say so? Why make up rubbish about heating pipes? Something was going on over there! And someone was at the window, I saw—”
Mum shook her head. “I’ve got to get to work, Sam.”
“Aren’t you listening to me?”
She turned to face me calmly. “Yes, I’m listening, Sam,” she said softly. “You’re speaking very loud.”
I walked up to her. “I’m sorry, but—”
“Now I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later. Have a nice day.”
She headed out to the car.
Chapter Five
As soon as I arrived at my classroom that morning, I got Liam on his own and told him about what had happened. He snorted and pulled faces all the way through what I was saying.
“Is this a wind-up?”
“No,” I said wearily, the fatigue of an almost sleepless night already starting to catch up with me.
“Because if you’re interested in wind-ups, you’re never going to beat Mad Maxwell in 11B. He convinced the staff he had a disease. They were raising funds.
And
he pulled an Ofsted scam on the school office. He’s a comedy genius.”
“Look, I know it sounds unlikely,” I said, “but I promise you. There was a scream, there was a dog, there was a face. It frightened the crap out of me. I don’t know who screamed, I don’t know what happened to the dog, I don’t know who the face was.”
Liam eyed me silently for a moment or two. I could tell he was asking himself whether this new kid was a pathological liar or just a bit weird.
“I don’t know what to think,” I said. “That’s why I’m telling you this. All I know is, last night happened, and this morning I’ve had a conversation with Emma’s mother that convinces me she’s got something to hide. I swear to you it’s true. I’ve got more than enough on my plate right now, haven’t I? Moving, new school, blah blah. Do you really think I’m going to start making things up on top of everything else?”
Liam shrugged. “I guess not. But … come on. Are you saying Emma Greenhill let out a blood-curdling scream at two in the morning? Why?”
“I don’t even know for sure if it was her who screamed,” I muttered. “But, assuming it was, then either she was in some sort of danger, or something scared the shit out of her. Have you seen her this morning?”
“Emma? I have, actually. She was coming along Maybrick Road at about the same time as me.”
“And?”
“And what? She looks completely normal. Exactlythe same today as she always looks. Fabulous. What, did you expect her to have been chopped into pieces by a homicidal axeman?”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
He pulled another face. “It’s not that, exactly. It’s just… I’m not saying you’re making it up or even imagining it. But there’s got to be a simple explanation. What’s that thing about a blade…? We did it in PSHE. Occam’s Razor, that’s it! Doesn’t that say that the simplest solution is probably right? Well, the simplest solution is that the Greenhills have got a dog that howled like hell last night, because it got badly hurt, which was probably because of something one of them did, since today they don’t want to talk about it, or even admit to it. Maybe Emma’s dad is a secret drunk, and gave the dog a kicking? Oooor, alternatively, if you insist on it being a human scream, Emma heard a row, came down, saw what had happened to the dog, and let rip. Her mum’s embarrassed, so she made up a story about pipes in a panic, when she knew someone had heard a noise. There you are.”
I shrugged. “And what about the face at the window?”
“Granny’s staying, hears the commotion, wakes up, looks out. Simples. But if you ask me, there probably wasn’t any face at all. People see faces and patterns in things all the time. There’s that hill they photographed on Mars, isn’t there, that people swear looks like an alien. We’re biologically programmed to fit things together into shapes we understand. You said the light in the
Mum shook her head. “I’ve got to get to work, Sam.”
“Aren’t you listening to me?”
She turned to face me calmly. “Yes, I’m listening, Sam,” she said softly. “You’re speaking very loud.”
I walked up to her. “I’m sorry, but—”
“Now I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later. Have a nice day.”
She headed out to the car.
Chapter Five
As soon as I arrived at my classroom that morning, I got Liam on his own and told him about what had happened. He snorted and pulled faces all the way through what I was saying.
“Is this a wind-up?”
“No,” I said wearily, the fatigue of an almost sleepless night already starting to catch up with me.
“Because if you’re interested in wind-ups, you’re never going to beat Mad Maxwell in 11B. He convinced the staff he had a disease. They were raising funds.
And
he pulled an Ofsted scam on the school office. He’s a comedy genius.”
“Look, I know it sounds unlikely,” I said, “but I promise you. There was a scream, there was a dog, there was a face. It frightened the crap out of me. I don’t know who screamed, I don’t know what happened to the dog, I don’t know who the face was.”
Liam eyed me silently for a moment or two. I could tell he was asking himself whether this new kid was a pathological liar or just a bit weird.
“I don’t know what to think,” I said. “That’s why I’m telling you this. All I know is, last night happened, and this morning I’ve had a conversation with Emma’s mother that convinces me she’s got something to hide. I swear to you it’s true. I’ve got more than enough on my plate right now, haven’t I? Moving, new school, blah blah. Do you really think I’m going to start making things up on top of everything else?”
Liam shrugged. “I guess not. But … come on. Are you saying Emma Greenhill let out a blood-curdling scream at two in the morning? Why?”
“I don’t even know for sure if it was her who screamed,” I muttered. “But, assuming it was, then either she was in some sort of danger, or something scared the shit out of her. Have you seen her this morning?”
“Emma? I have, actually. She was coming along Maybrick Road at about the same time as me.”
“And?”
“And what? She looks completely normal. Exactlythe same today as she always looks. Fabulous. What, did you expect her to have been chopped into pieces by a homicidal axeman?”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
He pulled another face. “It’s not that, exactly. It’s just… I’m not saying you’re making it up or even imagining it. But there’s got to be a simple explanation. What’s that thing about a blade…? We did it in PSHE. Occam’s Razor, that’s it! Doesn’t that say that the simplest solution is probably right? Well, the simplest solution is that the Greenhills have got a dog that howled like hell last night, because it got badly hurt, which was probably because of something one of them did, since today they don’t want to talk about it, or even admit to it. Maybe Emma’s dad is a secret drunk, and gave the dog a kicking? Oooor, alternatively, if you insist on it being a human scream, Emma heard a row, came down, saw what had happened to the dog, and let rip. Her mum’s embarrassed, so she made up a story about pipes in a panic, when she knew someone had heard a noise. There you are.”
I shrugged. “And what about the face at the window?”
“Granny’s staying, hears the commotion, wakes up, looks out. Simples. But if you ask me, there probably wasn’t any face at all. People see faces and patterns in things all the time. There’s that hill they photographed on Mars, isn’t there, that people swear looks like an alien. We’re biologically programmed to fit things together into shapes we understand. You said the light in the
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