Devil's Rock - Chris Speyer [38]
He told Anusha about what had happened after Grandad had dropped him off, about being able to talk to the girl and about the terrible voice that seemed to call the girl’s name.
‘But you weren’t wearing the bracelet yesterday in class when the hawk appeared. You didn’t nick it until we were on Curlew.’
‘I know – but I put it on in the cave. That must have been how she knew I was there. That’s how she knew I needed rescuing – maybe once you’ve worn it – I don’t know – it changes you somehow.’
Zaki picked up the bracelet and returned it to the safety of his pocket.
‘You were telling us about the bird in your dream when the hawk appeared.’
‘You think I sort of dreamt it up?’
‘Something like that. Look, I’ve got an idea. My dad’s got a camcorder – perhaps I could film you while you retell that dream. If it happens again, we’ll have a recording – we’ll have proof.’
‘Proof? What for? I mean, for who?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just an idea. I’ll bring the camera tomorrow.’
They had a change of classroom after break, so they began to gather up their belongings.
‘When shall we meet to look at the logbook?’ Zaki asked, keen that it should be soon.
‘I’ve got a violin lesson after school today.’
‘How about tomorrow after school?’
‘Yeah, fine. Come on, we’ll be late for maths.’ And Anusha headed for the door.
Zaki’s shoulder injury forced him to do everything one-handed. Once he had finally gathered his things together, he hurried to catch up with Anusha. In his haste, he blundered into Mrs Palmer in the doorway, who was returning to the room. The shock of the collision sent stabbing, blinding pain shooting out from his cracked collarbone. He let out a cry and dropped everything he was carrying. He leant against the doorframe, feeling faint.
‘You . . . !’ Exploded Mrs Palmer. But then, seeing he was hurt, she continued more gently. ‘Is it your shoulder?’
Zaki nodded.
‘You’d better come and sit down.’ She led him across to sit on the chair beside her desk and then gathered up his dropped books.
‘I’m not sure you should be at school if it’s that bad. Do you want us to call your mum?’
‘I’ll be OK in a minute,’ said Zaki. Not much point calling my mum anyway, he thought.
On the desk was the book of myths from which Mrs Palmer had been reading before the incident with the hawk.
‘That story you read us . . .’ began Zaki.
‘Taliesin and Ceridwen?
‘Where’s it from?’
‘Well, the version in here,’ she flipped the book’s pages, ‘is from Wales, but, as I explained to the class’ – she paused – ‘after you left us, shapeshifting is a theme found in stories from all parts of the world.’
‘Shapeshifting,’ repeated Zaki.
Mrs Palmer nodded.
‘Do you think it might – you know, shapeshifting – sometimes really happen?’ he asked and then wished he hadn’t, thinking it sounded a pretty stupid question. To his surprise, rather than brushing his question aside, Mrs Palmer looked thoughtful.
‘In some ways, yes. The shamans, the holy men and women of many societies, go on spiritual journeys during which they become birds and animals. Poets inhabit the minds and bodies of others in order to write.’
‘I meant . . .’
‘I know what you were really asking. Can people actually change into animals? I doubt it,’ she said, with a slightly patronising little laugh. ‘Although some children I know wouldn’t have to change very much.’
Zaki, who was beginning to think that, perhaps, Mrs Palmer was all right after all, decided that probably she wasn’t.
Just then the bell went for the end of break.
‘Why don’t you borrow the book?’ suggested Mrs Palmer, adding the book of myths to Zaki’s pile. ‘You could do a project for me on shamanism and shapeshifting. You’ll probably find plenty about it on the internet.’
Zaki stood up and Mrs Palmer loaded the books on to his good arm.
‘Hope your shoulder feels better.’
‘It’s OK now, thanks,’ said Zaki, although it wasn’t.
There was one big plus to having an injured shoulder – it gave Zaki the perfect excuse for