the sewers. We think she’s joking too, about where she gets them – although you know London is crawling with rodents. She’d be doing the city a favour.’

  Max grimaced. He hoped he wasn’t given snake-feeding duties. The idea didn’t sound remotely appealing no matter what they fed the creature.

  Along with Beatrice and the mice, there was a giant stick insect called Mr Badger – apparently because of an unusual stripe on the creature’s head. Max couldn’t even see it, camouflaged as it was in a glass case full of foliage.

  Mrs Vanden Boom walked briskly into the room dressed in a white lab coat with her name embroidered on the breast pocket. She gave a brief welcome, then ordered them all into their seats and made mention of their two new classmates.

  The room was laid out three benches deep and two across, each catering for four or five students. Kensy and Autumn slid onto two stools beside Max and Carlos.

  Romilly Vanden Boom turned to Max. ‘That was an extraordinary display in assembly, young man. Now, I think your sister deserves an opportunity to shine as well.’ The woman raised her eyebrows at Kensy, who gulped, wondering what the teacher had in mind. ‘This morning we’re going to build a robot using motors from various household appliances. Is that something that would interest you, Kensington?’

  Kensy couldn’t believe her luck. She loved nothing more than pulling things apart and putting them back together again and had recently been in a huge amount of trouble for dismantling the blender at home. But the look on her mother’s face when she had reassembled it with an extra top speed option was priceless. Kensy felt a burst of happiness followed sharply by an overwhelming sadness. She couldn’t wait to see that look again.

  Max nudged his sister. ‘She’s talking to you.’

  ‘Sorry,’ the girl said, recovering quickly. ‘I was just thinking about … how much I’d enjoy it.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ Mrs Vanden Boom said, looking pleased. ‘Why don’t you pop up here and help me pull apart this motor? It’s from Mr MacGregor’s coffee machine, but I won’t tell if you don’t.’ The woman gave a sly wink. ‘I’m sure we’ll have it returned to him spick and span before he has time to miss it.’

  Kensy smiled. ‘If you say so.’

  Magoo MacGregor walked into his office from the en-suite bathroom that was accessed via a hidden door behind a bookshelf. He couldn’t stand the thought of having to share the staff bathroom, particularly as he rode to work no matter the weather, and so had it fitted years ago. He pushed the shelf back against the wall just as Daphne Potts entered with a tea tray.

  ‘I don’t imagine you were expecting that, sir.’ She placed the tray on the edge of his vast desk and proceeded to pour a cup from the teapot.

  ‘No, especially since the lad’s never set foot in London before. Apparently, he has a photographic memory – for maps, at least. That will no doubt serve him well,’ the headmaster said, and sat down in his black leather armchair. ‘I suspect he’s been elevated to hero status with the students, so he can thank me later. Anything urgent I should know about for today?’

  Mrs Potts pulled a small notepad from her trouser pocket and read down the list. ‘No, no, my problem. No. Oh! Monty Reffell would like to squeeze in a chat about the upcoming History tour to Rome. He wants to check that everything’s in order.’ Mrs Potts continued scanning the items on her list. ‘No, no, no, I can fix that. Oh, yes. Romilly asked to see you downstairs. She says she’s finished that new watch for you.’

  ‘Ooh, goody! And does it have the …?’ Magoo jiggled his eyebrows, setting his teacup down with a chink.

  Daphne Potts nodded.

  ‘Oh, I knew she could do it.’ The headmaster grinned like a boy who had just realised it was Christmas tomorrow. ‘The woman’s a genius. Buzz Eric, will you? Ask him to meet me there at eleven hundred. He’ll get such a kick out of it.’

  ‘Very good.’ Mrs Potts flicked her notepad shut and headed
for the door, then stopped and turned back. ‘How long do you think we’ll have the twins, sir?’

  Magoo rested his chin in his hand. ‘Fitz is hoping all will be resolved in a couple of weeks. I’m afraid I don’t share his confidence.’

  Daphne bit her lip. ‘How much do they know?’

  ‘Nothing, so we keep things shtum for now.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’ Mrs Potts left the room and closed the door behind her. It broke the woman’s heart to think of what those poor children were going through and it was likely just the beginning. Eleven years old and they didn’t even know who their parents really were.

  Kensy glanced at her watch. She could hardly believe it was almost three o’clock. School had never gone this quickly before – except for Wednesdays last term, back in Australia, when they would head to Thredbo for sports. Having grown up on ski slopes around the world, though, downhill race training was mostly just fun for the twins.

  After Science, they’d had Mathematics. Their teacher, a tiny waif of a woman called Miss Ziegler, zipped about the classroom like a flea in a bottle, checking that everyone knew exactly what she was talking about.

  Kensy loved Maths and had no trouble with any of it. At the start of the lesson, Miss Ziegler had pointed to a puzzle on the board. There was a buzz around the room as the kids all offered their opinion on who would be the first to solve it. The hot tip was a rakish boy named Graham, but he seemed to spend a lot of time scratching his head, which made Kensy wonder if he might have nits – which then caused her to spend an inordinate amount of time scratching her own head. Kensy thought she was just about to solve it when Max stood up and walked to the front of the room to write his answer. There was a groan as the children realised he was right. He was rewarded with a bag of red frogs that his sister Kensy made sure he shared with her and their new friends at lunchtime.