CHAPTER TWO

 My Son Has No Respect for Authority

POV: Milo Vale

I'm six years old, and I have just discovered that grown men are not as powerful as they think.

Three of them are kneeling in front of me, and none of them looks happy about it. The biggest one has been glaring at me for almost a minute. I would feel bad for him, but he called my mother a liar, and I don't like people who lie about my mother.

"Can I go now?" I ask the headmistress. "My sandwich is getting warm."

She stares at me like I have grown another head. Adults do that a lot when I ask reasonable questions. I don't know why they expect me to stand around all day when there are perfectly good sandwiches waiting to be eaten.

"Tell them to stand up," she whispers.

I look at the three men. "You heard her. Up, please."

Nobody moves.

The biggest man clenches his jaw. "Boy, do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

"Yes." I look at his knees. "A man who can't stand up."

Someone behind me makes a strange choking sound. I think she's trying not to laugh, which is sensible because the big man looks like he might explode.

Then he says something that makes me stop smiling.

"Your mother has hidden you from the wrong people."

I don't know what that means, but I know one thing. Nobody gets to threaten my mother and walk away smiling.

I put my hands on my hips. "My mummy didn't hide me. She took me to the park last Sunday, and I hid behind a tree because she said it was time to go home. That's different."

The smallest man shuts his eyes.

I think he might be praying.

Good. Maybe his God can explain why he is on the floor.

The headmistress, Mrs. Bell, clears her throat. She has been doing that since I arrived, which means she either has a cough or wants to say something but doesn't know how. Adults should practise saying things. I do it all the time.

"Mr. Vale," she says, looking at me, "perhaps you should explain what happened."

"I'm not Mr. Vale. I'm Milo."

"Yes, Milo. What happened?"

I point at the biggest man. "He came into my classroom and asked me who my father was. I told him I didn't know because Mummy doesn't talk about him. Then he said my mother had no right to keep me away from my own family."

Mrs. Bell's face changes. It is a tiny change, but I notice it. Her mouth goes tight, and she looks at the man as if he has tracked mud across her clean floor.

"That is not what I said," he growls.

I turn to him. "You said she stole me."

"I said she kept you from us."

"That's the same thing with extra words."

The man opens his mouth, then closes it. I think he has finally understood that I am very good at listening.

"Please," Mrs. Bell says, rubbing her forehead. "Can we all remain calm?"

"I am calm," I tell her. "They're the ones sitting on the floor."

"They are not sitting, Milo."

"Then why are their bottoms so close to the floor?"

The woman standing near the door makes that choking sound again. This time, I know she is laughing.

I like her.

The biggest man does not.

"You little—"

"Don't finish that sentence," I tell him.

He freezes.

I didn't mean to say it like that. I only wanted him to stop being rude, but the words came out with a strange weight behind them. For a moment, the room feels different. The lights buzz overhead, and the man looks at me as if I have grown taller.

Then his lips press together.

I glance at the other two men. They are still kneeling, and both look frightened now.

That is strange.

I am not frightening. I am wearing socks with little dinosaurs on them.

"What's your name?" I ask the biggest man.

He stares at me.

"Your name," I repeat. "Mummy says we should know people's names before we decide whether we like them."

His eyes flick towards the door. "Garrick."

"Hello, Garrick. You should apologise."

His nostrils flare. "I don't apologise to children."

"Then you must be very lonely."

This time, Mrs. Bell actually laughs. She tries to cover it with a cough, but she is too late.

Garrick looks as if he wants the floor to swallow him. I almost feel sorry for him.

Almost.

A knock comes at the door.

Everyone turns, except Garrick. He has gone very still, and I don't like the way he is looking at the handle.

A woman in a grey suit steps inside with my schoolbag. I recognise her as one of the ladies who works at the front desk. She puts the bag beside Mrs. Bell and whispers something in her ear.

Mrs. Bell's face loses its colour.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Nothing you need to worry about, Milo."

That's what adults say when it is definitely something I need to worry about.

I look at the woman in grey. "Did somebody call my mummy?"

She hesitates.

"Did they?"

"Yes," she says at last. "We called her a few minutes ago."

Good. Mummy will come. Mummy always comes when I need her, even when she is busy. Sometimes she has her phone pressed to her ear and three different things going wrong, but she still finds a way to get to me.

I reach for my schoolbag. "Can I have my lunch now?"

"No," Garrick says.

I look at him.

He looks back.

"Please," he adds through clenched teeth.

I consider this. "No."

His eyes widen.

I grin. I am beginning to think that making grown men follow instructions is a very useful skill.

Then I notice the second man. He has stopped looking at me and started watching the window. His right hand keeps moving towards his jacket, then away again. He does it three times.

I count because counting helps me think.

One. Two. Three.

On the fourth time, I point at him. "You have something in your jacket."

His hand stops.

Mrs. Bell turns towards him. "What?"

"Nothing," he says quickly.

I shake my head. "That's a lie."

He looks at me, and for a second I feel something cold crawl down my back. I don't know why. His face is ordinary, his suit is ordinary, and even his shoes are boring. But when he smiles, I feel like somebody has put a spider in my lunchbox.

I take one step towards Mrs. Bell.

"Don't let him leave," I tell her.

The man's smile disappears.

"He's not here to take me home," I add. "He's waiting for somebody else."

Nobody speaks.

I don't know how I know that. I just do. It's the same way I know when Mummy says she isn't tired but sits on the edge of my bed for a long time after she thinks I've fallen asleep. She can tell me she's fine, but her eyes always look different.

The man in the suit moves towards the door.

"Stop," I say.

He stops.

His face twists with anger, but his feet won't move. He tries again, and his shoes scrape against the floor without taking him anywhere.

Oh.

That is new.

I look down at my hands. They are small and a little sticky because I ate half a biscuit before the men arrived. I don't understand how my words can make people do things.

I don't think I like it anymore.

"Let him go," Garrick says suddenly.

I turn towards him. "Why?"

"Because you don't know what you're doing."

"Neither do you."

His face tightens, and I know I have said something true. I can't explain it, but the feeling is there again. Like a little finger tapping inside my head.

Garrick is scared of the man in the suit.

Not of me.

Of him.

Before I can ask why, the door opens so hard it hits the wall.

Mummy is here.

She comes in wearing the black trousers and white blouse she wore this morning. One side of her blouse has come untucked, and her hair is falling out of the clip at the back of her head. She looks like she ran all the way from wherever she was.

I want to run to her, but I don't. Not yet.

Mummy's eyes move over the room, counting the people, checking the doors, finding me. When she sees me standing beside Mrs. Bell, her face softens for one small second.

Then she sees the men on their knees.

"Milo," she says carefully. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Mummy. But Garrick is having a bad day."

She looks at him.

"I can see that," she replies.

I like that she doesn't ask me to explain the joke. Mummy understands the important things.

She crosses the room and crouches in front of me. Her hands check my arms and shoulders, then she cups my face. Her fingers are cold.

"Did anyone touch you?"

"No."

"Did anyone threaten you?"

I look at Garrick. He looks at the ceiling.

"Sort of."

Mummy's jaw tightens. "What does sort of mean?"

"He said you stole me. And then he said you hid me from the wrong people."

For a moment, Mummy doesn't move. Her hands remain on my shoulders, but her eyes are no longer looking at me. They are fixed on Garrick, and there is something in her face that I have seen before.

It's the look she gets when someone sends her a message late at night and she thinks I am asleep.

I don't like it.

"Mummy?" I touch her cheek. "You don't have to be scared of him."

"I'm not scared, sweetheart."

"Okay." I lean closer. "But you should be scared of the one who isn't kneeling."

Her eyes move past me.

The man in the suit is still standing near the door, his hands hanging at his sides. He has stopped trying to leave, but he is watching Mummy now, not me.

Mummy rises slowly and places herself between us.

"Who are you?" she asks.

The man gives her a polite smile. "Someone who has come to prevent a difficult situation from becoming worse."

"Then you should have stayed away from my son."

"I understand your concern."

"No, you don't." Her voice is calm, but I know that tone. It means somebody is about to have a very bad afternoon. "You walked into my child's school without permission, questioned him about his father, and frightened him. Whatever you think you have come here to do, you will not do it again."

The man glances at me.

I don't like his eyes.

"Mummy," I whisper.

She reaches behind her and finds my hand without looking away from him. Her fingers close around mine.

"Yes, baby?"

"He's going to lie now."

The man smiles again. "Mrs. Vale, I assure you—"

"See?" I say.

Mummy squeezes my hand. "I see."

The man stops talking. For the first time, his smile looks less like a smile and more like something he has practised in a mirror.

Then he reaches into his jacket.

Everyone moves at once.

Garrick tries to rise. Mrs. Bell gasps. Mummy pulls me behind her so quickly that my schoolbag tips over, spilling my pencils across the floor.

But the man only takes out a phone.

He looks at its screen, and whatever he sees makes his expression change.

"He's here," he says into the phone.

Mummy goes still.

"Who?" she demands.

The man doesn't answer her. He listens for a moment, then looks directly at me.

"Yes," he says. "The boy is here."

I squeeze Mummy's hand harder.

I don't know who he is talking to, but I know he isn't talking about a boy in his classroom or a boy at the park.

He means me.

And somehow, I know he has been waiting to find me.

Mummy steps in front of me. "Put the phone away."

The man obeys, but his eyes stay on my face.

I wish he would stop looking at me. I want my sandwich. I want to go home. I want Mummy to stop holding my hand so tightly because I can feel her fingers shaking, even though she is pretending they aren't.

Then another voice comes from the doorway.

"Step away from the child."

It is a man's voice, deep and angry. Even Garrick looks towards the door.

A tall man stands there in a dark suit, with two security men behind him. He looks at Mummy first, and something passes between them that I don't understand. Then his eyes find me.

He stops moving.

I stare back at him.

I have never seen this man before, but the moment he looks at me, something strange happens inside my stomach. Not butterflies. More like the feeling I get when I know someone is standing behind me, even though I haven't heard them come in.

The man takes one step forward.

Mummy pulls me closer.

"Don't," she warns him.

He stops, but he doesn't look away from me.

I look at his face, then at Mummy's hand wrapped around mine. For some reason, I suddenly want to ask him a question. I don't know where it comes from, and I don't know why it matters.

"Are you the man who made my mummy cry?"

His face changes.

And for the first time all day, I don't feel like making a joke.

Because I think I already know the answer.