How to Be Brave Page 15

  It also meant that Calla was the sort of person to whom words were a best and lifelong friend, and codes did not stand a chance against her.

  Especially codes that had been invented by Elizabeth North.

  THE FINDING OF ELIZABETH NORTH

  You need to look for a point where a freshwater river meets salt, and it’s surrounded by something that makes it almost impossible to get out. So I think it’s a valley, near the Rio Negro, and it’s one a long way away from people—it’s got to be, otherwise the duck’d have been discovered by now—and there’s only one place on the map that looks like it might fit and I think I’ll be able to fly there from Manaus. I think it has to be somewhere, too, where the flowers bloom at midnight—there’s a note that I found in Spanish in an old book and that’s the only thing that makes sense. There’s also this thing about the east and the west winds and I’m not sure I understand that yet, but I will.

  BEING BRAVE

  And once she had finished reading this out loud to Edie and Hanna, Calla held the notebook close to her heart and said, “I know what we need to do next.”

  Edie opened her eyes and studied Calla carefully. “What’s your idea?”

  “We have to contact Good Sister June. She said that she’d come if I sent a signal. And what sort of signals do people use when they’re stranded? Smoke. Fire.”

  Hanna issued a surprisingly sensible response to this curious statement. “Calla,” she said with all the tact she could muster, “I know you’ve had a bad day, but we are not setting anything on fire.”

  But Edie held up a hand. “Go on,” she said.

  “We get outside, and we set a fire on the roof,” said Calla. “We put it on the highest part of the roof we can reach—make it safe and controllable so we don’t burn down the school—but we make it big enough and high up enough that everyone will see it. We don’t need a phone if we’ve got a fire on the roof. Good Sister June, the police, the fire department. Maybe even NASA.172 They’ll all see it.”

  Hanna grinned. “There’s a barrel out on the roof still, did you know that? Good Sister Paulette used it in her welding master class the week before you got here173 and when her helicopter maintenance elective got canceled, nobody ever brought it back inside. We can use that. That would keep it controlled. And I’ve done survival classes with Good Sister Paulette. I know how to start a fire and make it safe.”

  “You never told me,” said Edie, looking surprised. She studied Hanna as if it was the first time she’d ever seen her. “Is that what those extra classes were?”

  Hanna nodded. “My parents have dangerous jobs and wanted me to be taught how to survive under any circumstances.” She was not wrong. Hanna did not like to boast about it, but she had grown up in wealthy diplomatic circles and had had a bodyguard ever since she was born, even when she had not quite known what a bodyguard was.174 “I’ll come and set the fire, Calla. I think you might accidentally burn the school down, so I’m going to stop that from happening.”

  “Oh,” said Calla, who was a little bit overwhelmed at the sudden realization of what true friendship could feel like. She had only ever had Miranda Price as a friend before, and Miranda Price was the sort of person who would leave you to deal with things by yourself without a backward glance.

  “And me,” said Edie. “Never let it be said that a campaign against the oppressor started without a Berger at the head of it.” She bounced up out of her bed and rummaged in the nearest cupboard. There was a series of productive bangs before she turned around holding a screwdriver and a hammer, and with the light of battle in her eyes. She looked to Calla and said, “Tell me what the plan is.”

  Calla raised her eyebrows, a little startled to find Edie looking to her for direction.

  “You are in charge now,” Edie said with a small, satisfied smile. “What do we need to do?”

  And suddenly Calla realized that Edie was not asking her what to do but rather telling her that she was her friend, and that she would be with her for life. That both of them would. Hanna, Edie, and Calla. The three of them were best friends now and forever.

  “Break open that window,” said Calla. “We’re going to finish this.”

  THE HIGHEST POINT OF THE SCHOOL OF THE GOOD SISTERS

  A fire is a curious thing to make at the best of times. There are scientific principles behind it, and ideal circumstances to make it in, and I do not think that the top of a tower, in the wind and mild British drizzle, is particularly conducive to either. And by the time Edie managed to break the window lock and the three of them had gotten out onto the flat roof, it was also growing dark.

  Calla stared up toward the distant top of North Tower. Just looking at it made her feel dizzy. Next to her, Hanna was having a slight attack of nerves. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it. Because I do. More than anything. But how are we even supposed to get up there?”

  “Ah, my dear Hanna Banana,” said Edie with a deeply satisfied air. “How you underestimate me. This is the sort of situation that I, with my so-special skill set was born for.” And she produced, from somewhere about her person, a rope, knotted carefully at regular intervals and tied into a wide loop at one end. “Regardez. Admire my ability to throw the loop of this rope around the turret and make it secure. Calla and I shall climb up first, and then ma petite Hanna Cabana, you shall tie the barrel to the rope. We haul it up, and also you, ma petite cochon d’Inde Hanna, and then we pull the rope up as well so that nobody can follow us. And by nobody, I mean our delightful headmistress.”

  “You are brilliant,” said Calla.

  “I am French,” said Edie. “And together, let us get to work, my dear Calla Koala. We have a tower to climb and a barrel and a Hanna to reunite on top of it.”

  Half an hour later, during which the rope swayed perilously and the barrel turned out to be much heavier than an empty barrel has any right to be, they were all on top of the roof of the North Tower.

  It was like standing on the very top of the world. In the distance, beyond the dark mass of trees surrounding the school, the lights of the village twinkled on the horizon. Little Hampden. The police station. The fire station. The convent. All of them were so close.

  “I hope they see us,” said Calla. “They have to see us.”

  “They will,” said Hanna. “And just think how mad the headmistress is going to be.” She laughed nervously.

  “Don’t think about it,” said Calla. “Just concentrate on getting the fire going. Leave the rest to us.” She gave Hanna some of the practice exam papers that they’d been given for homework the day before everything in the world had gone wrong. It is perhaps unnecessary to tell you that no member of the North Tower bedroom had actually done these papers. “Edie, where’s the nearest bedroom we can get to? Who’s in it?”

  “Lower South,” Edie said without missing a beat. She gestured down and to the left, at a small window cut into the side of a wall that was thick with ivy. “It’s Claire and Eloise Taylor. First-years. Twins.”

  “Take me to them,” said Calla. Ordered, really. She was possessed of a confidence that filled her from her head to her toes. It was as if she had been waiting all her life for the chance to signal for help from the top of a tower.

  Hanna stayed to make kindling out of the exam papers and carefully line the barrel with the twigs scattered across the roof of the tower, as Edie and Calla climbed back down and started to make their way toward Lower South Tower. It was clear that Edie was familiar with the roof; despite the rapidly darkening sky and the height that they were at, she moved as if she was just walking down the street. Calla, on the other hand, stumbled and tripped in a way that made me quite nervous when they both told me of this.175 The two of them climbed over chimneys and weather vanes, pausing as a headmistress-shaped shadow passed a nearby window.

  “Claire is the taller one,” said Edie, once the shadow had passed. “She likes toffee. Eloise is more of a macaroni and cheese sort of person. She is probably going to be wearing p
ink. It’s her favorite colour. Pink hair, pink pj’s, pink pencil case. Although she does not call it pink; she calls it ‘rose.’ I am yet to understand why—”

  “How do you even know the names of all the first-years?” said Calla, as they traversed a particularly narrow and nervous-making stretch of the roof. Talking kept Calla from imagining what might happen if she slipped. “You even know their clothes and their favorite foods?”

  “I have my reasons,” Edie said as she started to move again. She clambered down the side of a wall, pausing only to make sure that Calla was all right. When the two of them reached a flat part of the roof again, she took Calla’s hand in hers and pulled her over to the window.

  “Reasons?” said Calla.

  Edie sighed. “Of course I know the names of the first-years. I know all of them. I check on them each and every day to make sure that they are okay and that they are not trying to run away as I did. I do not want that for anybody. My time in the room between the walls was perfect, but it was not right. Nobody should ever feel like they do not belong somewhere. So, I keep an eye on them. Of course, I don’t let them know I do because I am excellent at subterfuge and skullduggery, but I do it all the same. It is my job. It is the right thing to do.”

  Calla stared at her. Every time she thought she understood Edie Berger, she realized she didn’t. Not at all. She was remarkable. “Does anybody else know about this?”

  “Nobody but you,” said Edie. She knocked on the glass and shrugged. “But that is enough.”

  GOOD EVENING, ELOISE TAYLOR

  “Salut, Eloise,” said Edie, knocking on the window as though it were completely natural to make evening calls to each other across the rooftops.176

  Eloise Taylor appeared at the window. She blinked. And then she stared at Edie in confusion.

  “Open the window!” said Edie, helpfully miming precisely how to do this just in case Eloise had never come across the concept before. Eloise pointed to the lock in a Well that’s a very good mime but there is a lock in the way sort of reply.

  Edie rolled her eyes. “Must I do everything myself?” She produced the screwdriver and hammer and proceeded to break the lock open with her usual skill.

  As they clambered into Lower South, Calla saw Claire slip out of the bedroom and disappear. Moments later she returned with the rest of the revolutionaries. Lucy, Amelia, Sethi, Sabia, Faith, Ellen, and Maisie. And behind them, pretty much the entire first year and a vast number of the second-years. By the time Edie had finished lecturing Eloise on the need to have an emergency toolkit on hand at all times, the room was full to the brim.

  “Ah,” said Edie, who had of course noticed this. “It is time for an inspiring speech. Claire, allow me your bed.” Awestruck, Claire stepped back and let the small French girl climb onto her bed. Once she was there, Edie cleared her throat in a dramatic fashion and lifted her hand.

  Immediately, everybody looked at her.

  Calla held her breath.

  “My friends,” said Edie, in the manner of somebody who has been delivering revolutionary speeches all her life. “I have a task for you and your numerous tiny associates. I—we—need your help. Calla and me. We would like a distraction of magnificent proportions, and I am asking you because I know you can do it. All of you must play havoc and let loose the dogs of war.177 Do not look at me like that when I quote things at you! I pay attention to my English lessons. It is from an actual Shakespeare play! Not a very good one, but there we are, I provide a quote and it must suit you. Look, my friends, it is not difficult. Please do not look at me as if I am asking you to fly to the moon. I am just asking you to make a distraction. The biggest one you can. The loudest, the longest, the most distracting distraction you can ever imagine. All of you. Now is the moment. We are getting rid of the headmistress. Make your apologies to the dear Good Sisters, but they will understand. This is necessary. Tell your friends. Tell everyone you have ever met. And don’t stop making mischief. Not until you hear from me or Calla or Hanna. Do you understand?”

  The girls nodded in mute wonder. One of them looked as if she’d fallen in love.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” said Edie. “Now, Calla and I must return to our faithful friend Hanna who is currently on the tower of our bedroom. We have a beacon to keep alight.”

  Calla came to a sudden and definitive realization. She could not take Edie away from these girls. They needed her. This was her time. “No,” she said softly. “This is where you should be. This is your revolution. You need to go and lead it.”

  Edie nodded. She squeezed Calla’s hand very tightly and then let it go. “Until we meet again.”

  LIGHTING THE FIRE

  Whilst all of this was happening, Hanna was halfway through making the best fire she had ever made. She had picked up bundles of the loose twigs that had fallen onto the roof, and stuffed them into the bottom of the barrel next to a revision paper titled: Thirty-Three Sums About Sago. A little part of her had been a bit upset about burning anything that involved words, but then she had told herself that these weren’t real words—they were instruments of torture—and thus managed to make herself feel a lot better about the whole thing. She felt even better when she saw a flame take hold at the bottom of the barrel and slide all the way up into the night sky. They had a fire, it was safely contained, and nothing was in the process of burning down. Now all she had to do was wait for Edie and Calla to come back to the top of the North Tower and join her. And to Hanna’s eternal credit, she only screamed a little with surprise when this happened.

  “Hello,” said Calla, full of delightful calm. “It’s only me.” She had one hand on the protruding turret, the other still clutching the rope. When Hanna came to terms with the fact that the face in the dark belonged to one of her best friends, she stopped shrieking and pulled her up the last little bit.

  When Calla’s feet hit something stable, she turned round and hauled the rope up after her. “Edie is leading the first-years into battle,” she explained. “And also a lot of the second-years, and also I think maybe everyone she’s ever met.”

  Hanna nodded in understanding. “I’m glad you came back.”

  “We just have to wait now,” said Calla.

  “Yes,” said Hanna. “We wait.”

  But there is nothing worse than waiting. The two of them pressed close to each other, and Calla held the notebook up to the light of the fire so that she could work on the code some more. It was so clear to her now that, even with the replaced letters and broken spaces, she could figure out words as if they’d been there all along. Valley. Enclosed. Fresh water. Migration. Breeding ground. Cavern. Her mother had figured it out by herself, all those years ago, and suddenly Calla felt very proud of her. Elizabeth North had been right all along.

  And then Calla did not think about her mother any more, for something quite peculiar was happening beneath her feet.

  The School of the Good Sisters was revolting.

  Every lamp in every bedroom had been switched on and the curtains pulled back so that the light burned into the darkness. Every girl in every bedroom began to run around the corridors, shouting and laughing and talking to each other. In one distant corner of the building the school band began to play, whilst the third-form science room shook to the sound of a series of carefully controlled explosions. Hanna clasped her hands together in joy when she saw a corridor flooded with green smoke and then—suddenly—even Calla cried out with excitement—a series of fireworks ricocheted their way out of a ground-floor window and up into the night sky. The moment that the window smashed, the noise trebled until suddenly the girls on the tower roof were surrounded in it and they were crying and laughing and shouting with joy.

  And the thing that Calla yelled was this: “We’re coming, Mum, we’re coming!”

  A BRIEF NOTE FROM YOUR NARRATOR

  So. For the next part of this story to work, I must tell you what was going on inside the school. And as there is only one person who can accurately describe the
scene inside the school at that moment, I am forced to pass narration of the next chapter over to her. I will rescue you as soon as I can, I promise.

  INTRODUCING EDIE

  Salut! I am Edmée Agathe Aurore Berger and I am here to talk about what was happening inside the school because only I, of course, know. Calla had returned to Hanna up on the roof and was working out that notebook of hers by the light of the fire, and I went inside to create mischief and havoc and live the night of my dreams. Oh, my friends, it was so perfect, and it was even more perfect than that because it was necessary. Chaos has such an appeal when it is wanted and needed and desired, and I was the perfect person to lead the charge.

  Of course I was not alone in this charge. Dear Eloise and friends had spread the message and the nuns helped as much as they could for, you see, they hated the headmistress as much as we did. They had done so ever since she had gotten rid of Good Sister June, for Good Sister June was—and is—beloved by us all. But because they were adultes and so bound by boring grown-up rules and things like that, they had remained silent and done very little. Clearly, they were waiting for a genius like myself to lead them, and so I did.

  Reader, it was glorious. As I walked through the school, past waterslides and foam parties, past Gareth, who had been called to stop the third-formers from putting jelly into all of the desks and balancing buckets of water on top of all of the doors, girls would pop out of the walls and give me updates and news of the headmistress’s whereabouts. Eloise Taylor appeared behind the statue of Santa Teresa with jelly in her hair and the light of battle in her eyes. She paused only to inform me that the headmistress was making her way up to the second-years’ common room before running off down the corridor. I called after her, “Eloise Taylor, you are magnificent, almost as magnificent as I,” and then I ducked to avoid the thunderous arrival of a group of first-years, all heading toward the figure of Good Sister Christine, who was standing in the middle of the corridor and handing out books and food to anybody who passed.