Mister Monday: Chapter One (Part One)

[pangolin20]

Prologue | Table of Contents | Chapter One (Part Two)

Last time, the Will escaped from its confinement, leaving behind an Inspector. This time, we’ll meet our main protagonist!

Chapter One

This series doesn’t have chapter titles, which I don’t exactly mind.

The chapter starts off like this: “It was Arthur Penhaligon’s first day at his new school and it was not going well.” Good opening line: it introduces us to our main protagonist, it introduces the setting, and it introduces what is going on (for now, at least.)

We’re told that he’s had to start “two weeks” after everyone else, which is bad enough, “but it [is] even worse than that.” Oof. That’s quite awful indeed, especially on a new school, because it lowers your chances to connect with other people even more. As for the “even worse” part, “[Arthur is] totally and utterly new to the school.” His family has just moved to “this town”, and so he knows no one and has “none of the local knowledge that would make life easier.” Well, that sucks a lot. I mean, it should get better once he gets to know the city more, but for now, it won’t be exactly easy.

Arthur says that some of that local knowledge is “[t]he fact the seventh grade ha[s] a cross-country run every Monday just before lunch”, which just so happens to be the present day. What is this cross-country run even for? I guess this is supposed to be P.E. or something. If so, way to make people want to participate. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the participants would take a shortcut as seen as soon as the teacher can’t see them anymore. Arthur further tells us that it’s “compulsory”, unless a student’s parents have made “special arrangements”, “[i]n advance”. So that won’t be an option for Arthur. I’m just glad I didn’t have to deal with this kind of stuff in high school.

At the moment, Arthur tries to explain to the “gym teacher” that “he’[s] only just recovered from a series of very serious asthma attacks and ha[s] in fact been in the hospital only a few weeks ago.” Oof. So that’s why he’s beginning two weeks later. He tells us that, besides that, he’s wearing “the stupid school uniform of grey trousers with a white shirt and tie, and leather shoes”, and he can’t run in that.

We’re told that “[f]or some reason”, which Arthur thinks could be the “forty other kids” who are shouting and chasing after each other (what a mess), only the part about his school uniform reaches the teacher, “Mister Weightman”. Okay, that’s a funny name. Weightman snaps at him to listen, and everyone runs, in whatever clothing they’re in. (Even when they’re running in three coats in the middle of summer?) That is, “[u]nless [they’re] ill.” Arthur protests that he is ill, but his words are lost as someone screams. Two girls pull on each other’s hair and try to kick each other in the shins, while Weightman yells at them and blows his whistle.

He tells the girls to settle down, naming them as Susan and Tanya. He then goes over the course, having completely forgotten Arthur. Everyone is to run down the right side of a sports oval, through a park, around a “statue”, back through the park and down the oval’s other side. According to him, “[the] [f]irst three get to go to lunch early, the last three get to sweep the gym.” Ah yes, that will make everyone enjoy this class, especially for the people who aren’t good at running. He tells everyone to line up. Someone called Rick has to get back. He says “Ready? On my whistle.”

Arthur thinks he isn’t ready, but “he [doesn’t] want to stand out any more by complaining further or simply not going. He [is] already an outsider here, a loner in the making, and he [doesn’t] want to be.” Oh, I feel you, Arthur. I quite like how relatable he is. He says he is an “optimist”, and that he can handle the run.

He looks out across the oval “at the dense forest beyond, which [is] obviously meant to be a park.” Arthur thinks it looks more like a jungle. He tells us that anything can happen in there, like him taking a rest. He tells himself he can make it that far, no problem. Well, we know for certain something is bound to happen before he gets there.

“Just for insurance”, he feels in his pocket for his inhaler, “closing his fingers around the cool, comforting metal and plastic.” He tells us he doesn’t want to use it; he doesn’t want to be dependent on the medication. I do get it; it would be great if he didn’t need something like that to get around. On the other hand, having at near still allows him to do things… He tells us that “last time”, he’d ended up in the hospital “because he’d refused to use the inhaler until it was too late, and he’[s] promised his parents he [won’t] do that again.” So that is why he was a week later. As for not using his inhalator… it wasn’t a great decision, but then, he’s only twelve and everyone can make stupid decisions.

Weightman blows his whistle, which is “answered in many different ways”, which we get a description of. First, the “biggest, roughest-looking boys [spring] out like shotgun pellets”, and they hit each other and shout as they run away. They’ll probably be completely exhausted by the time they come back, but whatever. The next group is a “bunch of athletic girls, taller and more long-legged than any boys at their current age”, who come along a few seconds later, “their noses in the air at the vulgar antics of the monkeys they were forced to share a class with.” I guess we stepped out of Arthur’s POV for a bit? It is a feature of this series, at least, so I don’t think I can complain too much about it.

After those people come “smaller groups of boys or girls– never mixed”, because what’s a high school without arbitrary divisions? After them come “the unathletic and noncommitted and those too cool to run anywhere”, though Arthur can’t tell who’s in which category.

Arthur himself is running “because he [doesn’t] have the courage to walk.” He knows he won’t be mistaken for someone who’s too cool to run. And besides, Weightman’s already “jogging backwards so he [can] face the walkers and berate them.” Take care you don’t fall, Weightman.

He screams at them that “[their] nonparticipation has been noted”, and “[they] will fail this class if [they] do not pick up [their] feet!” Yes, that will make them more motivated.

Arthur looks back to see if it has any result. One student “[breaks] into a shambling run”, but the rest just ignores Weightman. He turns around “in disgust” and builds up speed. He runs past Arthur and the middle group of runners and quickly closes the gap with the front group. Arthur can tell “he [is] the kind of gym teacher who like[s] to beat the kids in a race.” He sourly thinks that it’s “[p]robably because he couldn’t win against other adult runners.”

For some time, “three or maybe even four minutes” after Weightman ran away, he keeps up with the last group of runners, ahead of the walkers. But, just like he’s feared, breathing gets harder and harder. His lungs just won’t expand, “as if they [are] already full of something and [can’t] let any air in.” Because of this, he slows down, “falling back until he [is] barely in front of the walkers.” He could use his inhaler, of course, but if he’s already focussed on running, I could see it slipping his mind, and if he already can’t breathe well, he’ll be less capable of thinking well, either… His breathing “be[comes] shallower and shallower and the world narrow[s] around him, until all he [can] think about [is] trying to get a decent breath and keep putting one foot approximately in front of the other.”

And then Arthur notices that his legs don’t move anymore and he’s staring up at the sky. He’s “lying on his back on the grass.” Well, that went fast. He realises “[d]imly” that he must have blacked out and fallen over.

Someone asks him if he’s taking a break or if there’s a problem. Yay, help is already here! Arthur tries to say he’s okay, but “some other part of his brain [is] going off like a fire engine siren, screaming that he [is] definitely not OK.” But there don’t come words out of his mouth, “only a short, rasping wheeze.”

The “screaming siren part” of his brain screams for the inhaler. Arthur follows the lead, and fumbles around in his pocket. He tries to raise it to his mouth, but when he gets there, his hand is empty. He’s dropped it. Well, I’d have been surprised if he’d succeeded. But not to fear, because someone else puts the mouthpiece between his lips and “a cool mist suddenly fill[s] his mouth and throat.” Yay! The same person asks how many puffs Arthur needs.

He thinks “[t]hree”. That will get him breathing again enough to stay alive, at least. He thinks that he’ll probably be in the hospital again, and it will take “another week or two” of convalescing at home.

The person asks again how many puffs Arthur needs. Maybe not the best idea to ask that to someone who’s nearly unconscious… Then again, I can’t see who else they could ask it to. He’s been here for less than a day, so there won’t be any classmates who would know, and to get in contact with people who would know, they’d need to get the school staff, which they’re going to do anyway. So yeah… it can’t hurt to ask, and I’m also glad that they’re actually helping Arthur out.

Arthur realises he hasn’t answered, so he manages to hold up three fingers “and [is] rewarded by two more clouds of medicine.” It already begins to work. He can get some air into his lungs if he breathes which also gets some oxygen into his blood and his brain.

His vision expands again, “like scenery unfolded on a stage. Instead of just the blue sky rimmed with darkness, he [sees] a couple of kids crouched near him.” He identifies them as two of the walkers, those who refuse to run. They’re a “girl and a boy, both defiantly not in school uniform or gym gear, wearing black jeans, T-shirts featuring bands Arthur [doesn’t] know, and sunglasses.” He says they’re either “ultra-cool, or the exact opposite.” He’s too new to the school and the town to know.

The girl has “short dyed hair that [is] so blonde it [is] almost white”, and the boy has “long, dyed-black hair.” They still look similar, though. It takes Arthur some time to work out that they have to be twins, “or at least brother and sister.” He thinks that maybe one of them had to repeat a grade.

The girl instructs “Ed”, the boy, to call an ambulance. We’re told she’s given Arthur the inhalator. Ed says someone he calls “[t]he Octopus” has confiscated his phone. The girl tells him to run back to the gym, while she will go after Weightman. Ed asks what for; shouldn’t she stay? The girl says that the can’t do anything except get help. Weightman’s got a phone, and he’s probably on his way back. She tells Arthur to lie there and keep breathing.

I think they could do something except get help; maybe one of them could have stayed with Arthur to make sure he stays alive? But then again, Arthur needs to be alone for the plot to start, and I don’t really mind, honestly.

Arthur nods and waves his hand, “telling them to go.” Now his brain works somewhat again, he’s “terribly embarrassed. First day at a new school and he [hasn’t] even made it to lunch time.” He’s convinced that it’ll be even worse coming back, because he’ll be seen as a “total loser” and, since a month will have gone by, he won’t have much chances of catching up soon or making friends. Regarding the second point, maybe you could try to contact these two kids again? They’d presumably also be able to help with the first point…

He tells himself that he’s at least alive, and he has to be grateful for that. He still can’t breathe properly, and he’s very weak, but he manages to prop himself up on one elbow and have a look around.

The two kids show “that they [can] run when they want[] to.” He watches the girl sprint through the walkers “like a crow dive-bombing a flock of sparrows, and vanish into the treeline of the park.” When he looks the other way, he can see Ed, who’s about to disappear behind the wall of the gym, “which block[s] the rest of the school from view.”

Arthur reassures himself by saying that help will come soon. He wills himself to stay calm, and he gets into a sitting position. He concentrates on “taking slow breaths, as deep as he [can] manage.” He tells us that, “[w]ith a bit of luck”, he’ll stay conscious, and “[t]he main thing [is] not to panic.” He’s been here before, and he’s made it. He’s got the inhaler in his hand. “He’d just stay quiet and still, keeping panic and fear securely locked away.” Well, if that would happen, there wouldn’t be much of a plot, so here it comes!

Suddenly, “a flash of light” distracts Arthur from his “slow, counted breaths.” He sees it from the corner of his eye and he swings around to see what its source is. “For a moment”, he thinks he’s blacking out again, and he’s looking into the sun. Then he realises that whatever it is, “it [is] on the ground and very close.” Oh, that’s not good.

The light is actually moving, “gliding across the grass towards him, the light losing its brilliance as it [draws] nearer.” Arthur watches with “stunned amazement” as an outline becomes visible. Then the light falls away, “to reveal a weirdly dressed man in a very strange sort of wheelchair being pushed across the grass by an equally odd-looking attendant.”

Cue a description of them. First goes the wheelchair. It is “long and narrow, like a bath”, and it’s made of woven wicker. There’s “one small wheel at the front and two big ones at the back.” So… like a wheelbarrow, I guess. The wheels have “metal rims”, but no tires, so it sinks into the grass quite heavily. Not a great design, but then again, this is probably the first time in years this thing has been used outside. Arthur also comes up with “wheel-bath” and “bath chair” as names for it.

Now there’s a description of the man in the bath chair. He is “thin and pale, his skin like tissue paper.” He does look quite young, “no more than twenty”, and is very handsome, “with even features and blue eyes, though those [are] hooded, as if he [is] very tired.” He has “and odd round hat with a tassel” on his “blond head”. Right, he’s got blond hair. For some reason, I always picture him with black hair. He’s wearing what Arthur describes as “some sort of kung fu robe, of red silk with blue dragons all over it.” He’s got a “tartan blanket” over his legs, and his slippers stick out. Those are of red silk, too, and they “shimmer in the sun with a pattern Arthur [can’t] quite focus on”. That’s probably magic, then.

We’re told the man who’s pushing the chair is “even more out of place. Or out of time.” Arthur compares him to “a butler from an old movie, or Nestor from the Tintin comics, though he [is] nowhere near as neat.” He’s wearing an “oversized black coat with ridiculously long tails that almost touch[] the ground”, and his white shirt front is “stiff and very solid, as if it were made of plastic.” On his hands, he’s wearing “knitted half-gloves” that are coming apart, and loose wool hangs over his fingers. Arthur notices “with distaste” that his fingernails are “very long and yellow”, just like his teeth. He’s much older than the man in the chair, “his face lined and pitted with age, his white hair only growing on the back of his head, though it [is] very long.” Arthur places him as “at least eighty”, though he has no difficulty pushing the chair “straight towards Arthur”.

They’re talking to each other as they near Arthur. They seem entirely unaware of, or interested in him.

And here I’ll cut off. See you next time, as we get to see what they’re talking about and Arthur will get properly involved!