The Viking and the Vendetta Page 9

  "I've been thinking about our conversation in the car," he began, "and I don't blame you for wanting to keep other people out of trouble."

  Luke's shoulders relaxed a little.

  "So I'm not going to pressure you to tell me who was involved. But I do want you to be aware that your name has already come up in relation to the smoke bomb affair."

  I bet it has, thought Luke, conjuring up a mental picture of Mr Wilmot and throwing imaginary darts at it.

  "And I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the way you and Benjamin Wharton were acting towards each other in year nine," continued Ned.

  Luke thought of all the times during the autumn term when he'd forced himself to walk away from Wharton's jibes without rising to them. His indignation prodded him into making a response. "Whatever happened to 'new year, clean slate'?" he demanded.

  "You and Wharton ended up in detention together just before Christmas," Ned pointed out.

  "Along with half of year ten!" protested Luke, somehow uncomfortable to learn that Ned was keeping tabs on his misdemeanours, even if it was part of his job as headmaster. "It wasn't just about me and him."

  "That is what's causing me concern," said Ned. "This year it seems as though every single Roman is engaged in an ongoing and orchestrated feud with every single Viking."

  "And you think I'm behind it," said Luke, flatly.

  "No, I don't. But I do think that you and Wharton started it and it's not going to stop until you two can put your differences aside. Your behaviour, and Wharton's, is the key to that. I need you to set an example that our more impressionable younger students will follow."

  Luke recalled the generally subdued behaviour of Oliver Samuels and his friends at the end of the previous term. "I think the year sevens were pretty frightened by the police being here and all that talk about arson in December," he said.

  "That was the general idea," replied Ned. "With any luck, the thing has died a natural death anyway. It's rugby and hockey season now, so the two houses can take their competitiveness out on to the playing fields instead." He started to eat his sandwiches and Luke picked up one of his, hoping that Ned was right.

  *

  Sport seemed to take over Luke's life in the next few months. There were orienteering competitions every few weeks and he also found himself on the year ten's rugby team. Wharton had been put on the hockey team and Luke wondered whether Ned had ensured that they had been allocated the different sports on purpose, as a way of keeping them apart as much as possible. Their competitiveness in orienteering remained as strong as ever, with each determined to beat the other.

  The school's staff were maintaining the tight hold on discipline and supervision which had been established in the week before Christmas. Even the youngest students were being burdened with heavier-than-normal quantities of homework and Luke suspected that the teachers were all under orders from Ned to make sure that no-one had any free time in which to pursue the feud between the Romans and Vikings. The plan seemed to be working: nobody had the energy to spare for planning further attacks and everyone was being careful to follow the rules for fear of losing what little free time they had left. Luke had mixed feelings about this: he was simultaneously resentful at the extra work and grateful for not having to worry about what the Romans and Vikings would do next.

  Even Wharton seemed to have got bored of Brownlow-baiting and was being only half-hearted in his snide remarks when their paths crossed. Luke began to feel more confident about maintaining the unspoken truce which had been established between the two houses since the year tens had set off the smoke-bomb. Luke still felt aggrieved that his friends had not included him in their plans and this resentment was now tinged with a sense of guilt about nearly giving them all away to Ned on the way back to school. All the extra work was preventing him from spending much time with Pagan, which was another source of irritation. All in all, his relationship with Jay, Taj and Fred was becoming strained. The four Romans still played cards together in the evenings but they had given up playing for money because Mr Wilmot had started a new and irritating habit of walking into the Forum at odd times of the day and it became too much of a bother to keep the cash out of sight.

  On weekends when Luke wasn't playing rugby or taking part in an orienteering competition he would sometimes go with Ned, Julia and Pagan to the cinema or out for a pizza. It broke up the routine of the school term and Luke began to feel that the four of them were forming the nucleus of a new family as they all got to know each other better. He only ever told the other Romans that he was going out with Pagan, as there was enough gossip already in the school about Ned and Julia. Luke didn't want the news about their shared excursions to get back to Wharton and give him more ammunition for snide remarks about Ned and Pagan.

  *

  One wet Friday afternoon after the Easter break, the names of those who would be playing for the school's sports teams in the summer term were put up on the notice board in the hall. Luke was hoping to be chosen for the cricket team and he and Jay joined a group of other boys who had congregated there to examine the lists. Luke's name was down and so, inevitably, was Wharton's.

  "Yesss!" shouted Jay when he saw that Luke had made the team. He turned to give Luke a high-five. Luke's brief bubble of happiness at seeing Jay so pleased was almost immediately burst by the sound of Wharton's sneering voice.

  "Of course, Brown-nose would be on the team. He gets special treatment now the headmaster's porking his girlfriend."

  Luke lunged sideways and shoved Wharton against the wood panelling of the entrance hall, pinioning him by his upper arms. "Take that back."

  "Or what?" said Wharton, looking amused. He glanced down the hall to the counsellor's office. "Are you going to tell Mrs Randall what I said?"

  It took a huge amount of willpower to do it, but Luke released the Viking with one last push. He turned away in disgust, heading for the stairs: anywhere that was away from Wharton and his laughing lackeys. Jay was alongside him, looking puzzled.

  "What's the matter?" Luke asked him, bad-temperedly.

  "I don't understand why you're letting Wharton get away with all this stuff," Jay complained. "He's walking all over you this year and you're just rolling over and letting him do it."

  Luke thought of his promise to Ned to avoid stirring up more conflict between the Romans and Vikings. There was simply no way that he could explain any of this without also explaining the nature of his relationship with the headmaster and he couldn't do that without changing the way that Jay and the other Romans saw him. "Look, it's complicated," he said, "but if he carries on like this he's going to get a nasty shock one of these days."

  "Right," said Jay, sounding unconvinced. Luke's fists clenched and he knew that he was dangerously close to throwing a punch at his best friend. Wharton better keep away from me this term, he thought. Or something is going to have to give.

  The following Saturday, Luke and Pagan caught the bus into town. Pagan had told Luke about a new café that her mum had found there and they had decided to try it out for lunch. The place was busy and the food was good, but Luke was subdued, his mind on his argument with Jay and the increasingly obnoxious behaviour of Wharton.

  When Luke came back from a visit to the toilets, he was horrified to find that Wharton and his Viking cronies had come into the café and were occupying the table next to theirs. Worse still, it looked as though Pagan was talking to them. Luke weaved his way through the busy café; his one thought being to get her out of there before Wharton started expounding his theory about Ned fancying her rather than Julia.

  "Let's go, Pagan," said Luke, picking up his coat and pulling it on.

  "What's your hurry, Brownlow?" asked Wharton. "We're in the middle of a conversation here."

  "It's not a problem, Luke," said Pagan. "Ben just asked a question, there's no need to get upset."

  Alarm bells were sounding so loudly in Luke's head that he could barely think straight. Ben? Since when were Pagan and Whart
on on first-name terms?

  "I don't want to hear anything Wharton's got to say. Let's go."

  "But I don't want to go yet. I haven't finished my drink."

  The tone of Pagan's voice should have been warning enough, but Luke's only thought was to get her away from Wharton and his insinuations. He grabbed Pagan's arm and tried to pull her up and out of her seat.

  "Let go of me!" Pagan was suddenly furious.

  "Yeah, leave her alone. She's not your private property." The smug look on Wharton's face was too much for Luke to bear. He picked up Pagan's glass of Coke and threw its contents in the Viking's face. Immediately, the café's owner was at the scene.

  "Right, that's it. Get out, you lot, and don't come back. Consider yourselves barred." Luke got the impression that the man was thrilled at having the chance to deliver that line.

  Pagan, Luke, and the Vikings left. Pagan shook Luke's hand off as he tried to help her get her jacket on.

  "I'll get you for this, Brownlow," said Wharton, as they emerged onto the street, and he pointed at the brown Coke stains all over his cream-coloured top. But Wharton was the least of Luke's problems. Pagan squared up to Luke as though ready for a fight.

  "That's my mum's favourite café. I can't believe you've got me barred."

  "I-" Luke started to apologise.

  "Save it. I'm calling Mum to take me home. Just go away and leave me alone." Pagan stormed off, pulling out her mobile phone as she went.

  Luke was left with Wharton and the other Vikings. A malicious smile was spreading over Wharton's face. "Mission accomplished, I believe," he said, blowing on the nails of his right hand and pretending to polish them on his jacket in a gesture of triumph.

  The road was busy with Saturday-morning shoppers and Luke was heavily outnumbered by the Vikings. The sensible areas of Luke's brain were warning him that starting a street brawl which he had no hope of winning was a seriously bad idea, but the primitive, animal core part was drowning them out with deafening messages of Threat! Competitor! and Punch him!

  Luke's whole body tensed and he clenched his fists.

  "Excuse me, dear, but I can't get through." An elderly woman in a motorised wheelchair was addressing him. The path was not wide enough for the chair to pass Luke and the four Vikings.

  "Oh, sorry," said Luke, recalled to an awareness of the rest of the world by the woman's words. The need to attack Wharton faded away as he stepped sideways to let her pass. Instead, he turned on his heel and ran after Pagan, trying to ignore the jeers which followed him down the street.

  Pagan was putting her phone back in her bag when Luke caught up with her.

  "Mum's coming to get me. I don't want to talk to you right now," Pagan told him. "I can't believe the way you behaved back there."

  Luke opened his mouth to explain, to get her to understand, but Pagan held up her hand. "Just stop," she said. "I don't want to hear it." She turned away from him, her face determined and angry.

  Luke knew her well enough by now to know that trying to say anything else was a waste of time. He checked the time on his phone. It would be an hour before the next bus back to the village. He didn't want to stay in the town with Wharton on the loose, so he decided to walk back to the school. It was four miles, but there was a route across the fields which meant that he wouldn't have to face anyone he knew for at least an hour, and that suited him just fine. He strode away from Pagan without another word.

  On Sunday, Luke went for a long run in the morning, trying to work off his low mood with physical activity. It didn't work. He tried calling Pagan when he got back, but her phone switched straight to the answering service and he couldn't think of anything to say. It felt odd not to be heading down to the Randalls' cottage for lunch. He spent the afternoon in the library on his own, catching up with his schoolwork and trying to stay out of Wharton's way. Jay was sympathetic when he heard what had happened in the café, but Luke suspected he was secretly pleased that he and Pagan had fallen out.

  It was almost a relief to wake up to the rigid structure of a Monday morning. After breakfast, Luke went back to the Romans' dormitory and tried to phone Pagan again. This time, he had an apologetic message ready for the machine. As Pagan's recorded voice cheerily told him to "talk after the beep", Jay entered the room. Luke hastily ended the call and dropped his phone into his blazer pocket. There was no way he wanted anyone else to overhear this one-sided conversation.

  "She still not talking to you?"

  "No." Luke didn't want to discuss the situation with Jay, but Jay had other ideas.

  "Why don't you go down tonight and try to talk to her in person?"

  "Why don't you butt out and mind your own business?" Luke snapped back. He stalked out of the room and headed downstairs for the start of morning school.

  Jay avoided Luke during the mid-morning break and Luke wasn't in the mood to seek him out and apologise. He headed straight for the library, instead, and made a start on the History homework that Mr Thomas had given them in their first class of the day. The lesson before lunch was English with Mr Garnet. Jay sat down next to Luke in his usual seat, but said nothing and did not look at him.

  The class was reading Romeo and Juliet. They play had not managed to capture Luke's attention before, but now they had reached a scene where things were building up to a fight, which seemed to suit Luke's mood just fine.

  Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

  The play was interrupted by the arrival of a text message. The boy reading Romeo's part stopped mid-speech and every head turned in the direction of the noise. Luke jumped guiltily and put his hand over his pocket, as if to try and silence the phone.

  Mr Garnet held out his hand. "You know the rules, Brownlow. Turn it off and hand it over."

  The penalty for having a phone in class was to have it confiscated for the next 24 hours. Luke got to his feet and slouched his way to the front of the class, taking out his phone as he went. He turned it off without seeing who the text was from and put it into Mr Garnet's hand. Wharton was sitting in the front row of desks, right next to where Mr Garnet was standing and he stared at the phone in the English teacher's hand, perceiving its pink nature for the first time.

  "You've got a pink phone! Is that your mum's, Brownlow?" he asked, scornfully. A snort of laughter went around the room.

  "That's enough, Wharton. Let's get back to the play, shall we?" said Mr Garnet, as he put the shaming phone into his own jacket pocket. "You can collect it from the office at lunchtime tomorrow, Brownlow."

  Luke sank back into his seat and they carried on reading the play. Romeo was refusing to fight a man called Tybalt and Romeo's best friend, Mercutio, couldn't understand why. Luke thought he knew how Romeo was feeling. He followed along with the story, interested to find out how things worked out. Not well, it seemed. Annoyed by Romeo's lack of response, Mercutio ended up fighting Tybalt himself and when Romeo tried to stop the fight, Mercutio was wounded and died of his injury. Angered by his friend's death and blaming himself for his own lack of action, Romeo then murdered Tybalt.

  By the time the bell rang for the end of the lesson, Luke had made a number of resolutions, the most pressing of which was to get back on friendly terms with Jay. But Jay was out of his seat and moving away from him before he could say a word. Luke gathered up his things and followed the rest of the class to the hall for lunch. Jay was already sitting with Fred and Taj when Luke picked up his sandwich and a drink. He didn't feel like joining them and making a public apology, so he took his food out into the courtyard at the back of the school.

  Chapter Ten

  It was a windy and cool May day but the sun was shining on the benches against the wall of the building, providing at least an illusion of warmth, although not enough to tempt anybody else outside. Luke ate his lunch in peaceful isolation and stayed in the courtyard as long as he could, but the cold wind eventually became too much and he gave up his solitude to return to the heat of the school building.

  Monday afternoons were
the worst school session of the week for Luke: first there was maths with Mr Wilmot and then after the afternoon break there was IT, also taught by Mr Wilmot, although in a different room. Luke's plan was to head for the maths classroom early, to avoid having to talk the other year tens.

  It wasn't his lucky day. The first people he met on re-entering the school were Wharton and his band of Viking followers. Luke suspected that they had been looking for him, from the way Wharton instantly swung into the attack.

  "Nice phone, Brownlow. I didn't realise you were gay. Explains a lot."

  "Just leave me alone, Wharton. Go and torment someone else."

  "No wonder your girlfriend's sick of you. Perhaps it's time she got herself a real man for a change. I reckon I'm in with a chance there, myself."

  The thought of Wharton going anywhere near Pagan was enough to destroy the barriers of indifference that Luke had painstakingly constructed against the Viking's jibes. This time there was no old lady in a wheelchair to distract the animal part of his brain as it took control of his body. Before he really knew what he was doing, he found himself swinging a punch at Wharton. His fist connected with Wharton's left cheekbone, making a satisfying thwack. Taken by surprise, Wharton was thrown off balance and staggered sideways for a step or two. He recovered quickly though, and came straight back at Luke, his hands bunched into fists, ready for battle.

  An instant crowd of onlookers formed around Luke and Wharton, shouting "Fight, fight, fight!" and calling out encouragement and advice.

  The struggle was brief, in the nature of all fights that take place on school premises anywhere. The noise from the spectators attracted an almost immediate response from the teachers, which was hardly surprising, as the drama was being played out right outside the school's staff room.