Caramel Hearts by E.R. Murray Page B

says Sarah. “Must be something bad.”
    I shrug, dragging my feet, as we follow the others.
    Even though it’s full, the hall is deadly silent. We find a pair of empty chairs with our registration group and sit down. After a while, the whispering starts. Everyone’s looking at each other, wondering what’s going on. What’s happened? Has someone died? But as soon as the head teacher, Mr Morrelly, walks in, everyone shuts up – apart from some moron at the back, who isn’t paying attention. He’ll get it later.
    Mr Morrelly paces at the front of the hall. He’s in full swing – marching up and down, with his arms clasped behind his back.
    â€œSomeone’s in for it,” whispers a lad a few rows behind us.
    I glance at Sarah to see if she’s figured out what’s happening yet, but she’s busy concentrating on the front of the hall.
    Mr Morrelly clears his throat.
    â€œI’m afraid I have some grave news. As a school, we’ve experienced something terrible. Something shocking.”
    A whisper ripples around the room.
    â€œQuiet!” calls Mr Morrelly, waiting for silence before continuing in his baritone. “I’m afraid our beloved cook, Mrs Snelling, has been the victim of a terrible crime. Her ankle is broken.”
    I can’t help gasping. I slap my hand over my mouth to hide the noise, but Sarah has already heard. “Oh my god,” she mouths. I feel sweat bead on my forehead as I mouth “I know” back.
    Surely this isn’t anything to do with me.
    â€œHer injury is the result of a terrible theft,” continues Mr Morrelly, raising his voice to shush us. “Yesterday, at approximately four o’clock, Mrs Snelling returned to the kitchen to check on something for today’s lunch. And some spiteful person – possibly a recipient of that lunch later today – took advantage, and used the opportunity to steal her handbag.”
    A weird noise – a mixture of shock, admiration and disgust – erupts from the others. I shudder and start to burn up. The heat racing through my body makes me feel sick, so I lean forward and take deep breaths to try and make the nausea go away.
    â€œWe are hoping, of course, that this awful attack was not carried out by an Egerton Park pupil. That it was an outside job. Who would want to belong to a school where pupils behave that way? Who’d feel safe coming here if it turns out to be one of our own?”
    A loud murmur travels around the room as he lays it on thick. Sarah glances at me, wide eyed and open mouthed. She could never contemplate doing something like that. Why can’t I be more like her?
    I bunch my fist and dig my nails into the palm of my hand, shoving my arms between my legs soSarah can’t see. Old Mozzer makes it sound like it was some evil, preplanned attack – something Mad Dog’s dad would be involved in. I feel like shouting, I didn’t hurt her – it was nothing to do with the bag! But thankfully, I’m not that stupid. I sit quietly, listening hard. I want to make sure no one knows I was involved.
    â€œWe would be grateful,” continues Mr Morrelly, “for any information leading to the resolution of this crime. Mrs Snelling has generously requested that we be lenient to any pupil that steps forward. She has asked for the police not to be involved.” Old Mozzer shakes his head slowly, his face turned to the floor. “She has even offered a cash reward to anyone who brings in evidence that leads to her bag being recovered. The bag contains something very precious, something irreplaceable. What a shame for something like this to happen to someone so kind.”
    An electrified chatter shoots through the pupils. My stomach churns and gurgles loudly, like it’s trying to give me away.
    â€œOf course, if the perpetrator does not own up, and is found out …” Mr Morrelly’s arm bolts out. His