THE WARDEN CROSS

School Jonathan ran down the dark hallway across the blue carpet towards the old wooden stairway that led up towards the deserted bell tower in the northern corner of the boarding school he attended. He turned his head from side to side as he ran, trying to catch a glimpse of his pursuers. Jonathan had a mop of pale ginger hair, tall for nearly thirteen but small-boned and thin, he had a small button nose, with the Warden Green eyes and, despite his strong jaw line; there was a sense of insecurity about him. He wore the school regulation green pyjamas and dark green dressing gown; He carried one slipper in his hand as he tried not to make any noise on the wooden floor that would reveal his location to his pursuers. The mahogany floor was cold to his bare feet but he took no notice as he fled up the dark passageway. He had just finished brushing his teeth in the small basin at one end of the bedroom and was preparing to get into bed when the creaking of the floorboards warned him that Neville and Richard, the two school bullies, had slipped into his room and, in an effort to get away from them; he had leapt over the bed, losing one of his slippers. He rushed out of the door, instinctively turning towards the safety of the bell tower. He had thought that they would not chase him for more than a few seconds but they did with almost frightful intent, and now he found himself running barefoot down the cold, dark corridors of the school, down a flight of stairs, hoping that the carpet would deaden the sound of his running feet and throw both Neville and Richard off his trail. He ran along the corridor with its portraits of previous headmasters and prominent people from the past hanging on the cream-coloured walls. It did not work; they were still after him; he could hear their heavy breathing on the stairs behind him. He was beginning to feel desper-ate; up till now he had managed to outrun them or he had been saved by the timely intervention of one of the teachers, but tonight they did not seem to be giving up. He was now in the corridor that led to the bell tower, if they found him here, he had nowhere else to go. He ran towards the big wooden door with its arched frame and studded joints; it had not been used for many years except by Jonathan it seemed. His running footsteps echoed through the empty hallway as he raced desperately towards the door with the two other boys after him. As he ran, a million thoughts raced through his mind: Neville did not seem to be your average school bully. That type of boy was usu-ally bigger than everybody else and used his height or weight to bully the children around him. Although Neville swaggered around the school, he was short, almost the same height as Jonathan even though he was a full year older, with large ears and nose, and a thin-lipped mouth. He had bushy eyebrows for a boy of thirteen, Jonathan had noticed them the first time he saw Neville. They met in the middle above his deep-set eyes. Richard, Neville’s sidekick, was much the same except for the eyebrows, maybe a little taller than Neville; it seemed these days that they just would not leave him alone and for some reason, they kept giving him a hard time, forever making life difficult for him. As he raced down the hallway, he tried again to work out why. He had not done anything to them as far as he knew. In fact, he hardly knew them before they started to pick on him around four weeks ago, just after the midterm visit from his par-ents and his Uncle Jack and Aunty Verona. His parents always came to visit at midterm but, last time, his Un-cle Jack and Aunty Verona had come along as well. Jonathan had been surprised to see them. Neville and Richard had started messing him around right after-wards. At every opportunity, they would pass comments or push him as they walked past. Last week they had even hidden his school case so he would get into trouble with the maths teacher, Mr Smith. That little prank of theirs had cost him two hours of detention. Of all the teachers, it had to be Mr Smith, the meanest of all his teachers. He was a short thin man with spectacles that sat on the end of his nose. Jonathan wondered why he wore them because he constantly peered over them and never seemed to use them to look at anything. Maybe he wore them just to make himself look even meaner than he was. Then there was the time they went into his room, turned every-thing upside down and emptied his clothes onto the floor. That had got everyone on the floor into trouble because they failed a surprise inspection by the headmaster. Sometimes when he was standing outside on the field, Neville and Richard would run past and purposely bump him, usually knocking him down or spilling his cool drink down the front of his uniform, making him sit the whole afternoon with a wet patch down his front, much to the amusement of the rest of the class. That really made him mad, and all the more annoying was the fact that he hardly ever saw them coming, no matter how watchful he was. Suddenly he would feel the bump from behind and they would laugh and call him names as they ran away Even as these thoughts ran through his mind, he was desperately trying to reach the end of the hallway before they came around the corner. They were closing in on him, shouting and laughing at him, threatening him with what they were going to do to him when they caught him. In the empty hallway, their threats echoed loudly. He was tiring quickly and he despaired of making it to safety this time, Neville and Richard were gaining on him with every step. He wondered what they would do if they caught him. Would they force him to give them more money? It seemed that the amount grew more and more each week and, when he said that he had no money, Richard and Neville would hint that he would be coming into a lot of money very soon and that he had better give them some or things would get a lot tougher for him.