Henry Hoey Hobson by Christine Bongers Page A

trap, it had to be, but short of turning on my heel and heading back home, there was little I could do but walk straight into it.
    â€˜Hi.’ My unreliable voice came out basso profundo, which is as low as a human voice can get.
    A giggle, quickly smothered, burst out from the other side of the gate. I couldn’t blame whoever it was; even I hadn’t expected to rumble first thing in the morning.
    I cursed Mum, once again, under my breath. If she stuck around in the mornings, I would be able to practise speaking before I had to go to school. Then my voice wouldn’t be rusty after lying around doing nothing all night. A little conversation might oil my creaky vocal cords and get them working in a relatively normal fashion by the time I got to school.
    I pushed open the gate and kept on walking. I’d said hi, satisfying the minimum requirements for politeness that my mother had drilled into me all of my life. But I couldn’t risk letting them drag another syllable out of me, in case I inadvertently rumbled or squeaked.
    Angelica skipped round in front of me, walking backwards, her face intent.
    â€˜I saw you last night. With your own personal vampire and the Skeletor guy. And that woman–’ her exaggerated shudder was all for show ‘–she looked like Morticia off The Addams Family . What were you all doing there with that little blonde girl? Live sacrifices? Devil worship? Is that what you do at night, Henry Hoey Hobson?’
    She had planted herself in the centre of the path, hands on hips, eyes blazing. She’d worked herself up into a state. For a moment she reminded me of Mum, fearless in the face of a challenge.
    My mother’s usual advice in times of trouble popped into my head: Never back down, never give in and remember: the best defence is always a good offence.
    I stopped and met her gaze without flinching.
    â€˜Are you stalking me, Angelica?’ For once my voice stayed low. ‘Because that would be a clear breach of Mr Paulson’s anti-bullying policy, wouldn’t it?’
    She opened her mouth and shut it with a snap. I thanked my lucky stars I’d remembered something from the Perpetual Sucker induction kit we had brought home from our first meeting with Mr Paulson.
    I stepped round her just as the clanging of the morning bell jolted the playground into action. I dived into the sea of green-checked uniforms surging towards the classrooms, leaving Angelica and her pack in my wake.
    I’d timed my escape perfectly.
    Hero was already at the port racks with BB and Joey Castellaro when I made my way up the stairs.
    He caught sight of me and turned, the beginnings of a smile working its way round those teeth. Joey saw the look and grabbed the back of Hero’s shirt, bunching it into his fist and frog-marching him into the classroom.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Angelica and her posse clustered at the top of the stairs, straight-legged like cats who’d found a strange dog blocking their path.
    I hung up my bag and took a deep breath, steeling myself to enter the classroom. In the distance I could see that someone had changed the school sign.
    OLPS
    A LITTLE SCHOOL
    WITH A BIG HEART
    Not big enough for me, apparently.
    I pushed open the door, ready to tough out another day.
    â€˜Henry, you’re getting to be a regular up here. A veritable bright spot in my morning.’ Mr Paulson’s jovial tone was the first friendly sound of my day.
    Even Ms Sanders had ignored me. The word had gone round that the regular Six/Seven teacher had had a ‘setback’ after breaking her ankle skiing in Japan in January.
    Apparently Ms Sanders was getting the nod as her replacement till the end of term, so she was concentrating on just two things: getting up to speed and surviving till Easter.
    â€˜Ms Sanders said you wanted to see me.’
    His green eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Don’t worry, this won’t take long. Your mum