Hidden Depths

Chapter 17 - The Harrovians

Rich's first day at the school had involved a series of tests to decide what sets he would go into for his normal lessons.  Scholars, taking lessons in the Farabi Rooms, were taught together, but Rich still had to be graded for maths, French and English.

As he was practically bilingual, he walked his way into the top set for French, and the enormous volume of books, plays and mathematics that he had tackled in the past few months helped to narrowly tip him in with the quick learners for his other lessons as well.

Rich wasn't sure if Nikolai's cognitive pills had had a permanent effect on him, or if he'd just benefited from using his brain more but, either way, he found that during both the independent swotting in Paris and the new lessons at Harrow, stuff just seemed to sink in more easily than it used to.  He was also finding it equally easy to recall exact information and facts whenever they were needed.

It was only his second day, but Rich found that he was already infected by the 'oh, oh, oh' ceiling pointing, try-hard mentality that would have got him ridiculed in his old school, but was pervasive in this one.  He shared many of his lessons with Bertie, who strangely sat alone in every class. Rich would automatically try to join him, but the Beaks always insisted that he sat elsewhere.  Most of them just said that boys can spend too much time together or that it wasn't right for roommates to sit next to each other during lessons as well.  One Beak, though, made no effort to hide his motives.

'Ah, you must be the new boy I've been hearing so much about,' said Mr Johnson in Rich's first maths lesson.  'Some boys join us for the sixth form, but I don't recall ever having a chap join in the Removes.'

Mr Johnson stared at Rich, as if expecting him to offer an explanation. Rich opened his mouth to loose off a barrage of banality, but Mr Johnson continued. 

'Still, you are a Farabi, aren't you, so I shouldn't ask too many questions.  Don't sit next to him, there's work to be done,' said Mr Johnson.  He looked at Bertie with disgust, then scanned the room before his gaze rested on a boy with bright red hair.  'There you go, Rathbine, I told you you wouldn't be alone for long.'

Looking at Rich, he gestured towards the ginger kid.  'Well, then, we don't have all day, gather your instruments young man and join your fellow Mathsketeer.' 

An almost inaudible groan rippled around the class, but Mr Johnson looked delighted with his regular pun.

This class was held in near silence, that was only broken by Mr Johnson's description of the next mathematical subject or technique.  During the instruction, he divided his time between bothering the whiteboard and lecturing to a rather sick-looking potted plant that was sitting on a tall stool near his desk.  When he'd finished teaching a new technique, he would set the class a series of questions before returning to his desk and continuing to mark the boys' homework.

As he cracked on with his work in silence, Rich thought to himself that this lesson in particular was failing to live up to Patrice's promise of Harrow's uniquely fascinating teaching methods.  He could sense the frustration building in the room as Mr Johnson stamped down on every whisper.  It wasn't until halfway through the double lesson that the Beak took a break from his marking and left the classroom to attend to some unspoken duty.

As soon as the door closed, the room erupted in a cacophony of conversation.  Rich's first words to the ginger kid were to point out that Johnson must be able to hear them as he walked down the corridor.

'Yeah,' Rathbine replied. 'It's all part of the façade of humourless hard work, ridiculous really.'  

Bertie, who had been rummaging in his bag, stood up and briskly marched over to Mr Johnson's prized plant.  He unscrewed the cap of a small glass bottle and squeezed the inbuilt pipette so that it propelled a squirt of colourless liquid into the soil.  He inspected the plant's leaves in a similar fashion to its owner, but, rather than looking worried with its condition, he appeared pleased with the progress.

'He's been poisoning that plant for six months now,' Rathbine explained.  'Bertie played up constantly during the first two terms in Shells, but he got away with it for ages as, for some reason, it was always the boy who was sat next to him that was landed in it.' 

Rathbine looked bitter and Rich began viewing his roommate in a new light.

'Even though they were getting punished, none of the boys squealed until his old roommate Arnold was almost expelled for shooting at Beaks with a BB gun from their bedroom window.'

Rich couldn't help but chuckle.

'Did he manage to hit any of them?' he asked.

'Not at first, but it turns out that Bertie's an excellent coach, and after a week Arnold could hit even moving targets as far out as fifty metres.'

Rich pictured Mr Johnson leaping with a jolt as a ball bearing bit into his considerable buttocks.

'At first Arnold swore Bertie was nothing to do with it, and it was only when they finally threatened him with expulsion that he spoke up about him.'

Rathbine lowered his voice and casually leaned closer to Rich to make sure Bertie couldn't hear him.  'The thing is, Bertie's a bit of a master manipulator.  I don't know how he does it, but he seems to make boys want to do things that are clearly not in their best interests, just to please him.'  

'So Bertie sits by himself in all lessons and Arnold gets moved to another house?' Rich asked, after guessing the story's ending.

'That and twice-weekly moral and religious instruction sessions with the school's chaplain,' said Rathbine, grinning at the thought.  'But he loves a good debate. I bet the chaplain dreads their chats more than Bertie does.'

'Still, though, he must have made sure he only targeted proper suckers.  It takes a certain type to risk expulsion for nothing more than a few man points,' replied Rich.

'You would be surprised,' Rathbine said enigmatically, as Johnson marched back into the class, sucking a room full of chat out of the air like a black hole.