Deadlands Read Free Page B

stepdaughter?’
    ‘I told you that already.’
    I could tell by the way her nose wrinkled up slightly, as if she’d smelled something putrid, that she was finding it hard to believe me. I’d taken an instant dislike to her – when she’d bent down to collect a form from behind the desk, I’d caught sight of a large bony Resurrectionist amulet under her blouse – and it was obviously more than mutual. She was all angles and hard edges, as if she’d been welded together, and she reeked of the grease she’d used to slick back her hair.
    ‘I’m Comrade Pelosi. If you have any problems, you can come and see me.’
    Not bloody likely.
    ‘Let’s get you to class,’ she said. ‘You’ll be just in time for morning thanks.’
    ‘For morning what?’
    She pretended not to hear me and led me outside.
    ‘You must feel very privileged coming to a school such as this after your time in the Agriculturals,’ she said in her superior tone. ‘We’re very proud of our beautiful school.’
    ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I can see why.’
    She glanced at me suspiciously, as if she’d detected the sarcastic undertone in my voice, but I smiled innocently back at her.
    Comrade Pelosi led me past a bare area dominated by a rusty sculpture of a sun with dull metal rays poking out of its centre and towards a squat barn-like structure with a domed roof. It instantly reminded me of the shed where we used to keep the sheep in the winter.
    ‘All your classes will be in here.’
    My stomach flip-flopped, and taking a deep, calming breath, I followed her inside.
    The room was as gloomy as the reception area – the only lighting coming from oil lamps that were placed on each desk – and although there had to be thirty or so students in the room, it was almost eerily silent. Everyone had their heads bent, their hands clasped on the desks in front of them.
    A freakishly tall man stood at the front of the classroom, his eyes closed and his arms raised above his head. He was almost as skinny as the Mantis, and his long hair was scraped back so tightly his brow looked as if it took up two thirds of his face. He immediately made me think of the huge rain spiders we’d sometimes find on the walls of Gran’s cottage.
    His eyes snapped open. ‘So we give thanks to the Guardians for the air that we breathe, the food that we eat and the safe environment in which we flourish,’ he said.
    A low murmuring started to hum in the background. Comrade Pelosi, or Acid Face as I had decided to dub her, cleared her throat.
    ‘Comrade,’ she said. ‘Sawubona. New pupil for you.’ Then she stalked out, leaving me stranded at the side of the classroom.
    ‘Please come to the front,’ the teacher said.
    Squirming with self-consciousness, I walked stiffly towards him. My boots clunked over the concrete floor, and a couple of girls in the front row sniggered. The words
Give thanks for each new day
were written on the blackboard, but the rest of the dusty brick walls were bare. There were no windows, and despite the size of the room I began to feel claustrophobic.
    ‘Welcome,’ the teacher said, his flat black eyes boring into my skull. ‘I am Comrade Xhati. Please, tell us a bit about yourself.’
    Crap. I really
really
didn’t want to stand in front of all these strangers and talk about myself. I turned to face the class, heart hammering in my chest, everyone’s eyes focused on me. The girl directly opposite me smothered a yawn and flicked her hair over her shoulder. It was intricately plaited and fell almost to her waist. The Mantis was right. I was one of the only students with cropped hair. My first day, and already I stood out like a sore thumb.
    ‘My name’s Lele . . .’ My voice cracked, and I had to clear my throat and start again. Someone giggled. ‘My name’s Lele. I live with my dad and stepmother and . . .’ What else was there to say?
    ‘Thank you, Lele. And why are you joining us halfway through the year?’
    ‘Um . . . I’ve just