The cruel October winds whipped around George Daly’s face, making his green eyes water. The weather was always harsh in Netherfield at this time of year. The dark and cloudy Monday sky made George feel more despondent than before. He knew that nothing else today would make him feel any better. He had double maths taught by Miss Noble, followed with Biology with Mr Smith. PE and English followed them and none of them were very popular with George. He walked up the school drive amid the throng of students and teachers. He opened the big glass doors of the school and walked in.
Feeling more pessimistic than usual, George headed up the Maths corridor and towards his form room in the History department. His best friend, Izzy Beard was already waiting outside, nodding his head in time to his Walkman. George walked past Rainbow Zollner, his ex-girlfriend, who gave him a piercing stare.
“Hey Izzy,” said George, ignoring Rainbow, who was still glaring at him.
“Hello,” said Izzy, switching off his Walkman. “Good weekend?”
“I suppose,” mumbled George, shrugging. “You?”
“I got onto level sixteen of ‘Dungeon Master’!” smiled Izzy. “That final dungeon dweller is really hard to kill!”
“I’ve been stuck on level eighteen for a month,” said George. “Try to catch up!” Before Izzy had a chance to make some kind of smart-alec quip that he was famous for, Mr Ball, their balding form tutor appeared and led them into the class.
The class filed through the door and sat down. They all talked and laughed as Mr Ball set up his computer. George was a stocky boy with short brown hair and an ivory complexion. Izzy on the other hand was taller and thinner than George, with curly blonde hair, grey eyes and a mass of freckles.
“Silence please,” called Mr Ball over the jabbering of class 10B. After a minute or so, the class were silent. Mr Ball read the register and picked up some papers on his desk, dropping a few that he didn’t need.
“Any boys interested in playing in the football team this Friday must go to Mr Benson’s office at lunch time,” he said in his dull tone. He then said, “And congratulations to the girls hockey team who won their match against Buxford College yesterday. Does anyone else have any other news?” Everyone was suddenly unvoiced. You could have heard a pin drop.
“Okay then,” announced Mr Ball, “off you go to your first lesson.” The scraping of chairs signalled it was time to leave. Izzy and George joined the crush to leave the room. George squeezed out into the warm corridor and headed to the Maths room.
“Three lots of homework!” cried George as he and Izzy walked down the school drive back home again, amongst the accumulation of tired students.
“What subjects were they in?” asked Izzy.
“Maths, Biology and English,” replied George.
“What do you have to do for that English piece then?” questioned Izzy.
“Write a fictional story for coursework,”
“You got any ideas?”
“Not really. I might do a detective story.”
George and Izzy continued talking about school until the reached the zebra crossing at the post office and Izzy had to cross over the road.
The next Monday something strange happened. The rest of the week had been incredibly dull except for a small concert in Wednesday’s assembly. George reached his form room (after being glared at again by Rainbow, who had removed the red streaks and put blue streaks in her hair) and spoke to Izzy.
“Did you revise for that Maths test this morning?” asked Izzy.
“Oh damn!” cried George, “I didn’t.”
“Dead man walking,” sniggered Izzy.
“It’s not funny,” barked George. Izzy concealed a laugh as they walked into the classroom.
They were soon all settled for the Maths test.
“These questions are about everything we have done so far this term,” said Miss Noble, kindly. She was a small woman but was vicious if you didn’t do homework or failed a test. George gulped and picked up his pen, his hands drenched in cold sweat. He knew he would fail, he just knew it.
“Okay,” said Miss Noble, “Question 1. Explain Pythagoras’ Theorem.” George thought desperately. He had no idea. He closed his eyes and thought. Then he heard a tiny voice in his head saying, “a2 + b2 = c2. It’s right, just put it down.” Following the orders of the voice, George wrote the answer.
“Question 2,” said Miss Noble. “What is the area of a square with sides of 4cm?” The voice appeared again and said, “16cm2”. George wrote down the answer again. Forty minutes later, all the marks had been taken in.
“Who got ten or more right?” asked Miss Noble. Everyone raised his or her hand. She then counted up and more and more people put their hands down. Finally, George was the only one left with his hand up. Everyone, including Miss Noble and George himself, were speechless.
“Er…” said Miss Noble, “Well done George. Off you go class.” The class left quickly, as they had been let out for break five minutes early. Izzy caught up with George in the corridor.
“You said you hadn’t revised!” cried Izzy in a state of shock.
“I didn’t,” said George, quietly.
“You must have done!” stressed Izzy. “I did a bit and I got fourteen right!”
“But I didn’t revise!” snapped George, “I swear I didn’t.” Izzy was silenced.
When he got home from school, George instantly picked up his diary. He grabbed a biro, chewed the end for a moment and wrote.
Something really strange happened today. In the Maths test, which I forgot to revise for, I scored top marks. The answers were pushed into my brain by some voice that read them. Once or twice, it gave me the answer before the question was asked! Am I mad? What happened? It’s really spooky.
He slammed the diary shut and turned on his TV.
That night, George had a strange dream. He and Izzy were in their IT class. Izzy’s computer crashed and he lost the thing he was working on. George woke up suddenly and felt nervous, almost scared. He looked in his mirror. Was it him or were his eyes slightly purple? He must have been imagining it or the lighting was just playing tricks on him. After all, it was two forty-five in the morning. George fell back to sleep and forgot about the dream.
George and Izzy were waiting outside their IT class that afternoon. George had completely forgotten about the dream. Their teacher, Mrs Olsen, came and let them in.
“Today class, we will be using Microsoft Publisher,” she said, in her high voice, “Please open it with a new blank document.”
The class were soon working on Publisher, making flyers. Near the end of the lesson, Izzy and George were busy adding the finishing touches to their flyers.
“Oh nuts!” shouted Izzy. He would have said something much worse only the teacher was sitting two computers away from his. Everyone looked at him.
“What’s up?” asked Mrs Olsen, coming over.
“The computer crashed,” said Izzy. The look on his face gave George the impression that he wanted to smash the computer. George then suddenly thought of his dream. It scared him a bit. Izzy moved onto the same computer as George, who printed off two copies of his flyer. When they left, George was nearly bursting to tell Izzy.
“I knew that computer would crash,” he blurted out as soon as they left the school.
“What?” asked Izzy, confused. “How could you have done?”
“I dreamt it,” sighed George, “and then it came true.”
“That’s spooky,” said Izzy, “Are you kidding?”
“No,” said George quietly, “It happened in the Maths test too. The answers were forced into my head somehow.”
Izzy looked at George as if he had suddenly grown an extra head. George knew that he didn’t fully believe him. George parted with Izzy and spent the evening on his computer, trying to forget about what had happened.
That night, he had another dream. It was raining outside school and a Dalmatian was running around the school entrance. George woke up again. He guessed that this would happen the next day. He had never had these dreams before. Had he suddenly discovered his powers, after having them for fourteen years? He would never know.
The next morning, when he woke up, it was (as he predicted) raining. He walked up to school, meaning that his hair was getting wetter and wetter. He finally stepped inside school and gazed at the bedraggled students and sopping teachers. He then realised that his entire prediction had not come true. There was no Dalmatian outside. When he left school that evening though, there was. He realised that he must have seen the afternoon in his dream. It turned out that the dog was a stray and had no owner. Someone called the police on their mobile, who came and took it away. Izzy had been quite distant from George all day and didn’t walk home with him.
A month had passed since George Daly discovered his psychic powers. Every night now he was woken up by a strange dream, which predicted everything from the weather to test answers. Izzy was the only other person who knew about the dreams, and he was sworn to secrecy. He never really said anything about it anyway because he was too interested in his new computer game, ‘Karate Kid’. George then had the most disturbing dream yet. All he could see was a roadside lined with bushes. Then his form tutor, Mr Ball, appeared. A gunshot was heard and Mr Ball was suddenly lying dead on the road.
George woke up. He felt as if he’d just been drenched in cold water. He switched on the light and looked in his mirror. His eyes were violent purple, just like the first time he’d ever had one of his strange dreams. As he watched, his eyes slowly turned back into the bottle green colour they usually were. George had noticed colour change to his eyes when he predicted things, but it had never been that severe. This dream, he could not forget so easily.
That day at school, Mr Ball was there. George hated him but was secretly hoping that his prediction didn’t come true. He was there the next day as well, and the next, and the next. In fact, it was a week before the headmaster, Mr Torrington, came into their form room. During this period, George had been dream free, which he found unnerving.
“Class,” he said in a very solemn voice, “I have some very bad news. I’m afraid that Mr Ball was killed yesterday evening.”
The class was silent apart from a couple of people saying “Oh my God!” A few people sniffed and, looking round, George noticed that some of the girls were suppressing tears. Although it was shocking, George had expected it and was therefore the least surprised of the class. Although he didn’t look it, he was horrified.
That evening, George was sitting on his bed, thinking. He hated these powers. Sure, they had been fun at first but now they were just scary. George wondered how he could rid himself of the powers. They started with no warning and maybe that was how they would finish. George knew that he couldn’t do anything about them.
That night though, he didn’t have any dreams and wasn’t woken. He told Izzy this but Izzy wasn’t particularly interested. He hadn’t been very interested with anything to do with George’s psychic powers. George went to the library that evening for he knew that they had a massive selection of strange books, on every subject from caring for dogs to the moons of Saturn. George glanced over a few titles on the orderly shelves. He noticed Fate and Fortune, The Planets and finally came to Psychic Powers. It was written by a teenage psychic, but it wasn’t very interesting though; it just gave details on tarot cards, astrology and palmistry. George was now one hundred per cent sure that he wouldn’t be able to get rid of the nightmares.
That Saturday, George felt as though he had nothing to live for and these dreams would continue to plague him for the rest of his life. He had had a few other dreams again, but nothing as bad as Mr Ball’s death. George sat, feeling despondent, in his bedroom. One word was racing round in his head. Suicide. But at the same time, a voice was saying, “Don’t do it. You can survive.” George didn’t know which voice to obey. He felt that he probably could live through it but on the other hand, it was really annoying him now. That evening, he settled down and he had decided. He would stick it out to the bitter end, no matter what happened. He knew he couldn’t kill himself. He didn’t have the killer instinct. He could barely dissect a worm in Biology. George also decided it would be easier to tell some other people.
The next morning, George told his parents, all his friends, his new form tutor, Miss Watson and a few other relations. It came as a huge surprise to everyone, as no one knew. After telling them, he suddenly felt lighter and happier. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, letting him stand tall again. Not once, for the years afterwards, did he predict a death. All he saw in his dreams were simple predictions, similar to how it all started.
You’re probably now thinking that he was again plagued with images of death and murder, but you’d be wrong. He will manage to live a successful life and receive great marks up to the end of his school life. In fact, I know that he will become a great asset to the police in the future, helping catch criminals. And how do I know? Well, it’s just a feeling…