Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope (32 page)

H
ALF-TERM WAS OVER
. S
O MANY THINGS HAD HAPPENED
that Oksa felt as if it had lasted months. It seemed very strange to be putting on her school uniform again—sweater and trousers for winter—and pulling on her rollerblades that Monday morning to meet Gus, who was waiting outside her house. He wasn’t alone: both sets of parents, the Bellangers and the Pollocks, had agreed to take it in turns so that the two children never had to go to school on their own. “
We can kiss our freedom goodbye
,” Oksa had lamented. That morning, Gus’s father was going to be taking them.

“Hi there, Pierre, how are you?” Oksa said in greeting. “That’s a cool bike!”

“Hiya, Oksa! Yes, I got it out of the cellar just for you and Gus. I just hope I can keep up with you…”

“We don’t need an escort to get to school! We’re not kids any more, you know. We know how to defend ourselves.”

This was the umpteenth time that Oksa had returned to the subject since they got back from Wales. And Pierre Bellanger gave her more or less the same answer as always:

“That’s not the problem, Oksa. It’s better to be doubly cautious when dealing with people like Orthon.”

“Tell me about it, Dad,” added Gus. “I’m worried sick at the thought of seeing him again. With a little luck, he may not be there any more.”

But they were totally out of luck that day. The students in Year 8 Hydrogen hung their heads and dragged their feet as they did every Monday
morning
on their way to the classroom, as if they’d been condemned to hard labour. McGraw was writing jerkily on the board and did not turn round when the students came in.

“Sit down in silence!” he thundered by way of a welcome. “
In silence
, I said. Or isn’t that a word in your vocabulary? Miss Beck, is there any point in hoping that the half-term will have done you some good and that you’re not going to inflict countless falling pencils on us, as is your wont?”

Poor Zelda blushed to the roots of her hair and sat down, holding both her breath and a pencil which had already been rolling towards the edge of the desk. Oksa smiled at her and pretended to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand. Yet she didn’t feel in top form. Thanks to her victory over Orthon-McGraw, she was dreading seeing him again. When he turned round, she pursed her lips to hold back a cry of surprise: the much-hated teacher’s left arm was in a sling and he had a black eye! Gus elbowed his friend and whispered:

“McGraw doesn’t look too clever.”

McGraw looked round at the class, carefully avoiding eye contact with Oksa and Gus, then said in a bleak voice:

“Get out some paper for a written class test.”

A ripple of disapproval ran through the class. A written test on the first day back at school, that was typical McGraw. But it didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

“I won’t stand for any argument or any mark below average,” he announced coldly. “You’ve had all half-term to revise, you have no excuses!”

They bent over their papers and concentrated on answering the
questions
on the board. When she raised her head, Oksa tried not to look at the teacher, who was sitting at his desk. She felt strong, and thought that the effort McGraw seemed to be making to avoid her was a confirmation of her power. Such a new and exciting power! She certainly didn’t lose any time in using it again. Her irresistible urge for action was prompted by the skeleton hanging in the corner of the classroom between the window and the board. The skeleton began to move one hand as if waving to the students. Attracted by the movement, some of the students raised their heads and looked around to see who was playing a prank on McGraw. The latter, puzzled by the class’s growing restlessness, looked up. But the skeleton remained motionless, like all self-respecting skeletons. As for Oksa, she was diligently bent over her test, her face partly hidden by her hair. But the moment McGraw went back to his marking, she used her power again, even more boldly. This time, the skeleton put its hands on its hips and squatted down, raising one leg after the other, as if performing a traditional Russian dance. Gus elbowed Oksa hard as half the class burst out laughing and the other half waited with bated breath for their terrible teacher’s reaction.

“In case you’d forgotten, let me remind you that you’re taking a
written
test!” yelled Dr McGraw immediately. “Why are you clucking like hysterical hens? Miss Guckert, can you give me an explanation?”

The girl struggled to stop laughing long enough to reply:

“The skeleton, sir…”

“Miss Guckert,” sighed McGraw contemptuously, “your answer is not even a proper sentence, let alone a straight answer. The skeleton what?”

“The skeleton is dancing, sir.”

“SO WHAT?” bawled McGraw, suddenly slamming his book down on his desk so hard that all the students jumped. “Some boy or
girl
is playing with the skeleton and not a single one of you is capable of concentrating on your test! Do you think you’re in the school activity centre? Given the standard, I’d say it was more like kindergarten.”

His sombre glare scanned the class, skating over Oksa as if she didn’t exist. She realized from McGraw’s feigned indifference that he knew she was to blame for this joke, which was intended to provoke him and make him fly off the handle—and this gave her immense pleasure.

At eleven o’clock, the science lesson was spent in the same way: doing a written test. The sighs were even heavier and the complaints even more audible, which made McGraw literally roar:

“I am your teacher! I decide how I will run my lesson. If you can’t cope with two written tests in a row, I don’t set much store by your schooling. Your comments and your opposition are the least of my worries. But the next person I hear complaining will get three hours of detention, mark my words. As for you, Mr Bellanger, I haven’t forgotten how much you benefited from sharing a desk with the brilliant Miss Pollock last time… so please go and sit on your own at the back of the class.”

Stiff as a post and flushed with anger, Gus stood up and went to the desk at the back, trying not to lose his temper. Oksa looked up and glared at McGraw, but he was still avoiding her gaze, preferring to attack Gus instead. Which didn’t bode well at all—she didn’t want her friend to suffer instead of her. She turned round and gave him a sign of encouragement before buckling down to her science test. But she was soon distracted by her Curbita-Flatulo, which was squirming on her wrist.
“But I’m perfectly calm! What’s wrong with it
?” she wondered in amazement. She lifted her sleeve discreetly and saw that her living bracelet was pulling an odd face: its tiny tongue was lolling to one side and its eyes were terribly dull. She stroked it but that didn’t seem to help. Then some rather uncouth,
suggestive
noises began reverberating furiously around the room. There was no room for any doubt, it sounded like someone breaking wind. Some of the students looked at each other suspiciously, others ventured a snigger. As for McGraw, he raised his head and looked round to see who was
producing the loud succession of farts, without managing to discover who was to blame. “
Oh no, I forgot its granule
!” thought Oksa in a panic. “
How stupid can I get? I understand what Abakum meant when he said its displeasure doesn’t go unnoticed… I’ll have to last it out till lunchtime
!” And she literally buried herself in her paper, pressing herself flat on her arms to try and muffle the Curbita-Flatulo’s intestinal noises. There was no doubt about it, the Flatulo was aptly named.

When the bell rang for lunch, the students took only a few seconds to hand in their papers and get their things. Impatient to get away from McGraw as quickly as possible, they all left the room without saying a word to their teacher, except for one or two who never missed an opportunity to ingratiate themselves. Oksa was the fastest out of the classroom. She raced to her locker, where she retrieved the reserve of granules that she’d fortunately kept in case of emergencies. And this was a matter of urgency! The Curbita-Flatulo wolfed down its daily granule and the farting stopped immediately, much to its forgetful mistress’s relief.

“I’m sorry, Curbita,” murmured Oksa, closing her locker. “I’ll be more careful in future, you can count on me.”

And she at last made her way into the courtyard, where all her friends were waiting for her. Their commentary was in full flow.

“When the skeleton squatted down and began to dance, I thought I was going to wet myself,” exclaimed Zelda.

“I was pinching myself and trying to think about sad things to stop myself laughing. But even thinking about the mark I’m going to get for maths didn’t stop me getting the giggles,” added another student.

“Was it one of you?” asked Merlin Poicassé.

The students shook their heads. Oksa was a little more evasive and just lowered her eyes innocently.

“I’d really like to know who it was,” said Merlin, his eyes resting on Oksa. “Just so I could ask them how they did it. It must have been a really ingenious device, I couldn’t see any trace of a thread. Perhaps they controlled it remotely with magnets, a radio signal or electromagnetics? Anyway, no one saw a thing, it was just like magic.”

Oksa pretended to ignore Merlin’s remarks, which were so near the mark. It wasn’t the first time he’d dropped hints like that. Every time, her heart raced and she broke out in a cold sweat. What if he’d guessed everything?

“Magic or no magic, whoever did it deserves a medal,” added Zelda.

“All the same, McGraw really excelled himself!” exclaimed Gus, changing the subject. “Two written tests on the first day back at school, how crap is that?”

“You can say that again. He’s a real head case,” added Zelda. “And he’s really starting to bug me with all his comments about dropping pencils. I may be a little clumsy, but that’s no reason to make such a song and dance about it. He stressed me out so much that my whole pencil case almost landed on the floor. Can you imagine? Sheer purgatory—I’d rather not think about it.”

“What about me? It’s just as bad for me,” moaned Gus. “He’s still coming out with his pathetic accusations. I don’t copy! I’ve never copied! I’m fed up with it.”

Oksa draped her arms affectionately around Gus’s and Zelda’s
shoulders
, McGraw’s two favourite targets.

“I don’t know what stopped me giving him another black eye,”
continued
Gus.

“I don’t know how he broke his arm, but it serves him right!” remarked Merlin. “Pity it didn’t make him any nicer. And did you hear? Someone must have overdone the baked beans at breakfast, what a laugh!”
continued
Merlin, chortling.

“It was hilarious,” added Zelda. “McGraw’s face!”

“It’s just as well he hasn’t found out who it was, take my word for it,” said Oksa, feeling her wrist. “C’mon, let’s go and get something to eat.”