Mister Monday by Garth Nix

off and were holding them in the crook of their left arms. It didn’t help the look of them, for their hair was uniformly short and brown. Like dog hair.
    “Let us in, Arthur,” rasped one, and then another started and there was a horrible cacophony as the words all got mixed up. “Us, In, Let, Arthur, Arthur, Us, Let, Let, Arthur, In, In—”
    Arthur blocked his ears and walked away, straight down the central corridor. He concentrated on his breathing, steadying it into a safe rhythm. Slowly, the baying calls from outside receded.
    At the end of the corridor, Arthur turned around.
    The dog-faces were gone and once again students and staff were pouring through the doors, laughing and talking. The sun was still shining behind them. Everything looked normal.
    “What’s with your ears?” asked someone, not unkindly.
    Arthur blushed and pulled his fingers out of his ears.
    The dog-faces obviously couldn’t get him here. Now he could focus on surviving the usual problems of school, at least till the end of the day. And he could try to find Ed and Leaf. He wanted to tell them what had happened, to see if they could still see the dog-faces. Maybe they could help him work out what to do about it all.
    Arthur had expected to see them at the gym in preparation for the cross-country run. He had a note excusing him, but he still had to go and give it to Mister Weightman. First he had to suffer through a whole morning of math, science, and English, all of which he was good at when he wanted to be, but couldn’t focus on today. Then when he went to the gym, making sure to go through the school rather than across the quadrangle, he was surprised to find that the class was only two-thirds the size of the previous week. At least fifteen kids were missing, including Ed and Leaf.
    Mister Weightman was not pleased to see Arthur. He took the note, read it, and handed it back without a word, turning his head away. Arthur stood there, wondering what he was supposed to do if he didn’t go on the run.
    “Anyone else got a note?” Weightman called out. “Has some class been held back? Where is everybody?”
    “Sick,” mumbled a kid.
    “All of them?” asked Weightman. “It’s not even winter! If this is some sort of prank, there will be serious repercussions.”
    “No, sir, they really are sick,” said one of the serious athletes. “A lot of people have got it. Some sort of cold.”
    “Okay, I believe you, Rick,” said Weightman.
    Arthur looked at Rick. He was clearly a clean-cut athletic star. He looked like he could have stepped out of a television spot for toothpaste or running shoes. No wonder Weightman believed him.
    Still, it was strange for so many students to be out sick at this time of year. Particularly since biannual flu vaccinations had become compulsory five years ago. It was only two months since everyone should have had the shots, which usually offered total protection against serious viruses.
    Arthur felt a small familiar fear grow inside him. The fear that had been with him as long as he could remember: that another virus outbreak would take away everyone he loved.
    “All right, let’s get started with some warm-up exercises,” Weightman called out. He finally looked at Arthur and summoned him over with a crook of his finger.
    “You, Penhaligon, can go and play tiddledywinks or whatever. Just don’t cause any trouble.”
    Arthur nodded, not trusting himself to speak. It was bad enough when other kids made fun of him, but at least there was a chance he could get back at them, or make a joke out of it or something. It was much harder to do that with a teacher.
    He turned away and started walking out of the gym. Halfway to the door, he heard someone run up behind him and then there was a touch on his arm. He flinched and half-crouched, suddenly afraid the dog-faces had gotten in. But it was only a girl, someone he didn’t know. A girl with bright pink hair.
    “You’re Arthur Penhaligon?” she asked over