1st 3 chapters beast of seabourne issuu

THE BEAST OF SEABOURNE Rhys A Jones

The Storm In A Box Chapter 1 Grey April light trickled through the classroom’s grimy windows, reflecting off the surface of an inch-deep lake of dyed blue water shimmering in the base of a square Perspex tank. Just a month ago, that same tank had been the home of a goldfish called Albert. Now, a sculpted clay mountain emerged from the fish-free water at a tapered shoreline.

Oz Chambers sat hunched forward, staring at the splay of wire spaghetti taped to one of the tank’s sides. He squinted and carefully screwed one last wire to a terminal of an electrical switch. Gingerly, he repositioned the tank on the scuffed wooden desk he was working at and sat back to admire his handiwork. He grinned and looked up into the expectant faces of his two best friends, Ellie Messenger and Ruff Adams.

“Here goes,” Oz said, and flicked the switch.

“How long should it take?” Ellie asked. Nearly thirteen, she had a honeyblonde mop that kept falling forward into her face, and piercing blue eyes that turned toward the older girl behind her.

“It should take 73.6 seconds, Ellie,” the girl replied. Her voice was pleasant and devoid of any accent.

“Thanks, Soph,” Ellie said.

“That a rough guess, then, is it?” Ruff asked, arching his eyebrows.

“73.6281 seconds,” Soph replied in her usual even tone.

Ruff rolled his eyes and shook his curly head.

“Serves you right for being a sarky gonk,” Oz murmured.

Even though they all knew Soph 550.7 OS 20 was just an avatar—a human

representation of the incredible artefact known as “the obsidian pebble,” which Oz carried in his pocket—it was tough not to simply treat her as another person. Other than glowing faintly in the gloom, as if she were illuminated from within the metallicorange tunic she wore, Soph looked like, and talked like, any other normal sixteenyear-old girl. But to the three of them sitting in that dingy classroom, pretty, holographic, superintelligent Soph, and everything that she was, had become a part of their everyday existence.

Now, more than a year after she’d exploded into their lives, Oz found it almost impossible to imagine life without her. A DNA genlock ensured that the pebble responded only to Oz and to no one else in the world. The scientific experiment warming up in the tank in front of them was just the latest in a long list of things Soph had done to completely change their lives.

“What is that again?” Ruff asked, pointing to the black plastic box Oz had attached the wire to.

“That is a fan for the heat exchanger, Ruff,” Soph explained.

“Where did that come from then?”

“From a broken laptop. We got everything from that reclamation place on Marston Street. You should know; you were there,” Oz said, trying not to sound too exasperated at Ruff’s customary absent-mindedness.

“Yeah,” muttered Ellie, as she slid Ruff a scathing look, “but he got sidetracked in the discarded video game pile, remember?”

“Hey, I found Apocalypse Race to Titan there. I’d been looking for it for ages.

Ever since my buzzard lump of a brother sat on my copy,” Ruff said, snapping open the ring pull on a can of Tango and slurping from it thirstily.

Ellie made eyes to the ceiling and absently stroked a lock of hair back behind

her ear with one finger.

“Look,” Oz breathed, “it’s working.”

“Oh, wowee,” Ellie said, leaning in, “there’s steam coming off the water.”

Columns of smoky vapour from the heated water were coiling upwards and drifting towards the clay mountain, where they roiled and writhed along its flanks to congregate at its peak.

“Why isn’t the steam thin and wispy like from a kettle?” Ruff asked.

“There’s something in the water that thickens the steam up,” Ellie answered, sounding a bit irritated. “Soph’s explained all this.”

“Secret ingredient?” Ruff asked.

“The steam has been aggregated by a composite of sodium hyaluronate and a carbomer,” Soph said.

“Eye drops, remember?” Ellie said.

“Glad we cleared that up, then,” Ruff muttered, his expression as befuddled now as before he’d asked the question. Oz and Ellie weren’t listening. Their attention was focused on what was happening inside the tank. The clouds—because that was exactly what the thick steam had become—now shrouded the mountain’s peak. Pintsized bolts of lightning flashed blue and silver, and minuscule rumbles of thunder caused the Perspex walls to tremble. Suddenly, in one three-second downpour, the clouds ruptured, emptying their contents in a torrential curtain that battered the clay mountain and cascaded in small rivulets down into the agitated lake.

Ellie, Oz, and Ruff looked at one another, punched the air, and whooped, at the same time.

“That is so cool,” Ellie said. “How does the rain form again, Soph?”

“A discharge of electrostatically charged ultra-fine silica sprayed from the top

of the mountain into the clouds causes the water to coalesce, resulting in precipitation,” Soph explained.

No one spoke for several seconds, though Ruff opened and closed his mouth twice.

“All I know is we had to use a whole box of talcum powder for that, but who cares? I think it’s totally wicked,” Oz said, sitting back.

“It’s a first prize in the science project, and a free trip to Cornwall, is what it is,” Ruff said, rubbing his hands together and showing a lot of teeth.

“Maybe. But don’t forget, there’ll be strong competition,” Oz warned them.

“Dilpak Malhotra’s made a wind turbine,” Ellie said.

“And Marcus Skyrme is doing electric cars,” Oz added.

“Yeah, but no one, and I mean no one, is going to have a working model of the water cycle,” Ruff said, still grinning. “I mean, come on. Never mind the year eight science project; this is probably worth a Nobble prize at least.”

“Nobel, you gonk,” Ellie said with a sigh.

“Whatever.” Ruff shrugged.

Oz was beaming. “Thanks, Soph. It’s brilliant.”

“All I have done is provide a blueprint. The three of you have been responsible for the construction.”

“Well, it was Oz mainly,” Ellie said.

“Yeah, we didn’t get much of a look in,” Ruff added pointedly.

“Oh, come on,” Oz protested. “Ellie provided the tank, and you sculpted the mountain.”

“Yeah, but you put it all together,” Ruff said, glowering.

“I had the soldering iron. It made sense for me to put it together. Besides, I

just followed Soph’s instructions—” “—and you wouldn’t let me use sand on the mountain to make a landslide so that we could have a mini-tsunami,” Ruff added, sounding really grumpy now.

Ellie shook her head despairingly.

“Look, I know it might seem like I’ve done most of it and that I haven’t wanted you to come over much, but with all the work that’s been going on at Penwurt, I…” Oz let his voice trail off. He was fed up with apologising for the decorating and repairs that seemed to have been going on forever at his house and, more importantly, for how his mother had discouraged visitors and banned sleepovers until the mess was cleared up.

“I thought they’d already finished the basement,” Ruff said, not even trying to hide the accusatory tone in his voice.

“Almost finished, I said. But Mum had to use half the insurance money from the fire to get some of the roof fixed before they started on the basement, ’cos the chimneys still leak, and it’s all taken yonks.” He saw Ruff frown again and added weakly, “After it’s done we’ll be back to normal, and you can come over to stay whenever you like, honest.”

“It’s ages since we’ve been over,” Ruff said with a scowl.

“Over a year,” Ellie said. “Soph must be really fed up with us.”

“I know, I know,” Oz sighed as another wave of guilt sloshed over him. “But Mum’s got a thing about health and safety. The whole place has had to be inspected because of the fire. I was even banned from the orphanage block and the basement until about a week ago,” he explained, hearing the whining, pleading tone in his voice and hating himself for it.

Their sceptical expressions did nothing to ease his guilt. He wished they

would change the subject, but as usual, Ruff was being annoyingly persistent. None of them doubted that Soph was some sort of technological wonder, though they remained clueless, as indeed did the avatar herself, about where she came from and why she was now so completely a part of their lives. The answer to that mystery— what Soph referred to as her memsource—remained locked inside one of the two remaining artefacts—the two the trio had sworn to find in order to make Soph whole.

“I can’t believe there isn’t anything on the Net about the ring or the pendant,” Ruff mused, picking up on Oz’s guilty thoughts.

“I have searched all existing sources on the Internet, Ruff,” Soph said, “but the only historical data available is that with which you are already familiar.”

“It’s not going to be as easy as just Googling for them, is it?” Oz said. “The clues to the hidden passages were in my dad’s clock, remember? The Internet didn’t really help us there.”

Oz knew Ruff possessed an unshakeable faith in the Internet as an answer for just about everything. But Ruff had brilliantly cracked the code that opened the passage doors with just a pencil and paper.

“Perhaps we should go back to our original source to help Soph,” Ellie said, in a throwaway tone.

Oz and Ruff stared at her.

“What, Achmed’s in Egypt?” Ruff asked, frowning.

“No, I mean Garret and Eldred’s.”

Oz gave Ellie a thoughtful glance. He vividly remembered the old antique shop where they’d found the second artefact, the black dor, which had been mislabelled as a broken scarab brooch.

“I heard that it had closed down after the burglary,” Ruff said.

“Yeah, but Mr Eldred didn’t close down, did he?”

They were both right. Someone had found out that they’d visited the shop, and that someone had strong-armed the octogenarian shopkeeper into telling what they’d bought.

“Mr Eldred is hardly likely to welcome us with open arms,” Oz muttered.

“Not after what happened to him. Besides, my mum would go absolutely bananaramas if she found out.”

“She doesn’t have to find out, not if it’s just me and Ruff that speak to him.”

“Yeah, no worries,” Ruff said, nodding towards Ellie. “We’ll sort it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ellie said, folding her arms over her chest. “You going to poke him on Facebook, then, are you?”

“All right, action girl. Don’t get your knickers in a knot. I know that we’ll have to find out where he lives and stuff.”

Oz grinned. “Fair point. How are we going to find him?”

“Leave that with me,” Ellie said as a sly smile lit up her face. She looked around at the grimy windows and battered desks and wrinkled her nose. “Now can we go, please? This place honks of mushrooms.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Ruff said, brushing cheese-and-onion crisp crumbs off his jumper before draining the remains of the Tango in one swallow.

Oz snorted and began wrapping the tank in some old sheets he’d brought from home.

“It is safe to just leave it here overnight, you reckon?” Ellie asked.

Oz pointed to a disgusting grey-and-black stain in the shape of a giant, twoheaded, squashed toad that stretched halfway up one wall. “It’ll be fine. I know it’s horrible and fungoid but I chose it for exactly that reason. No one comes in here

because of the damp.”

“You sure about that?” Ruff asked, frowning.

“How many times have we been in here and never been disturbed?” Oz countered.

Ruff cocked his head sideways. “Loads, I know, but I’m sure I can hear—” “I’m telling you…” Oz went on, but froze as he picked up what Ruff had already heard. “…strictly out of bounds,” came a strident voice from the corridor outside.

“Oh, sugar. It’s Swinson,” Ellie hissed, grabbing Oz’s arm and staring in horror at the door.

“What are we going to do?” Ruff asked in a panicky whisper.

Oz’s insides contracted with a sickening swoop. No one ever came to this block of musty old classrooms. He searched frantically, but there was nowhere to hide, no other door to escape through. There was nothing they could do, unless…

“Soph?” Oz implored, swinging his desperate face to the avatar.

“You wish to remain concealed?” Soph asked.

“Too buzzard right we do,” Ruff blurted.

“Then please sit quietly and do not make a noise.” With that, she faded into nothingness.

“But…” The door crashed open, and two people stood in the doorway. Bright sparks flickered at the edge of Oz’s vision, as blood drained from his face into his hollow legs. He had to fight a terrible urge to duck under the desk. There, almost filling the doorway, loomed Valerie “the Volcano” Swinson, deputy headmistress at Seabourne County School. She’d earned the name from the combination of an explosive

temperament and a body shaped like an inverted traffic cone. As usual, she wore her gull-wing glasses on a string around her thick neck, but her customary pursed, accusatory expression dissolved into frowning disappointment as she peered into the dingy room. Framed in the doorway beside her was a pretty, immaculately dressed girl wearing a malicious smile, which also dissolved into instant confusion as she, too, surveyed the emptiness.

“Well?” demanded the Volcano.

“But I…I watched them come in here. I heard them talking,” the girl protested.

The Volcano’s eyebrows arched. “They seem, however, to have vanished into thin air. More importantly, this room is strictly off-limits while the education department finds the funding for repairs and re-plastering. And though I am grateful for you bringing this supposed transgression to my attention, Phillipa, in this instance it seems that you are mistaken. Though I agree this is exactly the sort of place I might expect to find Mr Chambers and his little troupe flagrantly flouting school rules, it is clear that they are not here.”

Oz’s heart thundered in his ears. It felt as if it had travelled up to just behind his Adam’s apple and was trying to drum its way out through his mouth. Ruff, Ellie, and Oz, sitting just feet away from the door, looked at one another in white-faced disbelief. Phillipa “Pheeps” Heeps, with whom Oz had a long and bitter history, was bug-eyed, looking for signs of occupation.

Several times her gaze raked across him, but her eyes slid off as if he wasn’t there. Behind her, two of her clones—part of an entourage that usually followed Pheeps around like sheep, labelled by Ruff as “Pheeps’ Creeps”—pushed their way in, their faces instant pictures of stunned bewilderment. Oz could only stare in wonder at them, standing no more than a few feet in front of his nose, looking right at him.

Looking and not seeing anything. The Volcano sighed and turned to the three girls.

“I suggest the three of you go back and make the most of what remains of the lunch break. I will keep an eye out for Oscar Chambers and his cronies, don’t you worry.”

She herded Pheeps and her Creeps out and slammed the door behind her.

Oz, realising that he’d been holding his breath, exhaled gratefully and swallowed his pulse, but his relief was short-lived. Next to him, Ruff was turning an alarming shade of purple, one hand clamped firmly over his mouth. Oz glared at him desperately, but all Ruff could do was shake his head, a look of total mortification on his face, when at that moment, from behind his hand, a loud and prolonged Tangoinduced burp erupted.

Oz looked at Ellie staring in utter disbelief at Ruff, who had clamped a second hand over his mouth to quell the laughter—or worse, another burp—that now threatened. Oz was forced to take the more drastic measure of chomping down on his knuckles to stifle a guffaw.

Without warning, the door burst open, and Pheeps thrust her beady-eyed face back in again.

“Phillipa, I must insist that you give up this nonsense,” warned the Volcano from the corridor beyond.

“But miss, I know I heard a noise this time and”—she sniffed the air, frowned, and muttered–“I can smell orange Tango and cheese-and-onion crisps…”

“Just the ancient plumbing and the fungus on the walls playing tricks with your senses,” said the Volcano. Though Pheeps ranked amongst the Volcano’s select list of favourite pupils, it was clear from the deputy head’s irritable tone that she was losing patience fast. “Come along, I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Cafeteria! Now.”

She reached out and yanked the door shut once more. A drum roll of footsteps receded down the corridor, followed by the Volcano’s ponderous footfalls, fading into silence.

Another wave of barely constrained laughter convulsed Oz’s chest in a Muttley wheeze. He sat bent over, eyes shut, trying to think unfunny thoughts and failing miserably.

Several rib-aching seconds later, Ellie got up and tiptoed to the door, opened it an inch, and peeked through the crack. Satisfied, she turned and hurled an accusation at Ruff: “You total gonk.”

“Sorry,” Ruff replied, still wearing a mortified expression. “It was the Tango.

Always makes me burp.”

“It does if you drink half the can in one go,” Ellie blurted.

This made Oz’s shoulders heave even more. He’d covered his face with his hands and felt a dribble of saliva escape the corner of his mouth, but he was so helpless with laughter, he couldn’t so much as speak, let alone think about wiping his chin. Finally, he peeked through his fingers, to find that Soph had reappeared and was watching the three of them.

“Okay, Soph,” he said, blowing out air and wiping his eyes. “How did you manage that?”

“You mean the holoshield?”

“Making us invisible is what I mean.”

“It is a simple projection of an image of the place you were sitting, taken before you sat there. What they saw from the door was how the room looked before we entered it.”

“Simple,” Ruff said with a little shrug before sending Soph a look of awe.

“Did you see Pheeps’ face?” Ellie asked.

“Looked like she’d swallowed a snail,” Oz said, grinning.

The bell went for the end of lunch, and Soph faded back into the aether, leaving Oz with the difficult decision of what best to do with the tank.

Oz’s mum had delivered the water cycle project earlier that week, when she’d picked him up from orchestra practise after school. He’d sneaked it into the fungoid room completely unseen, gambling on no one visiting the contaminated block and driven by a desperate need to show it to Ellie and Ruff and involve them in the final touches. Suddenly, after what had just happened, the wisdom of having it in school at all, with Pheeps and the Volcano on their case, seemed quite dodgy. Nevertheless, it was here now, and it was too delicate and cumbersome an object to lug around.

“Why don’t we put it in the room next door?’ Ellie suggested. “In case YouKnow-Who decides to snoop.”

“Brilliant,” Oz said. “It’s just as bad as this one.”

They carried the box through, put it above a dilapidated cupboard, and covered it with a sheet.

As they made their way to registration, Ruff kept doing impressions of Pheeps’ horrified expression, much to Ellie’s amusement, but Oz wasn’t taking much notice. After the elation of their narrow escape, his mind had turned to what the Volcano would have done had she found them in Room 62, and it was not a pleasant thought. She would have confiscated the project, for starters, and probably disqualified them just for spite.

But it was the gleeful anticipation in Pheeps’ face before she saw the room empty that really made his insides squirm. Oz wasn’t sure why she hated him so much, but hate him she did, from the deep, dark depths of her evil little soul. A soul

she’d inherited from her father, Dr Lorenzo Heeps, an interfering ex-colleague of his dad’s, who had only reached his position of Vice Chancellor of the University because Michael Chambers was no longer around to challenge him for it…

Oz squeezed his eyes shut, letting the ache that suddenly throbbed in his chest peak and die away. He’d become accustomed to it flaring whenever thoughts of his dad caught him unawares. Like with a nagging tooth, he coped with it but never managed to suppress it altogether.

The discussion with Ellie and Ruff had already stirred the murky waters of his guilt. Whereas Soph and Penwurt were intriguing mysteries to his friends, to Oz they were the keys to a prickly riddle that nettled him awake at night to lie wide-eyed and discontented, listening to his mother’s restless pacing and his own fractured heart beating, wondering why all this weirdness was happening to him. Soph and Penwurt were undoubtedly the keys to the artefacts, to finding out what had really happened to his dad, to the ache that burned inside and never really went away. And Pheeps had once again managed to reach out a meddling hand to stoke the embers of his forebodings.

The girl had talent, he had to admit.

Of course, it might have been sheer bad luck that the Volcano was in the vicinity of Room 62 today, but it was far likelier Pheeps had summoned her from the staff room through sheer spite. The year before, Pheeps had plotted to have him water-bombed in the school dance and revelled in making Oz’s life as generally unpleasant as possible at Seabourne County School. It would be the highlight of her year if he got into trouble with the Volcano.

Yet, even worse than Pheeps’ hateful interfering was the fact that her smarmy dad was in cahoots with Jack Gerber, a powerful businessman whose agents had once

set fire to Penwurt’s basement in trying to get their hands on Soph and the artefacts.

Ellie turned back and glimpsed Oz’s expression.

“You okay, Oz? You look like you’ve seen a ghost—” Oz cut her off “No, not a ghost, just a monster. The ugly side of Pheeps.”.

“Is there another side?” Ruff asked.

Oz sighed. “I don’t know. Thing is, I never know how much of her plotting and scheming is just meanness and how much of it is spying for someone else.”

That left the other two exchanging worried glances. Neither of them spoke.

There was no need. They all knew that, until the science project was over and done with, they’d all have to be on their guard. *** Oz was still pondering their narrow escape when Ms Arkwright, 2C’s form tutor, breezed through the door of Room 33, wearing her uniform of flowery maxi, leather sandals, peasant blouse, and bobbly cardigan. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from hurrying, and her frizzy hair was held back from a pretty, makeup-free face by a brightly hued Alice band. She was, as usual, late. She plonked her battered leather bag on the table, took out some papers, and shuffled vainly through them.

“Right, settle down,” she said loudly, not looking up, an order that resulted in the class taking no notice whatsoever. She sighed and tried again, upping the volume by a decibel or ten. “I said settle down.”

The noise in the room dipped by three or four notches, except from the back of the class where it was at its most raucous. That was the domain of Lee Jenkins, Kieron Skinner, and their hangers-on.

Today, Jenks had brought in a digital pen recorder capable of sampling sound bites, which it could then insert into prerecorded songs. The idea was to substitute

one’s own voice for a section of the song in a kind of micro-karaoke. Oz had seen this sort of thing advertised everywhere. Meant for making your own ringtones and the like.

But Jenks, being Jenks, had not recorded his own voice. He’d gone for a barking dog, an impression of a cow mooing, and, of course, the noise of someone blowing a raspberry.

“At least I hope it’s someone blowing a raspberry,” Ellie said when she’d heard it the first time, her face contorting in disgust.

Much to the delight of his cronies, ferret-faced Jenks kept replaying the famous chorus of “We Will Rock You” over and over, with his special modification to the lyrics being a raspberry “Brrrp” in place of the third word.

This was sending the back row into hysterics. Oz and Ruff had found it funny the first couple of times, but by the tenth they’d had enough, too. Despite Ms Arkwright’s threats of confiscation, Jenks continued to play the fool, cutting the replay down to just the raspberry every time Ms Arkwright’s eyes fell to the sheaf of papers she was still busy searching.

“I wish someone would shut him up,” Ellie groaned as Skinner snorted a snotty giggle in response to another Brrrp.

“Agreed,” said Oz, in a tone that drew inquisitive glances from both Ellie and Ruff. “I think I heard Skinner say it has Bluetooth connectivity.”

Quickly and without fuss, Oz slipped his hand into his pocket and found the tiny raised emblem on the maker’s mark of the pebble. He pressed gently and felt a familiar tingle in his head, which meant Soph had connected with him. Even though she had not shown herself, he knew now she could hear him.

“Right, how about we change Jenks’ tune a bit,” he whispered so that only

Ellie and Ruff could hear.

Instantly from the back row, the tinny but intrusive sound of the chorus to “Who Let The Dogs Out” erupted. Sung, moreover, in Jenks’ and Skinner’s highly recognizable voices, with Ms Swinson’s name in place of the dogs.

Ms Arkwright looked up, mouth and eyes three circles of horrified astonishment.

In the back row, there was uproar.

“I thought you deleted that,” Jenks said, hurling a mortified glare at Skinner.

He’d gone for a stage whisper, but he might as well have shouted it out for the whole school to hear.

“I did,” Skinner replied, trying ham-fistedly to turn the recorder off.

The class was mesmerized.

“Press that button,” hissed Jenks.

Despite their best efforts, the song continued to repeat itself, to the amusement of Oz and his classmates.

“Then take the batteries out,” pleaded Jenks.

“Batteries, right, batteries.”

“Give it here.” Jenks snatched the recorder back.

The refrain died abruptly, leaving a nasty silence in its wake.

“I’ll have that.” Ms Arkwright, who’d walked silently to the rear without Skinner or Jenks noticing, held out her hand.

The room remained quiet. Gladiator quiet. Waiting for the lion to pounce quiet.

Jenks gave her the instrument, his face like a kicked blanket.

“Thank you, Lee,” Ms Arkwright’s smile was sickly sweet. ”Very

entertaining. As a choice of signature tune, I preferred the first one. It suits you very well, being as it’s the noise of something uncontrollable and rather loud.”

The whole class laughed, including Skinner, until he got a filthy look from a scowling Jenks.

“Good one, Oz,” whispered Ruff, with thumbs-up.

“Good one, Soph, more like,” Ellie added.

Hearing this, and keen to deflect his humiliation and anger onto someone else, Jenks turned to glower at Oz. “What are you laughing at, Chambers?” he growled as Ms Arkwright busied herself with the register.

“Don’t know. The label fell off ages ago.”

“Keep trying and one day you might actually say something funny. We’ll see who’s laughing this weekend after I score a hat trick against you.”

“Dream on,” Oz said with a cold smile.

Slouching in the desk across the aisle from Jenks, Skinner simply sneered.

Both played in the same mixed Sunday football league as Oz, Ellie, and Ruff did.

Jenks and Skinner’s team was called the Skullers, and since losing their unbeaten record to Ellie and Ruff’s Lions team the season before—thanks almost entirely to a guest appearance by Oz in goal—Jenks and Skinner had found a special place for the three of them in their scheming hearts.

Football was the weapon of choice when it came to physical combat, but that didn’t stop Skinner and Jenks from trying all sorts of ways to get one over on their enemies. Not in the same bracket of malevolence as Pheeps, they were nevertheless annoying twits who couldn’t be trusted for one minute.

“Right,” said Ms Arkwright, settling herself at her desk (which was decorated with posters of rain forests and threatened species, both high on the list of Ms

Arkwright’s passions). “I do have a few announcements. First of all, the jazz orchestra will be practising for the Easter concert on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 12:45.

Arrangements for early dinner can be made through me or Mr Fidler. Ms Swinson has asked me to remind you all that the girls’ toilet in the sports hall is still blocked, and she would still like to know who stuffed a copy of The Collected Poems of Sylvia Plath down the pan.”

There were a few muted sniggers and one strangled cheer.

Ms Arkwright looked up and waited for silence before consulting a handwritten sheet on her desk and continuing. “Ms Swinson also wishes me to remind you that Rooms 60 to 68 in the old block are out of bounds due to the leaking roof and wet rot. Anyone caught in these rooms will be severely punished. And be afraid, be very afraid, because that has been underlined. Twice. In red.”

For one brief moment, Oz thought he saw Ms Arkwright send a warning glance his way, but at that second there was a loud knock on the door.

Mr Skelton, the science teacher, didn’t wait to be invited in. New this year and frighteningly keen, he wore striped shirts with thin ties, sported a buzz cut, and had a thing for mirrors, judging from the amount of time he spent looking into them.

As a teacher, he wasn’t bad, which was more than could be said for his jokes.

He also had teeth that made up almost a third of his face and seemed to glow of their own accord whenever he switched on his smile, which he often did for Ms Arkwright.

Oz, Ellie, and Ruff were still not quite sure what to make of him.

“Ah, Mr Skelton,” Ms Arkwright said with grim politeness. “Come in… again.”

Since Mr Skelton was by now only a yard away from Ms Arkwright, who stood in the middle of the room, her moot invitation induced a look of bewilderment

on his face. Since he was as thick-skinned as the African elephant that looked out over the class from the poster beside the door, he quickly recovered.

“Sorry to burst in like this, Madeline, just wanted to pop round to all of year eight to remind them of tomorrow’s deadline.”

Ms Arkwright opened her mouth, but before she could speak Mr Skelton stepped forward to address the class.

From behind him, Oz heard Tracy Roper sigh. Several of the girls thought Mr Skelton was “lush.” Even Ellie grudgingly admitted that he looked a lot like the leading man in the latest blockbuster, Steelcop. Regardless, neither Oz nor Ruff could see the slightest resemblance, and both thought he was far too keen for his own good.

Skelton cleared his throat. “The closing date for all entries into the year eight science project is 9:30 tomorrow morning. I repeat, 9:30. That will give some of you the chance for parents to bring in anything you need from home. Not that any of you need reminding, I’m sure.”

There came a muffled raspberry sound from the back. No one laughed, although there were a few choked titters.

“Thank you, Mr Skelton,” Ms Arkwright said. “Consider them all reminded.

Now if you’ll just excuse us…”

Unfortunately, Mr Skelton had not quite finished. “I am so excited about this, the first science project competition ever at Seabourne County.”

“So I gather.” Ms Arkwright counterfeited a smile and didn’t bother to rearrange her mouth when she muttered, “This being the third time you’ve been in this week.” She turned to the class and added brightly, “I think that by now we’ve well and truly realised just how excited you are.”

“Ah,” Mr Skelton said, with the air of someone just about to pull a rabbit out

of a hat, “but what you didn’t know is that the headmaster has managed to obtain sponsorship for the winning team to go on the end-of-term science field trip to North Cornwall completely free, and”—he paused for effect—“those same sponsors, namely JG Industries, are going to present the winners with brand-new laptops.”

Several people in the class made “oooh” noises.

“Not only that, but thanks to the Headmaster’s close ties with Seabourne University, he has also managed to obtain the services of the Vice Chancellor, Doctor Lorenzo Heeps, to adjudicate.”

Oz’s stomach clenched. How on earth had Heeps and Gerber managed to muscle in on this? He glanced at Ruff. He, however, seemed not to have picked up on this bombshell, being too busy enjoying the spectacle of Skelton trying to impress Hippy Arkwright.

“So, those of you yet to finish, get a move on. And if anyone hasn’t started, you have twenty-four hours,” Skelton said.

“Surely,” said Ms Arkwright, “it’s a little late for anyone to start a project now if they haven’t already done so.”

“Never too late, Madeline. That’s my motto.”

Ms Arkwright was still smiling at him, though her brows had gathered at his insistent use of her first name. Oz sensed that she clearly thought Skelton not only presumptuous but also a bit bonkers. At the front, several people put their hands up.

“Sir,” asked Marcus Skyrme, “will it be the top twenty in the science class as well as the winners of the project who get to go on the field trip?”

“Alas, no. There are only twenty-two seats on the minibus. Therefore, only twenty students in total will get the opportunity to visit Bodmin Moor and the nearby coast and enjoy the rambles and ‘special treats’ dreamt up by none other than myself.”

A few excited whispers rustled through the class.

“Shame that not everyone in the year can go,” Ms Arkwright said, adding a little admonishing tilt of her head.

“Indeed. However, we’re limited by the size of the minibus. Even so,” he continued jovially, leaning in Ms Arkwright’s direction, “there is one seat left for a female member of staff if you’d care to accompany us, Ms Arkwright.” If Skelton’s grin got any wider, his face would split in half.

“Thank you, but no,” Ms Arkwright said firmly.

“Really?” Mr Skelton said, donning a crestfallen expression. He leaned in a bit more and whispered, “I’m sure you would find it both educational and enjoyable.”

“Camping out on a moor in April? Okay, I’ll give it some thought.” Ms Arkwright looked pensively at the ceiling for all of two seconds before adding, “Right, thought about it, and the answer is still no.”

All of 2C laughed. Okay, Hippy Arkwright was a bit flaky, and a tad too earnest for Oz’s liking, but she’d stood up for him when a gonk of a maths teacher had accused him of cheating in year seven exams. That, in Oz’s book, made her definitely one of the good guys.

Mr Skelton stiffened. He looked like he was about to protest but thought better of it and, pink-faced, turned to leave just as the bell went.

“I thought Skelton was going to throw a hissy fit,” Ruff said as the three of them headed for geography a short time later.

“It’s obvious he fancies Hippie Arkwright rotten,” Ellie said.

“I thought she and Mr Gingell had a thing going.” Ruff said.

“They do. Have had for months. Skelton’s got no chance.”

“Still, it would have been great if Ms Arkwright could have come with us.

Now it’s going to be Ms Ladrop.” Ruff shook his head. “That’s two seats on the bus gone already. One and a half for her and the other half for the Krispy Kreme donuts she’s always stuffing in her face.”

Ms Ladrop taught business studies and was built, as Ruff had so aptly put it, like a “bowling ball on legs.” She also fancied Mr Skelton, judging by the way she fanned her face whenever he passed her in the corridor.

But Oz didn’t really mind who supervised them on the field trip. He just looked forward to it, because it meant Ellie, Ruff, and he would be together, away from school, and away from idiots like Jenks and Skinner, who had about as much chance of being in the science top twenty as next door’s cat had of winning Crufts. It was going to be great and he, for one, was looking forward to it immensely.

The one thing detracting from the pleasant tingle of anticipation he felt nagged at him as he followed the others to geography.

“What’s up with you?” Ellie asked, seeing the worry lines on his forehead.

“I don’t like the thought of Heeps and Gerber having their paws in this.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean that it has anything to do with”—Ellie dropped her voice as a gaggle of students passed—“Soph or the artefacts or anything.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Well, yeah, but I mean Heeps is the vice chancellor of the Uni, and it’s natural for him to show an interest in something educational,” she said. “And as for Gerber…well, he’s trying to get as much publicity as possible for his business, isn’t he? After all, we’re exactly the people who’ll be buying his games and stuff.”

Oz nodded grudgingly. JG Industries, Gerber’s business, was developing a revolutionary new game console called SPEXIT, which was set to change the way people played video games. Oz had given these games a go once or twice, through his

friends the Fanshaw twins, and had to admit they were pretty amazing.

“Maybe you’re right,” Oz said, at the same time wishing he had even a quarter of Ellie’s optimism.

“And maybe she’s wrong,” Ruff said. “I’m with you, Oz. Mr Heeps is a smarmy gonk. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could spit.”

“Three yards, then,” Ellie said, and Oz knew she was trying to make him feel better.

It didn’t work. *** All through geography, the clenched knot of anxiety remained, and was still there when Oz said goodbye to Ellie and Ruff and boarded the school bus. He found a seat and let his mind examine the threads of his concern in detail.

Okay, there was a chance Ellie was right. Perhaps there were good and genuine reasons why Heeps and Gerber were now part of the science project.

Nevertheless, they were Puffers, false alchemists who desperately wanted to get their hands on Soph and the other artefacts for their own greedy and despicable reasons. Oz had been warned about these men and how they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted.

It was a bright, breezy afternoon. Oz stared out at the streets and houses as he trundled homewards, tuned out the noisy year sevens behind him, and tried to think good thoughts. The one that usually helped was remembering the night Soph first appeared to him. The stormy night, Christmas before last, when Soph had come to life and given him the best Christmas present he had ever had. In the library at Penwurt, Soph had shown him a vivid 3D holotrack of how Oz’s dad had found the obsidian pebble in the bazaar in Cairo, the day before he died. Since Dr Michael Chambers had

been dead for over two years by then, seeing him walking and talking in 3D had been nothing short of miraculous.

The obsidian pebble, the black dor, the ceramic ring, and the pendant were the names given to the four artefacts comprising Soph by the people who first found them. Understandably so, since in 1761 no one had ever seen anything at all like them, and it was assumed that such artefacts were nothing but ornaments. Then Oz remembered Ellie’s suggestion of going back to where they’d found the dor—to the shopkeeper, Mr Eldred—to ask about the other artefacts. For too many months, Oz had put off the search. Because…because the truth was, the quest was difficult. It was hard and it was scary, and he’d lulled himself into believing that maybe Gerber and his Puffers weren’t going to try and get to him anymore.

Yet, all along he’d had a sneaking suspicion that, by not doing anything, he’d been playing into their hands. Giving them time to plan and scheme.

But what exactly had they been planning and scheming about? Surely nothing as meaningless as a year eight science project! He knew what Ellie would have said if he’d shared these thoughts with her: “Stop being so paranoid and think about winning the damn thing instead.” Ellie absolutely hated losing, and she was probably dead right about him being paranoid, too.

So Oz sat back in his seat and imagined the look on Jenks’ face when he, Ellie, and Ruff won. Half a minute later his lips formed into a secret little smile, and he felt a lot better.

EXILED Chapter 2 Oz jumped off the bus at his usual stop and headed for the vast and crumbling house he shared with his mother at the top end of Magnus Street. Spring had well and truly arrived on the street that afternoon; its trees were alive with buzzing insects and pink with blossom. Above him, gulls wheeled and bugled, on the hunt for food as usual. His dad had told him that, when the gulls came inland, it usually meant a change in the weather. Dad was right; the lumpy, pigeon-coloured clouds from earlier were breaking up. Oz paused at Number 11 to let the friendly dog lick his fingers through the gate. When he’d done that, he took a deep breath and felt the reassuring tingle that inhaling Magnus Street air always triggered in him. He never failed to enjoy the walk along the once-grand avenue, and this afternoon, with rare spring sunshine warming his back, he welcomed the chance to clear his head.

By the time he reached Number 5, where he normally crossed the street, the dark thoughts that had preoccupied him on the journey home were fading fast.

However, there was one way to get them properly out of his system. He needed to talk to someone who shared his concerns.

Waiting to let traffic pass before crossing, Oz looked across at Penwurt and felt a smile creep over his face. It was a solid sandstone building with mullioned windows, crenellated parapets, amazing bartizans, and three spindly chimneys pointing crookedly upwards, like arthritic fingers, at some invisible wonder in the increasingly blue April sky. Despite its temperamental plumbing, its leaky roof, and its creaking doors, Oz thought it was the best house in the whole world. The sort of place where anything could happen, as he, Ellie, and Ruff had already discovered.

Whenever he opened the iron-studded oak door and crossed the threshold, he still felt a little ripple of excitement as to what fresh mystery Penwurt was waiting to reveal to him.

The newest bit of the house had been built on the burnt-out site of Bunthorpe barn, a building that had featured in countless ghost-story books. The Bunthorpe Encounter was still classified as one of the few authenticated supernatural occurrences in Britain. Oz, Ellie, and Ruff now knew the apparition that had appeared there in 1761 had really been their very own Soph. But they weren’t about to tell the world that.

Oz crossed the street and glanced at the scaffolding still up around the chimneys. It did not appear much progress in the way of repairs had taken place since he’d left that morning. He let himself in and hung his backpack on a coat hook. At the end of the hallway, the door that led through to the old orphanage was open. Oz frowned. Left unlocked during the daytime recently to allow the decorators access, it was never, ever left wide open like this because of the dust and the smell. Indeed, the reek of fresh paint was obvious in the hallway and made Oz wrinkle his nose.

He headed for the kitchen and a much-needed glass of cold milk but, after just three steps, caught himself. He heard voices, and one of them was mentioning his name.

“And Oscar? I expect he knows all about the old place, doesn’t he?” It was a woman’s voice, throaty and unfamiliar.

“World expert,” said a second voice that Oscar immediately recognized as his mother’s.

“Then I’ll just have to grill him for the nitty-gritty.”

Intrigued, Oz stepped forward to show himself. Gwen Chambers, Oz’s mum,

sat at the kitchen table. She had a flop of untamed blonde hair above pale blue eyes, and her pretty face was tainted only by the expression of constant worry that dragged at the corners of her mouth. It was the face of someone engaged in constant battle to make ends meet in a house that was ten times too big for just the two of them.

The owner of the other voice sat opposite Oz’s mother. The woman was remarkable for several reasons, not the least of which the way her heavily made-up eyes scanned Oz from head to foot as he stood on the threshold. He had a sudden urge to twitch his nose and sprint for cover, like a rabbit confronted with a hungry fox. He knew it was rude to stare back, but there was a lot to take in, what with waist-length feathery black hair tinged with red streaks, trowelled-on mascara, bright green eye shadow, and lips painted aubergine. Not to mention a long, black dress with tight sleeves and an electric-green crystal necklace glinting around her neck.

“Hi, sweetie,” Ms Chambers said, and tapped her uplifted cheek for a kiss.

Oz felt his face rearrange itself into a wry scowl; she didn’t usually call him “sweetie.” But he kissed her obediently while the streak-haired lady watched and gave an approving smile.

“Oz, I want you to meet Rowena Hilditch,” Ms Chambers announced.

Oz reached across and shook Rowena Hilditch’s cool, limp hand.

“Hello, Oz,” she said gruffly. He guessed Rowena Hilditch was trying for a Narcissa/Bellatrix look. Unfortunately, it ended up being more swamp witch. Her voice reminded him of his school bus driver, Mr Blacenko, a constantly humming man who stank of tobacco smoke, sweat, and cooked meat and spoke as if he gargled every night with gravel.

“Someone from the book club told her about us, and she’s come to Penwurt to do some research. There’s a possibility she may even rent some rooms. Isn’t that

great?” Ms Chambers said, bringing Oz back from his Mr Blacenko reverie with a start.

“What an amazing place this is. Aren’t you lucky to live here?” Rowena Hilditch gushed.

“Yeah, I am,” Oz said, latching on to something his mother had said that bothered him almost as much as the words rent some rooms. “What sort of research?”

Rowena Hilditch leaned forward and dropped her voice to a dramatic halfwhisper. “I’m a student of the arcane, Oz. I believe firmly there are many more things in heaven and earth than that which we can perceive with our blunt senses. There is another world all around us, one that remains hidden except to a few. I am happy to say that I am one of those few.” She half-shut her eyes when she spoke, so her eyelids flickered constantly, as if she were in a trance. Oz felt he ought to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

“Rowena is writing a book about local legends, called Supernatural Seabourne,” Ms Chambers explained in reverential tones. “I’ve already given her the quick tour.”

That explained the open door to the orphanage.

“What sort of local legends?” Oz asked.

“Hauntings, famous ghostly sightings. Like the one-armed boy in the old hat factory and the Beast of Seabourne, that kind of thing.”

“Beast of Seabourne?” Oz said, unable to hide the scoffing note in his voice.

“That’s just an old wives’ tale, isn’t it?”

“I beg to differ.” Rowena Hilditch’s long eyelashes fluttered madly. “In the mid-eighteenth century, people were scared to leave their houses for fear of being torn to pieces.”

After a pause, Oz said, “Wow.” “And,” Ms Chambers went on, “Rowena knows a lot about alternative therapies. She’s going to try and help me with my headaches.”

“Alternative therapies? What, like foot massages and that sort of stuff?”

“Oh, but it is so much more than that,” Rowena Hilditch said with a throaty laugh that revealed quite a lot of pink gums above her teeth. “Horsey” was the adjective that sprang into Oz’s head. And though she tried to sound airy, Oz thought he saw her eyes harden as she fixed him with a defiant stare. “I’m a naturopath, Oz. I like to reach into a person’s inner self to root out the cause of ill health and allow the body’s natural, innate wisdom to heal it.”

“Right,” Oz said, not having the faintest idea what she was talking about.

“Rowena says we should think about turning the orphanage into a spiritual retreat,” Ms Chambers said with a nervous giggle.

“A what?”

“There’s a huge demand for the real thing. Places where there have been real documented hauntings,” Rowena explained. “This sort of place has its own energy. I can feel it.” She grinned. It was not a pretty sight. Oz half-wondered if she’d like a lump of sugar. “I could help draw people in, do some readings from my books, and offer holistic counselling. I’ve been searching for the right place for ages. I’m telling you, Gwen, we”—she smiled and corrected herself—“you could make a small fortune.”

“But, Mum…” Oz interjected.

“It would be a real boost for us,” said Ms Chambers, a little too quickly for Oz’s liking. “Since we haven’t had any tenants apart from Caleb for over six months.”

“Yeah, but now that the basement is done and the leaks in the roof—”

“Continue to leak,” she interrupted. “The roofers didn’t come again today.

Besides, it’s too late for this academic year even if everything did, by some miracle, get finished this week. This year’s students have all got somewhere to stay already.

So, I thought we’d take advantage of the situation and get the rooms in the old servants’ wing decorated too. Rowena has some great ideas.”

“Purple and green are really in at the moment. Colours are so important to the well-being of the mind, you know.” Rowena tilted her head and batted her eyelashes.

Oz turned towards the fridge. He poured some milk and tried not to listen to his mother becoming enthusiastic about Rowena Hilditch’s suggestions for which aromatherapy candle to put in what corner to get the “maximum holistic effect.” It was like he’d been parachuted into another country where they spoke a different language. He waited patiently for a lull in the conversation and said, “Uh, I’m just going to get on with my homework, okay, Mum?” “Ooh, anything interesting?” Rowena Hilditch asked.

“Bit of geography and some science—” “Science,” she repeated in a voice dripping with contempt. “They still teaching that old con?”

Once again, Oz was lost for a reply. Ms Chambers, sensing that the waters of this conversation were becoming a little choppy, cleared her throat and said in an unnecessarily chirpy tone, “Off you go, Oz. You and Rowena can have a good long chat the next time.”

“Absolutely,” Rowena Hilditch said. “I want to know all about this special library of yours.”

There wasn’t much Oz could think of to say that wasn’t rude, so he smiled his best toothless smile and left.

A stone staircase led from the kitchen up to Oz’s bedroom on the second floor.

He’d reached the first floor landing when a scream from below made him almost spill his milk. He quickly balanced the glass on a step and hurtled back to the kitchen.

Rowena Hilditch had her back against the wall, arms splayed out, pinioned to it by some invisible force. She was staring wild-eyed at the window, where Ms Chambers was stretching up with a tea towel and swatting at something that fluttered just out of her reach.

“What is it?” Oz asked.

“Daddy longlegs,” squealed Rowena Hilditch.

“Rowena is arachnophobic,” said Ms Chambers without looking around.

Oz looked up and saw the spindly-legged insect trying to escape through the window.

“Flying spiders, ugh,” Rowena Hilditch said.

“It’s not a spider,” Oz said. “Technically, it’s a fly.”

“They say it has the most deadly poison of all spiders,” she said with horror, flashing him a desperate glance.

Oz shook his head. “It’s not a spider. It’s a crane fly. And all that stuff about poison is rubbish, anyway. It’s just a myth. It said so on Mad Dan the Science Man on TV.” His mother threw the tea towel up at the insect. It missed by a foot. Oz couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Mum, how about if I do it?”

He grabbed a chair, stood on it, and captured the daddy longlegs gently in his fist. He walked past a cowering Rowena Hilditch and out into the back garden, where he let the wispy insect go. As he stepped back into the kitchen, he felt two arms

engulf him in a hug, and suddenly he was almost choking in a haze of strong perfume.

“Thank you. Thank you,” Rowena Hilditch said.

“Any time,” Oz said, disentangling himself quickly and offering her a stunted smile.

“Another cup of tea, Rowena?” Ms Chambers asked.

“No, I must be off. Now that Oz here has rid the room of the deadly creature, I think it’s safe for me to leave. I don’t want to be late for my ear candling class.”

Oz frowned but kept quiet. A bit of him wanted desperately to know what ear candling was, but if it meant delaying Rowena Hilditch’s departure, he’d rather live in ignorance. Before leaving, she took a small bottle out of her carpetbag. “This will help your headaches, Gwen; I guarantee it. Tincture of hemlock.”

“Isn’t hemlock poisonous?” Oz asked in alarm.

“Ah, yes. But this tincture is made from a hemlock leaf that has been photographed and imprinted onto rice paper, which is then dissolved to one part per million. It is the spiritual essence of the leaf that is captured. I’m sure it will work like a charm.”

Oz did not reply. He stood aside to let Rowena Hilditch pass and caught another nose-full of Essence of Vampire Moon, or whatever hanging Goth pong she was wearing. The thought that some dissolved rice paper bearing the image of a hemlock leaf could cure anything was, he found, a little beyond him. How anyone could be so scared of a fly, even if it did look a bit like a spider, was beyond him, too.

He grabbed his backpack from the hook in the hall, shook his head, and turned for the stairs. Some people were very odd. Why they all seemed to end up visiting Penwurt, he had no idea. In the hallway, he heard the tail end of a conversation. “…have to speak to my landlord. I expect he’ll want a month’s notice. But you

have no objection if I call now and then?”

“Come any time after ten. I’m here most mornings.”

Oz didn’t like the sound of that. On first impression, the prospect of Rowena Hilditch becoming a regular part of Penwurt life did not fill him with enthusiasm.

Neither did the idea that Penwurt could be transformed into a B & B for ghost hunters.

Oz saw the door to the orphanage was still open. He stood on the threshold and looked into the atrium. There was no denying it; the place was old and was pretty spooky, even on a bright April afternoon. All the walls had needed painting after being blackened by the basement fire, and now they gleamed a silky pale yellow. New varnish glinted on the handrails of the sweeping staircase leading to the first floor, and even the weird chandelier, with a hunting falcon at its centre, had benefited. When they'd lowered it to the ground to clean and paint it, Oz had sneaked in for a look and been astounded by the intricacy of the wrought ironwork. Beneath the magnificent falcon, interspersed between the chandelier’s fifteen candle sconces split into two tiers, small iron birds perched on the interwoven rim in the shape of a twig wreath. Two birds between each light fitting on the smaller tier, one on the larger. Each sconce was also marked with an inscribed alchemical symbol, confirming its pedigree as a uniquely Penwurt piece, thanks probably to Squire Worthy. Now back in its rightful placed hanging from the ceiling, it gleamed magnificently.

Oz closed the door. Next to it was another staircase, this one descending and far less grand. With a little shiver, Oz stepped down into the basement.

Once, long before it had passed into his mum and dad’s hands, it had been a storage space full of iron bed frames and old orphanage furniture. Somehow, the

Chambers had never got around to clearing it out.

Fire had gutted the basement. Crews of workmen had cleared the rubble and finally scrubbed away the soot, once the insurance money was available. Now, devoid of decorators’ ladders and dustsheets for the first time in months, it was just a very large, very empty, very fresh-painted cavern, whose gratifyingly thick stone and concrete walls had protected the rest of the house from the flames.

Oz still felt his scalp contract at remembering when he’d last been in this room, the night before Soph had made herself known to him. He could still vividly feel the cold seat of the steel chair he’d been strapped to. Still feel the electric cable brush against his face. Still feel his utter helplessness as one of Gerber’s men tried to power up the obsidian pebble, knowing that, once they’d established a connection, he’d be expendable.

The man who’d done all that had tricked his way into Penwurt by pretending to be a student lodger. Rollins had done such a good job of hiding in plain sight that he had become his mother’s favourite fixit man. Yet all the while he had been spying, acting on Gerber’s instructions, and searching for the artefact, which had been under his, and Oz’s, very noses, in Michael Chambers’ study. Of course, as far as the police were concerned, there had been no proof Rollins was anything but a lone operator bent on robbery and violence; Gerber was far too careful and powerful an opponent to allow the authorities to believe anything else.

Oz shuddered. He would not have survived had it not been for Soph’s help, yet it was still difficult to believe that someone had been so intent on doing him so much harm.

Oz picked the milk up on his way back upstairs, threw his backpack on his bed, and pulled the obsidian pebble from his pocket, letting his thumb rest on the little

silver genlock button in its base. Soph appeared instantly. She would stay visible until he told her to go away or, like the power-saving mode on his laptop, disappear if he didn’t talk to her for ten minutes. She was also quite good at disappearing when other people, other than Ellie and Ruff of course, came around.

“Right. Mum’s new friend, Rowena Hilditch, is terrified of daddy longlegs and says they’re spiders and that they have the most lethal poison. Right or wrong?”

Soph tilted her head. “The daddy longlegs is a crane fly, Oz. It is not a spider.

She may be confusing the crane fly with the daddy longlegs spider, Pholcus phalangioides, which is venomous and has fangs. The venom is mild, however, and does not harm humans.”

“Thought so. She’s mental and sounds like a quack, end of. Let’s hope she gets fed up with the leaks and the drafts and zooms off on her broomstick before she turns this place into the Freak Hotel. I don’t know where Mum finds them, I really don’t.” Oz began sorting through his books. “Umm, I need some stuff on the Norwegian fjords for Gingell.”

Soph’s amazing grey eyes brightened momentarily before she said, “I have uploaded some information to your laptop.”

“Don’t fancy writing five hundred words for me, do you?” Oz asked. “I’ve got loads of stuff to do.”

Soph tilted her head once more. Being a superintelligent avatar, she was incapable of emotion, but the way she tilted her head like that sometimes made Oz wonder.

“You agreed with your mother that I would not do your homework, Oz. I can assist but not provide the end result.”

Oz groaned. Soph’s existence had finally convinced Ms Chambers that the

artefacts were more than just figments of his dad’s imagination. And she was more than happy to get Soph to help with the house accounts and the odd piece of research for her proofreading work. However, when it came to Oz and school, Ms Chambers had put her foot down and drawn up a series of commandments. And at number one was “You shall not use Soph to do all your school work for you.”

“It’s a stupid rule,” Oz muttered.

Soph looked at him impassively. The silence was broken by Oz’s phone beeping.

“Great, Caleb’s home. Right, I need to talk to him about some stuff. How about you at least find me some sample essays on the importance of fjords in Norwegian commerce?”

“I will be able to provide some examples, naturally.”

“Terrific,” Oz said, shaking his head and wondering for the hundredth time why he’d let his mother talk him into not letting Soph do at least skeleton essays. He left her to it and hurried over to the other wing of the house, where Ms Chambers rented out rooms.

Dr Caleb Jones was busy packing a suitcase in his bedroom when Oz entered.

Through the bay window, one could look out and see the rooftops of Seabourne below. In the distance, the huge dockside cranes reared their gantries like the necks of giant wading-birds.

“Hey, Oz,” Caleb said, looking up from the notes on the desk. “What’s up?”

As a lecturer in the history department at the University, Caleb had been a friend and colleague of Oz’s father. He’d lodged at Penwurt almost since the Chambers had inherited the place. More importantly, he was also a member of Obex, the secret society sworn to keep the artefacts from falling into the hands of the Puffers at all

costs.

“Geography homework,” Oz said.

“Isn’t Soph helping you?”

“A bit. But, as usual, Mum says it’s good for me to do it myself.”

“Maybe she has a point.”

Oz made a face and threw himself into a battered armchair, his expression set.

“Guess who’s providing prizes for the year eight science project.”

Caleb shrugged, brows raised in a way that highlighted the deep furrow that was always there. Oz knew he’d probably shaved that morning, but it still looked like he needed to again.

“JG Industries.”

“What?” Caleb drew himself up, his long brown hair falling back from where it had tumbled onto his face.

“And worse than that, Skelton has even got Heeps to be the judge.”

“I think you’d better explain.”

Oz quickly ran through what Skelton had announced that afternoon about the science project and Heeps’ offer of prizes to the winning team. Caleb listened intently, the lines in his forehead deepening as Oz proceeded.

“And you think they’re up to something?” he asked finally.

“Well, yeah,” Oz said, before adding in a more hesitant tone, “though Ellie thinks I’m just being paranoid.”

“We both know that you have good reason to be suspicious.”

“So, what do you think?”

“I think you all need to be very, very careful,” Caleb said, his voice a low rumble.

“Trouble is, we think we’re in with a great chance of winning.”

“Are we talking about that goldfish tank you’ve been fiddling with for months?” ”It’s a working model of the water cycle, actually,” Oz said, piqued. “It’s totally brilliant, and Ellie and me could both do with new laptops, which is what the prize is. But if Heeps is judging, we’ve got no chance.”

“Hmmm,” Caleb said, going back to stuffing socks down the side of his case.

“You never know. Maybe you winning is exactly what Gerber and Heeps want.”

Oz frowned and let out a long exhalation through his nose. Not knowing what was going on in Gerber’s mind was one of the things that Caleb and he quite often discussed. There was a long beat of silence broken only by the distant noise of traffic on the street below and the eerie call of a gull above.

Oz stood and walked to the window. At the junction of Magnus Street and Lockheed Avenue, a van was turning right. It had a giant antenna on the roof and a blue JG Telecom logo emblazoned on its side. Oz was seeing them everywhere these days now that JG Industries had branched out into satellite dishes and TVs. “Oh, and Ruff and Ellie have decided that we’ve been ignoring Soph and the missing artefacts for too long,” Oz said, turning back to face the room. “So we’ve finally decided to go back to Mr Eldred to see if he knows anything about the ring or the pendant.”

“Eldred?” Caleb said, adding a mildly scoffing laugh. “What could he possibly know?”

Oz shrugged. “He knew all about the dor. And anyway, we’ve run out of other ideas. I just hope he’ll see us. After what happened, I mean.”

“I don’t think your mother’s going to be very happy at the thought of you

bothering him,” Caleb said, rubbing at the stubble on his chin.

Oz frowned. There was no doubting the truth of Caleb’s warning. Though Ms Chambers had accepted Soph as proof positive of the artefacts’ existence, she was adamant that Oz not pursue the quest his father had been preoccupied with— searching out the remaining two. His father had died on returning from Egypt, where he’d been engaged in exactly that activity. In his mother’s mind, the two things were inextricably linked. On the one occasion Oz had enthusiastically shared a piece of research he’d found, her response had been taciturn and full of wary warning.

“Oz, I don’t mind you having Soph; she’s wonderful, and I know if she’s with you, you’ll be safe. I think that keeping her secret is very wise, too. The fewer people that know about her, the better. I can just imagine what the authorities might do… But digging around for these other artefacts—” She’d shaken her head. “It’s too dangerous, Oz. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.” To Oz’s horror, she’d emitted one convulsive sob and started to cry. “Your father…your father was just the same. Desperate to find out things, and just look what curiosity did for him.”

It was a difficult memory to ignore, but he had to. He didn’t want to do anything to upset his mother, but Ellie was right; he owed it to Soph and his father to find out the truth.

“Yeah, I know,” Oz said. “But Ellie thinks it’s worth a shot.” He hesitated, studying Caleb’s wary face before saying, “So, I was wondering…maybe if you would talk to him?”

There was another awkward, drawn-out silence, which ended with Caleb shaking his head. “I don’t know, Oz. Mr Eldred is an old man. His memory might not be what it used to be. Besides, I’m not going to be around for a while.” He turned

back to folding shirts in readiness for the bag, his long hair hanging forward, his thin frame silhouetted against the window.

Oz frowned. This wasn’t like Caleb. He waited expectantly for the historian to pause dramatically, look up with a grin, and say, “Got you that time,” like he usually did. Silence again ballooned into the room until Oz felt obliged to prick it.

“Where are you going, anyway?”

Caleb laughed softly. “Where indeed. Heeps knows about me now. He’s making it his business to make life difficult for me at the University. So he’s just arranged for me to go to Bulgaria on an academic visit as a replacement for Madely, who’s conveniently gone down with appendicitis. I’ll be away for at least a week, maybe two.”

Oz digested this little nugget of news but said nothing. Instead, he tried to understand why it made him feel so uncomfortable. Probably because Heeps was involved, and anything Heeps did made Oz’s antennae twitch. Caleb Jones had been almost as good a source of information regarding the artefacts as Soph was, and having him not around would be a pain. However, was it really Caleb leaving that bothered him? Or was it Caleb’s disappointing lack of enthusiasm regarding Eldred?

It was almost as if Caleb was warning them off.

“Well, have a good trip, then,” Oz said, not knowing what else to say.

As he made to leave, he felt Caleb’s hand on his arm. “Just be careful with Mr Eldred, Oz. He’s been through a lot for the sake of the artefacts already.”

“Okay,” Oz said, searching the historian’s face. For a moment, something shifted behind the large pupils. An echo of an emotion Oz could not pinpoint. He got the impression Caleb wanted to say more, but one glance at the thin line of his white lips told him no more words would be forthcoming.

Back in his bedroom, Oz tried to finish his homework. After half an hour of fjord facts fighting with remembered snatches of the day’s conversations with Ellie, Ruff, and Caleb, he was certain of only one thing—he’d run out of ideas of where to look for Morsman’s artefact clues. Oz knew that, on leaving the orphanage, Daniel Morsman went on to become a businessman and explorer and had been so successful he’d come back and bought the old house, renovated it, and passed it on eventually to Great-Aunt Bessy, who had bequeathed it to Oz’s dad. Like his father before him, Oz was convinced the answers to the artefacts’ whereabouts were buried somewhere in Penwurt’s old orphanage block. Ellie and Ruff shared that conviction, hence their frustration at Ms Chambers’ insistence they stay away until the damage from the fire that had devastated the basement—and almost fried Oz in the process—was fixed once and for all. Now that Penwurt was becoming shipshape again, there were no excuses to avoid starting over. Ellie’s idea about finding Eldred seemed to be as good as any.

Why, then, had Caleb been so reluctant?

Oz liked his dad’s friend and respected him, but already his connection with Obex and his vow to keep the artefacts from getting into the wrong hands had clashed with Oz’s desire to find them. There was always a lot more to Caleb than met the eye, and Oz was convinced he knew more than he ever let on. That was almost understandable, bearing in mind Caleb’s concern for Ms Chambers and his wish not to upset her, since she still felt that Oz’s dad’s death was linked to his obsession with the artefacts. However, Oz felt caught in the middle, and Caleb’s lack of enthusiasm was like a spider dangling above his bed: probably harmless but impossible to ignore.

People called Oz many things—adventurous (his mum), rebellious (the Volcano), stubborn (everyone), buzzard (Ruff)—but the more people told him to stay

away from something, the more determined Oz was to do the exact opposite.

Rats Chapter 3 When Oz got to school the next morning, he went directly to Room 63 to retrieve the tank before joining a burbling stream of year eights making their way to the science lab. It looked like everyone had emptied their garages and junk rooms and were bringing in bits of the most random flotsam and jetsam they could find. Bernice Halpin had a clock connected to a couple of plastic water bottles, which she called her “liquid time machine,” and Dilpak had a scale model of a modern windmill next to a large, flaccid balloon, which, Oz assumed, was to be the source of the windmill’s power.

Natasha Stilson and Sandra Ojo, both friends of Ellie’s, were struggling to control a couple of yards of vacuum cleaner hose attached to a snorkelling mask, which they described as an “underwater meditation device.” Oz couldn’t wait to find out what that one did. Ellie and Ruff ran over from their buses to join him, and the three of them entered the science block, where Mr Skelton was ticking off entries on a clipboard. He looked up, registering their faces, teeth gleaming in his freshly shaven face.

“Ah, yes, Messenger, Adams, and Chambers, umm—a working model of the water cycle. Hmmm, sounds very intriguing. Okay, put it over there on the second bench.”

Oz followed Skelton’s pointing finger to a space beside a large ice-cream box full of purple liquid, in which bits of what looked like marshmallow floated.

According to the card taped to the box, this was supposed to be Shane Brewster and Aaron Bradley’s depiction of a melting polar ice cap.

All around them, students fussed over models and put the finishing touches to their projects, but all Oz, Ellie, and Ruff could do was check their connections one last time. It took no more than thirty seconds, which was just as well, because the bell rang for registration at that moment.

Outside, under a bruised sky, latecomers bustled across the yard with their models and posters, but Oz’s attention was drawn to three people jostling each other just to the side of the lab. Two had their backs to the entrance and were blocking the third pupil’s passage. Oz instantly recognized Skinner’s lanky frame and knew the smaller one next to him must be Jenks. The third, facing them, scarlet blooms on each cheek, his expression tight and grim, was Niko Piotrowski, one of Oz’s 2C classmates. Oz elbowed Ruff and nodded in Niko’s direction.

“What’s going on there?”

“Don’t know, but Niko doesn’t look too happy about it,” Ellie said.

“Come on.” Oz set off towards them.

“Just tell us what you’ve got, Igor,” they heard Jenks say as they drew nearer.

Igor was Jenks and Skinner’s nickname for Niko, presumably because he retained his Polish accent.

“Is just my project,” Niko said. “Vocal animal transducer.”

“Yeah, but what does it do?” Skinner asked, peering at the thing suspiciously.

It looked like the bell of a bugle connected to the mouthpiece of an ocarina, but between the two, Oz spied a black plastic box with lots of wires coming from it.

“You will find out this afternoon,” Niko said. There was a tremor of anger in his determined words.

“But I wanna know now,” Jenks said, grabbing for the instrument. Niko pulled it away just in time.

Jenks tutted. “Come on, Igor, don’t make us take it from you.”

“Yeah, Igor,” echoed Skinner, “show us your project before it accidentally falls onto the floor and smashes to smithereens.”

Niko shook his head. “I have to assemble in laboratory. It is too delicate to show you here.”

Oz knew Niko had taken the competition very seriously. He’d even missed football practise to get it finished. What was more, he’d done it all single-handed.

“Don’t be such a ponce,” Jenks said, still unaware that Ellie, Ruff, and Oz were now right behind him. “Come on, show us what you got.”

“That your best chat-up line then, Jenks?” Oz said.

Jenks wheeled, eyes flashing, his face flushing darkly. “Chambers! What do you want?”

“You to get lost,” Ruff said.

“We’re just having a little chat with Igor,” Skinner whined.

Ellie turned to Niko. “Having a cozy chat with Jenks and Skinner, were you, Niko?”

“No,” Niko said. “They will not let me take project to lab.”

“Two against one again, Jenks? We need to get you some extra maths lessons,” Oz said.

“Hey, Skinner, didn’t you lose some money this morning?” Ruff asked.

Skinner frowned and felt in his pockets. They saw him smile in relief before his eyes narrowed furtively. “Maybe I did.”

“I heard someone found a two-pound coin on the floor over by your bus.

Better check it out.”

Skinner’s face lit up, and he stepped towards the bus bay.

Jenks shook his head and grabbed Skinner by the arm. “No one found anything, Skinner. Adams is just messing about.”

From behind them, Niko, seeing that his assailants were now well and truly distracted, hurried past and into the lab.

“Oi, where do you think you’re going?” Jenks yelled, but his shouts attracted the attention of their year master, Enforcer Manning, a burly Lancastrian with thinning hair, who was making his early morning rounds.

“Kieron, Lee, get to registration!” he bellowed.

“Yes, sir,” Jenks called back cheerfully before dropping his voice to seethe, “Why do you keep sticking your big nose into my business, Chambers?”

“Because I can smell troublemaking gonks a mile off, and funnily enough, the trail always leads to you.”

Jenks glared at Oz but didn’t say anything else.

“Don’t see you with a project,” Ellie said.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Messenger,” Jenks sneered. “My brother’s bringing it in.”

“I can’t wait,” Ellie said.

Jenks bristled, but with Enforcer Manning still scouting for stragglers, he slouched off, contenting himself with a couple of rude gestures in reply. Niko came out of the lab just as a white van pulled up at the school gates and gave a couple of loud blasts on its horn. Jenks and Skinner dashed over. A face, a pastier and older version of Jenks’, emerged from the driver’s side window.

“Come on, Lee, I haven’t got all day.”

“All right, all right,” Jenks said. Both he and Skinner disappeared around the rear of the van and emerged with a lumpy mound swathed in black plastic.

“Think it’s a body?” Ruff said.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Ellie mused.

They left Jenks and Skinner to their dubious offloading and joined a trickle of fellow pupils crossing the open yard on their way to Room 33. Niko appeared at Oz’s elbow, having run to catch him up. “Thank you for help with Jenks and Skinner.”

“They’re such a pain, those two,” Ellie said.

The whole of that afternoon was to be given over to the science competition, with teams having just five minutes to explain and demonstrate their projects.

“You’re all right for Sunday, then, Niko?” Ruff asked, changing the subject.

“Sunday?” Niko looked blank.

“The mixed five-a-side competition,” Oz said. “I know you haven’t been able to make practise, but you put your name down a month ago.”

“Yes. I have been busy with project, but now it is finished, I will come to competition.”

“Brilliant,” Oz said. That would put them at full strength. Enough to give Jenks and Skinner and their Skullers team a run for their jellybeans.

“Sounds like you mean business with this transducer thingy,” Ellie said.

“I do research, find great site on Internet for help. I work hard. Now, is nothing left to do but play.” Niko grinned. It was infectious.

Despite Niko’s obvious enthusiasm, Oz felt absolutely confident that they would win. The water cycle in a box was a no-brainer for first prize; he was sure of it.

He was looking forward to showing the class and Skelton what it could do. In the meantime, there was a whole morning of lessons to get through. *** In English, they were doing a poem about a raven. It was quite spooky, but

there was more to it than just spookiness. Oz found himself empathizing with the poor chap in the poem, who just wanted to know from the weird raven if his dead girlfriend was in heaven and safe. Oz had been there and got the T-shirt when his dad died in an accident almost three years ago.

However, sitting as he did next to Ruff, Oz had no chance to dwell on such maudlin thoughts. Ruff’s opinion of English was that it was a bit “buzzard.” He thought the raven—who kept saying “nevermore” throughout the whole poem— sounded like a stuck record, and spent most of the lesson squawking “nevermore” in a supposedly raven-like voice but which, to Oz, sounded suspiciously like a parrot’s.

Geography with Mr Gingell was, as usual, a laugh. Oz planned to show him the water cycle box once the science project was over. They’d covered climate in the first year with Gingell, and he had the knack of making everything seem interesting and relevant. Sometimes, they’d spend a whole week’s lessons discussing things that happened in the news. Like when the Icelandic volcano went off and threw ash plumes into the air, or when there was a tsunami. Or when that school trip went missing on a mountainside the autumn before; Gingell did a whole double lesson on how to survive the night in fog. He was better than Gorilla Griddle, the bloke who presented How to Live on an Island With Just a Safety Pin and a Bit of Dental Floss on the TV. At break time, Oz, Ellie, and Ruff grabbed a hot chocolate each from the machine and made their way across to the music block. Halfway there, Ellie halted and pointed towards the science lab.

“Isn’t that Jenks and Skinner?” she said.

Oz followed her accusing finger. It was indeed Jenks and Skinner. They were leaving through the front door of the lab, and they looked far too pleased with

themselves for Oz’s liking. Mr Skelton appeared from the direction of the staff room.

Ellie ran towards him.

“Sir, we just saw Jenks and Skinner leaving the lab,” she announced breathlessly.

“And?” Skelton frowned.

“But everyone’s projects are in there.”

“Obviously. Since the two of them had problems with transport this morning, I needed to give them time to set up.” He saw the look of disbelief on their faces and added, “Not everyone is as organized as you three, you know.”

“But sir. That was Jenks and Skinner,” Ruff said in disbelief.

“Sir, can we just go in and check our stuff again?” Oz asked.

Skelton, however, had no time for trivialities. “Anyone would think they’d been up to no good, by the way you’re reacting.”

“But sir—” Ellie began, but she got no further as the bell signalling the end of break rang out.

“Right, that’s it. Go on, get to your lessons,” Skelton said, shooing them. “I need to make sure that all the Bunsen burners are connected up before year ten gets trigger-happy with the lighters.” He hurried off towards the lab.

Ellie watched him go, open-mouthed. “Did I just hear him say that he let Jenks and Skinner into the lab alone, or was it a nightmare I had?”

“He must be stark raving mad, if you ask me.” Ruff said. “They could have done anything in there.”

No one said anything else; they didn’t have to. Jenks and Skinner were a nuisance at the best of times. In a lab full of carefully prepared and delicate bits of equipment such as the science projects, they were downright dangerous.

*** While Ellie and Ruff struggled with music theory, Oz went off to practise in the assembly hall. Since Soph had come along with her amazing ability to help with study and learning, Oz had taken up the drums.

A couple of sublimserts—Soph’s amazing way of implanting knowledge into a sleeping brain—had set him up, and he’d managed to find a set of electronic drums on eBay for next to nothing. After a few months, he’d actually got quite good, and Mr Fidler, the music teacher, had roped Oz into the school jazz orchestra. With a concert looming, Mr Fidler took every opportunity he could to get them to sharpen up. While he organized tasks for the rest of the class, Oz and the other half-dozen or so pupils in the hall were left to their own devices.

There was a full drum kit permanently set up, and Oz relished the chance to provide a pounding rock beat for Aaron Bradley, who always brought his guitar. The resulting noise usually annoyed the saxophonists immensely—since they were into more subdued music—but Oz didn’t care. Not even when Tracy Roper stood up with her hands over her ears and yelled, “If you hit those things any harder, you’re going to break them!”

Eventually, Mr Fidler returned and imposed a little discipline. Because he was completely bald, with a droopy moustache and Coke-bottle glasses, Jenks and Skinner had nicknamed him Mr Potato Head. But he was an enthusiastic teacher besides being an excellent musician, and over the last few months, Oz had come to like him. But as practise wore on, Oz found his mind drifting towards the afternoon and the science competition. A flock of tiny butterflies kept taking off in his stomach whenever he thought of it, and more than once Mr Fidler had to reprimand him for not concentrating.

At last, the bell went for lunch, and he met up again with Ellie and Ruff, but they were all too nervous to talk much. They mooched around for the remaining halfhour and were all pretty relieved when afternoon registration ended and they were finally sitting in the science lab. The tank was exactly where they’d left it and looked intact, despite Jenks and Skinner having been alone in the lab.

The atmosphere buzzed with nervous excitement, and at one forty-five sharp, Mr Skelton walked to the front of the room, raised his arms, and called for quiet.

“Right, well, here we are,” he said, looking around at the expectant, fidgety class. “The year eight science project presentations. Just to recap the rules. Each of you will get five minutes to present your project to our adjudicators, myself and…”

He beckoned to the first of two men standing to the side. “May I introduce the Vice Chancellor of Seabourne University, Dr Lorenzo Heeps.”

Heeps wore a pinstriped suit with a striped blue shirt and a yellow tie. He had a trimmed, grey-flecked moustache and beard and a crow sitting on his head. At least, it looked like a crow whenever Oz saw it, though he knew it was really a coiffured hairstyle.

“May I say what a great pleasure it is to be here,” said Heeps, and beamed at them all.

Everyone applauded politely, everyone, that is, except Ellie, Ruff, and Oz, who exchanged knowing glances. Heeps was someone none of them trusted. For one thing, they knew that, despite his respectable and affable appearance, he was a Puffer, and Gerber’s man through and through. In the months leading up to Soph’s appearance, he had tried to convince Ms Chambers to sell Penwurt, and he had secretly obtained photographs of the library panels, so he could decipher the alchemical code carved into them.

Luckily, Ruff had beaten him to it. Nevertheless, Lorenzo Heeps was also Pheep’s dad, and, as Ruff had so aptly put it, she must have inherited her “evil toe-rag genes” from somebody…

“The other gentleman you see is Mr O’Flynn, who will be reporting on today’s competition for The Echo.” Mr Skelton consulted a clipboard. “We will proceed in alphabetical order. Those of you in teams, may I ask that the spokesperson only be out front? First, then, with a ‘novel way to feed a cat,’ are the Anchor Angels.”

Oz sat back. He was too nervous to take in much of what was happening, but he did note that everything he saw was amateurish and poorly constructed. There were a few exceptions, of course; Dilpak’s working model of a wind turbine involved blowing up a balloon, positioning it in a holder, and letting the air rush out to drive the turbine. His first attempt resulted in the balloon slipping through his fingers and zooming around the room making gross raspberry noises, like a windy poltergeist, much to the delight of the class, who batted at it and roared with laughter.

The propulsion, when it did work, sent a little voltmeter’s needle flickering, and the tiny bulb he’d attached glowed impressively. But it only lasted a few short seconds before Dilpak had to blow the balloon up again.

The water clock that followed wasn’t much better; it leaked all over the floor, and the spokesperson, Bernice Halpin from 2B, was so nervous she called it a "clotter wock" twice.

When it came to Jenks and Skinner, who called themselves “The Geniuses,” things went downhill. Entitling their project “dungpower” should have been enough of a clue, but if anyone had any doubts that Jenks had somehow turned over a new leaf, the smell emanating from the sealed container he carefully opened soon put everyone right. Their plan was to place a funnel over a sizeable lump of dung and

light the “gas” effusing from it at the stem of the funnel. Unfortunately, the rotted manure Jenks had asked his brother to provide ended up being fresh and steaming from the nearest field. Thus, even though the room filled with stink, no flame burned at the funnel.

But what got Jenks hot under the collar was the large dollop that Skinner managed to drop onto his shoe halfway through the demonstration. That at least got them some applause in amongst the gales of laughter.

Then it was Niko’s turn. His claim for his animal noise transducer was that, by simply adjusting a dial, he could alter the instrument’s pitch, and the noise, which was outside of normal human hearing, would call a variety of animals.

“Is based on Polish hunting device. I make it into digital instrument,” he explained in a shaky voice. “Notes are transformed into ultrasonic signal by software and then sent out through bugle.”

Heeps, who sat at a desk next to Mr Skelton to one side of the classroom and who had almost fallen asleep through three of the presentations, sat up keenly.

“Excellent, Niko,” Skelton said. “Would it be possible to demonstrate?”

“Dog, rat, or bat?” Niko said.

“Excuse me?”

“You have choice. Dog, rat, or bat?”

Heeps cleared his throat. “Since bats are nocturnal, perhaps it would be unkind to disturb them in the middle of the afternoon. We’ve all seen dog whistles, so why not try the rats? I’m sure there’ll be one or two about this old school.”

“There’s one sitting at that table next to Skelton,” Oz said out of the corner of his mouth so only Ruff and Ellie could hear.

Ruff snorted and had to pretend he’d sneezed to cover his laughter.

Niko adjusted the black box—which looked suspiciously like a stripped-down mobile phone—at the base of the mouthpiece, held the instrument to his lips, and blew. Everyone strained to hear a noise. But there was none. Not even a squeak or a peep. Twice Niko blew, his cheeks bulging out with the effort, and twice there was silence.

“May I remind you that you now have two minutes left, Niko” Mr Skelton said.

“It should not take much longer,” Niko said, looking unperturbed and raising the instrument one final time.

The room stayed silent for thirty long and embarrassing seconds. Oz and Ruff exchanged knowing glances. Oz could see Ruff was thinking exactly the same thing as he was. Was this a wind-up? Had Jenks been in and shoved chewing gum in the bell to make Niko look a fool? If so, Jenks and Skinner were going to pay big time.

Niko was a good bloke and member of Oz’s five-a-side team. Skinner and Jenks were just a pair of…

A muffled scream drew everyone’s attention. Tracy Roper, who happened to be sitting near the windows, was on her feet, her face contorted with a kind of frozen horror. She pointed wordlessly at something in the yard. Everyone stood and craned for a look at the cause of her agitation.

“What is it?” someone asked from behind Oz. “Rats,” Skinner said. He, being taller than most, was able to see. “And lots of ’em, too.”

“Out of the way!” Skelton was on his feet and pushing his way through, with Heeps in tow. Everyone was jostling for position by the windows now. Even Oz, who wasn’t particularly squeamish, felt his skin crawl when he finally stuck his head

through a gap and looked out into the yard.

There were rats. Dozens of them. However, they weren’t scurrying to holes in the walls or down drains. These rats were wandering about, looking slightly confused as they stopped to listen or sat up on their back legs to sniff the air.

“My God,” Skelton said, and whipped an astonished face around to look at Niko, who was still standing at the front with his transducer in his hands. “Do you mean to tell me…” he began, but quickly ran out of steam. “Is this… Are you…”

“Make them go away!” wailed Tracy Roper, who had clambered up to stand on her chair.

“Extraordinary,” Heeps said, sounding very impressed.

“They’re disgusting,” Sandra Ojo said with feeling.

“They’re coming closer and there’s more coming from the field. Look.” Jenks was pointing to the far end of the bus bay.

“Having proved his point very well,” Heeps said smoothly, “perhaps we could ask young Mr Piotrowski to now get rid of them?”

“Can you?” asked Skelton. “Make them go away, I mean?”

Niko nodded and adjusted the instrument. Once again, he put it to his lips and blew his silent note. Outside, the rats stopped, turned almost as one, and this time ran for their boltholes. The class broke into spontaneous applause, which lasted a good five minutes and redoubled once everyone got back to their places. Niko stood in the front without smiling. If anything, he looked even more self-conscious.

“Wow,” Ruff whispered to Ellie under the applause, “Niko’s the Pied Piper of Seabourne.”

“That thing of his is amazing,” Ellie said.

Finally, the applause died down, and Niko found his way back to his seat.

Several of his fellow students clapped him on the back as he passed them.

“Well, after that amazing display, it’s now the turn of the Penwurt Profs and their water cycle model.”

Nervously, Oz lifted the Perspex box with shaky hands and carried it to the front of the classroom. Niko was going to be a hard act to follow, but he felt quietly confident as he took off the cover. He went into his brief explanation of the water cycle and came to the interesting bit. “No one has been able to build a working scale model. Until now.”

Oz flicked the switch. “It should take about seventy seconds,” he said to the assembled watchers. Oz sent Ellie and Ruff a confident grin.

By thirty seconds, steam was coming off the water, and by fifty, it was rolling forwards towards the clay mountain. By sixty-five seconds, Oz was ready for the climax, but at eighty, he was getting worried. By ninety, steam almost filled the box, obscuring Ruff’s sculpted mountain altogether, and, with a sinking heart, Oz knew that something was dreadfully wrong.

“Is it supposed to be a sauna?” someone asked.

“Or Jurassic Park?” said someone else. That earned a ripple of laughter.

Desperately, Oz inspected the wiring. Then he saw it. The wires from the batteries to the cooling unit had been ripped out and folded back to look like they were connected. His stomach plummeted. Sabotage.

“Wait,” Oz blurted out, knowing he was doing a great impression of a red steam engine from how hot his face was feeling. “Looks like it’s been damaged.”

“Damaged?” Skelton asked.

“Someone’s pulled the wires out of the cooling unit,” Oz said hotly.

“What?” Ruff yelled, jumping to his feet, his eyes flying like arrows towards

Skinner and Jenks.

“You mean, they have become dislodged during transport,” Mr Skelton said, his eyes narrowing.

“No,” Oz said. “They were screwed in.” Oz sent Skinner and Jenks a scathing look, too. To his surprise, they were not gloating or even enjoying his excruciating moment of humiliation. They seemed preoccupied, whispering something about “humongous tails” and “that brown one was as big as a badger.”

“Well, you have one minute left to fix it,” Mr Skelton said sternly.

Oz shook his head. “It’s no good. It’ll take longer than that.”

“Oh, well, good effort,” Skelton said, and looked down at his clipboard.

Silently fuming, his face blotchy with embarrassment, Oz covered up their model and carried it back to the bench. Ellie sat dumbstruck, but Ruff looked as angry as Oz felt.

“Jenks and Skinner!” Ruff hissed.

“I’d put money on it usually, but I’m not so sure,” Oz said.

“What do you mean?’ Ellie asked.

“Well,” said Oz, “if it was them, you’d have thought that seeing me dying up there would have made their day. But they didn’t even seem to notice. Too excited about the rats.”

“Then who?”

Oz shook his head. Mr Skelton was staring at the three of them, his eyes demanding silence.

“Next are the Stupid Oafs with their Wellington boot remover.”

The rest of the afternoon dragged on for what felt like forever. No one came near matching Niko’s transducer, and the cobbled-together displays and kitchen-sink

contraptions on display seemed all a little bit silly. At last, three-thirty came around, and, after having gone into the prep room to deliberate with Heeps, Skelton emerged and proceeded to the front of the class.

“Firstly, may I congratulate everyone who took part this afternoon? The presentations were of very high quality, indeed. However, in any competition there can only be one winner. The decision, in the end, was easy. This year’s Seabourne Comprehensive year eight science prize goes to…Niko Piotrowski.”

Everyone applauded. Even Oz, still smarting from the disaster of their water cycle performance, had to agree that Niko deserved the prize. Oz watched, his brain numb with disappointment and anger, as Lorenzo Heeps made a big show of handing a shiny new laptop to Niko. The two of them posed with Skelton for O’Flynn, who made them shake hands and offer cheddary smiles.

Then it was over. Everyone packed up, the room filling with the noise of people discussing rats. As they left for their buses, Oz clapped Niko on the back.

“That transducer thingy is amazing. No wonder you’ve been too busy for football.”

“Mr Heeps says we might find someone to make it and to sell it,” Niko said, looking a bit surprised by the whole thing as he hurried to his bus to shouts of “Call up some rats for us, Niko!”

“That’s fantastic,” Ellie said when the three of them were alone. “Imagine being able to buy one of those.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Ruff, who looked like he’d swallowed a slug and was having great difficulty in joining in the fuss over Niko’s achievement.

“Cheer up,” Oz said to him. “Look, I know we’ve been nobbled, but Niko’s thing was so brilliant, we may have lost anyway.”

“We don’t know that for certain, do we?” Ruff said looking like he wanted to spit. “What we do know is that it’s cost us a free ticket on the field trip.”

“Don’t be such a bad loser,” Ellie said.

“That’s a good one coming from you, Miss Blue Belt in tae kwon do.” Ruff countered.

“I don’t like losing, but there’s no point sulking. And it’s blue belt with red tag, by the way.”

Ruff’s face went a blotchy purple. Oz decided it was best to try and calm things down.

“We can still go on the trip,” he said. “We’re all in the top twenty in science.”

“But it won’t be free now, will it?” Ruff argued. His voice had gone up a few notches on the volume dial. Enough to make several heads turn in his direction.

“Buzzard Jenks and Skinner. They’re scum.”

“We still can’t be absolutely sure it was them,” Ellie pointed out.

“Why are you defending them?” Ruff roared.

“I’m not,” Ellie snapped. “I’m just stating a fact. We have no proof.”

“Was I the only one that saw them running from the lab at lunchtime?” Ruff said, breathing heavily.

“No, but…”

“Oh, I give up,” Ruff yelled. “Why not start a Jenks and Skinner fan club while you’re at it?” He stormed off towards his bus, leaving Ellie and Oz looking at each other with troubled expressions.

“What’s the matter with him?” Ellie asked, her cheeks pink.

“Just disappointed, I expect. He’ll get over it.”

“Hmm,” she said, sounding most unconvinced as she and Oz continued

towards their buses. They walked in silence for a few yards before Ellie stopped and turned to Oz. “Heeps only had the one laptop with him to give away as a prize, did you notice? I’m sure Skelton said there’d be laptops for everyone who won. I mean, what if we’d won? They would have needed three, wouldn’t they?”

Oz hadn’t even thought of that. What did it matter now? “Maybe Skelton got it wrong. Or maybe Heeps had heaps more in his car,” Oz said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Maybe,” Ellie said, but then she shook her head as if to rid it of these confusing thoughts and looked to where her bus was waiting. “See you tomorrow at Ballista’s. And don’t be late,” she called over her shoulder as she ran.

“You’ve got You-Know-Who’s address, then?” he shouted after her.

“Of course,” Ellie said, throwing him a scornful glare for daring to ask.