School's Out!

by Gareth P. Jones

  “I got help,” she replied, and Dirk saw over her shoulder a man holding a wide-brimmed hat, slipping into a grey Mercedes with a white stripe and driving away.

  He stretched out a paw and shook Holly’s hand. “Good work, partner.”

  “You too, partner,” she replied, beaming at him.

  “Holly?” said Mr Bigsby from behind Dirk.

  “Dad!” she shouted, letting go of Dirk’s paw and running into her father’s arms. He lifted her up and kissed her on the cheek and Holly didn’t even mind when her stepmum joined in the hug.

  Humans are a funny species, thought Dirk. They were responsible for lots of good things, like TV and orange squash and tinned baked beans, and lots of bad things, like guns, bombs and annoying pop music. Watching Holly and her parents reunited in a tearful hug, Dirk thought that maybe family was one of the good things.

  On the other side of the hall, Petal’s mother was clicking her fingers in front of her daughter’s face, saying, “Petal? Petal, darling? What’s wrong with her?”

  Principal Palmer was walking around the hall, inspecting the stunned audience members. “What’s wrong with all of them?”

  “Please don’t worry.” Dirk picked up the microphone and switched the speakers back on at the wall. “I will explain everything in a minute.” His voice resounded through the hall and out into the car park. “But first, I think it’s time for me to sing a little song. A-one, a-two, a-one, two, three, four…”

  Lying beside Dirk, in the shadow of the Tree Dragon, blood gushing from her leg, Holly knew she was probably going to die. As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she realized that if she went now, she would die without ever having known her father. They had drifted apart since her mother’s death and she supposed, in the back of her mind, she always thought they would drift back together. Now, it was too late. With this thought she had fallen asleep.

  Holly. Wake up.

  Holly was awoken by Dirk’s thoughts, speaking inside her head.

  I’m thinking to you, like the councillors did. Stay absolutely still and listen. Blending isn’t the only dragon skill you have picked up. Your skin has healed over during your sleep.

  Holly reached down and touched her leg. It was covered in dry blood, but the cut had gone and so had the pain.

  There isn’t much time. The hour is almost up. Soon the machine will reset itself. You need to escape through the back door. See if you can get as far as the stage, then I’ll draw their attention. You need to get out and make them think the Dragnet are here for them.

  Holly gritted her teeth then wriggled along the floor, stopping and blending every few seconds to avoid detection. Ever so gradually, keeping her movements down to a minimum, she reached the stage.

  “Don’t you think your fellow Kinghorns deserve to know who they’ll be murdering with this human weapon?” she heard Dirk say as she slipped through the backstage door. She jumped over instrument cases and coats to reach the back door. She carefully avoided banging into the police officer who stood outside as still as a mannequin. She found another holding a loudhailer. She carefully prized it out of his hand.

  Holly paused. She knew what to say but what if they recognized her voice? What if Vainclaw or Callum saw through the deception? They wouldn’t risk leaving her to bleed to death a second time. They would kill her in an instant.

  Then she noticed, by the side of the building, a familiar figure, standing motionless and hatless in his long overcoat.

  She slapped Ladbroke Blake hard in the face.

  “What the—” Ladbroke awoke with a jolt and instinctively grabbed Holly’s wrist.

  “Shh.” Holly placed her fingers to her lips. “It’s me.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Ladbroke. “What was that music?”

  “It’s difficult to explain.”

  “More dragon business?”

  Holly nodded and handed him the loudhailer. “I need a favour,” she said and told him what to say.

  “Balti Grunling?” said Ladbroke disbelievingly. “Funny sort of name.”

  “Look who’s talking,” replied Holly, leading him to the door.

  Ladbroke rapped his knuckles on the door and made the announcement, as Holly had told him.

  “This is Officer Balti Grunling of the Dragnet. We have reason to believe there is illegal Kinghorn activity within this building. Come out with your claws down and your mouths shut.”

  Both of them dived back into the crowd and froze in case the Kinghorns called their bluff and opened the door.

  After their second announcement, the door did eventually open and Dirk appeared, grinning widely. Ladbroke knew the job was done so he picked up his hat and slipped away. Noticing two holes in the wide-brim his parting thought was, What has that dragon got against my hat?

  Holly was relieved to see Dirk was OK but there was someone she needed to see more. She found her dad and threw her arms around him. He picked her up and kissed her cheek.

  “Dad,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “What’s happening?” asked Mrs Bigsby. “We thought that monster had killed you.”

  “I’m all right,” she said to both of them. “I’ve missed you.”

  Dirk was speaking into the microphone but Holly wasn’t listening.

  “I missed you too,” said her dad.

  His wife looked at Dirk and said, “Is that thing your friend?”

  “He’s not a thing. He’s a red-backed, green-bellied, urban-based Mountain Dragon and, yes, he’s my friend.”

  Mr Bigsby looked back at his daughter and said, “You can come home if you want. We’ll find a school nearby, a good one…”

  “A secure one,” added her stepmum.

  “One you’ll like,” said her dad.

  Dirk’s voice filled the hall, saying, “But first, I think it’s time for me to sing a little song.”

  “I’d like that,” said Holly to her dad, tears in her eyes.

  “A-one, a-two, a-one, two, three, four…”

  Holly hugged her parents and they all listened to the beautiful music which filled the air and entered their souls, the melodies and rhythms becoming part of them, as though they were coming from within.

  Once again, the Bigsby family, Principal Palmer and Petal’s famous mother succumbed to the tranquilizing effects of Dragonsong as Dirk sang.

  “Ow,” said Holly, holding her cheek. “That really hurt.”

  “I told you. It’s the best way out of the trance,” replied Dirk.

  “I just think you could do it a little gentler when it’s me, that’s all.”

  Holly looked at her dad and his wife, hugging each other, a space between them where she had stood.

  “You’re going to make them forget all this, aren’t you?” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Holly. I have to. You know what would happen.”

  “Yes,” she said sadly. “What now?”

  “Everyone’s back in the trance. Those who already were under the influence have my song in their head now.”

  “You mean you can control all of these people?” said Holly, unable to hide the horror in her voice.

  “Yes,” replied Dirk quietly. “They’ll do as I say.”

  “Isn’t there a danger they’ll remember something?” asked Holly.

  “They shouldn’t but if they do get the occasional flashback, it’ll seem so improbable that they’ll think they’re remembering some movie they’ve seen or a book they’ve read.”

  She saw Callum crouching down by the stage, wearing the same faraway look in his eyes as everyone else. “What about him?”

  “I don’t know,” said Dirk. “For everyone else this is just one memory. It shouldn’t be difficult to erase. But Callum’s spent a long time living in fear. That fear has become ingrained. Listen to this.” Dirk turned to the boy. “Callum, there are no such things as dragons.”

  “I know, they’re in my head,” replied Callu
m. “They’re all in my head.”

  Dirk turned back to Holly. “Dragonsong is powerful but one song can’t undo all that torment. It seems that Vainclaw has been in communication with him since the kidnapping, grooming him to work for the Kinghorns.”

  “But what if Vainclaw tries to use him again?”

  “We can only hope he doesn’t think it’s worth the risk.”

  Dirk held the microphone to his mouth and instructed Principal Palmer, Petal’s mother, the Prime Minister, and Holly’s dad and his wife to take their seats. They did so unquestioningly. He told Callum to take his place in the band with his French horn, and Petal to go backstage.

  Then he addressed the front row.

  “When you awake, none of you will remember anything about dragons. Dragons are no more than myths, stories to tell kids. Mrs Bigsby, you will take the QC3000 back to the ministry, saying you recovered it by chance, and recommend a review into the security procedures that allowed something so important to go missing. Prime Minister Thackley, you will call an end to the AOG project. The world has enough natural disasters without adding our own.”

  Holly whispered something in Dirk’s ear and he addressed the entire audience. “All any of you will remember when you wake up is that this was the best school concert ever. Every performance was perfect, including a solo by Callum Thackley and a great number from Petal Moses. The band played beautifully and it was one of the best nights of your life.” Dirk switched off the microphone and said, “Now, let’s get rid of the evidence.”

  Dirk found a mop backstage and cleaned up the pools of red and green blood. Holly removed the memory cards from television cameras, wiped any incriminating photos from phones and retrieved the recording of the Dragonsong from the PA system. She placed them all in a bin, which she handed to Dirk. He took a deep breath and burned the lot to cinder.

  When they had finished, Holly asked, “How are we going to wake them all up?”

  “I’ve thought about this,” replied Dirk.

  He switched the microphone back on and spoke. “Could everyone stand up, raise your right hand and hold it in front of the person to your left’s face. If you do not have anyone to your left, please hold it in front of the person behind you.” The whole hall and everyone outside turned to face each other, hands outstretched. Holly did a quick scout to check that everyone was covered.

  “Everyone got a slapping partner?” said Dirk.

  “Just one left but I can do that one,” said Holly, remembering Petal.

  “As soon as I say this, I’m gone,” said Dirk.

  Holly threw her arms around his soft green belly and hugged him tightly, then followed him into the backstage room where he took the microphone to the door.

  “Ready?” he said.

  Holly lifted her hand level with Petal’s face and nodded. “Ready.”

  “On the count of three,” Dirk said into the microphone, “slap the person you’re standing next to in the face.”

  “One… two…”

  “This is for Little Willow,” said Holly.

  “Three.”

  Holly slapped Petal in the face, then ran back into the hall and jumped on stage in time to watch everyone coming out of their stupor.

  For a stunned moment, the audience stood staring at each other, rubbing their sore cheeks, then Principal Palmer began to clap. The Prime Minister joined in, followed by Petal’s famous mother and Holly’s dad and stepmum. Soon, everyone was applauding. And not just inside the hall – the policeman with the face like a bulldog, Hamish the security guard, the reporter, everyone clapped like their lives depended on it. Holly saw Moji and grinned at her. All the people along the red carpet cheered and waved their autograph books in the air.

  Looking surprisingly unfazed, Miss Gilfeather smiled and told the band to stand up and take a bow. Holly heard Sandy say to Julian, “We must have been good. I don’t even remember playing.”

  All the parents came forwards to congratulate their children and Holly found her dad, holding the silver case tightly in one hand.

  “Well done, Holly,” he said. “That was a magnificent performance.”

  “Yes, we’re both very proud,” said Holly’s stepmum.

  For the second time that evening, Holly hugged them both.

  “It’s quiet at home without you,” said her dad.

  “Can I come home then?” she replied.

  Mrs Bigsby turned to her husband. “She would have to promise to be good.” She lowered her voice. “The PM says I could very well be in the cabinet this time next year if we win the election. I can’t have her messing that up.”

  “Yes,” said her dad. “We need to be able to trust you.”

  “I promise,” said Holly.

  Mr Bigsby smiled. “OK. I think there are a couple of schools in the area we haven’t tried.”

  Holly smiled and said, “I’d like that.”

  She turned to see Callum, standing awkwardly in front of his dad.

  “Well done, Callum,” said the Prime Minister.

  “Thank you,” replied Callum, smoothing down his hair. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I like music. It takes you away.”

  “Your nose is bleeding,” said his father.

  Callum touched his nose and looked at the blood on his fingers. Holly tried to see in his eyes if he showed signs of remembering but it was impossible to tell. Not that it mattered. He was harmless without the Kinghorns and they had gone now.

  Everything was back to normal and she was going home.

  Dirk watched the smoke drift up from his nostrils into the sunbeams that shone through the blinds. It felt good to be back home. Mrs Rosenfield had paid as soon as her husband returned home, meaning his rent was all paid up so Dirk was taking a few days off, relaxing behind his desk with a half-eaten tin of beans, a glass of orange squash on the rocks and the TV remote within easy grabbing distance. Life didn’t get any better than this.

  The phone rang. Dirk tried to ignore it but Mrs Klingerflim shouted, “Your telephone is ringing, Mr Dilly!”

  He flicked the receiver off the hook with his tail and caught it in his right paw.

  “The Dragon Detective Agency. Dirk Dilly speaking,” he said.

  “Oh, Mr Dilly, I’m so glad you’re in.”

  “Hello, Mrs Rosenfield,” he replied, recognizing the voice.

  “I wanted to call and thank you personally. I don’t know what you did but, since he got back, my husband has been a changed man. He’s attentive and sweet. He’s talking about a second honeymoon. And he’s finally given up all that dragon nonsense.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” said Dirk.

  “He did say something about stamp collecting but I suppose it’s good to have interests outside work, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose it is,” said Dirk, instinctively going to stroke Willow, then remembering that Holly had collected her the previous day. Dirk was pleased that Holly was back in London. They would be able to see each other more often and she was happy to be back with her family and cat. Dirk had said good riddance to the dumb animal, but now she was gone the room felt oddly empty.

  “He’s giving all of his old books to a local charity shop this weekend,” continued Mrs Rosenfield. “It’s amazing. But I still don’t understand what he was doing all that time…”

  “He was working late,” replied Dirk. “And the problem with working late is that it can get pretty dark.”

  “Yes, I’m just glad I’ve got my husband back. Thank you.”

  Dirk hung up. It was nice to have a satisfied customer for a change. Happy endings were hard to come by in his line of work. Just to be sure all was as it seemed, Dirk decided it was worth flying by and checking in on the professor himself.

  He opened the window and made his way across the rooftops of London, arriving across the road from the Rosenfields’ house. He waited there until the professor exited his house carrying a large cardboard box to his car.

  “I won’t be long, darling,” h
e called. “I’ll drop these off, then pop to the supermarket to pick up something nice for dinner.”

  Dirk followed the car to the local high street, where Rosenfield parked on double yellows, quickly got out, put the cardboard box outside a charity shop and drove off again.

  A little time passed before a young couple stopped by the charity shop and the man bent down to rummage inside the cardboard box.

  “You’re not supposed to touch that,” snapped his girlfriend.

  He pulled out a book.

  “Put that back,” she said.

  “They’re only being thrown away,” he replied.

  “No, they’re being donated to charity,” she said. “That’s different.”

  The man discarded the book and they carried on walking. “It looked rubbish anyway.”

  From his hiding place, Dirk saw that the book lying on top of the cardboard box had a red cover and a white zigzagged line across the front. He recognized it at once but the high street was too busy for him to retrieve it so he made his way home.

  Later that night, Dirk pushed open the door to his office and crept into the hallway. Every stair creaked on the way down and he almost knocked a picture off with his tail, but he found the kitchen and switched on his torch. He pulled down the box of books from the high shelf and there it was, the same book with the red cover and the white zigzag across it. He opened it. The title was printed on the inside page.

  He turned to the introduction.

  There are many different types of dragon in the world, each with its own unique set of characteristics. A Sea Dragon, for example, has a grey back with a blue underbelly; whereas a Mountain Dragon’s colours are red and green respectively. A Tree Dragon’s skin resembles tree bark, while a Desert Dragon at rest is easily mistaken for a large cactus or the Joshua Trees native to the Californian desert. All winged dragons have hard backs and soft bellies, although a Sea Dragon’s back will soften after a sustained period underwater to facilitate swimming. Once out of the water, the Sea Dragon’s back takes a few days to harden again, during which time it tends to hide in a waterside cave.