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‘The Ark’ (9 years old) Eden Primary School
Anthony Crawley stared at the vacant chair beside him, brow furrowed. Aziraphale had not returned to class after lunchtime play and that could mean only one thing: Mr Metatron’s office. His friend was terrified of the man, and with good reason, as he had gotten even more strict since his promotion to Headmaster of Eden Primary School the previous year. Most of the children had now taken to secretly calling him ‘the Metatron’ due to both his overall resemblance to the cold robotic tyrannical leader from the Transformers and the similarities of their names.
He had last seen Aziraphale, in his role as play monitor, just before the bell had rung to signal the end of lunch. His friend had been in conversation with a rather cross-looking lunchtime supervisor after accidentally giving out the wrong box of toys to a group of younger children. And as the class register was put aside with still no sign of his best friend, he began to worry.
Since taking a chance in talking to Aziraphale all those years ago when they were still in kindergarten, they’d quickly become inseparable. Despite being almost total opposites on the outside, they actually had quite a lot of things in common. The most notable one was that he and Aziraphale shared the same birthday: September 1st. Being born before the beginning (of the school year) meant that they were always the joint oldest in any class and, better still, never had to go to school on their birthdays. They also shared the same sense of humour, interest in the world around them, and (though he would never admit it) were equally kind children.
He and his best friend even had special nicknames for each other. Aziraphale was ‘angel’, due to their first meeting and the fact that he had never failed to be cast as one in every nativity and school play they’d taken part in so far. It was one of the hazards of attending a very religious school and being a blond-haired and blue-eyed child with an overall pleasant disposition. Crawley — wanting to be more like James Bond and less like his estranged father Anthony, who he was named after — had opted to go by his surname instead, to sound more cool. To be perfectly honest, he wasn’t exactly fond of his last name either, but in his mind anything was better than Anthony.
He had always been told that he was very lucky to be attending this school, as Eden prided itself on its ability to be a one-stop shop for a child’s religious needs. Being a private school, it educated children from ages 3 to 18, with a kindergarten, primary school, secondary school and sixth form all on one large, sprawling site.
Growing up in a single parent household, since his father had decided to leave them when he was only two, Crawley and his family shouldn’t have been able to afford the school’s exorbitant termly fees. But luckily (or unluckily) for Crawley, his mother’s late father had been a vicar and it was his wish that Crawley should follow in his footsteps. A large trust fund had been set up for the purpose of him achieving this inflexible career goal. The downside of this privilege, which had been thrust upon him, was that it meant a lot of religious education (R.E.) lessons, quite extraordinary amounts of them!
So as Crawley sat in his third R.E. lesson of the week, listening to Mrs Michael rattle off the story of Noah’s Ark for the umpteenth time, his concern for his best friend quickly began to overtake his thoughts.
Feeling restless, he put up his hand as soon as he saw the teacher glance up from her reading.
“...And so all the animals of the world went into the ark, two by two…” Mrs Michael stopped to frown at his hand waving about in the air. “No, Anthony, I’ve told you before, there were no unicorns amongst the animals. Unicorns are mythological creatures and that means they are not real, unlike the story we are learning about today,” she said in a terse voice.
“Right.” He paused to fully absorb that statement before continuing. “Yeah, no, Mrs Michael, it’s not about the unicorns today. I was just wondering when Aziraphale would be back; he’s still not here.”
“That’s because your friend made a very bad choice and was sent to see the Head. I’m sure he will be back just as soon as Mr Metatron is done with him. Now, as I was saying… All the animals of the world went into the ark…”
Crawley slumped back despondently in his seat as he let the words slide right off him, like, like…whatever it was water slides off. Despite continuing to receive pointed looks from his teacher every time she mentioned more about the seemingly endless list of various animals that somehow all managed to fit into this boat in pairs, he was able to keep his other concerns about the story to himself. Crawley had discovered very early on during his time at Eden that, although the school claimed to foster a love of learning, unfortunately this did not extend to questioning the syllabus and its extensive religious doctrines.
He looked around at the other children in his class as they stared blankly ahead and wondered why none of them seemed bothered that one day, long ago, God had got a bit tetchy and decided to drown everyone (apart from one boatful of pious locals and their travelling zoo).
By the time they were working on painting watercolour rainbows for display with their written promises to God underneath, he was really starting to feel anxious for his friend. Aziraphale would never break the school rules on purpose; he only ever tried to follow them and be ‘good’. It wasn’t fair he should be punished so severely for something that was obviously just a mistake.
Aziraphale even believed in God, something that Crawley had given up on years ago. He looked down at the bright array of colours with his pencilled in writing of ‘I promise not to ask difficult questions’ underneath it, ready to go over it in pen, when instead he decided to grab his eraser. His anger and frustration at the whole situation, which he had been tamping down since lunch, flared up inside him. He rubbed out the words and replaced them, in pen, with ‘I promise to do what is right’.
Once his hand was reaching its way up towards the empty heavens, he had already formulated the exact words he would need to send his already irritable teacher over the edge. What the hell, he thought. You’re Anthony Crawley. You know what to do, so you might as well do it with style!
***
When he caught sight of his friend languishing on one of the stiff plastic chairs outside of Mr Metatron’s office, still waiting to be seen by the Head, he immediately knew he had made the right choice. Aziraphale was wringing his hands anxiously in front of him and looking visibly fearful. As his best friend, Crawley made the immediate decision to ‘buck him up’ the quickest way he knew how — by gently teasing him.
“Hello, Aziraphale!” he called out cheerfully before slipping into the chair beside him and sinking into a long legged sprawl.
Aziraphale flinched at the sound, but his look of panic immediately changed to one of surprised relief when he turned round and saw Crawley.
“So, giving the pre-schoolers the box of play swords. How’d that work out for you?”
“Shh, be quiet you fiend!” he whispered, glancing fretfully at the door. But his friend’s nerves did seem to ease slightly at the sight of him. Crawley could already see a faint smile tugging at the sides of his mouth. “Well, how was I supposed to know they’d start using them on each other?”
Crawley gave him back an exasperated look that he hoped would convey the sentiment, ‘How could you not realise that would happen?’.
“I’m not allowed to be a play monitor again for the rest of the term,” his friend continued sheepishly.
“Eh, it seemed like a lot of work anyway. You’re probably better off not doing it for a while. Just give things a chance to calm down a bit,” he soothed.
Aziraphale hummed in agreement. “Anyway, most of them behaved themselves — but that Cain’s a real handful!”
“Yeah, I saw one of the lunchtime supervisors having to drag him away from his brother yesterday. They were throwing rocks at each other and he got a bit…carried away.”
Nodding along silently, Aziraphale suddenly stopped and looked at him face on, as if only just seeing him properly for the first time. “Wait, what are you here for?”
“Got sent out of R.E. again.”
“Again?” his friend exclaimed a little too loudly, before flinching at himself and carrying on with his questioning more quietly. “What for this time? You weren’t asking about how all the animals managed to fit onto the boat again were you? You know Mrs Michael doesn’t like it when you bring that part up.”
“No, it was about the rainbow this time,” he confessed. “I told her that my science book at home says that rainbows are formed when light from the sun is scattered by water droplets, and that it didn’t seem very likely that those two things had never happened at the same time until just after the flood. Anyway, she didn’t like the idea that I was quoting a My First Science book to go against the word of God, so she sent me out here.”
Aziraphale looked around cautiously before leaning in to whisper to him. “You know, I probably shouldn't be telling you, but I’ve been starting to wonder about that story too. It just seems the more times I hear it, the less it actually makes sense.” He began to fiddle with his fingers again. “Please don’t tell anybody I told you that. I don’t want to get into any more trouble.”
Crawley smiled sympathetically at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered.
Aziraphale’s smile radiated back at him before he bit his lip and asked, “What am I going to do? I’ve never been in trouble like this before.”
“Nnnyuuh,” Crawley considered, bobbing his head from side to side in thought, “you could always say that the pre-schoolers took them when your back was turned?”
“But that’s a lie!” his friend gasped back at him. “No, I can’t do that! Mother says it’s a sin, and I’ll go to Hell.” He whined pitifully. “I'll just have to tell the truth and pray for mercy.”
As Aziraphale sat staring miserably down at his hands in his lap, Crawley reached out his own hand to take one of them and gave it a small squeeze. He hated seeing his friend so upset, it felt worse than getting in trouble for something himself. He would have gladly taken the blame if he were able to, but all he could do for now was try to comfort him as best as he could.
Aziraphale gave him a weak smile, and they sat like that, clammy hands joined tightly together, for several long minutes, staring at the large oil painting of Daniel in the Lion's Den that hung on the opposite wall.
“You may now enter!” came the stern booming voice of the Head from behind the door.
They both jumped, and Aziraphale quickly dropped Crawley’s hand in a flustered panic to begin wiping his own nervously on his shorts as he gingerly stood up. Looking forlornly back at his best friend, they both took a step towards the door.
“Right, come on. Time to look guilty.” Crawley grinned at him, trying to sound calmer than he felt as his heart thumped against his ribcage. It must have worked, because Aziraphale gave the smallest of smiles to him in return.
After a deep breath they walked into the den together, their faith in one another giving them all the strength they needed.