The Wonderground

2 - The First Day of School

"Are we having fun yet?" he shouted, making the microphone pointless.

"No!" yelled a large thuggish boy wearing an expensive tracksuit and trainers, without looking up from his tablet. His name badge said 'Jack'.

The boy with the microphone ignored him. "My name is Charlie Wood," he introduced. "Amelia and I have been tasked with showing you late arrivals around Blankrook School. The rest of the students arrived, on time, last weekend in time to settle in before classes start...tomorrow!" He scanned the room at the bewildered, bedraggled features of the anxious faces staring back at him. "For whatever reasons, you lot have left till the last minute. But we are very happy to have you, of course!" He turned to address the blonde girl. "Who's on the list?" he asked as he handed her the mic.

The girl called Amelia scrolled through the Notes app on her phone. "Mostly Year Sevens, same as Charlie and me, with a few younger ones, a couple of international students, the son of our newest governor, a scholarship student, the daughter of a diplomat and the kid of our new headteacher, Mrs. Marney!"

It was Sunday morning, the day before the autumn term started. Scarcely time to adjust to their new surroundings. Amelia handed out A4 pieces of paper showing a map of the school on one side and their individual timetables on the other.

"At the top of your sheets, your name is written in a specific colour," pointed out Amelia. "This indicates which house you have been placed in here at Blankrook. This will also be your dormitory. There are separate girls' and boys' quarters. Two teachers live on site in each of the four houses."

"These dorm masters and mistresses will be your mentors at school and are available twenty-four seven if you need anything," informed Charlie. "Even for getting a spider out of your bath!"

"There are four houses," continued Amelia. "Hawk House wears the colour emerald," pointing at Charlie's green tie. "Vulture House is crimson. Navy blue for Eagle House and last, but by no means least, violet represents Falcon House," she said, waggling her purple school tie proudly.

Charlie and Amelia led the group away from their soaking belongings and began a tour of the grounds. They explained everything from where to get their uniforms, to where the staff room was located. The best teachers, the worst teachers. The teachers who were having affairs with other teachers.

"We have no intention of showing you the teaching facilities today," smiled Charlie. "You'll have five days a week to familiarise yourself with the insides of classrooms."

"All of you will be boarding here and there are plenty of recreational hours to fill outside of lessons and homework," added Amelia, pushing open a pair of double doors to the outside. It had stopped raining. In front of them was a terracotta building that resembled the Royal Albert Hall. It was circular with a shallow, glass domed roof. The grand entrance was flanked by two stone 'tragedy' and 'comedy' masks.

"We've an amateur dramatics group, a musical theatre society, a poetry hub, a jazz club and a kazoo orchestra," listed Charlie.

"The building also doubles as a cinema," said Amelia. "Movie club night is Monday."

They were shown a vast sports centre with internal courts for badminton, squash, table tennis and five-a-side, a climbing wall and gymnasium with state-of-the-art equipment. Outside were artificial pitches for hockey, netball and basketball. Lush grass pitches disappeared into the distance with football and rugby posts shining bright white despite the morning gloom. There was an outdoor aerial assault trail built into the trees along one edge of the school's perimeter and, by the staff car park, an Astroturf crazy golf course!

Amelia led the group beyond the parked cars towards the main entrance road. At the bottom of the hill, by the main road into the local village, was a smart, redbrick building.

"This is 'The Gatehouse'. The headteacher's cottage," explained Amelia. "Students are strictly banned from pestering her at home," she warned. "If you want to know what the wallpaper is like in the downstairs toilet, I suggest you befriend Mrs. Marney's daughter!"

A timid looking girl with mousey brown straight hair, pushed back with an Alice band, raised her hand from the back of the group. Her name badge said 'Isla'.

"You don't have to raise your hand," said Charlie sympathetically.

"Oh, sorry," she apologised, pulling nervously at her sleeve. "Kind of a bird theme, with ornamental cages and tree branches."

Everyone looked at the girl, wondering what on earth she was talking about.

"The wallpaper in the downstairs toilet," blushed Isla Marney, the headteacher's daughter.

Beyond the home of the headteacher and her beetroot-faced daughter, the group approached a second, smaller, and altogether more sinister looking building. It was set back in amongst the trees, beyond a cycle path that was signposted: 'Upper Puddlemere village ½'. It looked like it had fallen into disrepair. There were tiles missing from the roof and one of the windows was boarded up. There was a Morris Minor, in Snowberry White, abandoned in the driveway, mounted on bricks. Grass and weeds had burst through the Tarmac drive and were coiling round the bumpers. A bird's nest occupied the space between the headlights where the radiator grill should have been. There were several punctured basketballs suspended from different lengths of rope attached to the lowest branches of a large dead tree by the front door.

"Interesting take on hanging baskets," commented Rose, which raised a giggle from within the group.

"This is Clay Porter's cottage. The school caretaker," explained Amelia.

"Someone lives in that dump?" asked Jack from near the back.

"Don't let appearances deceive you," warned Charlie. "He's the coolest adult at this school. He remembers every child's name, knows every room, passageway and cupboard, and has saved my backside more times than I can count."

"You will be far better off making him your friend," added Amelia, "than your enemy."

As Amelia finished speaking, they heard an otherworldly scream from behind the cottage, followed by the sound of breaking glass. A figure appeared, limping slightly and carrying a large, bloodied knife in his left hand. He was wearing a powder-blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows underneath a dirty brown suede waistcoat. He had an equally dirty bandana tied around his neck and a pair of goggles pushed up on his forehead keeping his scruffy mop of brown hair out of his eyes. He wore a leather utility belt around his waist that was bursting with tools. His ankle boots were sturdy. His muddy trousers had a hole in the left knee.

He noticed the crowd standing wide-eyed before him. "Fresh meat?" he asked wryly, pointing the knife at the group.

"Arrived this morning," grinned Charlie.

"I shall expect a list," muttered Porter and headed towards his front door, blood dripping from his left elbow.

He turned back to face them. "I have two rules," he announced. "One: the inside of my cottage is out of bounds to everyone...without exception!" He waggled the knife towards them again in warning. "And two: I am the Caretaker of this school, not a bloody teacher. So, it is 'Clay', not 'Mr. Porter'. Got it?"

He spun and threw the knife towards the house, where it pierced one of the hanging basketballs with a satisfying 'thunk'.

And then he was gone.

"Got it," whispered a couple of the new students under their breaths.