1. Denzil's Game...
I'm trying to think when it was, the first time I noticed that Denzil
had that special thing about him. You could
call it power. Things would happen round
him Like they did round no-one else. At the
time it seemed exciting; it set my nerve
ends on edge. It's only afterwards, Looking
back, that I realize the feeling was fear.
We were friends, after all. And the first
time I'm thinking of, it wasn't me he was
frightening; it was Mr Pinkus. I was a
bystander, one of the class, though I caught
on to what was happening quicker than most
of the rest. He was subtle, Denzil was.
You've got to grant him that.
And Mr Pinkus? If ever there was a natural
victim, he was. You could see it in his
eyes. The moment he stepped through the
door, before most of the class had even
noticed him, he Looked cornered. It wasn't
that we were out of order, just a bit high, the way you are when you know the English
teacher's off - a teacher that nobody likes -
and it's Shakespeare again. We were
chatting and pushing each other about a bit
and joking, and then the door opened. There
was Mr Pinkus looking ... well, I've got to
say it: pink.
It was his skin: it had that slightly boiled
Look. He blinked too, several times, as he
Looked around the classroom. You could see
the pinkness of his scalp right through his
thin white hair.
"Hello, sir." It was Denzil who spoke first,
and it seemed polite -just a bit too polite to
be true, but he smiled as he said it, and
Mr Pinkus looked relieved and gave a bit of
a smile in return.
"Uh, I understand Miss Stokes has set you
work to get on with," he said.
Someone muttered something at the back,
and Mr Pinkus jerked round. "Pardon?" he
said and blushed. That's what gave Denzil his
cue. Mr Pinkus's hearing wasn't too good
these days; he missed things, and felt bad
about it. He was a couple of years from
retirement and you could see the younger
members of staff thinking that the time
couldn't pass too quickly.
"Ben said: Yes she did, but she didn't
explain it, sir." Denzil spoke Loud and clear,
and Mr Pinkus's eyes were drawn to him.
What a helpful boy, you could see him
thinking. Looking back now, there was
something just then in the way that Denzil
nodded slightly as he smiled ...
"Could you explain it to us, sir?"
"Oh ..." Mr Pinkus said. "It's not my subject
..." Mr Pinkus was Religious Studies. My
mum told me later that he'd been a vicar
once, but found it stressful so he turned to
teaching. Little did he know.
"Please, sir?" said Denzil. I Looked at the
worksheet we'd been left. A Midsummer
Night's Dream. "What is the dramatic effect",
it said, "of Oberon telling Puck to make
Titania fall in Love with Bottom?" At the back
of the class, some people shifted restlessly.
For clarity, the question scored about two out
of ten. It was the kind of question we could
Leave till Miss Stokes came back next week,
then tell her we hadn't been able to do it
because we didn't understand. If Pinkus went
and explained now, we'd have to do it.
"Shut up, Denzil," whispered Lisa. Lisa
was queen bee in our class, the one at the
centre of the biggest group of friends, and
what Lisa said went. Denzil was new, and in
nobody's gang, but he gave her a straight
Look, not aggressive, just sort of calm and
controlled. I know what I'm doing, it said.
And - this is what I mean by power - Lisa Let
it go.
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