authority. Sometimes she’ll murmur, “Now, now, Bo, please pay attention,” but without any real hope that the blonde, pony-tailed, stick-thin brat will obey.
Miss Jaun seems genuinely pleased that Bill-E and I have been added to her class, probably because we’re polite and show some interest. She chats to us warmly, finds out what we’ve been studying, takes a few notes, promises to haul us up to scratch in next to no time.
“I bet those scruffbags know a lot about scratching,” Bo sniffs.
“Meaning?” I growl at her.
“We’ve found our nemesis,” Bill-E mutters in my ear, pegging it dead-on. “Hate her, Grubbs. Hate her good and proper.”
“Does her character die in the script?” I ask Emmet.
“No,” he says. “She ends up saving the town, along with Salit.”
“A pity,” I sigh.
“But she does fall into a pit full of demon manure at one stage,” Emmet says, and my day lights right up.
Our first session lasts two hours, a mix of history, biology and math. Miss Jaun seems to be confident in all subjects—a smart cookie. Then an assistant director pops in and says they need Bo and Salit. Miss Jaun checks her watch, says we might as well all take a break and asks those of us not involved in filming to return in an hour. It’s certainly a lot more laid back than our school in Carcery Vale.
Emmet wants to practise his lines on Bill-E and me again, but we don’t have the patience, so we leave him with his mum in his trailer. We grab sandwiches from one of the many mobile canteens, then go see if anything exciting is happening. There’s not much to keep us amused today.
Davida and her crew are setting up a tracking shot on a street, trying to get lots of actors in place and working in sync with each other. Fairly boring to watch. A lot of filming is.
“I still can’t believe we’re here,” Bill-E says as we go for a wander. “Maybe this will become Dervish’s full- time job and we’ll travel around the world on film shoots with him.”
“I doubt it,” I laugh. “Your gran and grandad wouldn’t allow it. I’m surprised they agreed to let Dervish have you for this long. Did he work some magic spells on them?”
“Nope,” Bill-E says. “They were happy to let me come. Gran loves movies, especially old flicks starring the likes of David Niven and Ingrid Bergman. She thought this was a great opportunity for me. I think she’s hoping I’ll fall in love with a beautiful blind cellist or some such guff. She believes a lot of those old films were based on true stories, that the world’s really like that.”
“Mind you, a girl would have to be blind to fall in love with you,” I comment.
“Your face,” Bill-E snorts. “My flabby nether regions. Spot the similarity?”
I get Bill-E in a headlock and rub my knuckles into his skull, but it’s all in fun. He has no idea of the real reason why he’s here. He thinks Dervish is his father, that he didn’t want to spend a few months parted from his darling son. He doesn’t know about Dervish wanting to make sure Davida doesn’t raise hell, or about Prae Athim’s interest in experimenting on him.
“I can’t wait to see the demon tomorrow—or it might even be tonight,” Bill-E enthuses once I’ve released him. “Emmet says it depends on how shooting goes today. If they finish that shot on the street in time, they’ll do his scene later. It’ll be coolio!”
“Hmmm,” I say neutrally.
“What are you moaning about, Goliath?” Bill-E frowns. Then, studying me carefully, his expression clears. “Oh. I’d forgotten. Your parents and sister…” He trails off into silence. Although Bill-E doesn’t know about his lycanthropic genes, or the battle Dervish and I fought with Lord Loss, he knows demons killed my family.
“Are you going to be OK with all this?” Bill-E asks awkwardly. Sympathy isn’t something that he does well.
“Sure,” I grunt.
“Really?” he presses. “Because they can’t keep us here. I know Dervish signed those contracts saying we’d stay until the end, but
“No,” I smile. “I’ll be OK. I mean, we’re talking movie demons here—rubber, wire and paint. How scary can they be?”
Emmet’s nervous all afternoon, practising his lines even in class. Davida popped in to see him during lunch and told him they’d definitely be shooting his death scene tonight. The way he’s behaving—pale, shivering, mumbling to himself—I think it might take quite a few attempts to get it right!
Near the end of class, Emmet’s summoned to the makeup trailer. He won’t be required on set for a few hours yet, but they want to run some tests. It’s going to be a gory scene—Davida wants blood spurting every which way—so they need to make sure everything’s set up smoothly before they stick him in front of the cameras.
Salit and Bo return as Emmet’s leaving. “I can’t believe they’re letting you go through with this farce,” Bo says, blocking the doorway. “You’ll choke, Eijit. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. So why don’t you just —”
“Leave him alone!” Bill-E shouts. “Meddling cow!”
“Now, Bill-E, that’s not—” Miss Jaun begins.
“Shut up, pipsqueak!” Bo defends herself, spitting venom at Bill-E. “If I want advice from a fat geek with a dodgy eye, I’ll let you know. Otherwise…”
I stand up, flexing my muscles, stretching aggressively. “You’re going to apologise,” I tell Bo flatly.
“Says who?” she retorts, but I’ve unnerved her. It’s not often that I threaten anyone, but when I do, I can make quite an impression.
I step out from behind my desk and crack my knuckles, staring at Bo levelly.
Bo glares at me, then sneers and says mockingly, “I’m so sorry, Billy One-eye. I won’t point the truth out to you again.” Her gaze flicks back at Emmet. “But you’re still going to mess up. Let me know when you do. It’s not too late for Abe to step in and do the job properly.”
“Ignore her,” Bill-E says, his left eyelid fluttering furiously. “You’ll be great. Davida wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t believe you could do it.”
“Thanks,” Emmet says hollowly, then pushes past Bo, visibly upset. Bo smirks and takes her seat.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Miss Jaun says disapprovingly.
Bo looks up at our teacher as though just noticing she’s there. “Excuse me?”
“You shouldn’t—” Miss Jaun begins.
“What was that?” Bo asks loudly, cutting Miss Jaun off. She tilts her head and pushes her lower lip out with her tongue, daring Miss Jaun to challenge her. For a moment it looks as though she will and I ready myself to cheer the timid teacher on. But then her shoulders sag and she looks away.
“Let’s get on with our lessons,” she says meekly. “I’ll finish up with the others, then take you and Salit for a couple of hours. Now, where were we…?”
“Someone should sort her out,” Bill-E storms when class has finished. “Bo bloody Kooniart! Davida should put that little monster over her knee and spank her till her hand turns blue!”
“I agree,” I say grimly, “but it’s not going to happen. She’s a star. She can get away with crap like that. To be honest, I thought they’d all be like her. I’m surprised how normal most of the others are.”
“A pity the demons aren’t real,” Bill-E grumbles. “We could feed Bo to them, and her horrible little brother. Vanalee too.”
“It would certainly make life easier,” I agree. “But they’re not real. There’s nothing we can do except ignore her. Come on.” I slap his back. “Let’s go see what Emmet looks like in his make-up.”
Emmet’s covered in fake blood. He’s spitting it out and wiping it from his eyes. “The bag exploded early,” he moans.
“You squeezed too hard,” a props person says, sliding a hand up inside Emmet’s jumper, removing an empty plastic bag which had been filled with the red, sticky liquid. “You have to be more gentle. Don’t worry—you’ll get the hang of it soon.”
Emmet goes off to be cleaned, before trying on a fresh costume and having his make-up applied again.
