Seriously Weird: St. Meular's
"Well," I said confidently, as if I'd finally solved the whole problem, "It looks like there's no way out!"
"Thanks!"
I remembered visiting St. Meular's, years ago, when I was about five. I think my parents had been considering sentencing me to a stay there. Thankfully, they changed their minds. It was like a high-security prison. Huge, stone walls, shiny marble floors, big oaken doors, and teachers, like guards, pacing about everywhere. Mum took me by the hand through the main entrance. It was like going into a vast dungeon. She put spit on her handkerchief and wiped my cheeks. I hated her doing that. She brushed my hair and told me to be polite.
I remembered following her into a study, with walls covered in musty, worn-out books. An old man, with hands like soft wax, said hello and shook my hand, and smiled. Half his teeth were missing. His eyebrows were twisted outwards, like spikes. He sat on a black, ancient chair and asked us lots of questions, then he stood up and shook our hands again ... I was really glad to get out of that place!
"... and they'll be at my place for dinner tonight!" Spotty was saying.
"What?" I asked, coming out of my daydream.
"The Principal and his wife," repeated Spotty, "I said, they're coming to our place for dinner!"
"The Principal? Of St. Meular's?" I repeated.
"Are you going deaf or something?" asked Spotty.
"No," I said, "I was just thinking about something. You'll have to say all that again."
Spotty sighed.
"I said, my Dad's invited the Principal of St. Meular's, and his wife, round to our place tonight for dinner. He wants to make a good impression on him, so I'll be accepted into the school."
"Tonight?"
"This is Earth," said Spotty, "Are you receiving me. Come in - Earth calling?"
