The Standing Water Read Online Free Page B

shuffled in a slow collapse towards the floor. When the hall was
quiet, Weirton again started to pace. Now there was no competition from the
children’s chatter: the only sound was the rhythmic striking of his heels. His
face scrunched, twitched; the smile of earlier was gone, replaced by a frown as
Weirton concentrated, as his colour began to deepen. The cadence of those
black-shod feet and the hall’s humid air were lulling me into an uneasy trance.
Weirton swivelled, flung out his finger, thrust the huge face at us. In a
shudder, I jerked from my daze, as did many of the kids around me.
    ‘I tell you and
tell you things till I’m blue in the face!’ The finger waved, the voice
bellowed, the face – rather than blue – was a definite red. ‘You should all
know what I’m talking about – that accursed pond outside the school!’
    The arm propelled
its pointing finger in Marcus’s direction.
    ‘How many times
have I told you not to go near that accursed pond!?’
    My heart thudded;
leaping with each beat higher into my throat. Accursed – what did that mean?
Under the gathering cloud of Weirton’s wrath, as I started to tremble, I tried
to work it out. I guessed it meant cursed – as in bad magic, wicked
enchantments. Weirton was warning us against Marcus. But had he seen us the day
before – how could he have?
    ‘What will I say to
your parents!?’ Weirton leaned over the rows; his fist shook; it swooped down,
bashed his thigh. ‘When they’re fishing your limp bodies from that pond after
you’ve drowned or hauling you dead from its sinking mud!?’
    There was another
lull as Weirton let his yells echo. The teacher pulled a hankie from his
pocket, wiped fat drops of sweat from his face. I cursed Stubbs for leading us
astray. My heart thudded harder. Had Weirton really spied us? Would he be
leaping into our rows, hauling up those responsible, flexing his right hand?
    ‘Oh yes!’ The fist
waved again as more sweat ran. ‘Mr Davis told me yesterday that twice – twice!
– last week he spotted youngsters gathered around there! He wasn’t close enough
to recognise any of them, but if he had – I think you all know what the
consequences would have been! Whatever this namby-pamby modern world might say,
I think you know how I would have responded!’
    We knew. But it
wasn’t us Davis had seen. My breath surged out with a relief so loud I feared
Weirton would hear. The vast eyes flicked towards me, but then they went on
panning over our rows. Weirton yelled some more about the deadly folly of
provoking Marcus.
    ‘It would be easy
enough for that pond to be the death of any one of you! One little slip or
stumble and you could be under those dark waters! Believe me, I know! One slip
and you could be drowning in that filthy pool!’
    Weirton had to be
talking about how Marcus had met his end! What more did he know about it?
    ‘So, for heaven’s
sake!’ the headmaster shouted. ‘Stay away from there!’
    Weirton tugged out
his hankie again, mopped his face. His breath was somewhat jerky, but he soon
had it under control. The face faded from red back to pink; the anger left it
as the lips twitched into a smile.
    ‘Yes, children,
please be careful, we don’t want any tragedies …’
    A tragedy, I
reminded myself, was when something very bad or sad happened.
    ‘Or, should I say
any more tragedies? Children, in a moment, I’m going to introduce you to
a … let’s say a rather odd special guest, a most unusual classmate. I’d like
you to all close your eyes. Make sure they’re gripped tightly. I really
wouldn’t advise you to let me see your eyes open.’
    Weirton scanned our
seated lines. I screwed my eyes up. A few seconds went by, and I heard his
shoes tap as he strode – it seemed – away from us and towards the staff area.
The shoes sounded slower coming back, and there was a trundling noise too, like
some clumsy contraption being wheeled. There was also an odd clacking, like dry
sticks