Wild Jack Read Online Free

in the next holidays.”
    Gary did not respond right away. He said at last, “There’s something quite remarkable about you.”
    Apart from anything else, his tone made it clear that was not intended as a compliment. I said, with an edge to my own voice, “Oh, yes?”
    â€œIt’s what you think about yourself, that’s all. You really do think you’re terrific. Look at me—I’m Clive Anderson. Look at my red speedboat. Look at me driving it even though I’m underage, because my father fixed it with the license department. Look at my father, he’s on the council. Look at my personal manservant. Look at my new power bike. Look at the size of my allowance.”
    I was annoyed, but grinned. “No, don’t look at me—look at you. You’re pathetic. You really are.”
    He swung at me. I wasn’t ready and he knocked me off balance. I grabbed at a chair and it collapsed under me; a table went over, too. I got up and charged at him. We fought until a uniformed figure, an airport policeman, pushed us apart.
    He was squat and fair-haired, very powerfully built, and the grip of his fingers on my shoulder hurt.
    He said, “You know the regulations about brawling in public.” He let go of me and picked up the chair, which had a broken leg. “Not to mention damaging city property. I think we’d better have you two on report.”
    He took out his memocorder, while Gary and I stared at him in silence, but instead of switching on he looked at me more closely.
    â€œAren’t you Clive Anderson?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œCouncillor Anderson’s son?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    He gave me another long look. “All right. We’ll forget about it this time.” He put the memocorder away. “Don’t let it happen again.”
    He gave Gary a quick, uninterested glance before walking off. Gary and I went toward the exit without speaking. He didn’t thank me for getting him off a report, but I didn’t really expect him to. We went in opposite directions when we got outside.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Our school was in the north of the city, on the edge of Regent’s Park, and during term we lived in. The dormitories each had twelve beds. Gary’s bed and mine had been next to each other, but when we went back he moved to one at the far end of the room. That suited me perfectly well.
    There was the usual confusion of settling in, with plenty to occupy one’s time. We also had the results of our last set of examinations. This was one field in which Gary usually beat me comfortably, but on this occasion, by some freak, I wound up second in class, while he was fourth. Our form teacher said, “Very good work, Anderson. I congratulate you. Let’s see if you can keep it up.”
    Gary’s desk was a few feet from mine. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to look sick.
    On the third day of term we were doing English when the teacher’s visiphone buzzed. He accepted the call and the screen on his desk lit up. He used an earphone so we could not hear what was said, but I could tell he was surprised: He closed contact, and said, “Anderson!”
    I stood up.
    â€œReport to the headmaster’s office.”
    I was surprised, too. I had never known the headmaster call a boy out of a lesson before. I said, “You mean now, sir?”
    â€œYes, now.”
    The headmaster was called Weatherby, a tall thin man with a long thin face. Discipline in the school was fairly strict, but that was generally regarded as being due to his second in command, a small, tough, dark man called Williams. Williams was with him in his office, and so was a man I’d never seen before—as short as Williams but fatter, and wearing police uniform.
    Weatherby said, “What have you been up to, Anderson?”
    â€œUp to, sir?”
    â€œYou must have been up to something.” He looked