Ratburger Salad Page 3
They were in Mrs. Franklin’s office, standing sheepishly in a row before her desk. She was sitting stony-faced behind it, drumming her fingers and waiting for an answer.
They had been well and truly caught, Crawford sizing up the situation at a glance. He hadn’t passed comment, just pointed down the corridor and rapped out the single word ‘Headmistress!’ before going to rescue their hapless victim. He, true to Chapworthy College form, had to be sent home to recover from his frightful ordeal…and to get a change of clothing. As for them, they knew what to expect. This was, after all, not the first time they had been here…
‘Well?’ she demanded.
They shuffled about uneasily, glanced at each other as though trying to decide what to say and which of them should say it.
‘I mean, is this any way to treat a guest?’ she went on. ‘You do realise that anything that happens to him as a result of your actions reflects badly on this whole school.’
Still they seemed to have nothing to say for themselves. Then Al was speaking, speaking for all of them, pleading their case with a single lame excuse.
‘We was only having a laugh, Miss.’
‘Indeed you were!’ she retorted sharply. ‘But as usual, at someone else’s expense!’
‘Yeah, well...’
Somehow, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. She shook her head wearily.
‘Can’t you find some way of amusing yourselves that doesn’t involve harming another human being? Everyone else seems to manage it well enough, why can’t you four?’
‘We thought he was playing along.’
‘Up to a point, he was.’
‘Uh?’ This was unexpected.
‘Yes!’ she said. ‘Much as I am disinclined to believe him, he says he was willingly taking part in what he thought was some sort of initiation ceremony, of the kind much favoured at his own school.’
‘He said that?’ said Al, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.
‘You seem surprised,’ said Mrs. Franklin dryly. ‘Perhaps you would care to enlighten me since this particular ceremony seems to have escaped my attention.’
‘Uh…no,’ said Al. ‘It was just a laugh. We didn’t think we’d taken it too far, that’s all. Sorry if we…well, you know…’
His voice trailed off, was joined by a mumbled chorus of ‘Yeah, sorry, Miss…’
For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just sat there looking at them as though trying to decide what to with them. They waited with bated breath: this was always the worst part of these little interviews, the passing of sentence for crimes committed. And she had a lot of sentences to choose from.
‘So,’ she said at length, ‘how do we deal with this? I have to take into account certain things. Not only did you do what you did, you did it to him on his first day here!—’
Al stifled the grin before it broke through. Even for them, that was some achievement.
‘—But there has been no real harm done, just wet trousers and hurt pride, both easily set to rights again—though it will doubtless fall to me to write the grovelling letter of apology to the parents and the school to pay the dry-cleaning bill.—’
Al liked the sound of that, Franklinstein being forced to grovel. This one had gone better than they could possibly have hoped.
‘—And since he hasn’t actually made a complaint against you, insists it was just a bit of harmless fun that got out of hand—’
Al tensed. He could see it coming.
‘—I suppose I have little choice but to let it go.’
YES! Damn, we’re good!
‘But,’ she added, ‘any more fun-that-gets-out-of-hand and you will answer to me. Understood?’
‘Understood, Miss,’ Al said for them all, said perhaps a little too eagerly. ‘Whatever you say, Miss.’
‘Right. Now, you might as well know that I’ve decided to assign our new arrival to your class—’
Uh-oh…
‘—so I expect you to treat him as befits an honoured guest from another school.’
There was silence for a moment while they digested this, then Al was speaking again, giving voice to the question that everyone was thinking.
‘Uh…is this because of what we…you know…?’
‘If by that, you mean does my decision have any bearing on your little escapade with him then yes. He will be in your class, this will place you together, and it is my sincere hope that every time you look his way, or preferably have to speak to him, you will feel thoroughly ashamed of yourselves.’
‘And if we don’t?’
‘Then,’ she said, eyeing him sternly, ‘you are even more of a hopeless case than I already take you for. From here on in, in every aspect of your daily dealings with him, you will treat him with the utmost courtesy. Do I make myself clear?’
They murmured and nodded again. They turned to go, glad this was over and now wanting very much to be as far away from her as possible.
‘I haven’t finished yet!’
They stopped in their tracks, glanced questioningly at each other: Now what!
‘There’s something else I’ve been meaning to speak to you four about. Do the words Cookery Lessons mean anything to you?’
So that was it. They let go a groan.
‘But we hate Cookery, Miss!’ said Al.
‘Yes, I had rather gained that impression from Miss Palmer. Unfortunately, you don’t have any choice in the matter. It’s in the curriculum. End of story.’
‘But Cookery’s for girls, Miss!’
‘Oh, you think so, do you? Well, all I can say is if you go through life with that attitude, young man, you’re not going to enjoy it very much. As I believe Miss Palmer has already said to you, your mother won’t be there forever and baked beans can get pretty tiresome after a while.’
‘Yeah but it’s the things we have to make,’ said Al, ‘all cakes an’ fancy pies an’ stuff.’
‘Rubbish! I know for a fact that Miss Palmer has had you doing things like trying to make an omelette, batter fish, liquidize vegetables into soup—all manner of varied and interesting dishes. Hardly the stuff of cakes and fancy pies, don’t you agree?’
‘Yeah but when are we gonna get around to making proper food?’
‘Proper food?’ she repeated, puzzled.
‘Yeah, like burgers.’
‘An’ fries,’ Jon added.
‘An’ pizzas,’ said Tony.
‘An’—’
‘Thank you, that will do!’ said Mrs. Franklin, interrupting before Eddie could add to this unsavoury list of culinary abominations. She sighed. ‘If all you want from life is a greasy lump of tasteless pulp in a bread roll, there’s a MacDonald's in the town centre. But if you want food that actually has some nutritional value and won’t clog your arteries with fat then you’ll listen to Miss Palmer in her lessons.’
‘Yeah but—’
‘No more Yeah-buts! You will do Cookery and that’s that!’ She paused to let that sink in. ‘Now,’ she went on, ‘you will no doubt know of the Merit Board?’
They knew of the Merit Board, all right. Hanging in the entrance hall and listing who had done what and how well they had done it, they had managed with some success to avoid having their names added to it throughout their school career so far. And they planned to keep it that way.
‘What about it, Miss?’ said Al, not liking the direction this conversation was taking.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I passed it earlier and just happened to notice that everyone in your class had managed to get a merit in Cookery—’
Uh? Oh no! Please, NO!
‘—except you four.’
They looked down at her, aghast. For any one of them to get a merit mark for anything would be a disaster. But to get one for Cookery, that would be nothing short of humiliation.
‘And I want to see that changed,’ she finished.
‘Aw, Miss—!’
‘Understood?’
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Al cast round for some way out of this. There’s always a way out, he was thinking desperately. Remember Captain Kirk on the starship Enterprise, there’s always a way out.
‘Can’t we get a merit in something else?’ he said. ‘Like Woodwork?’
‘Cookery,’ she said firmly.
‘Or maybe Science?’
‘Cookery,’ she repeated.
‘How about English? I talk English good.’
‘Cookery,’ she said one last time, and he knew he was out of options.
Al looked down at his feet, the battle lost, murmured a sullen answer for them all. ‘Yes, Miss.’
‘Good!’ said Mrs. Franklin triumphantly. ‘Now you may go.’
They went.