Soon afterwards, Barney began at Blandford High, and from his very first week there Miss Whipmire began picking on him, blaming him for other people’s giggles in assemblies or graffiti that wasn’t in his handwriting.
‘What happened to your daddy?’ Miss Whipmire said, repeating her question.
‘No one knows.’
She gave a little laugh that came out of her nose. ‘Someone always knows. You’re just not looking in the right place. But then, you’re not exactly what one might call bright, are you? I’ve seen the marks you’re getting.’
The head teacher stood up, went over to her filing cabinet and took out some kind of form. ‘Yes, you’re the lowest in your year. The most stupid eleven-year-old in the school.’
‘Twelve,’ Barney said. ‘It’s my birthday today.’
Miss Whipmire shrugged, as if Barney’s age and birthday were the two most trivial things in the world.
‘Any idea why your marks are so low?’
Of course, Barney had an idea. A few months ago he’d been getting As and Bs for his homework. Now he was lucky to get an F, even though he was working harder than ever.
‘It might be because you mark all my homework,’ Barney ventured. ‘When I was like all the other kids, getting marked by normal teachers, I did OK.’
Miss Whipmire looked furious. ‘I have high standards. That is all.’
‘I just think it’s—’
Miss Whipmire shut the filing cabinet, turned. ‘Silence. This is my office. You do not so much as breathe in here unless I tell you to.’ And she leaned and whispered into his ear. ‘Do you understand?’
Barney nodded, staring up at a calendar on the wall. Above the month of February was a picture of a cat. A white fluffy Persian stretched out in the sun. Miss Whipmire saw Barney looking and seemed pleased. The whisper in his ear softened. ‘That would be the life, wouldn’t it? To be a cat, lying out in the sun, without all those human worries …’
Barney felt almost hypnotized by her words. To be free! To not have any more scary meetings in Miss Whipmire’s office! To have no more nightmares! To not go to the same school as Gavin Needle!
Miss Whipmire picked up the letter on the desk. ‘But you are not. You are you.’ And then she placed the letter in an envelope that was lying beneath it. ‘And this is for your mother.’
Barney panicked. The last letter home had made his mum cry. And by cry, I mean wail. And by wail, I mean sitting on the stairs clinging onto the banister and rocking back and forth. He’d promised it would be the last time, even though he had only shouted at Gavin because of a drawing pin (and Miss Whipmire knew that).
‘In it,’ said Miss Whipmire, ‘I explain that this is the last letter home you get before you are expelled. If you step so much as a whisker out of line, you are finished here.’
‘Expelled? But I’ve done nothing wrong!’
Miss Whipmire smiled. ‘Your mother will be very upset, I should imagine. You see, I am a mother too. Not many people know that about me. Anyway, I understand all too well the pains of motherhood.’
Barney took the envelope, his hands trembling as he saw the tall, elegant writing: Mrs Willow. The last, looping stroke of the ‘W’ flicked up like a tail. Barney felt sick. The faint smell of fish mixed with his panic, making his stomach churn.
Miss Whipmire gestured to the door, signalling for Barney to leave. ‘And you’d better give it to her. I’ll be phoning to check.’
Barney stared one last time at the cat calendar.
Miss Whipmire gave a little wave as he left. ‘Miaow,’ she told him with a sinister chuckle.
Barney turned at the door. ‘Why are you doing this?’
Miss Whipmire pretended to think. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, with slow and sinister delight. ‘I just despise you. Of course, all children have a right to be despised, but with you it just comes too easily. Isn’t that enough? Oh, and remember, don’t run along to your teachers to moan about how unfair I’m being. It didn’t work last time, did it? Everyone knows I’ve turned this school around! It has the best results in the whole of Blandfordshire. Well, apart from yours, obviously … Now, if you would leave and go back to your pathetic little existence, well, that would be lovely.’
Barney left the room as the bell went. Pupils rushed out of their classes, happy to be going home. He saw Gavin Needle and his friends, laughing in his direction.
‘Sorry, Barney,’ Gavin whispered. ‘I really thought there was a fire.’ Then he mimed pressing the alarm. ‘Oops!’
Gavin turned, saw Rissa walking down the corridor. Then in a really loud voice: ‘Oh, better go, here’s your girlfriend!’
And Barney went bright red so fast that Gavin pressed his palms against his cheeks.
‘I was right!’ the bully exclaimed, feeling the burning heat of Barney’s shame. ‘There was a fire. Right on your face!’
A Tiny, Tiny Moment in Time
‘DON’T WORRY TOO much,’ said Rissa stepping off the bus at their stop. ‘Your mum’s a good person. She’s not going to scream at you on your birthday.’
‘She might,’ said Barney. ‘But I just don’t want her to go into meltdown. She’s going to be so upset with me.’
Rissa thought. ‘Well, if you want me to stay with you and explain Miss Whipmire is a nutcase then …’
Barney looked at his friend’s face. He could see in her eyes that she was genuine. But he didn’t want to drag her into this. ‘No. It’s OK. This is my problem.’
When they were nearly at Barney’s house, he and Rissa saw a cat lying on the pavement right in front of his gate. It was just a very normal-looking cat. Not like the silver-haired, one-eyed cat Barney saw most mornings.
No. This one was just your average, run-of-the-mill black cat, with two eyes, although one of those eyes – the left – did have a patch of white around it.
‘Hello, cat!’ Rissa said, and crouched down to stroke it. ‘I so want a cat.’
‘Why don’t you get one?’ asked Barney.
‘Oh, my mum and dad say it might be a bit risky with us living on the river. But I’m, like, Come on, guys, cats aren’t stupid. They can balance on fences so they’re hardly likely to slip off a barge.’
Barney stood there as Rissa carried on stroking the little fellow.
‘Wouldn’t it be great,’ she said, ‘just lying down and being stroked by giants all day long, without a care in the world?’
At which point the cat looked towards Barney as if waiting for him to answer.
‘Yes, it would.’
‘Anyway, I’d better get going, Mister Birthday.’ Rissa stood up. She still had over a mile until she was home, but that was OK – Rissa loved walking. ‘I’m meant to be helping Dad pick vegetables at his allotment. We’re going to put them in a curry. Vegetarian, obviously. But you’re welcome to come round if you haven’t got anything better to do than sit listening to my dad singing ancient songs very badly.’
Barney thought for a moment. It certainly was tempting, especially as Rissa’s parents were about as nice as parents could get before they tipped off the edge and became friends.
But he thought of the letter in his bag, which made him feel an extra weight – far heavier than the paper and envelope themselves. The weight of dread. ‘I’d better stay in and wait for Mum,’ he told his friend. ‘I don’t want her getting more freaked out than she already will be.’
‘No worries,’ said Rissa, smiling warmly. And then she clapped a hand on Barney’s shoulder.
‘Listen, Barns, I’m there for you, OK? I know you might get in an incy-wincy bit of trouble tonight, but just think, this is only a tiny, tiny moment in time. Think of the stars. Think of our star. The sun. It is billions of years old. And it’s going to keep shining whatever happens. Look, in a year’s time this will be nothing. In ten years’ time, when you’ve got a long beard, you won’t even remember it.’