Down Among the Dead Men Read Online Free

visually stimulating images.”
    This was becoming unbearable. At the mention of stimulating images sounds like cars starting up came from around the room.
    â€œBut here’s a warning,” he added. “I draw the line at video games. Anyone caught playing Dumb Ways to Die can expect more than just a telling-off. Who’s next to give me her name?”
    In lunch break, there was only one topic: the man of the hour, the day, the week and probably the year. Eat your heart out, Prince Harry. Everyone agreed Tom Standforth was a perfect ten regardless of how he would shape up as a teacher. The art group were the envy of the school. People who hadn’t yet clocked him made sorties to the staff car park to see the red MG.
    For a time the art students were incapable of doing anything except replaying the lesson in their minds.
    Jem, a good mimic, had his voice already. “‘If nobody objects, I’ll take off the jacket.’”
    Peals of laughter.
    â€œâ€˜And is there any topic that excites you, Ella?’”
    Ella squeezed her eyes shut and said, “Don’t.”
    â€œShe goes, ‘The golden mean.’ Anything that excites you, and she’s, like, the golden bloody mean.”
    â€œIt’s all I could think of. Oh my God, I wish he’d ask me again.”
    â€œâ€˜Anyone caught playing Dumb Ways to Die can expect more than just a telling-off.’ What did he mean—a spanking? Bags me first.”
    Naseem had been using her smartphone. She put an end to Jem’s miming with, “I’ve found his website.”
    Gasps.
    â€œYou what? He has a website? Yoiks.” They almost bumped heads trying to see.
    â€œThey must be his paintings. Cool.”
    â€œGenius. Those colours.”
    â€œSuch energy.”
    Active fingertips moved Tom’s output at speed across the small screen.
    â€œIt isn’t only abstracts.”
    â€œWhat’s that? She’s starkers. He paints nudes.”
    Shrieks.
    â€œLet’s see. Hold it higher, Nas. The size of those boobs.”
    â€œThey look normal to me,” Jem said.
    â€œThey would . . . to you.”
    â€œI’d rather have mine than your pathetic pair. D’you think he paints these from life?”
    â€œOf course he does, pinbrain.”
    â€œIs it, like, his girlfriend? Oh, I hope not.”
    â€œHow would I know? I expect she’s just a model. Look, this one’s blonde. She’s gorgeous.”
    â€œThey can’t all be girlfriends.”
    â€œWhy not? With his looks he could pull whoever he wants.”
    Naseem navigated back to the home page and found some pictures of Tom in his studio. The place looked large and cluttered, the walls and easels spattered with colour. “Why does he do teaching when he has his own studio?”
    â€œMaybe he can’t sell anything. All the great painters were like that, living in poverty.”
    â€œPoverty?” Ella said. “He owns a vintage MG. They’re not cheap.”
    â€œHe’s a proper teacher. The head told us.”
    â€œAnd she’s in the best position to know.” Jem grinned.
    â€œWho, the head? What position’s that?”
    Amid the laughter, Jem said, “Ask her. I dare you.”
    By the end of the afternoon, the excitement had scarcely abated. The A level group were watching from an upstairs window when the young man returned to his zippy sports car at the end of the day.
    â€œThere’s only one question left,” Jem said.
    â€œOnly one? I can think of hundreds. We know sweet F.A. about him.”
    â€œYeah, but this is the one that counts: who gets to ride in the MG first?”

3
    T om was shaking up the school. In the first week, his pinstripe suit got so paint-spattered that the head gave him special dispensation to wear whatever casual clothes he liked. And the girls were permitted to bring T-shirts and jeans for art lessons, and change in the dressing