Steiner and the Hypnotic Cue

CHAPTER 6 Dial S for Steiner

We arrived back at school around 2:45pm. In the end, I only spent a couple of hundred—two new playstation games, a couple of DVD’s  and some clothes. I actually don’t like shopping.

That’s not quite true, because I really do like shopping.

I would look forward to it, but once in a shop, I could never make up my mind. I would get flustered and then angry. I always relied on my mother or staff to help me choose my clothes.  Denise from school came with me,  but I squandered the time in indecision and her shift ended at 3pm. (I am an expert at dawdling, dragging my heals and time-wasting. Of course, when others don’t perform to my schedule, I quickly loose my tempter.)

Scott arrived for his shift at school the same time as us. (He was always 15 minutes early.)   I showed him  the spoils of my adventure. Denise rolled her eyes and Scott gave her a knowing look. Yes, he had been shopping with me before.

We barely strolled through the door, before some of the boys clamoured around to see what I had bought.  It was just  the same  gear as they were wearing. They were just checking to make sure I hadn’t got anything  more expensive than  they had.

The kitchen phone rang. I barely heard it ring through the commotion of the boys rifling through my bags, but I heard Staff Member Laura shout through to the hallway,

“Scott, that’s a David Noble on the phone. He says wants to talk to Steiner about the snooker.”

“Eh, whit’s that all aboot?” Scott shouted back.

“I dunno, but he says he’s in the village just now, like, and he wants a wee chat wi’ Steiner.”

“Well, I tell you now, I’m not giving him the cash back,” I said in a  high-pitched, shallow voice. Not even my  famous ‘Stubborn Head’ act could mask my growing anxiety.  I had already spent almost half of it and intended to spend the rest.

“I’ll take it,” Scott announced not fooled by my act. “And don’t you worry Steiner, Son. You won that cash fair and square, like.”

In the hallway, almost frozen to the spot,  I tried to catch the gist of the conversation. All I could make out, though, were a few “Uh, hu’s,” and “Mm, mm’s.”

Then Scott called me through to the kitchen.

“Right, listen Steiner. He’s in the village the now, like, and he says he’s no wantin’ the cash back. He says he’s wantin’ to make you a proposition.”

“A proposition—what’s that?”

“An offer ... a deal ... about snooker. He says he can teach you how to become a champ.”