A simple farmer receives a horse from the gods, a man sells ice creams named after missing schoolkids, the demolition of a hotel brings an old horror to light, a wounded soldier finds the real enemy is in his own camp, a family inherits a peculiar r...
A gust of hot wind blew dust into my eyes as we came around the main school building. When I opened my eyes again I saw that the line was gone. There wasn't a kid to be seen. But the ice cream van was still there. It was like he was waiting for us. Despite the beating sun and baking asphalt I suddenly felt cold. Under the shadow of the grimy serving window canopy I could just make him out, his arms crossed in front of his dirty apron.
"Ha!" Miss Radcliffe said, sounding like her old self already. She broke into a stride. I followed at a distance.
She started speaking before she'd even reached the window. "What. Do. You. Think. You. Are. DOING?"
The Ice Cream Man said nothing.
"EXPLAIN yourself," said Miss Radcliffe.
The Ice Cream Man said nothing. I wondered if he was looking at Miss Radcliffe or me. Suddenly I wanted to get away from there. Get away fast.
"ARE YOU HEARING IMPAIRED?" said Miss Radcliffe. "DO YOU HAVE A PERMIT TO TRADE HERE? WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO TAKE MONEY OFF SCHOOLCHILDREN?"
I could tell she was just getting started – nobody knew better than me what that sounded like. There was no better time for me to creep away. If I got a thousand years' detention so be it, but I wasn't going to hang around a second longer.
In no time I was out the gate and hurrying up the quiet street, my bag bouncing on my shoulders and my heart thudding in my chest. For perhaps the first time in my life I wasn't thinking about ice cream.
Miss Radcliffe's voice receded in my ears until it faded away to nothing.
I never heard it again.
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