Wild Cat Falling by Mudrooroo Page A

that leads to the dark stairway going down to the washroom door. Pressed against the wall, I sidle to the bottom of the stairs. No sound. I make my way round the dark wing to the moonlit quadrangle. Must take a chance now and hope to reach the locker room building on the other side without being seen.
    I scuttle across the quadrangle into the shadow of a pillar on the far side and pause for breath. So far so good. If I get caught it’ll be six of the best on the behind for sure. Christ, I just remembered. Sometimes they lock the locker room door. Gee, hope I can get in.
    A hasty fumbling and the door swings open. Inside all is shadowy, but there are tall windows and a sharp pattern of moonlight splashes on to the floor. Anything could be hiding in the pitch black around the lockers. It is a hot night but my teeth begin to chatter and my legs go shaky and shivery.
    Perhaps I should go back. Nobody will have missed me yet. No. Got to get out of this place. Got to get out of it. I’m in for the strap tomorrow anyway when Dickie sees my sums. Got to nick off now. Out of this “yes, sir” “no, sir” dump with its team games and sickening vegetables and stew and bullying brothers.
    The old boss is the worst of the lot. His strap doesn’t hurt as much as Dickie’s, but he’s a stupid old goat. The kids reckon a mouse once ran up his trouser
    leg and fell down dead. Always yacking about how he’s doing the best for us and how ungrateful we are and noticing if you don’t go to Communion and then questioning us about our sins. Can’t take it any more.
    I get my jumper and sandals from my locker, put on the jumper, hold the sandals, find my way to another locker and pull out an ex-army water bottle. I’m set. Something cracks behind me. Terrified, I crouch and then squeeze into a locker, pulling the door shut. No one. A board contracting, I suppose. Out!
    The paddock is moonlit and as bare as the quadrangle, but I am lucky so far. No one watches me — except the imagined one. I scamper from shadow to shadow, worm under the gate, leap up and race along the road.
    I reach the shelter of some pine-trees, sit down, put on my sandals, then up and on again. I climb the low stone wall that marks the boundary of the school land and plod along the exposed road with only my shadow for company. I am too tired to run. The night breeze blows softly through the pines and I am filled with a dreamtime loneliness, but I am excited too. Once I get to the main road I will know my way home like a cat.
    A car hums in the distance, its headlights two round, swelling moons. I get off the road and crouch against the thick scrub. The hum becomes a roar, and the headlights blaze, tearing away the roadside shadows. With a shrill of brakes the car skids to a stop, doors fly open, and two black-robed figures leap out and grab.
    â€œWhat’s the meaning of this? Where do you think you’re going? You cut that out now and get into the car.”
    I am pushed into the back seat and we zoom off . . . back to the beginning.
    I don’t care. Don’t care. Don’t care. They can do what they like with me now. At least I showed them, didn’t I?
    I am marched into the principal’s office.
    â€œSo you were trying to abscond, my boy. A nice way of thanking us for all our trouble and care. The best is not good enough for you it seems. Do you mean to tell me you don’t like it here?”
    â€œI don’t know, sir.”
    â€œIf you were feeling unhappy why didn’t you come to me and we could have had a little chat? You realize you have caused us a great deal of worry tonight.”
    â€œI don’t care.”
    â€œSo that’s your attitude.”
    A hand jerks out and slaps my face.
    â€œWhy did you run away?”
    No answer.
    â€œYou had the forethought to take your jumper, I see.”
    Old Dickie has shown up now.
    â€œWe’ll soon warm you up, my boy, ha, ha.