Junior Science Read Online Free Page A

Classics teacher. ‘ Caecilius est in tablino . . . ’ etc. And that ahead of her, clattering his own pair o’ bones and lost in his own strange gyrations was Jack Monk, of Gym and Geography, very fond of the dead-leg. Then Horace Ingham, French master, ancient and half-deaf, but perfectly capable of delivering his own deafening smack to the side of one’s head for the merest infringement, such as yawning, or smiling inappropriately.
    Robert ducked back down below the parapet. The chanting and stamping continued. The fact that he was familiar with these individuals – in one incarnation or other – didn’t in any way allay his fears, since they were apparently so possessed, so deeply entranced in their diabolic antics, and he decided that the best course of action was to remove himself entirely from the situation – to get as far away as humanly possible before even considering contacting the authorities.
    He grabbed his briefcase and began crawling back up the stairs. Was almost at the door when the sheer weight of it – all those untouched pages of foolscap, all those unopened textbooks – combined with the sweatiness of his hand, sent it slithering from his grasp, and it landed with a great clunk on the wooden floor.
    Robert froze. The chanting and stamping faltered, then petered out. A powerful silence rose up in its place. Robert knew he shouldn’t, but lifted his head again – just an inch or two – to see what was going on.
    Miss Adams was the first to spot him. She brought a finger up, pointed squarely at him and let out a terrible keening sound. Then all the others – Horace, Jack Monk, Old Man Palmer – began screeching and squealing and hopping from foot to foot.
    Robert may very well have squealed himself. He abandoned his briefcase – his stupid, over-stuffed briefcase – and launched himself out of the door. Knew that if he ran down the same steps he’d crept up a minute or two earlier the teachers would be there to meet him at the bottom. So went hammering down the landing, heading for the stairwell at the other end. He wasn’t halfway there when he heard the wild jabbering of the teachers as they came racing up the staircase behind him. Were already visible, over his shoulder, when he reached the other stairwell and went flying down it, tripping and falling, taking six steps at a time.
    At the bottom he turned left, in the direction of the main doors, but saw that a couple of chalk-powdered primitives had got there before him. So he flew off to his right, down the corridor, towards the staff room. He was grabbing at handles, trying the doors as he ran past them. And the only one that opened and admitted him turned out to be the stationery cupboard.
    Is it possible , thought Robert, that I’ve found the one room in the building without a window? He was inclined to pull down the shelves – to see whether there might be some way out through the walls, but he could already hear the teachers in the corridor, screeching and shrieking. And since there was no lock, Robert had to stand with both hands clutching the handle, and his foot and shoulder hard up against the door.
    For a moment, the noise abated. But not for one second did Robert imagine that this meant his ordeal was at an end. He looked around the tiny room again, for something to jam against the door. For a broom or stick with which to defend himself. He could hear them whispering. Plotting. Then, again . . . silence. And the next moment they began to hurl themselves at the door. Until finally Robert was thrown right off it. The door gave way. And they were in; and they fell upon him like a pack of dogs.
    *
    The next day, at the allotted hour, the boys took their seats in the classroom and not long after Miss Adams strolled in, smiling and fragrant, and welcomed her pupils back to school. She took the register and it was duly noted that one boy, Robert Thornber, was absent.
    ‘Does anyone have any idea where he might be?’ she