SEE BECK OUT – CHECK

What was left of Beck slumped in the camping chair, the colour completely drained from his skin. The plastic cup tumbled unceremoniously into the armrest.

Haralda took a sip of what he’d given her, then screwed up her face as it attacked her tongue with cheap, bitter fire. She poured the rest out the window. Seeing Beck off had been the proper thing to do – a professional deputy head had to treat those under her with respect, no matter how she felt privately. Indeed, Haralda took great pride in writing scathing report cards for the troublemakers under her jurisdiction, but even she had to smile when she saw the little tykes at parent’s evening, or worse, in the supermarket. It came with the job.

She flicked off the crackling halogen bulb that hung from a stripped cable in the ceiling and closed the door behind her as she left.

THE CAST OF THIS SORDID RECOUNT IS THUS, Kari croaked. JURE, THE PATRIARCH. AKIA, THE MATRIARCH. THEIR THREE CHILDREN: EDUARD, GERSON, AND JOE. THE SCULLERY MAID...

Faust nudged Connie with his elbow as Haralda came up behind him.

He was saying, “...But seriously, what’s up with that voice? It’s like a dog trying to imitate human speech. Or, I guess, a human imitating a dog imitating a human.”

“You mean like Scooby Doo?” said Connie. “Uh, I’m not really hearing it, man.”

Faust went quiet, and very red.

Connie continued, “I’ve never been much of a fan of kid actors, to be honest.”

Haralda tapped the pair on the shoulder as politely as she could.

She whispered, “Beck has left us. Is Kari still going on about nothing in particular?”

The pair nodded.

“We just heard about their fourth birthday,” said Faust, idly brushing his hair. “I’m so interested I might just die.”

“Do you wanna go and get another coffee?” asked Connie. “Maybe… I don’t know… see if there’s any other records you like?”

“No, I’ll sort this out,” said Haralda, feeling the regret of all teachers when their star student inevitably gets cocky and steps out of line. Kari had been so quiet and well-behaved, as well. A pity.

Across the room, Eirlys and Saheel had given up all pretense of listening and were quietly strategizing by passing post-it notes between them. Only Tarquin stood, rapt, occasionally getting out a handkerchief from his muddy trousers to wipe a tearful eye.

WORDS ARE INSUFFICIENT TO DESCRIBE THE EVENTS FOLLOWING MY PURCHASE BY THIS FAMILY, croaked Kari. I WILL SHOW, NOT TELL, BY OPTING OUT OF THIS MOTION THAT HAS SO CURSED MY BODY WITH UNDESERVED PURITY.

With a snap of their fingers, Kari reverted back to the appearance of a feral child. They lifted up the oddly sack-like garment they were wearing to expose their back. It was riddled with scars that snaked their way across every inch of rough, broken skin.

THE WHIP, croaked Kari, their eyes glazing over with a seeming detachment to it all. FOR INFRACTIONS RELATED TO AN INSUFFICIENT CLEANING OF THE ESTATE.

Kari brushed aside their matted fringe, revealing numerous bumps and blotches dotted around their scalp.

BLOWS, said Kari. A GIFT FROM THE PATRIARCH FOR MY VISIBILITY DURING A HOUSE-PARTY.

Lastly Kari extended their arms up to their shoulder, which were branded by patches of discoloured skin in the shape of  horseshoes.

FIREBRAND, said Kari. While their voice had been relatively flat up till now, this word was pronounced with the malice that teachers used to refer to homeschools. FOR NOT BEING FAST ENOUGH IN THE DAILY GAMES OF TAG WITH THE BROTHERS.

Haralda felt her admonishments die on her lips. Not only was this situation not in the Barden teachers’ handbook, which she herself had written, it was so far outside the handbook that she felt utterly lost when she brought her pencil to her clipboard to write down the next move.

DECIDE HOW TO REACT –

That was always a safe bet. So while Tarquin inundated his handkerchief with snot, Saheel kneeled down to pray and the others looked on bewildered, she would have to fall back on the agreed democratic method. Essentially, ignore anything that went off script.

“Kari,” said Haralda, not unkindly, “None of this is a sufficient objection to the second motion. If you have nothing further to say, I expect everyone would like to get back to democratic procedures.”

I AM BUILDING MY ARGUMENT, said Kari. ALL THINGS IN GOOD TIME.

“Then hurry up and make it relevant,” snapped Haralda. Realising this was probably a little too harsh for somebody who’d spend their entire life trapped in a Rube Goldberg machine of child abuse and slavery, she softened her voice and added, “Why don’t you tell us your story after the meeting?”

MY CONCLUSIONS DIRECTLY RELATE TO MY BELIEF THIS MOTION SHOULD NOT BE PASSED, said Kari. I WILL NOT BE HURRIED INTO DIMINISHING ITS DRAMATIC IMPACT.

“Who wants Kari to hurry it up? asked Connie. Faust, Haralda, Eirlys, and after about a minute of considering it, Saheel, raised their hands.

Saheel nodded sagely, his voice charismatic and pure. “You said you were going to tell us why we were here.”

INDEED.

“So, why?” asked Eirlys.

IT IS A TOUGH CROWD, sighed Kari, TO INSIST ON REDUCING A LONG SPAN OF CONTINUOUS EXPERIENCE TO A MERE THESIS.

“Out with it, already,” said Connie, pacing impatiently up and down the length of the chamber.

HAVE I INCENSED YOU SUFFICIENTLY WITH A DESIRE TO SEE THIS FAMILY, WHO WERE SO DISPOSED TO MALEDICTION, LEFT IN RUIN?

“Yes,” said Tarquin clenching his fist. “We ought to take them to prison, oughtn't we? Our police force is a joke if people like that are allowed to roam our streets!”

WORRY NOT. Kari waved a hand. FOR THEY WERE LEFT IN RUIN. I FOUND IT ON MY TENTH BIRTHDAY. THE DJINN.

“The gin?” asked Faust, smoothing out his beard in deep thought.

NO. D.J. I N N.

Faust scratched his head. “Oh, that’s like a dubstep thing, right? I listened to a lot of that when it first got popular.”

“You did?” asked Connie, eyes shining with utterly misfounded hope.

“Sorry, brother.” Saheel pressed his hands together. “But I believe a Djinn is an evil spirit of the desert.”

“Like Jenever?” asked Faust. “I’m pretty sure that’s a spirit. Might be evil the morning after.”

“No,” said Saheel. “I think it’s the root for the word ‘Genie’, which is where we get Aladdin and Arabian Nights and the like. In the original stories, of course, humans didn’t ask genies for wishes. They made pacts, like with the devil.”

BEHOLD. Kari fished out the shiv from their pocket and presented it reverentially. THE DJINN.

“That’s a knife,” tutted Haralda, disapprovingly. “Children shouldn’t be running around with knives.”

THE DJINN TOLD ME HOW TO DO IT. WHICH NIGHT. WHERE THE KEYS TO THE MAIN HOUSE HUNG. WHICH FLOORBOARDS WOULDN’T CREAK. WHICH LOCKS TO TURN. WHO WOULD SCREAM.

“Jesus Christ,” said Faust. “You’re ten.”

Kari took a deep breath, the sound of them inhaling getting louder and louder, as if they were savouring the fact they still had functioning lungs.

I AVENGED MYSELF AGAINST JURE, THE PATRIARCH, AKIA, THE MATRIARCH, THE BROTHERS EDUARD, GERSON AND JOE. THE SCULLERY MAID. THE COOK. THE BUTLER. THE GUARD. THE TEN WHO CAME.

“We found Kari in a cell,” mumbled Haralda, as the dread properly enveloped her.

“What the fuck,” said Connie, instinctively shifting her feet into a fighting stance. “You’re ten?”

AND WHEN, DEAR HARALDA, TARQUIN, CONSTANCE, FAUST, EIRLYS, SAHEEL, YOU CALLED THEM ON YOUR COMMUNICATION DEVICE, I HEARD THEM WAILING TOGETHER, FROM A DISTANCE, AS A CHORUS, AS A PROCESSION OF BODIES THAT I LEFT TO LIE FOREVER SLEEPING IN THEIR BEDS, NEVER TO RISE UNDER THE CURSE OF THE DJINN. AND THEY WAILED:

KARI, YOU ARE NINE OF NINE