an extract from toady
CHAPTER ONE
The Horror Club
Thursday
The bell rang, and the school vomited screaming, laughing children into the playground.
When all his classmates turned right, Richard Gardener turned left, towards the lockers. He was a small boy made smaller by his blazer, which was one size too big. His hair was short and neat, a wad of tape held the arm of his spectacles in place, and his green and black school tie hung slack as a noose around his neck. He kept to the side of the corridor, fighting against the tide of bodies, flattening himself into the wall when they threatened to drag him back.
'Playing football, Rich?' he heard someone say, and turned to see Philip Kershaw tossing a football from hand to hand.
'No,' Richard replied. 'I might play later. I'm a bit busy just now.'
Kershaw rolled his eyes. 'Not that stupid Horror Club again?'
'It's not stupid!' Richard protested.
'Okay,' Kershaw said, 'please yourself.'
Richard quickly shrugged off his resentment and hurried on. It was easier now; most people were in the playground, only a few stragglers trailing behind. He rounded a corner to see the lockers, a dull-grey metal wall punctuated by keyholes, on his right, the science labs on his left.
Quickly he crossed to his locker, fumbled the key into the lock, pulled open the door, and took out a heavy book. He slipped the book into his bag, slammed the locker shut, and hurried towards the nearest door that led into the playground.
As he stepped outside he shivered at the cold January wind, the promise of snow. Even with ice in the air he could smell the sea, though it lay two miles away, behind buildings stacked like boxes. The playground was a mass of shrieking, running bodies across which balls hurtled like ammunition. Richard wove his way through, skirting a group of girls who were jumping over skipping ropes in time to their own chanting.
The shrieking died behind him as he crossed the main carpark and headed towards the kitchens. Already he could see the other three members of the Horror Club waiting for him on the ledge by the enormous school dustbins. Toady once claimed he'd seen a rat slinking between the castors, but Richard didn't believe him. He thought it a shame that Toady felt he had to lie in order to impress people.
'You're late,' Toady snapped when Richard was close enough to hear.
'Aw, don't start,' Richard said. 'I had to get something from my locker.' He unzipped his bag and took out the book. Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff shared the limelight with a George Romero zombie. Yellow slime dribbled from the title above their heads: Horror Movies 1910-85. Toady sneered.
'Kid's stuff!' he said. 'That's all you're interested in. Why don't we ever do anything worthwhile in this club?'
'Like what?' asked Nige. He was slim and dainty looking with straight black hair and olive skin.
Toady shot him a glance. 'The real thing. A seance.'
There was a moment of silence, then Richard pulled a face. 'Aw, I dunno, Ade,' he said doubtfully.
'Why not?' Toady snapped. 'You scared?'
'No, course not,' said Richard, and held Toady's gaze, aware that the others were watching the exchange with interest.
Since Toady had joined the Club a few weeks ago, his manner had become increasingly hostile. He attempted to monopolise meetings, pressing forward his own suggestions, deriding the views of others. It was rare for him to get his own way for the boys usually stood firm, but then he went into a sulk and made the meetings uncomfortable. He was not a popular figure in the school, and the Club members were beginning to see why. Richard held Toady's gaze until the fat boy looked away. Though they had not said so out loud, he sensed that Robin and Nige considered Toady his responsibility as he had been the one who had invited Toady to join the Club in the first place. Richard had done it out of kindness and pity for Toady's loneliness, but already he was regretting his charity.
'Well, why not?' Toady said sulkily, frowning. 'We never do anything in this club except talk and swap books and watch stupid videos.'
'But a seance?' Richard said. 'I don't see the point. None of us knows how to carry out something like that.'
'I do,' Toady said eagerly. 'I've read up on it. I'll arrange everything. All you have to do is show up.'
Richard sighed, looking out over the carpark. The weak sun gleamed white on windscreens; the smell from the kitchens confirmed that beefburgers and cabbage were on the menu again. 'What do you think?' he asked, turning to Robin and Nige.
Nige shrugged. 'We could give it a try. It might be a laugh.'
'Rob?'
Robin squinted beneath his long fringe of blond hair and self-consciously fingered his acne. 'I'm not bothered. Yeah, if you want to, I suppose.'
'All right,' Richard said to Toady, 'we'll give it a try.'
Toady, grinned, his wide mouth curling up at the edges. Richard thought that Toady was the only person he knew whose smile made him look more grotesque than he did already. 'Great,' he said. 'At last we're doing something.'
If that remark was directed at Richard, he chose to ignore it. Instead he asked, 'When shall we hold this seance?'
'Tonight,' replied Toady, 'at my house. My parents will be out, so we'll have the place to ourselves.'
Richard nodded. 'Okay. What time?'
'Midnight.' Toady grinned with relish.
'Midnight? I can't stay out that late,' protested Nige. He saw the others looking at him. 'Well, not on a weekday anyway,' he amended.
Toady tutted and flicked his greasy hair out of his eyes. 'This has to be done properly,' he said. 'It's not a game. We want to do it right.'
'Yeah, but midnight is a bit too late,' Richard said diplomatically. Toady shrugged, looking sulky again.
'What time, then?' Nige asked.
Richard looked at Robin, raised his eyebrows questioningly. 'Seven o'clock?' he suggested.
'Seven o'clock!' spluttered Toady, and shook his head scornfully. 'If it's gonna be that early, we might as well not bother.'
'All right then,' Nige said, 'why don't you suggest something? All you do is slag everyone else off all the time.'
Toady looked at the sky, half-smiling as though amused by Nige's anger. 'Ten o'clock,' he said after a moment.
Richard started to agree, then noticed that Nige still looked dubious. He guessed his friend was thinking about his mother. 'How about nine?' he suggested.
Nige nodded gratefully. Toady shrugged. Robin said, 'Yeah, yeah, any time,' and picked up his sports bag, eager to be off.
'Is there anything –' Richard began, but another voice broke in.
'Well, well, look who's here. Toady Tibbett and the frog chorus.'
The four of them looked up, startled. Three boys and a girl, all fifth-formers, were standing a few feet away. Immediately Richard realized he and his friends were in trouble. His mouth went dry.
The leader of the fifth-formers was an ape-like sixteen year old with straggly red hair and hard, brutal features. His cheekbones were sharp as knuckles; he had three studs punched into his left ear; a cigarette jutted from the corner of his mouth. He grinned, and it was not a nice grin.
'Hello, Rusty,' Robin said uncertainly, and immediately wished he hadn't. Eyes blazing, the red-haired boy swung round on him.
'How dare you fucking call me that!' he snarled. 'Only me mates call me Rusty. I'm Mr Oates to you.'
Robin paled. He nodded and hung his head, looking down at his shoes.
'Say sorry to Mr Oates,' one of the boys standing behind Rusty ordered.
Robin said nothing. The boy stepped forward and slapped him hard across the head. 'I said say sorry!' Robin flinched, instinctively putting up his hands to defend himself.
'Look, he's fighting back!' squealed the girl excitedly. She was a well-developed fifteen year old who, despite school rules, wore her make-up like a mask.
'So he is,' Rusty leered, and grabbing a handful of Robin's hair in one nicotine-stained fist, wrenched his head back. In a voice so reasonable he might have been asking the time, he said, 'You wanna fuckin' scrap, zit-face?'
Robin opened his mouth, lips trembling. 'No,' he whispered.
'Oh, I think you do,' Rusty said. His hand tightened, made Robin cry out. He turned, smiling, to his cronies. 'What shall we do with him?'
'Burn his eyes out!' the girl cried. The two boys sniggered.
'Yeah, go on,' one of them encouraged, 'burn the twat.'
Rusty plucked the cigarette from his mouth and regarded it, grinning. Replacing it between his lips, he drew long and hard, then blew the smoke into Robin's face. Robin began to splutter and gag, eyes streaming. Rusty laughed.
'Burn his eyes out,' he murmured. 'Yeah, I like it.' He took the cigarette from his mouth again, pinched it between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, and directed it slowly towards Robin's eyeball. Frenziedly Robin began to struggle. Rusty yanked hard on his hair, making him yelp. Robin struck out, knocking the cigarette from the bully's hand. Rusty saw red.
'You fuckin' little turd,' he snarled, and yanked even harder on Robin's hair, trying to bring him to his knees. Desperately Robin began to flail out, aiming blows and kicks at Rusty's ribs and groin. The fifth-former winced as a fist caught him in the solar plexus, and drawing back his right hand he struck Robin hard on the cheekbone and wrestled him to the ground.
Up to this point the others had been standing in a kind of frozen tableau, too frightened to intervene, but now Richard rushed forward to try to help his friend. Immediately Ratz, the thick-set Polish boy who had hit Robin, grabbed Richard and yanked him back. Almost casually he banged him against the wall, then shoved him in the direction of the third boy. Bruno, pale and sleepy-eyed, with black spiky hair, caught Richard and twisted his arms behind his back.
Rusty was now sitting on Robin's chest, knees pinioning his arms to the ground. His right hand still gripped Robin's hair and with the left he was lighting another cigarette.
'Now then,' he murmured when he had done so, 'where were we?' He glanced up at the sky, face creased in concentration as though in an effort to recall the gist of the earlier discussion. At length he said, 'Ah, yes. I was just about to burn your eyes out, wasn't I?'
He pinched the cigarette between thumb and forefinger once more and held it above Robin's eyeball. Robin squeezed his eyes tight shut and made a renewed effort to struggle free. It was no use; this time Rusty's dominance was indisputable. With sadistic deliberation, Rusty began to lower the cigarette towards Robin's rapidly blinking eye.
When the glowing tip was an inch away Rusty froze, looked up, and quipped, 'Medium or rare?'
Ratz sniggered stupidly. Everyone else was silent. Rusty sighed, as though lamenting the fact that his joke had not been better appreciated, and slightly shifted position. He looked for all the world like a surgeon about to perform a very delicate operation.
In a small, broken voice, Nige suddenly sobbed, 'Stop it! Leave him alone!'
'Shut it, wimp,' Ratz ordered, stepping forward and smacking him hard across the face. A crimson handprint sprang up on Nige's cheek.
Richard, his arm still twisted behind his back, said calmly, 'Why don't you leave us alone? We've done nothing to you.'
'You're friends of the Toad,' Rusty said without looking up. 'That means you're shit.'
Toady had pushed himself into the space between two dustbins and was cowering there, looking not unlike the amphibian he was supposed to resemble. Glancing at him Richard said, 'We can be friends with whoever we like.'
Rusty turned now and his eyes were daggers. 'Shut it, Gardener, or you'll be next.'
The hate in the fifth-former's voice made Richard wince, as did the increasing pressure in his already numb arms as Bruno gave them another twist. He knew that Rusty was more than capable of carrying out his threat. Two years ago he had spent nine months at a remand centre for putting a lit firework into a kid's duffel coat hood and then pulling the hood tight over his head. The kid still showed the scars from that little jape and would have to wear a wig for the rest of his life.
Images of violence swelled in Richard's mind, muffling his thinking. How could they get out of this one? Could they surprise Rusty by running at him, knocking him off-balance, and making a dash for freedom? Looking around, he realized they could not. Even if he could break free of Bruno's hold, it was unlikely he would have the support of his friends. Toady was still cringing between the dustbins and Nige was nursing his red, tear-stained face, Ratz looming behind him, still clutching his blazer collar.
The sight of Rusty, still waving the cigarette butt in Robin's face, reminded Richard of a cat tormenting a mouse before the kill. He watched, horrified, as lingeringly, almost lovingly, Rusty touched the cigarette to Robin's cheek. The smaller boy squealed in pain, tried to flinch away, but the fifth-former's grip was unbreakable. After seconds which seemed like minutes, Rusty took his hand away, leaving a weal of red skin stained by ashes.
Richard felt sick. He was about to kick back at Bruno's leg in a last attempt to break free when the bell for the end of break shrilled out. Next moment Mr Carter, the English tutor, strolled round the corner humming to himself. Immediately Rusty let Robin go, stood up, dropped his cigarette and stamped on it. Then, releasing their prisoners and pushing their hands harmlessly into their pockets, the fifth-formers slunk away.
Robin was dabbing at his burn with a handkerchief when Mr Carter approached them. 'Were those boys bullying you?' the teacher asked, peering after Rusty, Ratz, Bruno and the girl who were sauntering across the carpark.
'No, sir,' Richard said; he knew that tale-telling would only lead to more trouble.
Mr Carter looked sceptical. 'Hmm, well, if you should have any problems, you know where to find me.'
'Yes, sir,' Richard said. He liked Mr Carter. The English tutor was young and friendly, and unlike most teachers seemed to know exactly what interested his pupils. He knew the bands they liked, what clothes were in fashion, who their heroes were. He was even receptive to gossip from the pupils' grapevine; he knew who was dating whom, and – more importantly – who was bullying whom. Richard watched him out of earshot, then said, 'You okay, Rob?'
'Just about, I think.'
'Nige?'
'Yeah, I suppose so. That Ratz is a fucking gorilla.' Nige touched a hand to his burning cheek and tightened the knot of his tie. 'I'm going to keep away from that lot this lunchtime. It's Chess Club for me.'
'Yeah, I'll join you,' said Richard. 'I don't fancy running into Rusty on my own.'
Toady emerged from between the dustbins like the rat he once claimed to have seen. 'What about me?' he whimpered.
'What about you?' said Nige.
'Well, I don't want to be left on my own either. They hate me, Rusty and that lot.'
'If it hadn't been for you, none of this would have happened,' Robin said unsympathetically.
'It wasn't my fault,' wailed Toady. 'I don't ask Rusty to pick on me, you know.'
'It's all right, Ade,' said Richard. 'If you like you can come to Chess Club with me and Nige.'
Nige looked ready to protest, but Richard, catching his eye, gave the tiniest shake of his head. It was unfair to blame Toady for what had happened. He was a lost, sad, rather pathetic figure, an ugly duckling embittered by a lifetime of being bullied.
As though picking up Richard's thoughts, Nige smiled and said, 'Yeah, why don't you come with us?'
Instead of feeling grateful, Toady was immediately wary. Painful experience had taught him that friendliness was often a mask for deceit. Past ordeals had included being lured into the subway and debagged, given sweets that were really soap tablets, invited to join in games only to find he was the scapegoat for violence. Inevitably he had learned to trust no one, and his deepest scars came from those incidents which had begun innocently, with a smile and an invitation.
'Well?' Nige said, taking Toady's silence as a refusal. 'Don't you want to?'
Toady hesitated a moment longer, then nodded 'Yes... Yes, all right.'
'Okay, see you in the dinner queue at half twelve.'
Toady nodded again.
'See you tonight, Rob,' Richard called after Robin, who was heading towards his woodwork class. 'Nine o'clock at Ade's.'
Robin raised a hand. 'I'll be there.'