Doctor Who_ Warchild - Andrew Cartmel [58]
‘I’m sure we can handle anything Ricky can throw at us,’
said Pangbourne.
‘I’m sure you can, too,’ lied Justine.
Ricky watched the crowd begin to fall apart and drift off.
Unfortunately the thug and his cronies showed no inclination to leave. Instead they’d suddenly become fascinated by the lockers nearest the principal’s office. They stood together in a whispering group, snorting with restrained mirth as they formulated a plan.
Then they formed a loose semi-circle and one of them jumped up and smashed at a locker with an impressive karate kick. The other kids made admiring noises but the thug grimaced and shook his head sadly. He gestured for the others to stand aside. He took a few steps back, so he was almost on the other side of the corridor, his back against the opposite bank of lockers.
The girls who hadn’t already wandered off had now turned and were watching with full attention. Some of the girls who’d wandered off drifted back.
The thug carefully measured the distance then ran across the corridor, launching himself in the air in a perfectly executed martial arts manoeuvre that brought his feet up high towards the approaching locker. He hit the metal door of the locker at head-height with a powerful lashing kick.
The noise was instant and thunderous, making everyone jump. The thug landed nimbly on his feet and disdainfully turned away as his followers clustered around the locker to admire the results.
The earlier karate kick had left a detectable mark on the locker, but the thug’s one had resulted in a substantial dent which looked like it had buckled the locker beyond repair.
One or two of the girls were still staring in shock but most of them were fashioning frosty or drop-dead expressions of some kind, radiating disapproval of the thug. The thug evidently wasn’t bothered. He was completely satisfied with his action, which after all had restored him to the centre of attention where he belonged.
Just then the door to the principal’s office popped open and Mr Pangbourne’s fat secretary peered out, scowling.
Most of the kids in the corridor chose this moment to depart, slipping away as discreetly as they could, but the thug remained calmly standing in the corridor. He had cleverly positioned himself in front of the damaged locker so that the secretary couldn’t see it.
The thug’s chief crony, a chunky red-haired kid with a wispy goatee, came scooting over and quickly stood beside him, so as to hide the small mark made by the karate kick.
Between them they completely camouflaged any sign of vandalism as they lounged against the lockers. Their buddies were grinning at the slyness of the move.
The secretary looked at them, knowing that something was going on, but not sure what.
‘What was that noise?’ she said. She looked at Ricky sitting on his bench but Ricky did the thing where he let his eyes go dreamy and vague. That usually caused people to ignore him and it worked perfectly now. The secretary’s gaze moved on and latched on to the thug and his red-haired friend.
‘Well?’ she said. ‘Wally Saddler. What are you grinning about?’
‘Nothing, ma’am,’ said the redhead politely. He had an angelic expression on his chunky face that caused his friends to writhe with silent laughter.
‘You’re not fooling anyone, Saddler.’
‘If you say so, Miss Marcroft.’
The secretary shifted her gaze to the thug. ‘What caused that noise I heard?’
The thug pretended he didn’t hear her.
‘Christian Leemark, I’m addressing you.’
The happy expression faded from the thug’s face. He looked at the fat secretary standing in the open doorway and then he started walking towards her. Red-haired Wally Saddler glanced anxiously at the damaged locker that stood exposed as the thug called Leemark strode forward. But the secretary didn’t notice it. She was too busy watching Leemark close in menacingly on her.
Everyone else in the corridor was watching him, too.
Everyone except Ricky. In crowd situations, when the group’s attention was all focused on the same place, Ricky made a habit of looking somewhere else.