St Louis

Chapter Three

Some of the teachers were okay.

Admittedly strict and religious, yes, but okay all the same. See, the school was advertised as what it said on the tin; a school and rehabilitation centre. Only when you arrived did you discover that the students/patients (mysteriously absent from any records- we have William Demson to thank for that) were being murdered under the rule of an autocratic extremist. Most of the teachers, emphasis on most, were held here with a gun barrel in their face.

So some were bound to feel some empathy for the kids.

The best was William Demson, which surprised some of the kids. They didn’t know the full extent of the brothers’ bumpy relationship. But William had gained some respect among the students by allowing the more outspoken individuals to raise their opinions in his classes (he taught English) and not saying a word to other teachers. Demson 2, as he was known by some of the kids, was infamous for abandoning lesson plans for large group discussions, which often went wildly off topic. He was well-liked.

So, English lessons were where Stuart and the five chose to have their meetings with other students. Common room time was their time, the kids understood that. But debates would fly during English, subtle arguments being held within those group discussions, either hinting at certain topics cautiously in front of the group or talking behind hands in the corner. They wouldn’t have dared with, say, Ms Penhalm of Religious Studies, who was one of the only teachers who actually agreed with Demson, or Mr Declan of , who was so scared of Demson he’d report anyone and anything to get on his good side. No, Demson 2 let things slide.

The one thing that wouldn’t be tolerated in his lessons was angrily defying God, but even with this in mind, he still let the non- or differently-religious have their say.

And so the students talked:

“Listen,” Stuart said. It was the first English lesson after Cathy, a Friday morning. He had a small crowd, but most of the class were shouting across the room about the pros and cons of the Star Wars prequels (they had somehow gone from Animal Farm and dictatorships to Darth Vader). “Listen, if we’re not over the top, no one will notice us. Graffiti is fine and dandy, but there’s no impact there. It’s not shocking, controversial- not crazy enough. All that’ll happen is someone will get into trouble. Demson needs to be given a wake-up call, to be shocked out of his regime.”

The five were there, along with the small, mousey girl who had suggested the graffiti, two bug-eyed twin boys who looked like lizards and a rat-faced kid with a shock of black, curly hair. These were Dolly, Jack and Murray and Declan, framed for drugs, done for drugs, done for drugs and framed for rape respectively. (“Framed” in the St Louis sense usually meant lied about by the parents to have them religiously “cured”.)

“Yes,” said Dolly. “But we could do, like, loads of graffiti. ‘Demson is a tosser” all round the school!” She smiled simply; not after the sentence but almost constantly. “That would shock him, surely?” Her eyes were wide and vacant, and she could never seem to make eye-contact with anyone. Stuart wondered if she had taken up drugs after coming to St Louis, either as a “screw you” to her parents or because she didn’t want her parents to lie about her. Given her simplicity, it was usually said to be the latter.

(INCOMPLETE)