The Cloudfarers Page 2

  The housemother pressed a switch and Kip heard a loud click. Slowly, the room was illuminated with amber light that made everything look ancient and dusty, which it was. Kip could see a row of bunk beds, more than a dozen of them. There was barely enough space to walk between the foot of each bed and the wall. At the far end of the dorm was a tall window, its heavy curtains drawn.

  ‘You’re lucky,’ said Mrs Lobo. ‘A boy just left this morning. His bed is by the window. You can take his place.’

  She gestured towards the lower bunk at the end of the room.

  ‘Why did he leave?’ Kip asked, feeling a glimmer of hope that there might be some way to escape.

  Mrs Lobo frowned and shook her head. ‘We don’t talk about these things,’ she said. ‘A disciplinary matter, that’s all. Now, I’ll let you unpack, then you can come down and have some lunch.’

  Next to his bed was a narrow cupboard with two small drawers. Kip emptied the contents of his suitcase into this space, feeling as if the world were shrinking around him. Mrs Lobo kept humming to herself, a tuneless mumble that sounded like a mournful lullaby.

  Kip unfolded his bedding roll and made his bed as best he could, though the sheets didn’t fit, and his quilt was too big and hung down on either side. He wanted to take a look out the window but didn’t dare and shoved his suitcase under the bed. When he was done, Mrs Lobo led him back out the way they’d come. Kip wondered if he would ever remember the route.

  By the time they reached the dining hall, the other students had all gone back to class. There wasn’t much left to eat—a boiled chicken’s neck and the scrapings of cold and lumpy mashed potatoes at the bottom of a pan along with three small ears of cauliflower. Having lost his breakfast earlier, Kip was hungry, though the food tasted so bland he had trouble swallowing. Sitting alone at the long table, he felt a sadness weighing down on him, a heavy feeling of misery and grief, as if fate had turned against him and he wasn’t ever going to be happy again. Sniffling back tears, he shovelled the last of the cold potatoes into his mouth and carried his tray to the bin where others had left a heap of unwashed cutlery and trays.

  After lunch, Mrs Lobo took Kip to be fitted for his uniform. A wizened old tailor with the stub of a pencil behind his ear measured him up and down, and made clucking sounds with his tongue, as if there was something wrong with Kip’s size. Kip wasn’t tall for his age, nor was he short, though he’d grown a couple of inches this year. He was an ordinary-looking boy with straight black hair that was neatly cut but had a way of standing straight up unless he combed it flat. With a wiry, athletic build, he had always been good at sports, especially running and gymnastics. As his mother had often lovingly said, he had the agility of a monkey and the speed of an antelope. Though right now, with the measuring tape looped around his chest, then stretching down his leg, he felt awkward and all out of proportion.

  When the tailor was finally done, Mrs Lobo took Kip to another room with a big sign: TESTING AND PLACEMENT.

  A young woman, dressed all in sombre black and chewing her lip, sat him down at a desk, handed him a booklet full of questions and told him to fill in the answers. She put a timer on his desk, set for an hour.

  Kip opened the booklet and stared at the first question:

  1. If you were given three choices right now, what would you do next?

  a) Run away

  b) Hide under your bed

  c) Set the school on fire

  He felt sure this was a trick question, so he moved on to the next.

  2. What is the meaning of ‘excellence’?

  a) Obeying orders

  b) Standing up straight

  c) Not picking your nose

  Kip didn’t think any of these answers were right. He was tempted to guess but skipped to the next question.

  3. If you bought 6 kilos of onions and 12 kilos of potatoes, how many hungry students could you feed for one day?

  a) 32

  b) 6

  c) Fewer than you’d think

  By now he was pretty sure the test was a joke, and Kip glanced across at the young woman, who was still gnawing at her lip.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘does everybody answer these questions?’

  The woman nodded impatiently, then put a finger to her lips, making it clear he wasn’t supposed to talk. Moving on down the page, he finally found a question he could answer.

  4. Which language do you speak at home?

  a) Mandarin

  b) English

  c) Sanskrit

  Kip circled ‘b’.

  5. Why didn’t you pick Sanskrit?

  a) Too difficult

  b) Too old

  c) Not enough vowels

  This is crazy, Kip thought and put down his pencil. The timer on the desk was ticking away and he wondered what would happen if he left the test blank. Maybe they would send him home. But then he noticed the next question.

  6. If you’re thinking of bunking this test, here’s what might happen:

  a) A night in the Crypt

  b) 25 strokes of the cane

  c) Quarantine

  Three

  When the timer rang, Kip had answered only a third of the questions, but the woman in black snatched the test booklet away with a cruel little smirk that made him feel as if he were an utter failure. He couldn’t imagine how anyone got the answers right. They would probably demote him a grade or two. In his old school, he’d been halfway through seventh. Kip had always done well in class, but the placement test left him puzzled and disheartened.

  When he left the room, he was surprised to find the tailor had his uniform ready, though it didn’t fit very well. The blazer, made of rough green wool, was tight under the arms and seemed to grab him from all sides, forcing him to stand up straight. On the breast pocket was the insignia of the school, an embroidered image of the bell tower with the words ‘Verum Libertas’ stitched below it. The pants, which were made from a stiff grey fabric, made him feel as if he had to walk without bending his knees.

  ‘Perfect!’ the tailor insisted. Mrs Lobo nodded in agreement. Kip decided there wasn’t any point in complaining. He also received a set of sports clothes—starched white shorts and two red T-shirts with the name ‘Hyperion’ stencilled on the back.

  ‘Your house,’ Mrs Lobo explained. ‘From now on, you’re a proud member of Hyperion.’

  His uniform felt like a disguise, and Kip hoped the other students wouldn’t notice him as much. When the bell rang again, the same measured stampede commenced, as everyone marched down for afternoon tea. Unsure of himself, Kip did his best to blend in and joined a queue of boys, trying to keep in step as they jostled and nudged each other impatiently. One by one their mugs were filled from a large kettle, and they helped themselves to biscuits heaped on a tray. Kip found an empty seat at a long table in one corner, from where he could study the room. As he sipped the lukewarm tea and chewed the tasteless biscuit, Kip collected his first impressions of Paramount Academy.

  Both girls and boys attended the school. Most of the students were older than him, though there were a few that looked about his age. Nobody’s uniform seemed to fit—they were all confined to tight blazers and trousers that looked as if they were two sizes too small.

  Beneath a facade of discipline, the students were rowdy and boisterous, and there was an atmosphere of suppressed energy that needed to be released. Several teachers were on duty, scanning the room with stern expressions. Once or twice they shouted at students who were being too loud or misbehaving. The crowded dining hall seemed as if it were on the edge of breaking into a riot or a party; Kip just couldn’t tell which.

  After tea, as the students trooped out of the dining hall, Kip retraced the route to his dorm. He took a few wrong turns but finally found his way. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next but went inside and sat down on his bed.

  A few minutes later, a boy twice his size came up to him and stood looking down at Kip with a serious scowl.

  ‘
You’re new,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ Kip said with a cautious nod, unsure if the boy was friendly or not.

  ‘I’m Scruggs,’ he said and put out his hand, without smiling.

  Kip shook hands formally, still feeling uneasy. By now the dorm was filled with other boys, all rummaging in their cupboards and throwing book bags on their beds.

  ‘I’m above you,’ said Scruggs, pointing to the top bunk. ‘Up here.’

  ‘Would you rather have the lower bunk?’ Kip asked.

  Scruggs shook his head. ‘No. Doesn’t make a difference to me.’

  ‘I heard there was a boy who left yesterday. Is that right?’

  Scruggs nodded.

  ‘Does that happen often?’ Kip asked hopefully.

  ‘Not much,’ Scruggs replied.

  ‘Did he do something really bad?’

  ‘We don’t know. They say he bit someone but I don’t believe it,’ said Scruggs, scratching his elbow before changing the subject. ‘So, what’s your name?’

  ‘Kip.’

  ‘What kind of name is that?’

  He thought it was a strange question, especially coming from somebody called Scruggs.

  ‘It’s just a name,’ he said.

  ‘Not short for something?’ asked Scruggs. His voice was soft but solemn, as if he’d never laughed in his life.

  ‘No. Kip, that’s all.’

  ‘What grade are you in?’

  ‘Seventh, I think,’ replied Kip. ‘But I probably flunked the placement exam.’

  Scruggs shook his head. ‘Nobody passes,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, it’s just a psychological test.’

  ‘None of the questions made sense,’ said Kip.

  ‘They’re not supposed to,’ Scruggs replied, then looked around as the dorm emptied out. ‘Are you going for sports?’ he asked.

  Kip shrugged. ‘I guess. Nobody’s told me what I’m supposed to do.’

  ‘Follow me,’ said Scruggs. ‘But first, you’ll have to change.’

  Opening his cupboard, Kip took out his shorts and T-shirt.

  ‘We’re in the same house, Hyperion!’ said Scruggs, pointing to his shirt, which was also red but faded and twice as large as Kip’s.

  ‘Which grade are you in?’ Kip asked.

  ‘Seventh, like you,’ said Scruggs. ‘But I’m big for my age.’

  His serious eyes made Kip uncomfortable, though he was beginning to feel he might have made a new friend.

  Four

  When Kip and Scruggs arrived at the playing field, dozens of students in different-coloured uniforms were standing in rows. The field was a large rectangle of gravel, 100 metres long and 50 metres wide, surrounded by a high fence. No chalk lines or goalposts were visible, or anything else to indicate what sports were played on the field. Suddenly a whistle sounded. Kip could see the principal on a reviewing stand below a flagpole, his boots glinting in the afternoon sunlight and a pair of binoculars in one hand.

  Stepping behind Scruggs, Kip tried to avoid being seen.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Scruggs asked.

  ‘I don’t think the principal likes me much.’

  Scruggs gave him a puzzled frown. ‘You’ve only been here for a few hours.’

  ‘Yes, but I threw up on his boots as soon as I arrived.’

  Kip could see the beginnings of a smile behind Scruggs’ solemn features, but then he looked away, as the principal tossed a leather ring on to the field. It looked like a miniature life preserver, twelve inches across, spinning through the air.

  ‘What game is this?’ Kip asked.

  ‘It doesn’t really have a name,’ said Scruggs, ‘but we call it “War”. Come on!’

  By now, a group of older boys had collided in the middle of the field, all of them trying to tackle each other and catch hold of the leather ring. It didn’t look like much fun. Kip could see a line of girls in green T-shirts advancing from the other side and encircling the scrum of boys. Before he knew it, the girls rushed in and snatched the ring, racing away towards the other end of the field. Now, everyone seemed to be chasing them, red, green, blue and yellow shirts like a scattered rainbow. Kip and Scruggs were running too.

  ‘What are the rules?’ Kip shouted.

  ‘There aren’t any,’ said Scruggs. ‘Just try and get the ring and hold on to it for as long as you can.’

  ‘How do we score points?’

  ‘You don’t,’ Scruggs shouted. ‘It’s War. No points. No fouls. Everything is fair play.’

  Another group of girls piled on to the team holding the ring, which came loose in the skirmish and rolled towards Scruggs, who lunged forward and picked it up. Being bigger than most of the other students, he blocked a couple of tackles, then tossed the ring to Kip. The hard leather, with stitching along the edge, hurt Kip’s hands but he held on to it and began to run, not knowing where to go or what to do next. He felt as if every student on the field was after his life, and he had to run and duck and dodge as they attacked from all sides. Kip had always been a fast runner and good at sports, but this was unlike any game he’d ever played before. Someone dove and caught him by the ankle, but he kicked loose and then doubled back as two large girls with fierce expressions came at him, as if they were going to crush him. This made Kip run even faster. As he zigzagged through the chaos on the field, he knew he had to get rid of the ring. Looking for Scruggs, he darted between a couple of boys in green shirts, who tried to kick his legs out from under him as he leapt through the air. Then, suddenly, someone clipped his left shoulder and sent him flying to the ground. As another student landed on top of him, the ring shot out of his hands. By the time Kip was able to pick himself up, he was covered in dust and his knees were scraped. His shoulder ached and he had gravel in his shoes. Scruggs found him and helped him brush the dirt off.

  ‘You’re pretty good,’ he said, ‘for someone who hasn’t played before.’

  ‘I don’t see the point of this game,’ said Kip. ‘It’s just an easy way to get hurt.’

  ‘That’s War,’ said Scruggs, with a sullen expression.

  Captain Lovelock stood and watched, along with several other teachers. They applauded when somebody retrieved the ring or was knocked to the ground. For the rest of the game, Kip and Scruggs kept to the sidelines, jogging back and forth without trying to catch the ring. The contest went on for an hour, until sunset, when a bugle sounded. By this time, a cloud of dust had enveloped the field, turning the setting sun into a hazy orange ball.

  Afterwards, everyone went indoors and had their showers. The boys’ and girls’ dorms were in separate buildings, but they all met again in the main courtyard before dinner. Scruggs introduced Kip to his friends, two girls named Meghna and Juniper, both of whom had dark-brown hair. They were almost Scruggs’ height and stood 6 inches taller than Kip. Both girls were friendly enough, but, like Scruggs, they didn’t smile or laugh, peering down at Kip with glum expressions. Only Juniper seemed to have some humour in her eyes, which were a light-green colour.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she asked.

  ‘My aunts couldn’t take care of me any more,’ said Kip. ‘And my old school didn’t have a boarding facility.’

  ‘What about your parents?’ said Juniper.

  Kip squirmed and looked away. It was a question he had been hoping nobody would ask.

  ‘They’re not around any more,’ he said.

  Fortunately, just then, the dinner bell rang. As they all lined up to go inside, the question was forgotten. Kip let the servers fill up his tray with some kind of stew, as well as rice and boiled vegetables. There was also a wobbly dessert that looked like something between custard and cake. He was hungry enough to eat anything tonight. When he sat down between Meghna and Juniper, across the table from Scruggs, Kip could see they had only vegetables and rice on their trays.

  ‘Is there something wrong with the stew?’ he asked, picking up his spoon.

  ‘No, we’re vegetarians, that’s all,’ said Juniper as she put a boiled
carrot in her mouth.

  Kip liked his new companions and felt protected because they were so much larger than him and seemed to know the inner workings of the school. Despite their serious expressions, they teased each other. Juniper pestered Scruggs about something stupid he’d done in class, but all of them remained straight-faced. Kip was puzzled but didn’t think it would be polite to ask just yet why they never smiled or laughed.

  ‘Tomorrow I’ve got a toxicology test,’ said Meghna. ‘I’m sure Brother Lazarus is going to fail me again.’

  ‘Just remember, strychnine with an “s” and cyanide with a “c”,’ said Scruggs.

  ‘Okay, but what’s the chemical formula?’ asked Meghna.

  Scruggs recited, ‘C21H22N2O2 for strychnine,’ as he shovelled rice into his mouth, ‘and cyanide’s easy, just CN-.’

  ‘Who’s Brother Lazarus?’ Kip asked.

  ‘You’ll meet him soon enough. The oldest teacher at school, more than 100 years old!’ said Juniper.

  ‘And what’s toxicology?’ Kip continued, completely baffled.

  ‘It’s sort of like chemistry,’ said Meghna, ‘but we only study poisons. Brother Lazarus knows all kinds of things that will kill you.’

  ‘But what’s the point of studying that?’ Kip asked.

  Meghna shook her head and frowned in a friendly sort of way.

  ‘Who knows?’ she said with a shrug. ‘It’s just part of the curriculum.’

  Kip finished his meal and ate most of the wobbly dessert, though it tasted like shampoo mixed with sugar. After dinner, the boys said goodnight to Juniper and Meghna, then headed to their dorm. Everyone else had textbooks to read and study but Kip had none. The housemother, Mrs Lobo, loaned him a book, which turned out to be an autobiography of the principal, My Search for Truth and Excellence by Captain T.H. Lovelock. The book began with an account of his schooldays at a military academy and how he graduated at the top of his class, winning the Best All Round Cadet Award. Then there were chapters on how Lovelock joined the navy and through hard work, sacrifice and discipline, became the youngest captain in the fleet. The stories were supposed to be inspirational, and there were lots of quotes in bold letters, like, ‘Excellence is a sword that must be sharpened every day!’ and ‘Truth is its own reward!’ Kip tried to read a few pages but soon fell asleep, exhausted from the exertions and uncertainties of the day.