Devil's Rock - Chris Speyer [21]
There were whispers of ‘Hey, Zaki, what you been doing?’ and ‘What happened to your arm?’ as he made his way between the tables, but Zaki, conscious of the teacher’s eyes on his back, thought it best not to respond. Once in his seat, he searched the whiteboard for clues to the subject of the lesson. ‘Myth in Ancient Societies – Ceridwen and Taliesin,’ he read and felt very little the wiser.
Mrs Palmer resumed where she had left off. ‘Ceridwen was a witch,’ she said, tapping with a finger on the whiteboard, ‘who had a son called Morfran. Morfran was ugly and stupid, so the witch decided to make him wise by brewing up a great spell in her cauldron of wisdom. The cauldron had to be stirred for a year and a day and that job she gave to a boy called Gwion. On the last day of the spell, three drops splashed from the cauldron on to Gwion’s finger.’ Mrs Palmer paused and looked around the class. ‘What would you instinctively do if three burning hot drops had fallen on your finger?’
‘What’s she talking about?’ Zaki whispered to Craig.
‘It’s some old story from Wales,’ Craig whispered back.
‘It’s Craig, isn’t it,’ said Mrs Palmer with exaggerated sweetness. ‘Perhaps you would like to answer my question?’ But Craig was showing Zaki where to find the chapter on myths in the textbook.
‘Craig!’ their neighbour hissed. ‘She’s talking to you!’
Craig’s head jerked up but Zaki kept his eyes down, hoping not to be drawn into whatever was about to take place.
‘Sorry, miss. What was the question?’ asked Craig, turning a deep shade of pink.
A great hoot of laughter burst from the class. This was only the second day of term and the air in the classroom was still full of the wild disorder of six teacherless weeks of running free.
‘Clearly, Craig has more important things to think about, so I will tell you what Gwion did,’ continued Mrs Palmer. ‘He put his scalded finger in his mouth and so received all the wisdom that was intended for the witch’s son. Of course Ceridwen was furious that Gwion got the wisdom that was intended for her son, so she began to chase him, but Gwion dived into a river and used his new knowledge to change himself into a fish. The witch changed herself into an otter and pursued him . . .’
The image of the frantically swimming fish with the sleek otter after it – the otter’s needle-sharp teeth centimetres from the fish’s tail – sprang into Zaki’s head.
‘It’s just like my dream!’ he whispered to Craig.
‘I’m sorry, Isaac, I didn’t catch that,’ said Mrs Palmer.
A titter rippled through the room, but Zaki, unused to being called by his full name, stared into space, or rather, into the image of the watery chase that continued to be played out before his mind’s eye.
‘Hello! Isaac – are you with us?’ called Mrs Palmer.
Zaki, becoming aware that the teacher was talking to someone, looked around to see who it was, only to find all eyes were on him.
‘Miss?’ said Zaki.
The class held its breath.
Mrs Palmer allowed the silence to linger. At last she said, ‘Oh, are you back with us, Isaac?’
This time uproarious mirth was accompanied by stamping feet and calls of ‘Hello, Isaac!’ ‘Are you with us, Isaac?’
When the racket had died down, Mrs Palmer said, ‘Now Isaac, perhaps you could tell us what so fascinated you.’
‘It’s just that I had a dream,’ said Zaki, ‘like this story. About being chased and turning into different things.’
‘Share it with us, Isaac. Share it with us,’ said Mrs Palmer. ‘Since your dream is obviously more interesting than anything that I have got to tell you, come up in front of the class and tell us all about it.’
‘It was just a dream,’ said Zaki.
But Mrs Palmer was not to be put off and Zaki found