Oksa Pollock: The Last Hope by Anne Plichota and Cendrine Wolf Page A

workroom was celebrating.
    “My valiant creatures, my dear Lunatrixes, the Mark has reappeared!”
    “The Mark has reappeared? The Mark has reappeared? But what does that mean?” asked the golden-crested wrinkled creature. The others looked up at the ceiling and sighed wearily.
    “I’ll explain it to you, Incompetent,” offered the frizzy Getorix. “I’ll explain…”
    “It’s an extreme gloriousness!” exclaimed one of the two Lunatrixes. “Is hope possible? That is the crux of the matter, isn’t it, Your Graciousness?”
    “I don’t know,” replied Dragomira, looking thoughtful again. “I don’t know yet… but I have some very important things to attend to now, so please don’t disturb me.”
    The creatures immediately went back to their snug niches hollowed out of the walls of Dragomira’s workroom. She sat down at her computer and got on with writing emails, sending messages to her godfather, Abakum, and other close friends scattered all over Europe. Once she’d finished, she descended the narrow spiral staircase and went out through the double-bass case, closing it carefully behind her. Then, her mind seething with excitement, she stretched out on the red sofa, her head resting on three soft cushions, and became lost in thought.

9
C ONFRONTATIONS
    I T WAS M ONDAY MORNING, AND O KSA AND G US WERE racing to school on their rollerblades. Oksa was still feeling confused. It felt like she was suffocating; her secret took up a great deal of room and seemed to grow bigger with every passing hour. On many occasions she’d found herself heading for the phone or computer and she’d very nearly given into the temptation of telling Gus everything.
    “I’m going to explode
,” she thought mournfully on Sunday evening as she flopped onto her bed.
    Fortunately, she’d slept like a log after drinking a special potion prepared by Dragomira: Fairy Gold Elixir made from parsley, wine, honey and Incompetent slime, her gran had told her. Incompetent slime? Probably a Dragomiran joke…
    Today she had to cope with two hours of lessons with Dr McGraw, physical sciences at nine in the morning and maths at eleven. What a dreadful start to the week! To cheer herself up, she told herself that she’d be able to relax for the rest of the day afterwards. Until tomorrow. McGraw was a real pain.

    As soon as they got to school, the two friends put their rollerblades in their lockers. Merlin was waiting for them, along with a group of girlswho were gazing ardently at Gus, giggling nervously and nudging each other.
    “Stupid idiots,” muttered Oksa, glaring at them.
    Usually she found this sort of behaviour entertaining. But today—why?—she felt exasperated.
    “What?” asked Gus, as impervious to the simpering girls as usual.
    “Hi!” interrupted Merlin, walking over. “I was on the bus and saw you shooting past.”
    “Oh, Oksa was born with wheels on her feet,” replied Gus, with an amused glance at her.
    Merlin whistled in admiration. Oksa turned round, feeling her face go red.
    “It’s probably time to go in now,” she said hastily, adjusting her pleated skirt.
    The first hour, Dr Bento’s English lesson, went very quickly—too quickly for the liking of all the Year 8 students in Hydrogen. And at nine o’clock they dragged their feet towards the science room. Gus was the first to enter and to greet Dr McGraw, who was banging a nail into the wall.
    “Sit down, please, and no talking! If that’s possible, of course,” he said by way of a welcome, without turning round.
    As they all took their seats, he finished hanging a small picture showing the holographic image of a strange, dark spiral, which puzzled quite a few of the students. After making sure the picture was suspended securely from the nail, Dr McGraw turned round and coldly fixed each of the students in turn with his dark gaze, as if trying to unmask the person responsible for a foul murder. The man seemed perpetually suspicious of everyone,