The Third-Class Genie. Robert Leeson

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Chapter One DISASTERS TWO, TRIUMPHS NIL

      MONDAYS ARE BAD enough, any week. But this one broke all records. Alec knew, because he kept a score every day in his head with triumphs on one side and disasters on the other. Today disasters were away down the field while the other team was still in the changing room.

      Late as usual, Alec trundled into the schoolyard to join the tail end of line-up. He found himself next to Sam Taylor, which was not a good start to the day. Sam was as thick as a plank and nasty with it, but today he wasn’t interested in Alec. His spotty face gleaming, he was studying someone in the line-up, a new lad, tall, broad-shouldered, with a boxer’s nose. His face was brown but his short, bristly hair was light red.

      “Hey, Ginger,” said Sam Taylor.

      The boy looked away and said nothing.

      “I’m talking to you, Ginger.”

      The boy turned.

      “My name’s Wallace, Spotty.”

      “Oh, beg pardon, Mr Wallace.” Sam’s voice took on a painful, affected accent. “Tell me, Mr Wallace, how does a gentleman from your part of the Commonwealth come to have ginger hair?”

      This time there was no answer. The boy’s back was turned once more.

      But one of Spotty’s mates muttered, “Must have been a red-headed sailor in port.” Before he could stop himself, Alec started to snigger. He caught a ferocious look from the red-headed boy and covered up his mouth. Sam and his mates were looking away.

      “Very funny, eh?” said Ginger.

      Alec began to protest when someone loomed behind him.

      It was Monty Cartwright, senior master and keeper of the punishment book, famed for his black beret and habit of ranging the schoolyard as though planning military manoeuvres.

      “Quiet in the line-up, Bowden. For someone your size you make an awful lot of noise.”

      Alec went glumly into school. He knew it was not his day, and he could feel more trouble on the way. He was right: by half-time, disasters had one in the net.

      As he wandered into the yard at break, his way was barred by Ginger Wallace.

      “Hey, Skinny.”

      That hurt even if it was true. Alec looked from side to side. There was no escape and no support in sight. He fixed his eye on Ginger’s half-knotted tie, because looking up into his face made him feel smaller still.

      “I’ve seen you down Boner’s Street, haven’t I?”

      “Yes,” Alec replied before he could stop himself. “My mate lives down there.”

      “Does he? What number?”

      “Number 85.”

      “No, he СКАЧАТЬ