Slated

Chapter 23

Song; Green- Cavetown
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"You're to skip tutor and go see Dr Winston," Mrs Ali says. "Now."

"What? Why?" I stare back at her, but her face is unreadable.

"I expect she'll tell you. Go upstairs and wait." She smiles but it doesn't make me feel better.

What is this about? I climb the stairs, and sit down, hands clenched. Maybe, somehow, they know Ben and I have been talking about people disappearing. Maybe the bus was bugged, and the Lorders are pulling him out of his class, right now. Maybe, they will...

Her door opens; a boy steps out.

"Next!" a voice yells.

I stand and walk into her office. Scan my card, shut the door and sit down.

"Good morning, Kyla!" She is smiling her painted on lipstick smile.

"Hi."

"A teacher has been talking to me about you. Do you know what about?" She purses her lips. I scan my mind – a teacher? Have I done something wrong?

"One of my teachers? I... I don't know."

"Don't look so panicked. It is one of your teachers, but you don't know him yet. Mr Gianelli: Head of the Art Department. It seems he saw a drawing of yours, and has been most persistent in insisting you be moved into his class."

"Really?" I can feel the smile taking over my face.

She frowns. "He was most annoying."

"I'm very sorry about that, but...um, so can I take his class?"

"Yes. Here is your new timetable." She thrusts it at me. "We had to move your maths class also to make it fit. You'll have Unit at lunch twice a week to make that up, and can do as you will the other days from now on."

"Thank you so much, thank you, I—"

"Just go."

I dash out of the seat, scan my card at the door.

"Oh, and Kyla?"

I turn. "Yes?"

"Don't look so pleased with yourself. I don't want to be bothered by you, or by anyone about you, again, any time soon. Is that clear?"

She smiles brightly as she says the words, which makes them worse, somehow.

I wipe the grin off my face. "Yes," I say, and bolt out the room and down the stairs.

Mr Gianelli, my champion, isn't what I expect at all.

"Who are you?" he demands, scowling, when I slip in just after the bell.

"Kyla Davis."

"Who?"

"A new student. You arranged it with Dr Winston?"

At the mention of her name his scowl deepens. "Ah ha! You are the owl girl. I had to endure three meetings with that insufferable woman on your behalf."

I look nervously behind me, but the door is shut; Mrs Ali is gone. As I turn back and glance over the students, my heart sinks: Phoebe. Oh great. She is in my art class, too.

He whips my owl sketch out of a pile on his desk, holds it up to the class and before he lets me sit down, proceeds to tell everyone exactly how I could make it better. And he's right.

But today, we are painting.

What to paint?

My Happy Place: maybe it will help me go there. I start on the sky. Soon I am absorbed in the blues, mixing them on a palette, adding wisps of cloud, white swirls with a palette knife. So lost in the sky that I almost don't register low voices behind.

'"Wonder what she did to get Slated."

"Bet it was bad."

"Couldn't have been much: she's a scrawny little wuss."

"Maybe she tortured little children 'cos they were the only ones smaller than her."

"Maybe she set fire to her house and roasted her parents alive. Sort of a mum and dad barbecue. Bet they screamed."

I spin around.

"Maybe I slit someone's throat with a palette knife."  I balance it on one hand as if checking the weight.

Her friend backs off but Phoebe laughs. "You know she can't hurt anyone, now, no matter what she did before. She'll die if she tries. Her brain will fry: zap!"

I turn back to my painting.

Green trees blue sky white clouds green trees blue sky white clouds...

"Happy with your new timetable?" Mrs Ali asks, smiling pleasantly at break.

And I don't know whether to say the obvious yes, because with or without Phoebe and trying not to think what they said, I love it. Or will she feel I've been getting around things, and I'm in trouble if I'm happy about it?

She laughs. "Your face: you should see it sometimes."

So she is in a good mood today.

I smile hesitantly. "I love my art class. It will really help me—" I scan my brain for what the Head said at Assembly "—reach my full potential."

She looks amused. "Don't just parrot the words, Kyla. You must do your best at all times to fulfil your contract."

"Can I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"What happens if someone like me doesn't fulfil their contract. Can they be...returned?"

She stares back at my eyes. Something crosses her face, so fast I'm not sure what it is; then it is gone. She smiles. "Just keep your head down for a while, Kyla, until Dr Winston forgets how you annoyed her."

She walks me to my next class, and I think about what she said. She didn't answer the question. And that, in itself, is an answer.