His brassy-haired head is tilted back, his hands are in his pockets. His knee is bent forward and to the side. He is only a pleb, used by teaching staff to relay messages to boys, and yet he stands there like that as if superior to me. I am wanted by a master. I am to wait outside the staff room. “Who exactly wants me?” “I don’t know exactly. A teacher whose name I don’t know. You’re to wait outside the staff room immediately.” I do not like that tone in his voice. Immediately. As if a pleb has the right to order immediately to me. “Were you told to say immediately? Or was it just you adding it now? Your Chinese Whispers duty is designed to make you more servile to masters, not impertinent to me.” “It was them.” “It better be. Do you know the punishment for getting Chinese Whispers wrong?” “No.” That question has straightened his head and stiffened his knee. “If the message is mis-told to the listener, you the Whisperer will receive the equivalent of a fine.”
