Magnus Fin and the Ocean Quest Read Free Page B

left the rabbits,” Magnus said, lowering the plank with one hand and with the other showing his dad the delicate shape of the white bird skull.
    “She’s a beauty,” Ragnor said, nodding his old grey head and handing Magnus his school bag. “Now, go on, son – school!”
    Magnus Fin placed the bird skull carefully in his bag and headed off in the direction of the village school. Somehow he couldn’t run to school the way he could run to the beach. He dragged his heels and wished it was Saturday, Sunday or best of all, the summer holidays.
     
    “Late again, Magnus Fin,” said the teacher, Mrs McLeod, who was marking the register. She looked up when the strange wee boy closed the squeaky door of the classroom as quietly as he could. “What’s the excuse this time?”
    “Sorry,” he said, his voice a tiny whisper, “slept in.”
    Mrs McLeod had almost given up hope with Magnus Fin. She had even gone so far as to buy him an alarm clock. But when her husband, a fisherman, told her that he regularly saw the boy at the beach at six in the morning, Mrs McLeod knew sleeping in was not the problem.
    “Slept in where exactly?” she asked. The whole class now turned to stare at Magnus, who was trying without success to slip unnoticed on to his seat.
    “Bed,” he lied, his face turning red. Some of the children in his class giggled.
    “Being late is bad enough,” the teacher went on, “and telling lies is even worse. The cupboard needs tidying and you, Mr Magnus Fin, can do it. You can stay back after school today and help me. Right, class, let’s get on. Now, P6 – what do you know about Mexico?”

Chapter Four
    “So, Magnus Fin, what’s so fascinating about the beach first thing in the morning?” the teacher asked that day after school when the other pupils had all gone home.
    “It’s always different, Miss,” he said, handing Mrs McLeod a box full of jotters. This was his detention for being late, but the truth was he didn’t mind staying on after school. “Like, um, the tide brings things in and I have to check,” he went on, his voice excited now. “If I don’t I might miss something great. My favourite is bits from sunken ships. And I got something today – wait a minute, Miss, and I’ll show you – I’ve got a cormorant’s skull.”
    Magnus left the teacher standing with her arms full of jotters and ran to his school bag and gently lifted out the cormorant’s skull. “See! I’ve got loads of stuff and I sometimes help birds if they’ve got broken wings and I helped a baby seal that was stuck inside a washing basket.”
    “Goodness me! That’s a good skull. Poor thing, but what on earth was a washing basket doing on the beach in the first place?”
    “Dunno, Miss,” he said, carefully placing the skull back in his bag. He returned to the cupboard, awaiting his next instruction.
    “Pass me those crayons, will you? Good – and those paintbrushes. That wee Bobby Morrison has been putting his paintbrush away without cleaning it. Look! It’s ruined. You’ll have to throw it out. No wonder this school has no money. Oh, what a mess this cupboard is in. What is the world coming to? I don’t know. Washing basket, what next?”
    Mrs McLeod, tutting and sighing, took the dirty paintbrushes from Magnus Fin and dropped them in the bin, then struggled trying to lift the boxes of art equipment on to a shelf. With another sigh she turned to look at Magnus who was now busy stacking boxes of jotters in the cupboard. “Magnus Fin, you really should stick up for yourself you know. I heard that bully Sandy Alexander in the corridor. I heard what he called you – and your parents.”
    Magnus felt his face flush red. He stared at the floor. He’d heard Sandy Alexander too. “Decrepit lepers,” he’d said. It sounded bad the way he had said it, though Magnus Fin didn’t know what it meant. He just shrugged.
    “And, um … how are your parents these days?”
    “OK, I suppose. I mean, well, they