The Land of Decoration

Neil Lewis Learns a Lesson

THE NEXT DAY, while the others were in assembly, I asked Mrs. Pierce what the note meant. Mrs. Pierce turned over some papers on her desk. Then she said: “It didn’t mean anything, Judith. It was nonsense.”

I said: “It must have meant something.”

“Do you know who wrote it?”

“I think it was Neil … and Gemma.”

Mrs. Pierce nodded. “I thought as much.” She sighed, then she smiled at me. “How would you feel if we moved you from that table?”

“I’d like that.”

It was strange sitting with Anna and Stephen and Matthew. No one whispered or giggled or looked sideways at me. No one whispered or pushed my arm or hid my pen or took up all the space or threw things at my head or dropped things in my hair. I wondered why Mr. Davies had never moved me.

Neil came in late that morning, carrying a plastic bag over his shoulder. His feet made a funny sound on the floor, and when I looked down I saw that he was wearing a pair of daps like we wear for PE, except they were too big for him. “Neil Lewis,” said Mrs. Pierce, “where are your shoes?”

Neil said: “Shoes are for wankers.”

Mrs. Pierce said: “One hundred lines.”

“What the fuck?” said Neil.

“Three hundred lines,” said Mrs. Pierce.

Neil opened his mouth.

Mrs. Pierce said: “I asked you a question: Where are your shoes?”

Neil sat down and threw his bag under the table. His face was dark red. “Lost them.”

Mrs. Pierce said: “You lost your bag yesterday; today it’s your shoes. Have you replaced the books you lost yet?”

Neil frowned so much, his eyebrows hid his eyes. Suddenly he said: “My dad gave me a right bollocking ’cause of you! You got no right to take my bag!”

“Oh, so it was your bag,” said Mrs. Pierce.

Neil’s face grew purple. He said: “My dad’s going to come and see you!”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” said Mrs. Pierce.

Neil’s leg jigged up and down. He seemed to be thinking of something.

Mrs. Pierce sighed, got up, and sat in her usual place on the edge of her desk. “Now, what do you normally do on a Tuesday morning, class eight?” she said.

“Grammar,” said Hugh.

“Well, from now on we’ll be doing Art.” There were murmurs of surprise. “Gather round, everyone.”

She held up a postcard. In the postcard there was a cafe lit with yellow light. There were lamps in the ceiling and the lamps looked like little planets. The lines in the painting were warped, as if they had been painted by someone who was drunk, but Mrs. Pierce said the interesting thing was that the man who painted it could draw perfectly well. He had painted this way deliberately, to heighten “the emotional charge” of the picture.

Then she told us all about how pictures could make us happy or sad, comfortable or uncomfortable, excited or sleepy. She said pictures, like poems, were charged with electricity. There was laughter. Mrs. Pierce said: “Well, pictures make us feel emotions. Emotions are just electricity. How does the picture make you feel?”

“It makes me feel seasick,” said Gemma.

Mrs. Pierce looked at Gemma. She pursed her lips: “You’re quite an artist yourself, aren’t you, Miss Butler?”

Gemma said: “What?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Pierce. “I saw an example of your artwork yesterday. Tell me, do you often draw your classmates?”

Gemma flushed. “I don’t know what you mean, Miss.”

“I think you do,” said Mrs. Pierce. “But perhaps the picture I saw was a joint masterpiece—with Mr. Lewis. Is that right?”

Neil scowled.

“I expect you both thought it was quite amusing, though I’m afraid I didn’t. And your grasp of human anatomy was sadly lacking.” Mrs. Pierce picked up a ruler and got down from the desk. “Would you like to know where your picture is now?” She said a little more loudly: “I said: Would you like to know where your picture is now?” Then there was a crack like a whip and Neil jumped. He wasn’t slouched over his desk anymore.

Neil had turned red. “Mr. Lewis!” said Mrs. Pierce. “I asked you a question.” Neil folded his arms and stared at the desk, but his chest was rising and falling.

Mrs. Pierce began walking again. “The picture is in a safe place,” she said. “Where it will stay until I decide what to do with it—and what to do with the people who drew it.” She frowned and put her hand to her chin. “Perhaps,” she said, “I should include it in the work I show to parents on parents’ evening. It would make interesting viewing, don’t you think?”

Gemma’s eyes were filling. She said: “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss!”

“A liar too,” Mrs. Pierce said. “Well. It takes all sorts. Doesn’t it, Mr. Lewis? Yes,” she said as she walked back to her desk, “it takes all sorts.” Suddenly she sounded tired. “All right, everybody, let’s get painting.”

I painted the field I had seen in the dream. But instead of me and the old man in the field, I painted the first two people I had made for the Land of Decoration—the pipe-cleaner doll with the green sweater and the fabric doll with dungarees. Mrs. Pierce said: “That looks interesting.” I told her it was and that it was something I had made. “Really?” she said. “Out of what?”

“Rubbish,” I said, and I told her about the Land of Decoration.

Mrs. Pierce said: “And who are these two people meant to be?”

“Father and me,” I said. I hadn’t known this before but saw now that was who they were. I said: “We’re going to be there one day. When the earth is a paradise.”

“A paradise?” she said.

“Yes. After Armageddon.”

She said: “You really will have to tell me more about all of this, Judith. It sounds fascinating.”

I was very happy for the rest of the morning. When I had finished, Anna and I went up to the sink to rinse our brushes. I was swilling out the jar when I turned to see Neil beside me. He said: “Still got magic powers?” And then he put his mouth close to my ear. “You’re going to need them.”

He turned, and as he did he knocked the jar out of my hands, splashing yellow water on my skirt and tights. “Oh. Sorry,” he said. “I must have slipped.” He grinned. “You’d think you would have grown out of wetting yourself by now.”

Neil went back to his seat. I saw him nudge Lee and Gareth. Lee said: “Judith’s wet herself, Miss.”

Mrs. Pierce looked up. “Judith, what happened?”

Neil mouthed: “I’ll kill you.” I looked back at Mrs. Pierce.

“Judith?” she said.

Neil made furious chopping motions with his hands.

“Neil threw water over me,” I said suddenly. It was easy.

Neil stared at me.

“Yes, Miss,” said Anna. “I saw him.”

“Well, well,” said Mrs. Pierce in a flat voice. “Why am I not surprised? Judith, go to the nurse and get some dry clothes. Neil, you seem to have some sort of problem with Judith. What is it? Can you tell me?”

* * *

WHEN I CAME back to class twenty minutes later, something was strange. I knew it as soon as I closed the door. It was as if something had landed in the middle of the room and no one could look at it. Mrs. Pierce was walking up and down between the desks with a bright, hard look on her face, and everyone had their heads bent over their books. I sat down and then I saw what the strange thing was. Neil wasn’t in his seat. He was sitting with his back to us at a desk at the front of the room that hadn’t been there before.