 Previous
New Readers Start Here
Table of Contents Next
Bicester was ignoring them so Michael flipped his copy
of the test over and scanned through the questions.
He had a faint hope it might be the same test as yesterday.
Maybe Bicester felt they could do better second time
around, so he had given them the test again, without
warning. No one would have checked the answers.
But no, it was a fresh new test with new questions
on the same topics as yesterday. Hell!
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Bicester suddenly.
"Welcome! As you might have observed, today we
have another unplanned activity, not entirely dissimilar
to that which we enjoyed yesterday morning. I graded
your test yesterday and have to confess that I was less
than overjoyed to observe that none of you achieved
a score in the top ten percent, and barely a one of
your managed to creep into the upper quartile. This
reflects badly on yourselves but, much more importantly,
it reflects badly on me and this is an unhappy problem
that we will have to remedy. We will have another test
today and, I very much fear, this will be by no means
the last. Are you sitting comfortably?"
No one answered. "Good. Then you may begin. Put
that book away, Davies."
There was a time for vengeance but this was clearly
not it. Though he was reluctant, Michael picked up the
sheet and began to read through the questions. He was
sitting next to a window and he glanced out. Thunder
clouds seemed to be gathering in the distance. The classroom
lights were on.
Perhaps the previous evening had sensitized him but
when the lights dipped Michael noticed immediately.
They dipped again and this time two or three other people
looked up. The third dip was sufficiently pronounced
to catch Bicester's attention and he too looked up.
There was something familiar about the pattern. A dip,
a pause of a second or two, another dip, another pause,
and so on.
Surely not! Surely a power cut was too much to hope
for.
Dip, pause, dip, dip dip, BIG DIP, pause, pause, pause.
Michael held his breath. Pause. Come on. Come on, he
pleaded, silently. The lights seemed to be holding steady.
So near and yet so far! Dip again, begged Michael. Please!
Dip. Go on!
The lights did not dip. He waited and waited but they
shone steadfastly down onto the blank answer sheet on
his desk for a further minute and then, without warning,
they blinked off and the classroom went very, very dark.
There were thirty-three reluctant history scholars
in the room, and thirty-two of them cheered. The other
was looking at the clouds outside. In his head he counted
down from ten. Before he reached five, torrents of rain
started to fall.
Previous New
Readers Start Here Table
of Contents Next
|
