Doctor Who_ Warchild - Andrew Cartmel [59]
Ricky spied the girls watching the action, their eyes hungry for the drama. He heard the thug’s voice speaking softly. ‘Listen carefully Miss Marcroft because I’m only going to say this once.’
‘Don’t use that tone with me.’
‘Shut up and listen.’ His voice was soft and low and everybody was listening. ‘You call me Wolf Leemark. Or Mr Leemark. Or just plain son of a bitch.’
‘Don’t you dare use that sort of language.’
‘Just don’t ever call me that other name,’ said Wolf quietly. He stood facing the woman, dangerously polite. The other kids stood watching, waiting.
‘You’d better be getting to your classes now.’ The secretary sounded calm and not at all spooked but Ricky could see the sheen of sweat on her fat face.
Wolf didn’t budge. ‘Did you hear me?’
‘I’ll call you by any name I want to, young man.’
‘Oh, no, Miss Marcroft. That’s just the point,’ said Wolf.
‘That’s the point I’m trying to make.’
‘What’s in a name?’ said a voice.
Everybody looked around to see a strangely dressed man. The man had evidently emerged from the staffroom and come down the corridor without anyone hearing his approach. This wasn’t surprising since his feet were bare except for loose fitting black slippers.
He was a tall, athletic-looking young man who might have been a gym teacher. Except his sole item of clothing was a flowing saffron robe which seemed to be held together by a couple of casual folds. No self-respecting gym teacher would have been seen dead in such a foreign-looking, sissy garment. And then there was the young man’s head.
‘Hey,’ said Wolf, grinning delightedly at the stranger’s appearance. ‘Hey, look at this!’ He turned away from Miss Marcroft, forgetting all about his conflict of a moment ago with the fat woman. Ricky saw her struggling with mixed emotions. She was greatly relieved to have Wolf’s menacing presence directed away from her. But at the same time some part of her was annoyed about no longer being the centre of attention.
Now Wolf stood in the middle of the corridor smiling up at the tall, young man. The young man smiled affably back.
‘Hey, baldy!’ said Wolf admiringly. Because the young man was indeed bald. Or, rather, his head had been carefully shaved quite recently.
‘Fashion statement,’ said Wolf, circling the tall young man to fully inspect his bare skull and orange robe. Ricky noticed that the young mAn didn’t turn warily to keep his eye on Wolf. Most people would have been very apprehensive about having the thug behind them, but the young man was apparently unconcerned. He seemed to be pleasantly free of any kind of anxiety; serene and at peace with himself. It was this attitude that led Ricky to suddenly realize what the stranger was.
Some of the members of Wolf’s gang had begun to chuckle at his clownish inspection of the young man. They wanted to join in the game. ‘He’s a skinhead, Wolf!’ said the chubby redhead.
‘No, I’m not,’ said the young man affably.
‘No, he’s not, Wally,’ said Wolf. He turned to the young man. ‘How do you get it so shiny? Your head. Do you have to shave it every day?’
‘Most days. I usually shave first thing.’
‘And then what? Turtle Wax?’ Wolf’s cronies chortled at this witticism and the young man smiled appreciatively.
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Just occasionally some talcum powder.’
‘Well if you’re not a skinhead, what are you?’
‘He’s a Buddhist monk,’ said Ricky. He didn’t mean to say it out loud. It just popped out. He cursed himself and for one hot terrible moment it seemed as if everyone in the corridor was going to turn and stare at him. But luck was on Ricky’s side. Before the other kids devoted all their attention to him they first looked at Wolf to check on his reaction to Ricky’s outburst. Wolf was the dominant male and the crowd was taking its cue from his reactions.
And Wolf responded by simply nodding his head and absorbing the Buddhist monk information as if it came to him through the thin air rather than from any human agent. He took it silently on board but ignored its source. So everyone else ignored Ricky,