Read Playschool Online

Authors: Colin Thompson

Playschool (5 page)

Lesson: Special Breeds
Teacher: Miss Phyllis

The Toad placed a lily pad on his seat, sat on it and waited for the class to begin. It was his favourite lesson of the week: ‘Flies and Their Place in Everyday Life'. Being a toad, he knew exactly where a fly's place was. It was inside his stomach. You might think there's not much to learn about eating flies, but if you've ever swallowed a wasp you'll know it's not that simple.

Most of the other class members were less interested in today's lesson. The dogs, for example, thought flies were just a nuisance that kept trying to eat their bones and sniff their bottoms. The cats
simply thought flies were beneath contempt.
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The Special Breeds class at Quicklime's was for those children who, for one reason or another, had been turned into animals. Because there was such a wide variety of animals it wasn't so much about learning things as about keeping the children occupied all day. The classes were held in one of the outbuildings because the smell could get a bit overpowering at times – especially by Friday, when the sawdust hadn't been changed all week.

Some children, like The Toad, had been turned into animals as a punishment. Lucretia De Lager had bitten the
head off the sugar plum fairy and eaten it. She had been turned into a cat. Squire Nutkin had been changed into a squirrel simply because he had such an awful name.
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Brian Lowflush had been turned into a bird of paradise as a reward, and others, like Satanella Flood, who was a small black dog, had been changed by accident.
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Everything was different in the Special Breeds class. Animals know that there are a million more interesting, exciting and useful things than learning
how to add numbers up.
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Dog numbers are easy. There are only two numbers for them: ‘some' and ‘none'. And that's two more numbers than snails need. Of course, the teachers tried to teach the animal-kids things they thought would be useful, but statements like ‘Hello, children, today we are going to learn about French verbs' were usually greeted with replies like ‘Grrrr' or ‘Hiss' or ‘Bark off'.

In the end, they reached a compromise, which basically meant no boring stuff like Maths and Belgian and History, and lots of very interesting stuff like eating flies and spiders, catching red rubber balls and chasing small defenceless animals. Each day focused on the interests of a different type of animal and Tuesday, The Toad's favourite, was amphibians day. The favourite activity that day was playing with the dress-up box. Everyone enjoyed that, though they got annoyed when the octopus kept taking all the high-heeled shoes.

‘Right, children, spider juggling,' said Miss
Phyllis. ‘Now we all know what happened last week when Nigel tried to juggle six tarantulas, and I'm happy to tell you that he is now out of the coma. So this week we are going to start off by juggling ants.'

The only child who enjoyed this was Kevin Flamboyard, who had been turned into an anteater by an ant he had eaten who was a leprechaun in disguise and not an ant at all. Kevin flicked his tongue round the classroom and swallowed every single ant.

‘Okay, children, moving on,' said Miss Phyllis. ‘Sports day is coming up and, as you know, the Special Breeds class always puts on an event. Last year we did underwater juggling, though unfortunately we did lose a few students like Norma Jean Gorgeous the butterfly. This year we need to come up with something safe that the whole class can be in without anyone drowning or exploding. Any ideas?'

‘Tail chasing,' said Satanella.

‘Some of us haven't got tails,' said The Toad.

‘Well, you could all chase mine,' said Satanella.

‘It's an idea,' said Miss Phyllis.

‘How about tying a time bomb to her tail,'
suggested one of the rats, ‘and if we don't catch it in time, it explodes?'

Satanella reminded the rat what small dogs could do to rats. In the end it was agreed that they would chase Satanella's tail around the running track but there would be no time bombs involved.

‘How about a firework?' said the rat.

‘Everyone has their price,' said Orkward, ‘even a crappy old suitcase.'

‘But Narled can't hear you,' said The Toad.

‘I think he can,' said Orkward. ‘You just watch him closely. Don't forget that I'm here in the holidays when there's no one around. I've seen him. I think he can hear and I think he can see.'

Orkward put on his silent shoes and went down into the quadrangle, where he hid behind a small tree and waited. The quadrangle was the central point of Quicklime's. Almost everyone in the entire school passed through one of its thirteen arches at some time of the day or night, including Narled.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the tell-tale
squeak of his little wooden wheels told Orkward he was coming. The creature entered the quadrangle from the ninth arch, criss-crossed the grass and cobbles, picking up odd bits of rubbish and another forgotten iPod, and left through the seventh arch. Orkward followed him, his silent shoes completely silent even when he trod on a sheet of bubble-wrap containing a squeaky rubber bone.
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But Orkward knew that Narled knew he was there. He didn't know how, and the creature certainly gave no sign that he was aware of Orkward following him, but he knew. Orkward knew and he knew that Narled knew he knew and that Narled knew he knew he knew.

Narled went through the main gate, across the bridge over the black moat, where a class of year 5 students were being taught Underwater Japanese, and turned left along the dirt track that led down into the bottom of the valley. As he rounded a corner, he turned suddenly and slipped between two bushes.

But Orkward had seen him and followed into the dark forest that surrounded the school. When they had gone a few hundred metres into the gloom, the path ended in a small clearing and Narled stopped.

‘I need your help,' Orkward said. ‘I'll make it worth your while.'

Narled turned and faced the boy.

‘So you
can
hear me,' said Orkward.

Narled sat back on his wheels and tilted his handle to one side. Orkward thought he saw the sides of the suitcase move slowly in and out as if Narled was breathing. He looked old and tired, as only a very well-travelled suitcase can look.

‘If you help me,' said Orkward, ‘I'll polish you.'

Narled's handle quivered.

‘I'll polish you with the finest linseed oil and beeswax,' Orkward continued.

Narled's whole body quivered and gave a great sigh. ‘All you have to do is carry a small box from A to B and leave it there,' said Orkward. ‘You could do that, couldn't you?'

Narled frowned, which meant the bit of leather above his zip wrinkled a bit. He began to open his zip as if to speak, but then closed it again.

‘I'll tell you what,' said Orkward. ‘Just to show I mean it, I'll meet you here tomorrow and I'll bring the polish and a very soft black velvet cloth.'

Narled un-frowned, quivered, and turned away. The dark forest opened its branches and Narled trundled off into the darkness. Orkward tried to follow him, but the branches locked together again, barring his way. Although he wanted to go after Narled, he was, like all bullies, a terrible coward and was quite relieved that he could go no further.

‘I'll take that as a yes then,' he said and hurried back to the college.

‘Where the hell am I going to get some linseed oil and beeswax polish?' said Orkward, pacing up and down in his room.

‘Matron's got some,' said The Toad, hopping back and forth out of Orkward's way. ‘She put it on my back when I got sunburnt.'

‘Well, go and get it, you pee bottle.'

‘She won't just hand it over,' said The Toad. ‘She said it's priceless, Matron's Enchanted Wax, been in her family for generations, the same magical
self-filling tin. It was given to her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother by Merlin himself to polish King Arthur's round table.'

‘Well, go and steal it then, twit brain,' Orkward ordered.

‘I don't know where she keeps it.'

‘Well, go out and get sunburnt again.'

‘But sunshine is banished here. You know that,' whimpered The Toad. ‘When I got burnt before, it was that afternoon when He Who Must Not Be Talked About took away the clouds.'

‘He Who Must Not Be Talked About?' said Orkward. ‘Who the hell's He Who Must Not Be Talked About?'

‘I don't know, no one ever talks about him.'

‘I think you just made him up,' said Orkward, furious that he had never heard of someone so evil even his name couldn't be spoken, and so clever he could steal all the clouds. ‘I've never heard of him.'

‘That's because no one ever talks about him,' The Toad tried to explain.

‘You just did,' said Orkward. ‘Oh well, we'll just
have to improvise. Where's my massively powerful flame gun?'

‘Wh-wh-what do you want it for?' asked The Toad, thinking it might be a good time to find a cold wet stone to crawl under.

‘Well, if the sun won't burn you, I'll have to.'

‘I'd rather you didn't,' said The Toad.

‘Don't be such a baby, it won't hurt.'

‘Yes it will.'

‘Oh yes, so it will,' said Orkward. ‘But it won't hurt
me
.'

There was a big flash, a loud scream of pain and a rather pleasant smell of braised toad.

As he carried the whimpering creature to sick bay, Orkward whispered, ‘Now listen, you little slimeball. Matron will ask you how this happened and when she finds out it was me, she'll come looking for me. That's when you grab the polish and take it to our secret place, where I'll be waiting.'

‘But …' The Toad began.

‘Fail and I'll kill you,' said Orkward, dropping The Toad at the sick bay door and backing away.
‘Succeed and you'll get a big reward.'

‘Reward? Wow, what reward?'

‘I won't kill you.'

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