A/N- Wow! Thanks for all the reviews everyone. I'm so glad you're all enjoying it. (And yes, the students will appear again, for not for some time I'm afraid). But enough of that- time for chapter 4! Please let me know what you think at the end if you have time.

One Man and his Snail

4

“Great,” said Suzy as she dropped the paper Ratbreath had scavenged onto the fire, “just great. We are now officially fugitives. I hope you realize this is YOUR entire fault.”

“You didn’t have to follow me if you didn’t want to. You could have left any time you wanted,” Ratbreath said in his pleasant voice, popping a berry into his mouth.

After they had run from the college Ratbreath had taken a bus to Richmond to get away from the commotion, Suzy following him (and his non-existent wallet) like a puppy dog. Under the shelter of trees in a local park he gathered wood for a fire, and they had been there since.

“You know I can’t do that!” she moaned. “You haven’t paid me yet, and Gramps would kill me if I came back without anything.”

“I don’t have any money. I’m a tramp.” Ratbreath said matter-of-factly, tossing another couple of sticks into the fire.

“YOU’RE A WHAT?!” Suzy yelled jumping to feet with her fists clenched.

Ratbreath glanced nonchalantly at her. “A tramp. I usually live on the M25, but I thought those brats stole my Bin, so I went to go get it back. Turns out they didn’t, but eh, what can you do?”

“Let me get this straight,” she said slowly, “you had your bin stolen, came to London to get revenge, had my help for HOURS, even though you don’t have ANY money, and then burnt down the college, ending up with ME being a suspect!” She walked over to him, the bow in her hair bouncing with fury.

Something stirred in Ratbreath’s trousers, “Oh,” he said, dipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out a stretching Buggins. “Haven’t seen you in a while sleepyhead. You missed all the action.”

Buggins looked around tiredly, and gave a silent snail yawn. Ratbreath coo’d at him. Suzy sighed and plonked herself down.

“Well, there’s no point getting upset about it (“I can’t agree more,” interrupted Ratbreath) we’ll just have to make the best of what we’ve got. Okay! We’ll head over to the police, I’ll hand you in, and you can tell them I had nothing to do with this what so ever, and that I’m just a lowly tour guide, okay?”

“I liked everything about that plan, except for the ‘handing me in’ bit. How about this, you go home, get a new haircut, and I’ll keep on searching for my Bin.”

“You dummy! That’ll never work, don’t you know how advanced modern technology is? They’d spot me in a second!”

“Considering that I’ve been spending the last twenty years living in a wheelie bin, then no. I don’t know how advanced modern technology is.” He petted Buggins, then thought for a minute, staring into the fire. “Maybe you better hide out for a bit then, lay low.”

“I shouldn’t have to- I haven’t done anything wrong, argh! This is so annoying!”

“Yeah yeah, but you were spotted leaving the scene with a ‘terrorist’, which makes you a main suspect. I’m sure plenty of students saw you me, and Nerd-guy can tell the police it was my actions that started the fire. So basically, you’re in trouble. I know it’s not fair, but life isn’t, so just get on with it.” For a moment, Ratbreath almost sounded sensible. But then he smiled a wide smile, and Suzy glared at him.

Suzy bit the end of her finger, and her eyes burned. She spun around, so that Ratbreath couldn’t see her face. “This is just awful,” she said.

Ratbreath looked at her with sympathy. He stretched out his arm hesitantly. “There there,” he said, and he patted her nervously on the head as though she were a piece of wood. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. You don’t need civilisation, hell, I’ve never had a use for it- and look how I turned out!”

Suzy turned and glowered at him.

‘Oh my,’ thought Ratbreath, ‘I’m not very good at this.’

“Uh- don’t cry,” he said, reaching out again.

“I’m not crying!” said Suzy, and she turned back to face him. Her eyes were a little puffy, but she held her head proud. She remembered at the last minute to flatten her hair and look moody. Ratbreath scratched at his nose, looking down at the floor. Buggins snickered.

Way to go with the ladies, Ratty, he said.

“Listen up,” Ratbreath said, ignoring Buggins, and trying to muster authority and power into this voice, “if you keep out of the way of the police for a while, change your appearance a little, then they’ll never recognize you when you return. Then you can go back to following people around for money, or whatever it is you do.”

Suzy thought about this. “Alright,” she said, “but you’re gonna have to stick with me for a bit; you got me in this mess, and you’re gonna get me out. I can’t sleep in the forest all on my own; it’s like putting a flag that says ‘please murder me.’”

Ratbreath munched on another berry. “Fine with me,” he said.

“And- and don’t you try anything either. If you do- I’ll hand you into the police myself.”

“Trust me- I’m really not interested,” and he didn’t even look at her as she said this.

The sixteen year old scowled at him, wondering whether to be offended on not, and rubbed her hands over the fire. “You… just remember that then,” she warned him, trying to sound threatening, and failing badly.

Giving up, she laid down on the grass, stretching in front of the fire like a cat, and staring up at the night sky through the clearing in the canopy.

“You know,” she said, “I thought a guy like you would be jumping at the chance to get laid. Since y’know, you probably haven’t for years, being a tramp an all. Unless there’s any lady tramps out there?”

“Sure there are. I choose not to be involved in tramp society, but it’s very busy. Before I moved to the M25, I had two friends, a couple called Dusty and Rusty. They’re very up on the social ladder; they’re always at the gigs; Dusty’s even got two pairs of shoes. But... I gave up on that. And I don’t bother with women, they only break your heart.”

“Ooh!” cried Suzy, abandoning all ‘goffik’ precepts, turning over onto her stomach and shifting over to face Ratbreath, propping her head up with her elbows. “Sounds like you had some lurve trouble in your past. What happened?”

Ratbreath sighed and sat back. “It was years ago; my parents had died, and I’d been shipped off to a privileged catholic boarding school. Then, when I was fifteen, I met her.”

****Flashback!****

Ratbreath scrambled out of bed, throwing on his school blazer and pulling up his trousers, his roommate Adam standing by the door looking anxious and glancing at the clock.

“Hurry up Francis, we’re gonna be late for Mr Yak’s class!” said Adam, grabbing Ratbreath by the arm as soon as he had his bag in hand and dragging him out of the room.

They ran down the corridor, Ratbreath vainly attempting to flatten this hair as they turned round the corner, swinging round the pillar and out into the cold winterish schoolyard. They raced through, Ratbreath’s friend yelling to him as they ran. “C’mo--on!”

Zooming into the main building the pair just managed to dart into the classroom and jump into the seats as the bell went. Ratbreath let out a giant sigh of relief, pulling out his books from his bag and slinging them onto the table. Mr Yak, a strict looking man with a moustache and a brown mouldy looking suit pulled out the register and started spitting out names, the students jumping up and stuttering, ‘Yes sir!’

Something hit Ratbreath’s head, and he started and turned round in his seat. There was a paper plane at his feet. Checking Mr Yak wasn’t looking, he leant down and picked it up, unfolding it under his desk. There was a cartoon caricature of himself crouching and crying huge tears the size of his head, with the words i am so lame, i smell like a hipo. Ratbreath scrunched the paper plane into a ball with fury, a pang of anger hitting his heart. How dare those bullies use what had happened to his parents to torment him? It wasn’t his fault they had been eaten by hippos. He felt like standing up right now, marching up to them, and smacking them right in the face. But Mr Yak was here, and doing that was like signing his own death warrant. He gritted his teeth in anger and frustration and tried to mentally block them. He’d sort them out at lunchtime, for sure this time.

“Francis Hargreaves!” Mr Yak spat, not raising his eyes from the paper.

“Yes sir!” Ratbreath cried, anger resonating in every syllable.

*

At lunchtime Ratbreath stood and paced. Before the lesson had ended, he’d slipped the bully who’d thrown the paper plane a note of his own, calling him to come and fight one on one in the secluded part of the school behind the car park. He felt fury racing through his veins. He couldn’t wait to release it on the bully, preferably in the form of a punch.

He hadn’t told Adam, not wanting the boy to get involved. He was his best friend, and had been included in too many scuffles with the bullies already. He’d ended up in hospital last time; not because they were outnumbered, they were actually equally matched. But Adam wasn’t so great at fighting, he was good at say, musical theatre, and sowing- but fighting really wasn’t his forte.

As he was just wondering whether the bully would show up or not, he rounded the corner. Along with his friend, his other friend, and his other other friend. Ratbreath groaned- he should have known the bully wouldn’t fight fair.

“Morning Franny!” the boy shouted as soon as he was near enough, “didja like my picture?”

‘No fear,’ thought Ratbreath, ‘I’ll teach them not to make fun of my parents, even if it leaves me in a giant bloody mess.’ He stepped up to the boy, standing so close to him that their noses touched. “No, I didn’t,” he said.

“Heh, that’s too bad,” said the boy flippantly, “it took so long to do, and the hippo thing took ages to think of. But it was good, wasn’t it?”

“Only because you’re so stupid,” said Ratbreath. He’d had enough; he took a step back, and aimed a punch at the bully. The fist flew, and collided with his nose. He yelled and grabbed at his face.

“You bastard!” he shouted, his voice thick, mouth filled with blood.

The boys friends jumped forward, but he waved them back violently. “Lemme’ take this guy on my own. You lot can pick up the remains.”

Grumbling, they stood back. Ratbreath and the boy measured each other up, blood still running freely down the former’s chin. An invisible whistle blew, and the boy leapt forward, ramming his hard shoe at Ratbreath’s shin. Ratbreath himself yelped and took hold of the other boy’s hair, dragging him forward onto the floor. But at the last moment the boy took hold of his trousers and tugged, and Ratbreath fell down with him. They became a one giant ball of punches and kicks, clawing at one another and smacking each other in the faces with their hands and feet.

Ratbreath pulled himself out of the mess and clambered up to his feet, blazer ripped at seams on one side. The boy jumped up with him, trying to kick Ratbreath in the balls. Ratbreath caught the shoe in his hands, and shoved it to one side, almost causing the boy to loose balance. The fate of the battle was now decided; Ratbreath had gained the upper hand. Punches rained down on the bully, on the arms, stomach, all over.

But one thing Ratbreath hadn’t counted on with the teenager’s cowardly tendencies. Instead of surrendering, and begging for mercy, he yelled, “I’ve changed my mind! Help me guys!”

They ran forward, shouting war chants, as though they were heading into battle and proceeded to batter Ratbreath, utterly outnumbering him three to one. They punched him and kicked him, kicked him and punched him, then punched and punched and kicked and kicked and… well, you get the picture.

Ratbreath thought it would never end, but suddenly there was a call like an angel’s from Heaven, there to his rescue. “Leave him ALONE!” the voice called, as a hazy figure (his could hardly see for all the blood) swam into view. “Let him go NOW or I’ll pound you all into the dust!”

Though Ratbreath felt so dizzy from the fight he couldn’t make out what they were saying, he distinctly heard several shrieks of fear, and felt the vibrations in the ground as the boys ran for their lives.

Lying on the tarmac, Ratbreath heard another, heavier set of footfalls approach him, and watched as a pair of clunky boots came into vision, muscled legs protruding, bulging knees joining them as they knelt down beside him.

“Are you okay?” the angel said, in a high sweet tone, concern in her voice. Ratbreath groaned.

She lifted up his head and looked at him. Ratbreath, the haze clearing, saw he was staring into the face of the most beautiful girl, no, angel, that he had ever seen. Standing up, she would be a head taller than himself; she had muscled arms and legs, bulging forceps; hands that looked as though they could crush boulders. Her school uniform barely seemed to fit on her, it creaked as she moved, in constant danger of exploding- an XXXL. Ratbreath stared at her in wonder, captivated. Her hair, gold, like a lion’s mane, shimmered down her back. She had the sweetest, kindest smile he had ever seen.

Ratbreath suddenly remembered that she had asked him a question. “Um, yes, I mean… I don’t know,” he said breathlessly, fireworks exploding in his head.

“Should I go get the school nurse? You’re bleeding,” she said in her wind-chime voice, getting to her feet, her skirt creaking ominously.

“No!” Ratbreath called, louder than he had meant. “I mean… I’ll be okay. I can get there on my own. I just need a little bit of help.” He couldn’t let the angel leave; they had only just met.

“Oh… okay then. Here,” she offered a muscled hand to Ratbreath, who, trembling, took it. He felt a warmth in his stomach explode into existence at her touch, as she lifted him to his feet, and almost into the air.

“What’s your name?” he asked as they walked, leaning on her shoulder, as she took virtually all his weight.

“Angel,” said she.

‘Gods,’ Ratbreath thought, ‘I’ve never heard of a name that fitted better. She isn’t just like an angel, she is an angel.’

“You’re Francis, right? Adam’s friend? I sit next to him in maths and he keeps talking about you- he pointed you out in the corridor too.”

Ratbreath’s heart almost exploded from pleasure. ‘She’s noticed me!’ he thought happily, ‘I could kiss Adam!’

A small voice in the back of his head warned him that this wasn’t such a good idea.

That night, he had to stay in the hospital wing for his injuries, and as soon as Angel left, wishing him well, Adam skidded round the corner and rushed into the room.

“Francis! I just heard what happened! Are you alright?” He gripped Ratbreath’s hand tightly, concern emanating from every last bit of him.

Ratbreath shook his hands off his. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Why didn’t you tell me you sat next to such an amazingly beautiful girl in maths?”

“Huh?” said Adam, looking bamboozled, “Are you talking about… Angel?”

“Angel!” Ratbreath cried in reverence. “Angel, my Angel! Adam- I- I think I’m in love!”

Adam seemed to physically shrink in his seat. “Oh,” he said, his face blank.

“You have to tell me everything you know about her! Everything!”

“Right,” Adam said, his face still as expressionless as before. Ratbreath hardly noticed, he was too far caught up in his passion. He went on with a long-winded explanation of what had happened, stopping at moments to sigh lovingly. Adam’s sank even further with every word.

“I have to let her know how I feel,” said Ratbreath, sitting up in bed, balling his fist in determination. “But how should I do it?” he addressed the last part more to himself than to anyone else.

“I dunno,” murmured Adam, “pretty posies, chocolates. You know the sort of thing that girls like.”

“I just want to hold her in my arms,” sighed Ratbreath with a long dreamy look at the ceiling.

Adam let out a sob and ran from the room.

Blinking his way out of his trance, Ratbreath looked at the empty place where Adam had been sitting. “What was wrong with him?” he said aloud, laying back down onto the pillows and letting out another, wistful sigh.

****Flashback!****

“When are you gonna get to the bit where you’re heartbroken and disregard women forever?” asked Suzy impatiently, poking at the fire.

“Am I telling this story are you?” snapped Ratbreath.

“You,” said Suzy sullenly. “But there’s something I was thinking about while you were telling that. I thought you said your name was Ret Breth?”

“Ratbreath’s a nickname the kind motorists on the M25 came up for me. It’s just… stuck, I suppose. Anyway, it’s better than Francis.” He pulled a face.

“Hang on- Rat Breath? …Gee, nice. I think I prefer Francis.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now do you want to hear the rest of this or not?”

Sigh. “Go on then, just hurry up to the bit where she shatters your heart into a million pieces.”

“…”