

Chardelia Foss

and the

River of Fear

By

Dominic Jericho

_©_ Dominic Jericho 2018

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

The moral right of Dominic Jericho has been asserted.

First published in Great Britain 2018

Public domain works cited within text:  
Charlotte Bronte: _Jane Eyre_ (1847)  
William Shakespeare: _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ (1605)  
John Keats: "Ode to a Nightingale" (1819)  
Christina Rosetti: "Remember" (1862)  
and "The Convent Threshold" (1862)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is an engrossing romantic  
mystery thriller set in a gothic school  
in the North East of England.

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https://dominicjericho.wordpress.com

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Contents

Prologue

Professor Wonder

Flambeau

Anjalie Marjoram

The Oracle

Robin Vernal

The Press Room

Netball

Dr Plum Chukchi

Beach Party

The Visitation

Detention

Perfect Match

Christmas in Amberleigh

Janna Chisely

Cherry Pie

The Chandelier

Chardelia's Party

Lovers and Madmen

The Seven Stages of Love

The High Jump

The Girl Who Fell in Love with Water

Fluviallia

Explosion

The River of Fear

Chardelia Falls

The Amberleigh Cascades

P.A.T.S.

Wide Blue Sky

Author's Note

For S.M.

I am Char to my friends and Dee to my Mum. I am Delia to my Dad and Lia to Louis. At the gates they will call here comes Char. In the morning she will call Dee up the stairs. In the evenings Goodnight Delia. On squabbling Saturdays Leave me alone Lia. It is fitting. There is a plurality to me. A number of uneven unequal sides. Forever changing, always moving, never fixed. I want to be like the water.

I was fifteen when I discovered it. Many people warned me against but it only spurred me on more. It wasn't the same as the rest, I didn't intend to treat it as such. It could be dipped in and out of, like a toe in a bath, each time rippling different circles of understanding, giving up new secrets; revelations that ripped like tiny tears against my skin. I fingered the corners, held the ball of my fingers against the parchment. It was alive, to me. A living plurality of meaning. And leaving me floored as well.

Prologue

Splissshh. Lssssh. Spssssh. Lllllsshh.

As lilting waters rose, the prisoner sensed the boat that bore his weight, inch higher. An unseen current washed in. It lifted him up. One word kept calling. He heard it amplify his imagination. The river he sailed as a boy flashed in his mind's eye. Those friends who pushed him in the waterfall. He banished them from his life completely. It would only invite more torment to wonder what happened to them. Whether they recalled as he did, the palpitations of fear they'd created. Like waves of water rippling outwards. He heard the word again. As if someone whispered in his ear. It mingled. As real as the sound of lapping water. As real as the creaking wood of the boat. As dangerous as the distant chatter of his two jailers. Amid their violent shouts towards him, they were the last two people to whom he now spoke. They'd become the only friends he had left.

Memories of a childhood amid mountains flooded back. A youth amongst nature gave him the yearning to be a park ranger. Again, he remembered the river he knew as a child. A bittersweet memory. The rock pool he made with his brother. When they tried to enclose a small pool of water, it trickled and escaped, bit by bit, day by day. His father told him it was inevitable. You could never own water. It always flowed away. It moved to new streams, transformed and ascended to the sky.

Those carefree days had been...what was the word? Possible! Opportunity seemed a ripe apple. Until he received the call. It was best not to think about it now. Look where it landed him. Instead his thoughts roamed round his tired mind. He thought of his wife. No doubt battling anxious thoughts herself, albeit some distance from him. His two sons. They liked wrestling. No doubt they wrestled each other to the ground this very moment. Centuries of violence unable to annihilate itself. These thoughts of his family – the only family he had left – kindled a subtle flame of love and warmed his heart with dim heat. However, the meagre hope extinguished when his mind sensed the perils which awaited.

The silent word felt deafening. With aching wrists he tried to cup his ears through the handcuffs. He was glad they gagged him. Glad they took away his right to a voice. He was afraid what he might hear himself say or scream out loud. At least they afforded him this last dignity. There were no words left to say, not to them anyway. For his family all he could think of was the three-word mantra of peace he tried to live his life by. Ultimately he knew it would not prove enough to keep him on earth. It would not prove enough for anybody.

Drip. Driiip. Drp. Thick droplets of dirty water fell heavily from the cavern ceiling, landing like slugs on the prisoner's bare back. Reluctantly he inhaled the rank odour. The cavern smelt damp and musty. It was a smell he knew. Something close to death. The stench floated in pungent waves of toxic air and sulphur drifted in his nostrils. It clogged his airways with malodorous concentrations, making him retch. Still there were splashes in the river beyond. Imagination gripped him again. It could have been the tying of a mooring to a jetty. When his unseen captors muttered dangerously, the strange cold echoes of their voices revealed the cavern was larger than he first thought.

As the boat rocked from side to side the prisoner shivered. It was freezing but he had long since grown used to the cold. The shivering was caused by a deep tremor of fear within. The ghastly noises he'd heard haunted him. It sounded like a distorted pop song slowed deliberately to an intolerable and ghostly moan. Replaying itself in his head like a tape. Rewinding automatically when it ended before beginning its horrible melody once more. The terror-spiked rumours were true. He had seen the bloody evidence, gleaming in pale moonlight.

Ron and Eddie were preparing. Their prolonged silence spoke volumes. Accustomed to the blindfold, worn for so long around his black eyes, he had become accustomed to Ron and Eddie's personalities too. They only stopped jabbering when their boss approached. He sat patiently waiting for something to happen. Then voices broke the quiet.

'Hey Ron, did you bring the silencer?'

Ice cold dread plummeted from the prisoner's heart to the pit of his stomach. Small beads of clammy sweat froze on his forehead.

'Yeah – it's lying on the side of the bo... Oh shit! - where'd it go?'

'I don't know. I can't see it. Oh shit, he's gonna kill us.'

'It must have fallen in.'

Then silence. The prisoner's anxiety began to surge. Amid currents of fear coursing through adrenaline charged veins he struggled to retain consciousness. Whilst Eddie and Ron were jovial, at least with each other, the prisoner hoped for quick and peaceful resolution. But he knew whenever they grew tense they took it out on him. It made him nervous.

He grew desperate for one of them to say something. He wanted them to sort the issue of the 'silencer'. Desperately he hoped it wasn't meant for him. Deep down he knew exactly that it was. Wild hope seized him. Perhaps they wouldn't find it. Surging adrenaline nearly sent him hysterical. It rushed with tides of pulsing joy. Perhaps it was lost forever and because of it they would let him go. Though neither said a word. The prisoner knew it useless to engage Ron or Eddie in conversation while angry. So he remained quiet. Then he heard footsteps walking away from the boat, and breathed a tentative sigh of relief. All the tension, disquiet and fear faded with the diminishing noise of those footsteps. In that moment, all the discomfort and worry the prisoner had experienced in his life seemed to vanish.

Then he heard more footsteps, this time approaching the boat. They grew louder and louder until, abruptly, they stopped.

CRACK!!

A loud thud reverberated round the cavern. It echoed in the prisoners' ears until he could no longer hear. He felt distinctly odd, like something drained away. Then he tasted thick blood pour in his mouth. Its sharp metallic tang sent signals to his fading brain before he could no longer taste, nor feel anything, any more.

*

**Professor Wonder**

Rolling icy waves from the North Sea crash into pretty coves and dark caves hollowed into jagged cliffs of the small seaside town of Amberleigh. A seagull flying overhead squawks melodically, scanning the coastline for opportunities to feed. Beaches dotted with the last few holidaying families curve towards an abrupt headland. A gothic building sits atop a moss-covered cliff, jutting into the ocean like the earth's arm, entreating the sea. Turreted with four towers and enclosing grass and stone quadrangles, the ancient Amberleigh Castle stands as the grim sentinel of the town. Overlooking the blank ocean, it is a static guard of sunny scenes, and acts as a lighthouse to crafts on the water when darkness falls.

The seagull arcs over the castle, ready to dive down should food present itself. He turns over Amberleigh Cascades, the inland waterfall, and heads south back along the beach, over the houses, shops and cobbled roads that lend Amberleigh town its distinctive character. A soft drizzle begins, streaking the lanes of Amberleigh, causing a slowness that only arrives with rain. Pedestrians pause to erect umbrellas; cars swerve to avoid puddles. The seagull squeaks as the first drops hit his immense wings. He swoops low into a small yet flourishing garden and comes to rest upon a decorative wooden perch. Here a pile of bread and seeds has been assembled, inviting the seagull to fill its hungry belly.

The light yet potent sea breeze blows swiftly through bushes of thyme and rosemary nearby. It shakes the late-summer blossom of plum and damson trees, as the seagull greedily empties the perch of food and dips his beak into a small dish of water.

A medium-built, stocky-looking boy of fifteen, with floppy brown hair and wide brown eyes looks on at the seagull with fascination. He has been reading the poems of Thomas Hardy for the past hour and is grateful for the mild diversion. The wind ruffles his overlong hair, which he has grown deliberately to irritate his teachers. He sips some raspberry juice from a glass wobbling precariously on the grass. He lies back on his garden chair and relaxes, taking a long breath of the salt-infused sea air. The seagull finishes his drink and just as quickly as he came, flies off into the boundless blue infinite. He glides effortlessly into the vast expanse of nothingness, water still dripping from his full beak onto the unsuspecting residents of Amberleigh below.

*

Danny Canterbury prepared diligently for the first day of his new school term. His fourth year as student at St Oliver Plunket's school beckoned, a year in which he would begin studying his GCSEs. Checking he had pens, paper and books: the requisite Shakespeare he had read over the summer – _A Midsummer's Night's Dream_ – in his bag; he trundled to the kitchen to make his packed lunch. It was a case of slapping together a cheddar sandwich and burrowing in the cupboards to discover what chocolate he could legitimately pinch without his father finding out. Having furtively removed two chocolate wafers and a packet of prawn cocktail crisps from the cupboard under the sink, he switched off the light and left the kitchen. Sneaking past the lounge, where his father watched the news on telly, some statement from the PM about the importance of resisting terrorism, Danny raced upstairs to his bedroom.

Relaxing on his warm duvet and staring at his glowing astronomical globe, he contemplated the next day. Anxiety billowed inside him like a balloon. It trapped his thoughts. The unpredictability of other people made him tense. It was not just the fear of the unknown. Danny wondered what he might say to Janna Chisely, should he bump into her.

In the final moment of the last term, on a furiously windy day, he asked her to be his girlfriend. Flatly, she had turned him down. Admitting to himself it was poor timing when he chose to ask her did not ease the pain of rejection. She had been chatting with friends Ella Amur, Chardelia Foss and identical twins Rosetti and Emily Duocorn at the time. A combination of intellectual suspicion and wishful thinking forced Danny to ruminate if her answer may have been different if he'd asked her when alone. But that seemed impossible. Girls always travelled in packs, like wolves. It had been a do-or-die situation that pushed him over the edge: he had not known if he would see her in the summer break or not. While obvious to both he'd caused an embarrassing scene, Danny couldn't help savouring the nervous excitement that held him in awe whilst he anticipated her eventual two-word rejection. In the brief moment before deflation, he had felt alive.

He remembered it like it was yesterday. Anxiously he had waited in class while the others goaded and teased. He knew he must act. There had been too much prevarication, a wealth of gossip surrounding the impending question. To fall back would be to die. It would be to surrender to a lifetime of jokes and jeers, of humiliation at its most undiluted. They nudged him, they whispered in his ear, they sang romantic melodies in parody. It all accumulated in his quiet mind, building slowly like the rising tempo of some insistent narrative that only had one outcome: to ask, and to know.

When the bell sounded his heart had flung itself at his breast, beating a wild drum there and not relenting. Those steps across the grey sun-baked tarmac seemed so long, yet he had made them a hundred times before. He knew where she walked – her long loping stride accelerating her away as she walked to catch her bus. His soul glimmered when she appeared. This was it. Before he knew anything, before he had tried to think of the form of words he should use he was standing before her, blocking her path. She looked startled, shocked even and her withering gaze accosted him with accusation before she even spoke.

'Will you go out with me Janna?' He had said, before he backed into the silence her glare invited. She shook her head and, to confirm the rejection, spoke loudly.

'No.'

'Will you think about it?'

Danny didn't know where the second question had come from; he just knew he had to not let it end there, to try and let her know he was serious, it wasn't a prank or a game. He had feelings for her. It wasn't infatuated lust, the way he gazed at the pallid sheen of her legs when they played tennis together. It wasn't a drive for animal desire, when he watched her straight blonde hair sway in the breeze, and her pursed lips move over her large front teeth like a duvet warmly nurturing and enveloping two children to bed.

She shook her head again.

'Let me go,' she said, as Danny's heart finally broke, and before even a minute had passed it was over, and she was out the gate, beyond his line of sight, forever gone.

Only he wasn't broken. He was exultant. He didn't care what she said. He had asked her. He had done it. He hadn't backed out. He had found the courage to face his fear. It rose up in him like a wave, banishing the thoughts of her refusal to the pit of embarrassment he would face when Monday came round. But for now, he could revel in the glory of knowing he had put himself to the sword, he had asked, and he had found it. Never again would he be afraid of girls.

Sighing to himself, he packed set-literature text _Jane Eyre_ in his school bag, another book he had read over the summer, and switched off the bedroom light.

Yet still. Thoughts of Janna's pale hair and heart-shaped face filled his mind as quickly as night air from the open window cooled his lungs. What if she met someone else over the summer? What if she secretly moved away and had begun life at a new school? All just to avoid him? What if, deep down, she felt the same about him as he did about her, but was too afraid to admit it publicly, amid the fearful glare of teenage gossips? As these questions churned like butter in his tired mind he drifted to sleep. Soon, he was snoring softly.

As he slept his eyes flickered wildly, and dreams claimed him from the watery ether. He was running up a muddy hill to school. The air was thick with humidity. Janna waited at the school gate, her back facing him. He ran across limp grass, but the ground grew stickier, muddier. He tried to run faster, but the more he did the more his feet stuck to swampy mud. Soon he was wading through a thick bog. Instead of getting closer to the school gate, it grew smaller and smaller. Every time he tried to take a step the school and Janna floated away from him. He opened his mouth and shouted for help, but no words came. Panic-stricken he waved his arms hysterically but no-one was present to notice. With a certainty of death the marshy ground began to slowly suck him down. Down further, until there was nothing but wisps of hair poking above the surface, hidden amongst thick grass.

*

Danny brushed his teeth and threw on his school uniform. He had time for a quick glug of orange juice, an apple and a 'Whatever!' to his despairing sister Polly before he rushed from Dunkinley and strode to school. Dunkinley was the name his father had given his seaside home. As the morning mist cleared, Danny began the twenty-minute walk. He used the time to ponder the day ahead and reflect on his dream the night before. It seemed so real. Was Janna going to ignore him? Would she forgive if he apologized for embarrassing her in front of her friends? Would he even be able to get _through_ her friends to talk to her?

In the mid-distance the soft contours of Plunket's emerged from the haze of sea fog. It rose above the North Sea as if suspended in historic stasis. The sight prompted jangly nerves which, for Danny, always precipitated the first day back at school.

Amberleigh Castle housed Plunket's and Danny had always felt mild pride to study in the romantic fortress. Atop a chunk of headland, riddled with caves and caverns the ocean regularly crashed into and filled with its white spray, there was plenty of possibility for adventure and exploration. Danny was not sure why, indeed he and his friends never even bothered to ask why Amberleigh Castle was the location for Plunket's. They often walked past queues of tourists visiting the castle through a separate entrance. The school gates to Plunket's were hidden at the back of the castle, facing the sea. On the approach, you might not even know it housed a bustling secondary school were it not for the loud jeers, or the sight of scores of uniformed children dutifully marching up the stony path. The school playing fields weren't even next to the school, being a short boat ride away on the isle of Fourlawns. The isle became visible to Danny as he turned amongst ferns on his coastal path. Plunket's was a large school, teaching over six hundred students. There were many classrooms and offices Danny had not entered. Neither did he know who or what was contained in them. However, Danny knew Plunket's did not make use of all, or even half of the space contained within the huge Amberleigh Castle. There were many doors he had not opened, many corridors he had not yet walked down. Despite his three years studying there already, the place remained a mystery.

It was a vivid sun-drenched September day. The kind of day that clings tightly to summer before it absconds to hibernate for the winter. Danny heard waves crash against rocks beneath. As he climbed the leafy hill that led the way to school, he hummed a tune he had heard on the radio. He passed the railway line, the Dropshot tennis club and a few of his classmate's homes. Ella Amur lived in a splendid house. An elaborately carved wood portico and balcony protruded towards the cliff's edge with stunning vistas across Amberleigh bay. Just below, accessed by a staircase carved into the rock, their tennis court overlooked the sea. He passed Olive Spritser's house, a small cottage with ivy winding its way carefully over the porch. The veranda contained a variety of plants and flowers. Danny smiled at the profusion of colour. Olive's mum was a plant obsessive. She managed the local garden centre and owned a flower shop, Dorothy's Diadems in Amberleigh town. Anjalie Marjoram's home was further along the street. Having paused to smell the flowers Danny spotted Anjalie emerge from the front door, waving manically to her Mum and Grandma. When she turned her head she spotted Danny walking up the path.

'Hi Danny! Great to see you! How was your hols? Want to walk to school with me?'

Anjalie Marjoram was a friendly girl. Danny had spent most of the last year avoiding her advances in case Janna might have got the wrong idea about them. Not that it looked like she cared.

'Okay Anjalie.'

Danny couldn't help noticing that, while still the same height and definitely still as slim, Anjalie seemed somewhat larger at the top. Her figure was definitely shapelier.

'Did you have a nice summer?'

Danny spoke politely, determined to keep his eyes fixed to her face.

'Oh yes thanks! We went to Russia and stayed with my Uncle. It was beautiful. We stayed near lake Onega. Every morning we would walk round the lake with his two dogs.'

Danny remembered Anjalie's other passion (apart from chasing boys) was animals. She took great pride in telling friends how she owned five cats and three dogs. As Plunket's neared, from the corner of Danny's eye he spied his two best friends, Tim Gaunt and Amanita Walmer. They ambled together in the distance. Although he hadn't seen them all summer and was desperate to talk to them, he knew it rude to run after them and leave Anjalie behind. Tim had flown to Canada to visit his sister Helena, who was interning in magazine publishing over there. Amanita had spent the summer in London, hanging out with her sister and going to rock concerts. Danny received postcards from them both. While grateful to hear from them, and touched they remembered to write, the content of their missives sparked flickers of envy. He couldn't remember what Amanita's sister did for a living – something boring in an office in the centre of London. Danny was the only one of the three of them who had stayed at home, conscientiously reading _Jane Eyre_ and learning Pythagoras' theorem. Now he felt the shame of regret by wasting his summer with books.

In the school playground Anjalie spotted Gabriel 'Squish' Ambrose and made her apologies to run off to meet him. Danny suspected Anjalie had a crush on Squish too. As they slowed, Danny managed to catch Amanita and Tim.

'Glad to be back?'

Amanita beamed, in her usual homely way. Studying and books was her raison d'etre.

'Oh yes – can't wait. I've been stuck at home the past few days! It's been so boring – doesn't compare at all to being in London though! We saw Muse last week!'

Amanita's remark struck Danny. After all, he had been stuck at home all summer, not just a few days. He would have quite liked to have seen Muse too. Still, he said nothing. Tim looked anxious.

'Has anyone else noticed that the goal posts haven't been put up on the playing fields yet?'

They cast their eyes out to Fourlawns and saw, through clearing morning mist that Tim was right. It didn't look like the grass had been cut all summer either.

'Well, it looks like we'll be doing gymnastics instead of football this year, Amanita teased indelicately. Tim fixed her with a goggle-eyed stare. Amanita knew Tim hated doing anything sporty that didn't involve a spherical rubber object.

'Gymnastics?! You've got to be kidding! There's no way I'm giving up football for jumping fake horses and hanging from rickety wooden bars! They better get the goal posts up soon. I want to try out for the football team this year.'

Amanita and Danny suppressed weary smiles. For the past two years Tim had tried out for the football team but had not been picked for even one home match.

'What? It's not my fault old Spittlebug's biased. Can you believe he's picked Ian Phalanger for every single game, even though he's never scored a goal? There's something fishy going on. A conspiracy I tell you!'

Dr Spittlebug was Plunket's football coach and PE teacher. He had been raised on a Yorkshire farm, and grew up on nothing but beans, vegetables and constant exercise, or so he claimed every lesson. 'Sustenance for the soul' he regularly exclaimed randomly during lessons when several students collapsed with exhaustion during cross-country, although no-one really knew what he meant.

'Come on Tim, maybe this year he'll see the light,' Danny said consolingly. He glanced furtively at Amanita, who returned his smile as they trooped off to their first lesson – religious studies.

*

Professor Wonder strolled his classroom in silence. He was carefully examining each student sat before him.

'This is a very crucial year for all of you', he pronounced slowly. 'You will each feel a stupendous weight of immense pressure bear down on you. Especially from me in the form of more homework.'

A groan rose up from the class.

'There will be spot tests to assess the limits of your attention-spans. There will be coursework to complete, the quantity and quality of which you will be expected to surpass anything you have done at Plunket's before. And...there will be free chocolate to the first person who can name the first five books of the Old Testament – now!'

Two hands shot into the air. Danny's was not one of them. He had always been suspicious of Wonder's bribes for loyalty. Amanita's hand bobbed in mid-air, waiting to be selected by the peacockish Wonder. She was not disappointed.

'Amanita! Go!'

'Genesis, Exodus, Leviticusm, Numbers and Deuteronomy.'

He beamed at her, and she beamed back while he handed over a thick slab of Cadbury's.

Tim whispered rather loudly to Danny, 'Isn't he pathetic?'

'What was that Gaunt? Would you like to share your profound wisdom with the rest of the class?'

'Actually, I'd prefer to keep my wisdom to myself. Gives me some competitive advantage that way.'

A few people in the class giggled. Wonder approached Tim's desk

'I think we'd _all_ prefer it if you shared your "competitive advantage" with the whole class?'

Wonder smiled narcissistically.

'But it wouldn't be competitive then, would it sir?'

'Gaunt! Out with it! You said "Isn't he..." '

' "A credit!" You're such a wonderful teacher, sir.' Gaunt deadpanned, smirking.

For a moment, Wonder seemed to take his irony as sincere.

'Why thank you Gaunt! It is heart-warming to know my own students hold me in such high regard, and it makes what I am about to say all the easier. Detention for your outstanding rudeness!'

Tim sighed absentmindedly. When Wonder's back was turned, he doodled on the front of his exercise book a picture of Professor Wonder pruning himself in his mirror.

'Right, the rest of you. Today, we will make a start exploring the seven sacraments. These will be on your final exam in two years' time, so pay attention. No chocolate this time, but can any of you tell me what the seven sacraments are?'

Amanita's hand shot into the air again but this time Danny beat her to it. Sacraments were something he did know about and he couldn't bear the sight of her smug face one more time. It was time to show effort to compensate for Tim's apathy. Everyone turned to stare. As the designated 'quiet one' in the fourth-year it was unlike Danny to volunteer information to the whole class.

'Yes, Canterbury?'

'The seven sacraments are baptism, reconciliation, eucharist, confirmation... er... holy orders ... extreme unction... and ... er...'

'Can anyone help Danny out?'

Amanita's hand waved frantically in the air, her smile beaming sickeningly towards Wonder. However, she was denied again.

'Yes, Rosetti Duocorn.'

'Sir the other sacrament Danny failed to mention...' She shot a look of slight superiority at Danny. '...is marriage.'

'Thank you, Rosetti. And can you tell me what distinguishes marriage from the other six sacraments?'

The smirk from Rosetti's face vanished. Stumped, her cheeks turned cherry-red. Danny couldn't resist turning his head to glance her embarrassment. Rosetti's eyes flitted from Wonder to Danny. At the same time, they transformed from doe-eyed love to vindictive spite. Danny swallowed. Turning back to face Professor Wonder, Danny found the enigmatic teacher knelt opposite his desk, disconcertingly staring straight at him, mere inches from his face.

'Danny, can you enlighten us?'

'Sir, the difference between marriage and the other sacraments is all the other sacraments can be defined as a gift given directly from God. Marriage is a gift not given by God, but by us to each other.'

'Spot on Danny,' Professor Wonder whispered.

He stood up, and Danny wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. Wonder was apt to behave unpredictably like that. While it was nice to be recognized once in a while something about Wonder made Danny feel uneasy. He glanced to the side, and noticed Tim had pretended to fall asleep.

'Gaunt, wake up!' Wonder boomed. 'Right, I would like all of you to get into pairs and discuss the seven sacraments. I shall write them on the board for those of you', looking directly at Tim, 'who may not be able to remember. Each sacrament is represented by a symbol. I would like you to think about what symbols represent these sacraments, and what their deeper meaning may be. Discuss ideas in your pair, and then you will present to the class at the end. Go!'

Wonder walked round the class, touching people on the heads to indicate who should pair with who. Wonder touched Danny, and pointed to Anjalie Marjoram, who looked ecstatic at joining Danny. He reluctantly dragged his pen and exercise book over to Anjalie's side of the class. On this side of the room he couldn't help noticing how many girls there were and how many like Anjalie appeared to have transformed over the summer break.

'Isn't this great?' Anjalie enthused.

'Yep. Great' Danny replied with trepidation. Looking down at his lap he saw Anjalie's hand already resting on his quaking knee.

People thought me mad; I thought I was just going with the flow. You know, like they teach you to do when they want you to shut up. Who could harm a girl with her nose in a book? Yet the envy my obsession inspired; I never knew how dangerous a little knowledge could be, how lethal the perception of accelerated learning would leave me. Enid Blyton and CS Lewis were fair enough but fairies and picnics, fawns and posh dicks left me cold. I wanted more. I wanted words not yet invented.

I remember his cool flesh on mine, the pale skin of his elbow curved round my bony shoulders as I sat, hunched in the crook of his arm. Family was not something I spent hours romanticizing, it was an unconscious instinct. I knew it would leave me one day, or I them, but the absence of their guiding force was not something I dwelt on. There would be time for that when it happened.

Flambeau

'I swear she was trying to feel me up! The girl is obsessed. Doesn't she have any...any...'

'Any what? Condoms?' Tim replied. It was break-time and both he and Amanita had been amused by Anjalie's romantic gesture.

'Any...modesty!' Danny said triumphantly, grateful he found a word to complete his anguished sentence.

'From what I hear, that never stopped Anjalie Marjoram in the past.' Amanita said.

Tim and Danny gazed at Amanita.

'Not that I'm one to spread rumours,' she said tantalisingly, before rushing off to the girls' toilets.

Tim and Danny strolled around the yard until they caught sight of the ocean, shining silver-blue in the distance. Danny watched Professor Wonder rebuke a pair of second year girls for smoking behind Craftwork, the CDT block.

'How come you always push Wonder, and you always seem to get off lightly?'

'I got detention. I don't call that getting off lightly, do you?'

'Yeah, but you know what I mean. He puts up with it. In fact, I think he enjoys it.'

'That's because I challenge him, and open things up for him. It's like therapy for him, really. He's able to sleep easier at night because he's got me in his class.'

They both laughed, and continued walking until they both faced the North Sea, brisk in the cold wind. Tim gazed out at Fourlawns. A solitary figure pushed a wheelbarrow across the surface. There were still no goalposts but the grass had been cut, and they smelt the pungent aroma of wet dew drift over on a stiff breeze.

'Oh well, at least that's something,' Tim offered to Danny.

'Yep. Come on, we better get inside. We've got assembly next with _lovely_ Professor Flambeau!'

They walked towards St Basil's – the name given to the school hall. As they did, they watched Charlie Shackleton, a fellow fourth year, emerge from the boy's toilets. They groaned simultaneously. No matter how often they steered Charlie onto exciting subjects, like football, or girls, or rock music, he always found the one element in them to bore them to tears.

'Have a good holiday Charlie?' Danny offered generously.

'Average thanks. I managed to learn several theorems but only read about three books on quantum physics. I could tell you about them, if you'd like?'

*

St Basil's hall was nearly full when they arrived. Tim and Danny claimed two empty seats at the back. The whole of their school year was present. Some students were already restless; Danny watched Edmund Cloves and Ian Phalanger whisper to each other, before pulling bits of blu-tac out of their pockets and flicking the contents onto Rosetti and Emily Duocorn's hair in front.

All the teachers sat on stage at one end of the hall. Danny could see them all, if he leaned his head past Lorraine Carr's gigantic hairstyle which rose in the air like a mutated pineapple.

Their mathematics teacher Professor Fuzzair sat on the left. He wore a garish green and orange tweed suit. As always, his mottled face was barely visible through the mass of black hair sprouting from his head. Literature teacher Professor Pry's elegant posture sat silently next to him, appearing the exemplar of demure serenity. Most of the year had learned by now, either by reputation or first-hand experience, that Professor Pry was anything other than demure. A short beady-eyed woman with thin lips and long straight hair that fell to her hips, her intimidating nature and student put-downs were legend throughout Plunket's. Dr Harlequin, who taught languages, sat beside her. He wore his usual tracksuit and a wide smile. However, he preferred teaching PE which he doubled up on whenever Dr Spittlebug was away. Unfortunately for both Harlequin and the students, Dr Spittlebug sat next to him. He looked sternly at the students and occasionally grunted in his gruff dialect. Beside him, Professor Wonder's slim short stature belied his inherent sparkiness and sense of danger. The youngest man on the teaching staff, he cradled a highly decorated guitar across his chest and looked like he would pounce into song at any moment. Dr Ethelraed, their new Geography teacher sat alongside Wonder. Danny didn't know Ethelraed that well; he hadn't been taught by him before but a rumour already circulated among the playground gossips that Squish Ambrose called Ethelraed a 'lightweight' to his face at the end of last year and Ethelraed promptly burst into tears.

The stunning Dr Chukchi sat beside Ethelraed, who intermittently tried to get her attention by whispering in her ear. Chukchi would take the fourth-years, including Danny, for poetry this year. A short lady, her deep red lips and flowing black hair lent her a graceful, sexy look. Her legs, usually exposed by tight short skirts and jet black tights transmitted hypnotic power over the male population of Plunket's. She had no problem controlling boys in her classes.

On the right of the platform sat Dr Beaublade and Dr Cleaver. The perma-tanned Beaublade was tall, broad and athletic. Head of the English department, common gossip held he was having an affair with the lady sat to his left. Head of languages, Dr Cleaver's aged brown skin was embedded with wrinkles. Her inability to control either her classes or her perplexing smile meant she was given a rough ride by pupils. Dr Perseud, who sat beside Cleaver, was the chemistry teacher and easily the most visible member of staff on the platform. Her bleached hair and neon-pink mascara always made her look like a Barbie doll, or at least a walking advert for Yves Saint Laurent. Head of physics Professor Slattery sat beside her. He always appeared bewildered and out of place, as if permanently uncomfortable in his own skin. Next to him sat mustachioed Dr Drum and bald Dr Woodbridge. They were the CDT teachers and were both so deep in conversation Danny presumed some new type of wood must have just been discovered. On the far right side sat Dr Ravana and Professor Alessandro. Alessandro was head of the Mathematics faculty and Ravana was a junior biology teacher. No-one knew much about Alessandro as he arrived at the end of the previous term, but anyone taught by Ravana knew they could get away with murder in her lessons, if they wished. Cedric Claw had thrown a live frog from a top floor window in one of her classes last year. Ravana's reaction had been to merely stick her head out of the window and utter 'Well, that's just bad luck for the frog, isn't it?'

Their headmaster Professor Flambeau stood at the lectern at the front of the hall. He was the only teacher wearing full cap and gown. From beneath his mortar board he surveyed them all. Looking pale his still blue eyes frantically hopped from one student to the other, as if searching for clues. His eyes eventually rested on Danny. Danny, feeling their harshness swallowed hard and looked away.

Straight into the eyes of Janna Chisely.

She'd turned her head fractionally to look at him from the other side of the room. All the painful embarrassment of last year drifted in Danny's mind as easy as air. He'd wondered how long it would take for her to notice him. How long it would be before he felt the writhing sensation in his stomach again. Now, here it was. He wanted to rush across the hall and tell her it was a big mistake. That he still wanted to be friends. That he was sorry for embarrassing her. That he was sorry for all of it, if only she would speak to him again. Deep down he knew it wasn't a sensible idea. Besides he didn't have time. Amid his daydream, Professor Flambeau had begun speaking.

'I would like to welcome you to your fourth year at St Oliver Plunket's. Your penultimate year of compulsory school studies will be a very... _significant_ year for all of you. I know you will all work hard and support each other, as you always have in your time at Plunket's. As you approach the end of your studying careers you can never be sure how soon your skills and talents will be called into use by society. On that note, I have a special announcement to make. At the end of the year we will of course hold the annual House music event at which traditionally this school has shined. This year we have invited the national press – _The Times_ – to come along. They have agreed to record and report on the competition in their newspaper.'

Murmurs of excitement rippled through St Basil's.

'In view of this honour and as a special treat for the whole school, we will hold a school Christmas disco at the end of this term. We hope it will provide fertile inspiration for the songs you might sing in the competition.'

Students looked at each other with vague amusement on their faces. A disco was, after all, only a disco. A few pupils had already furtively been sneaking into Shox, Amberleigh's nightclub, for illicit alcohol and sweet drum n' bass.

'May I continue by welcoming back two faces who joined us at the end of last term. We are delighted to be joined by Professor Jonas Alessandro who will head up the maths department. Some of you may have already been taught by Professor Alessandro, although the majority of you will not. I expect every one of you to show respect and courtesy to the Professor.

'We are also happy to welcome back Dr Donald Ethelraed, who covered for Professor Pry at the end of last year while she had her fifth baby.' Flambeau looked at Pry and smiled. Pry blinked wordlessly in response. 'Dr Ethelraed will be taking Geography classes this year.'

'I thought Ethelraed was supposed to be the teacher, not the student,' Tim joked in Danny's ear.

'Teacher and students, we all know we live in uncertain times. We never know what is round each corner. We cannot and must not be complacent. Even though Plunket's maintains an incomparable reputation we must always strive for even higher standards of academic success. This summer we said goodbye to a fantastic set of students. They scored an average of six As each in their GCSEs. These students are not only a credit to the continuing reputation of the school and community, but also to themselves. As such we should be proud of them, and wish them well for their future lives.'

As he continued, the smile seemed to fade from Flambeau's face.

'They hold an example up to this year's final years, and also to you, who now begin one of the most imperative academic journeys on which you will ever travel.'

'Laying it on a bit thick, isn't he?' Tim whispered to Danny.

At the same moment Professor Wonder's head turned, eyeballing Tim. Staring hard, he yet remained silent. Flambeau continued.

'You should expect extra homework and tough assignments. You should expect to be challenged in activities you have not yet encountered. You will need to think in different ways. You will need to work like you have not worked before. You are now senior students in this school. We require you to set a sterling example to the years below you. I expect your conduct to be unfailing in this respect, not just in the classroom, but in the corridors, in the playgrounds and whenever you are outside Plunket's. Remember, you are all Oliver Plunket's students. You all have a duty to your school, which will never, ever leave you.'

Flambeau paused again, downing the rest of his water in one.

'Whenever you are challenged by someone who does not go to, or know of Plunket's, you should reply with quiet confidence we have one of the best reputations of any school in the North, indeed in the whole of England. Reputation is everything. Do not let the school down.'

Before the students could catch their breath at Professor Flambeau's exaggerated eloquence, Professor Wonder leapt from his chair and commenced strumming on his cherished guitar. He launched St Basil's hall into chorused singing of the school hymn: 'The Glowing Dawn'.

*

The school canteen, which students affectionately referred to as the 'Roasthouse', doubled up as the cookery block during lessons. Amanita waited dutifully for Tim and Danny before beginning her lunch. Danny endured his daily ritual of regretting making cheddar again, and moaned that he wished he been more innovative in his filling selection. As they ate their sandwiches they chatted about Flambeau's speech.

'It was all the usual nonsense. About how we're all supposed to work much harder. Set a strong example. Blah blah blah. They should invest in a better football pitch – that would boost the school's reputation.'

Tim hungrily bit a large chunk from his ham, pineapple and mustard sandwich.

'How can you eat that?' Amanita said.

'I love it.'

Tim reached in his bag and pulled out a sachet of walnuts. Happily he munched on them too, intermittently biting chunks from his sandwich.

'I think we _are_ going to have to work a lot harder this year. There's no getting round it. We're beginning our GCSEs. We're supposed to get good grades to get into sixth form. It's going to be a dull hard year.'

Amanita looked and sounded deflated.

'It will be dull if you continue on like that! We'll have to find something fun to occupy ourselves. How about trying to fix up Coco and Bryn again? That was _so_ much fun last year!'

'Tim, that's cruel! I know for a fact Coco was extremely hurt about that stunt you pulled. She's very sensitive, you know?'

Danny recalled how Tim had tried to match-make Coco Romeo and Bryn Straw last year. He was convinced the pair had 'the hots for each other'. Tim had written anonymous love-letters (signed C.R.) and surreptitiously placed them in Bryn's school bag when he wasn't looking. Then he arranged for a bunch of flowers to arrive on Valentine's day addressed to Coco, with a card signed: "All my love, my dearest chocolate cupcake. B.S." Tim had thought it all huge fun until the day Coco approached Bryn in religious studies to ask if he sent the flowers. When he denied it she became so mortified she ran off to the girl's toilets. According to Amanita, she had burst into tears and spent the whole afternoon crying. All this was beside the point, as Tim frequently pointed out to Amanita and Danny, as the whole school knew Coco had a huge crush on Bryn anyway. He was just helping her along. No-one quite knew what Bryn thought about it. He'd remained quiet throughout the whole thing. Bryn was fanatical about doing well in music, his favourite subject. In free periods he was usually to be found in the music room trying to write a 'killer song', as he put it to Danny one day.

'If we can't play cupid with Chocolate Brian' (Chocolate Brian was Tim's code word for the prospective pairing) 'what else are we going to do? We need something to happen this year! I refuse to be stuck indoors reading bloody _Jane Eyre_ all year!'

Especially wounded by Tim's last words, Amanita remained silent. Danny absent-mindedly dropped his half-eaten cheese sandwich back into his tupperware.

'I'm had enough of this...'

'Me too, mate, me too.' Tim said, mistakenly glad to find an ally in his quest to alleviate boredom.

'No, I mean my sandwich. The cheese tastes a little funny.'

Tim stared at him, before emitting a deep sigh.

'I'm off to get a burger.'

Danny wandered toward the canteen section of the Roasthouse, wondering what might be cooking. Top-notch food often tempted him. Only a dearth of pocket money prevented him buying meals in the canteen every day. Fabulous fragrant meats and fresh steamed vegetables wafted over from gleaming tureens. As he patrolled the self-service section he saw succulent hams and cold sausages, twenty types of salads, a selection of creamy cheeses and a fridge packed with strawberry cheesecakes and banoffee pies. Strolling to the frybar, he ordered a cheeseburger, with extra ketchup and relish. He was starving for some dirty food. Somehow Professor Wonder's lesson and Professor Flambeau's speech had exhausted him. Their words, which for many of his classmates, Tim included, would have gone in one ear and out the other, struck up residence in Danny. They would not leave until fully processed.

As he went to pay, he saw the person ahead of him in the queue was Anjalie Marjoram. Danny froze, hoping if he didn't make a sound she wouldn't try to speak to him. He glanced at her. She looked different from the back. As his eyes lowered he saw again how shapely she'd become. He supposed she still wore last year's school skirt. It seemed tight around her waist and bum. Also, Danny had not noticed before how glossy her wavy brown hair was. It fell down from her neck to meet a thick black belt that clung to Anjalie's slender hips. It made him feel something. Like an alleyway he'd walked endless times was actually a corridor full of doors he'd never noticed before. The doors were slowly opening, glinting golden light.

Danny plunged his hand in his pocket for his wallet and extracted a few coins to pay for his burger. The jangle of coins caused Anjalie to stir. As she turned her head slightly to her side she glimpsed Danny.

'Ooh, wasn't assembly fun? I have to say I've never heard Professor Flambeau give such a long speech before. All sounded terribly serious. I hope everything is okay with the school – he looked very worried. He looked a bit thin too. He could do with a bit of feeding up, you know. Anyway, we've got English next haven't we? I can't wait – I really enjoyed reading _Jane Eyre_ over the summer – '

Danny raised his eyebrows. He hadn't met anyone in his year yet who liked reading _Jane Eyre_ , apart from Amanita of course.

' – but I must say Professor Pry does terrify me a bit. You never know what is going to happen in her lessons or who she will pick on. Still I suppose that's what teachers are like, isn't it? Hey – I've just had an idea! Seeing as English is our last lesson, we can walk home together afterwards! Do you fancy doing that? We could even pop back to mine. My Mum's made a fabulous fruitcake that needs eating.'

The word 'fruitcake' reverberated round Danny's head. It seemed oddly appropriate at that moment in time. He summoned all the energy he could, all the resistance he could muster into his mind and tried to think of how much he cared about making a good impression to Janna. But he couldn't help looking again at Anjalie's incredibly short skirt. The thought of rich succulent cake popped into his head at the wrong moment. As apathy defeated willpower, he found himself muttering, 'Yeah, okay.'

'Great! See you later!'

Anjalie wandered off in the direction of the quad gardens. Fantastic, Danny thought to himself ironically. What if Janna saw them walking home together? She would definitely think there was something between them. That would absolutely and finally put a stopper on any hopes that the two of them might one day go out. Still, a new voice in Danny's head told him he had the right to walk home with Anjalie. They lived near each other and they were friends. A nervous feeling wiggled deep in Danny's stomach. He put it down to hunger. As he returned back to Amanita and Tim he tried to forget about the encounter. His friends were busy checking they had the right books for their next lesson.

'Get cornered then?' Tim chuckled.

'Yeah,' Danny muttered indifferently. 'She...er...she just wanted to borrow one of my books.'

Amanita looked at him reproachfully. Tim was less subtle.

'Codswallop! She asked you round to hers. And you said "Yes"! No use lying, we heard the whole thing mate,' he announced loudly.

'Keep it down! If you knew then why did you ask?' Danny munched sheepishly on his burger. Then he remembered. 'Oh crap – we've got Professor Pry next haven't we? I better check I've got my books or she'll probably throw me out the window.'

I sat beneath the leafy tree reading. Words typed on a page that could have come from this elm, or that birch, or that oak, or that acacia. The gods had decreed my fate. Chalchiuhtlicue, Charybdis and Chaac. Nehalennia and Fontus. They all saw what was coming. My fluid carried the message, little signatures written too tiny to be tampered with. Why was long gone, I was embedded in the what-can-I-do-before. Only I knew the one thing would be the lost thing. Still, there was valour in trying. I wanted to try, to see how far I would get.

Every day he walked to school; every day I watched him from an unseen rock at the top of the mountain. It started as a routine and grew into romance. The absence of his knowledge accentuating every inch of my feeling. Blissful ignorance was only blissful for him; yet he didn't know the bliss he lived in: perhaps that was truly bliss. Would he miss me if I left? Would he notice my missing? I would never discover. Still, there could be time for kissing.

Anjalie Marjoram

Like a lightning bolt emerging from lead skies, Professor Pry struck fear into the heart of any student who dared forget an exercise or text book, lest cause any kind of disruption in her class. Her English students knew too well the range of punishments in her repertoire, from stories handed down from departed fifth-years. Yet none of the three of Amanita, Tim and Danny had ever seen her slightly unruffled, let alone angrily berating an unruly student into tears, as was her reputation. Every class of hers they sat through always showed the total obedience her legacy commanded. They had never seen Pry raise her voice once.

As the three friends climbed Spiral Two, one of two staircases Plunket's students were permitted to use to reach the upper classrooms, a group of unknown fifth-years walked in the opposite direction, chatting to each other.

'I swear she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out into the corridor, and DEMANDED he cough up whatever it was he had been chewing in her lesson. It was disgusting! I think he rushed off to the toilets to be sick in the end.'

Danny, Amanita and Tim looked nervously at each other as they approached Pry's classroom. The uppermost point of Plunket's, it gave Pry's territory a kind of isolation that often induced vertigo when she deigned to attack. Although they had never been able to verify it from playground observations, they suspected Pry's den was the highest room in the whole of Amberleigh Castle. When not afraid of being caught in a dreamy gaze, Danny could spy his house by following the coastline outside the windows. The trio joined other students queued in a tidy line outside the silent classroom, and waited. They knew this was the preference of the all-seeing Pry. A strong smell of disinfectant crept across the floor tiles and entered Danny's nostrils.

Ten minutes passed. Eventually, in the distance Danny saw Pry glide along the corridor towards them. A hush fell over the students when she silently passed. Danny was amazed by her short physical stature compared with the ferocity of her reputation. She may have been diminutive, but she was in no way diminished.

'Detention Cloves. Your shoe laces are untied,' Pry uttered calmly yet firmly without turning her head once. Edmund Cloves looked down at his shoes before mouthing a voiceless expletive to Cedric Claw who stood beside him. Striding purposefully toward the door, Pry opened it. 'You may all enter.' Silently, the queueing students filed into the room.

'Please sit in your normal seats. There will be little need to chatter.'

Pry spoke in an ethereal yet commanding tone. Her voice echoed off plaster walls and rain-spattered windows. Before she departed for maternity leave last year Pry had allocated students their seats in alphabetical order, alternating in boy-girl fashion. No-one really knew why she had done this, apart from wishing to randomly separate friends from each other. Saffelia Forrest, a pretty blonde who wore faded pink ribbons through her lemon curls, claimed Pry wished to inadvertently inspire romance. Unseen to Saffelia, Tim had made a vomiting gesture to the lads when she had suggested this. He sat beside her.

At the far side of the room, directly in front of Pry's desk, sat Ella Amur. The afternoon sun filtered through windows overlooking the deep ocean below, softly yellowing Ella's serpentine curls. She sat beside Gabriel Ambrose, known as 'Squish' to most fourth-years. He looked furtively about him as if some great white shark could strike him any second. Behind them sat Johnny Benedict, meek and angelic in appearance. Those who knew him well were not immune to the dry barbs he delivered as frequently as exquisitely sharp shin-kicks in football. He sat beside Hazel Brock, whose oval grey eyes flashed beneath jet black hair through which startlingly white streaks ran.

Behind them sat the exceedingly tall and gossipy Lorraine Carr and Sol Castle. Sol could be as gentle as a robin when he wished but harboured the ferocious playground authority of a lion. Janna Chisely was the last on the row. She sat elegantly upright, listening carefully. Silver-rimmed hairbands glistened in her blonde hair, wisps of which occasionally fluttered in the classroom draught giving her the appearance of a flitting butterfly, recently emerged. Cedric Claw, whose predatory playground activities – pinching sweets off the first years – likened him to a schoolyard bully in the eyes of many, sat alongside her. He cast her adoring glances, as did most boys in their year. As did Danny.

Lined in the middle of the room were four rows, consisting of four seats each. The troublesome and oft beleaguered Edmund Cloves sat on the front left. His nose twitched ferret-like, both for danger from Pry or fun from neighbour Liam Flicker. Next to Liam, desperately trying to avoid Pry's glance lest she notice her thinly applied rose lip-gloss sat Florence Croft. Make-up was generally prohibited on students but Florence hated looking ordinary and walked a fine line between turning herself out like a woman and protecting her precious contraband. Adjoining her Liam was the school football captain. Crap at schoolwork, excellent at sport, he was destined to score highly among the boys. Girls had started to notice him now too. Danny often found he had to push his way through a fawning crowd to get in to classrooms. Beside Liam sat the thin and sallow-faced Rosetti Duocorn. Her soft brown hair fell as far as the bottom rung on the rear of her chair. Her twin sister Emily sat on the row immediately behind, maintaining an almost identical appearance. However, where a cold expression hardened Rosetti's features Emily's face was all smiles and kindliness. She emitted natural warmth that was no small factor in making her popular with both girls and boys alike. Thomas 'Sloppy' Fox sat next to her, studiously looking at his exquisitely laminated exercise book. The nickname 'Sloppy' was ironic. He was the school swot, fiercely intelligent, and excelled at delivering lofty put-downs with ease. Everybody quietly expected him to claim the Head Boy badge next year. Before him, Saffelia Forrest and Timothy Gaunt sat secretly chatting to each other as quietly as they could, as yet unnoticed by Pry.

On the row behind sat Chardelia Foss. Her hair shone shimmering gold, contrasting sharply with the violet hair band resting on her head. Below a plush fringe beamed sea-green eyes. Few people talked to Chardelia, Danny included. It was not out of malice. Danny thought the reason was something else.

A few years before, Chardelia had been close friends with Ella, Rosetti and Emily. Many of Danny's friends felt they could not approach the four of them. Perhaps because their unit contained the two twins. Perhaps because united, they appeared somewhat cultish and closed-off. In playground society where gossip swings faster than a spinning cricket-ball and allegiances solidify quicker than setting cement, the quartet entirely removed themselves from the rest of their year. But Danny had always felt Chardelia was different from her three peers.

The four of often divided into two. Chardelia with Emily, Ella with Rosetti. In pairs they walked the edges of the playground each day. What they talked about was anybody's guess. As time passed ardent desire grew in Danny to discover the topic of their conversations, especially Chardelia's. He wanted to feel and understand what crossed their alien, female brains. He wanted to be part of their group, to belong to their perfect circle, to be admitted to the inside. At the same time he silently disputed the casual assumption Chardelia had desired to be a founding part of the exclusive gang of four. Wouldn't someone as glorious and unattainable as Chardelia was, want to build a wider circle of friends? For some unspoken reason, maybe fear of boys, love of each other, or being the subject of a twin hex, Chardelia kept her loyal part in the cult.

Now that time had passed. For reasons no longer accessible to outsiders Chardelia was shrouded in secret mystery. Instead of being part of a separate group of four she was now a separate, distinct group of one. Though still unable to speak to her, Danny felt glad she had broken away. Something about her had been transformed. In her he detected shades of a subtle yearning, potent and long-hidden. To the rest of the year she was an acquired taste. Because Chardelia didn't seem to need anybody else at all, few if any made much effort to talk to her. It felt like a tragedy to Danny, but now the ice had become too thick to thaw.

Goalkeeper of the school football team Richey Athurstun sat beside Chardelia. He was everybody's friend and a diplomatic pupil. To Danny he seemed a smooth talking stallion. He never said the wrong thing, was continually heaped with praise from teachers and if not universally liked, was ultimately respected by the rest of his male peer group. He was even looked up to by sprogs in the years below. He sat beside flame-haired Sonia Fox.

Any hope teachers cherished of subduing Sonia's wildness was lost the previous year when she successfully seduced a young classroom assistant, only in his early twenties. With the assistant swiftly dismissed, and a blight set on his record for the rest of his teaching career, Sonia was reprimanded but permitted to remain at Plunket's.

Ian Phalanger sat directly behind. Ian was at his best when delivering witty asides to the class, unheard by the teacher.

'Anybody watch _The Goonies_ at the weekend? It's only been on the telly for like, the tenth time.'

'Anybody watch _Saved by the Bell – the College Years_ last night. Kelly's back, and they're bigger than ever.'

There was no chance of his outbursts in Pry's class. His sly comments remained muted.

Mary Oconee sat beside him. Not having Florence's problem of worrying at all about make-up being confiscated, Mary experimented with mandarin-coloured lipstick and dyed thin streaks of her brown hair bright orange to match pale tangerine lips. Strangely the effect worked. Her good friend (many thought lover) Sol Castle seemed even more enamoured with her. Samuel Mills sat beside Mary looking confused, and gazing emptily at his exercise book. Danny cynically wondered if Samuel was hoping a miraculous angel would tear out of it to release him from his lifeless stupor. Several girls in the class cast Samuel frequent glances, wishing they could mother him from his feigned anxiety. He was often to be found in the playground surrounded by girls admiring his new Armani coat or his technologically superior watch, a situation Danny watched him milk to the maximum.

Anjalie Marjoram sat nearby, giggling infectiously, an irrepressible habit. Michael Vitus sat on the back row completely on his own. Thoughtful and studious, the lanky boy observed the whole class with a veil of detachment. Often excelling at English and Maths, his air of strangeness and otherworldliness matched Chardelia's. Like her, it estranged him from many classmates. Behind Michael stood a locked green door no-one had ever seen open in all their time in Pry's classroom.

On the right nearest the entrance sat short but pretty Coco Romeo. Pulling her furry cardigan across her shoulders Coco shivered as another draught ran through the room. She sat next to Charlie Shackleton who, with round spectacles and spots for eyes resembled a mole. He shined at chemistry and physics. His academic fervor was matched by a blind willingness to bore anyone and everyone silly with his knowledge, often learned by rote, and which Danny often found unoriginal and stagnant.

Behind Charlie sat Dawn Russet. Patient and calm, her caramel locks reminded Danny of a spaniel his neighbours owned. Her rich hair, high cheekbones and full lips ensured she'd accumulated no shortage of male admirers, but to Danny she frequently dissembled and bore a disposition disporportionately dissatisfied with her lot. She sat near the energetic Benjamin Sprite. Benjy was a wizard on the football pitch, but a struggler in class. Olive Spritser sat behind him, a lively sociable girl whose summer party last year had been a fantastically wild and raucous affair until Samuel Mills got drunk, made a pass at her and she sent everyone home in embarrassment. Bryn Straw sat beside her, quietly humming away to an unknown tune. In the furthest corner from Professor Pry's desk, the most trusted seat, sat plump but fair-featured Amanita Walmer. She smiled proudly at the amount of homework bulging from her bag and Brandon Wood sitting alongside sighed heavily at the similar amount bulging out of his.

Pry moved to the centre of the classroom and stood in front of the blank blackboard. She performed her usual trick of bobbing up and down on her tip-toes. Tipping her head back she looked at the class through crescent-shaped spectacles and moistened her lips to speak.

' " _There was no possibility of taking a walk that day."_ Now, who can tell me the book to which that is the first line?'

The class remained silent. No-one dared raise a hand from fear.

'Mr Cloves, now your shoes are firmly laced up, and we have your full attention perhaps you could furnish us with a correct answer?'

' _Oliver Twist_?' Cloves returned hesitantly. Pry remained unfazed.

'Considering this is the first line to the novel we will study this year...'

Pry lowered her spectacles further along her nose.

'I can only assume, Mr Cloves, you have made no effort to read the book all summer?'

Edmund waited quietly before replying. He knew better than to bait Pry too early. It was better to wait until he was sure she was entirely finished speaking. He was right to wait. The pregnant silence filled the class, before being shattered by another calm rebuke from Pry.

'Or perhaps you decided to skip the first chapter, and pick up the rest of the novel with the consummate ease that is uniquely yours. Perhaps instead, Mr Cloves, you can tell us the name of the educational establishment Jane travels to in chapter five?'

'I guess it wouldn't be _Bleak House_ then?'

A small tinkling of laughter rippled round the classroom before Pry's eyes flashed dangerously round, like lightning, to see who dared to create noise without permission.

'You are correct, Mr Cloves. It isn't _Bleak House_. I am pleased of course, you have proven that you do actually _read_ books. However, if you are to continue on _this_ teacher's English course you will have to improve your attitude beyond measure.' Pry's calm tone vanished in a split second. 'Please see me after class.

'Now then fourth-years, today's lesson will consist of a group reading of chapter one of _Jane Eyre_ , followed by a test, to see how well you all coped with your summer reading.'

Danny spent the rest of the lesson curling up the corner of his copy of _Jane Eyre_ and trying to spot Dunkinley from the class window. A couple of times he thought Pry caught him daydreaming, but if she did she decided to let it go. After every student had partaken in the group reading and the test was finished Danny gathered his books and shoved them hastily in his bag. He hoped if he escaped quickly he could outrun Anjalie and claim tomorrow he completely forgot about their walk home together.

Like the padded paw of a panther, Danny felt the light touch of a hand on his shoulder. Fearing the worst, he turned around and saw Pry standing before him, spectacles glinting in the early afternoon sunlight.

'A quick word?' she said softly. From the corner of his eye he watched Amanita and Tim exit the classroom rapidly, grinning unenvious at him.

'Um...yeah, okay.'

Shaking slightly Danny followed Pry to her desk. She sat down and silently read a piece of paper in front of her but didn't speak. Danny stood in front of her not knowing, a lot like Edmund earlier, whether to say anything or remain quiet.

'Well it will never do to leave things thus. Clearly I will have to take steps to remedy this situation.'

Danny became nervous, and hopped lightly from one foot onto the other, rubbing together his sweating hands. She seemed to be talking more to herself than to him. What 'situation'? What had she discovered? That he was an illiterate fool? That he had absolutely no potential in English? That she had seen him curl up his copy of _Jane Eyre_ during the whole lesson? He wished she would at least speak so he could discover which abominable insult to the name of literature he had committed.

'Clearly, Mr Canterbury, you are far beyond your years when it comes to English Literature. You aced the test on _Jane Eyre_ , and...' she lowered her crescent-shaped spectacles further down her nose again, '...showed considerable emotional maturity and knowledge of the text in your answers. Well done.'

Someone believed in him. He could not believe it. Praise, from Professor Pry, of all people! It was unheard of. He knew Amanita's sister, Wendy Walmer, who left Plunket's several years before once achieved a 'quite good' from Pry on one of her essays, but he never heard of praise like this from the dragon's mouth before. 'Emotional maturity.' Wait till he told Amanita and Tim!

'I must say, Mr Canterbury, you have given above and beyond what was required of you in this test. I couldn't let you leave my class today without letting you know how well you have done. You must have enjoyed the book immensely?'

'Um...yeah, it was okay,' Danny said, casting his mind back to the summer months when his father made him stay indoors reading the blasted thing instead of letting him out to play football with the mates on his street. Pry smiled, and Danny nearly fainted. He had never seen Professor Pry smile at a student before. Well, not unless she was about to unleash some sort of punishment.

'Good. Keep up this standard of the work and I am sure you will have no problem when it comes to the final examination. That will be all.'

Danny turned to leave the classroom. As he reached the door Pry called out after him, 'Oh, Mr Canterbury, just one more thing. Have you ever considered a career in journalism or the arts?' Danny had never considered a career full stop, let alone one in journalism or the arts, though he felt this would probably be the wrong thing to say to Pry.

'Um...I'll give it some thought' he mumbled, before staggering through the door.

'You do that.'

*

By the time Danny was amid the September sunshine blanketing the yard he had recovered from his encounter with Pry and forgotten about Anjalie. Taking a few tentative steps across the playground he thought he was in the clear until a familiar voice called from behind him.

'Danny Canterbury! Thought you were going to leave without me?'

Anjalie was standing against the wall, smiling sweetly at him. He grinned back. At least he would be able to tell someone about his good news. Everyone else had gone home.

'Hi Anjalie. Guess what? Pry held me back after class!'

'I know, I saw. What did she say? Nothing horrible, I hope.'

'No – she was really nice. Said I'd done really well on the test! Said I had potential and stuff. I couldn't believe it! I mean, Professor Pry just _doesn't_ say things like that to students, does she?'

'Wow Danny! That's really good. Well done. Maybe she's not such a daft old bat after all.'

Danny smiled at Anjalie. This time it was not a nervous I'm-not-sure-what-I-should say-to-you smile but a warm, open appreciative smile. He was pleased now Anjalie had waited for him. He had been so sure the day would be a complete disaster, that Janna would ignore him (as she had), that he would get lots of impossible homework (as he had done), but now he felt it was the best day of the year by far.

'Come on Anjalie – let's go eat some cake!'

They walked down the stony path, away from the castle. It was a gorgeous afternoon. The sun shone high over Amberleigh in a milky blue sky. As they walked down the hill the last of the day's bathers idled on the beach below. A few tourists walked up the path determined to enjoy the last of the September sun. The warm air forced Danny to loosen his tie and unbutton his collar. Anjalie watched him and mirrored his movements by doing the same. Danny noticed for the third time that day how much Anjalie's physical appearance was different from last year. When he rested his eyes on her it made him feel funny. Not the way he felt when he thought about Janna, which was a soft airy pleasant kind of yearning. This was an urgent dark excitement in the pit of his stomach. It wriggled about, and threatened to move lower. She chatted about how her dog had tried to rescue her when she went for a morning swim in lake Onega, and the both of them ended up getting soaked. The image of a semi-naked Anjalie did little to quell his building lust.

When they reached her house, she smiled nervously at him.

'Would you like to come in, then? It's alright, my Mum won't be home for hours.'

Her eyes flashed momentarily at him.

'Yeah, okay then.'

It was just an after-school visit. He would have some cake and then go home. It wasn't a problem, it wouldn't be a big deal. Danny sat down while Anjalie fixed drinks. Popping two glasses on the coffee table in front, she sat down beside him on the couch.

'There you go,' as she motioned to the glass of Tango.

'Thanks. So...er...this is your house then?' Danny said hopefully. There was no way she could deny this question. It was definitely her house.

'Yes, this is my house. Danny, can I ask you something?' Danny turned to look at her, weighing the options in his mind and wondering if he dared deny her request. Before he could open his mouth she'd blurted it out anyway.

'Do you like me?'

Gobsmacked by her brazen audacity, Danny was momentarily stumped. His mind lurched around for an answer, searching for the correct protocol to handle the unknown territory into which he had been thrust. The only thing that occurred to him was a fifties movie he had seen once, late at night when his father thought he was asleep. Perhaps that was the only way to answer a blatant, emotionally-driven question.

He looked into her eyes, said 'You bet ya, kid', and immediately clenched with embarrassment. But Anjalie didn't seem to mind.

She inched closer along the patterned chenille sofa. The moment was coming. The feeling in his belly was diverting laser beams through his abdomen. His heart hammered against his chest like a caged animal. All the moisture in his mouth seemed to have evaporated. Her hair and its smell of peach shampoo was millimetres from his face. She placed her slim hand on his knee and with one graceful, fluid movement elongated her arm around his neck before pressing her lips against his. It felt like sugar and wetness, like warmth and acceptance. He tasted bubblegum and raspberry lipstick, and a faint hint of tobacco. Something snapped inside Danny. He grabbed her roughly by the mid-riff and pulled her closer to him, kissing her ruggedly on the lips. She pulled away, and looked at him strangely.

'Okay, steady on. You don't really like me that much, do you?' she whispered seductively.

Almost daring him to prove her wrong. Almost egging him on. Danny didn't entirely know how to respond. Had he not done the right thing? Was this not what she wanted? Was this not what all her advances last year, and her hand on his knee in class had been about? He decided it was probably better to say nothing. He rested his hand on her shoulder, and moved in for another kiss. This time it was nicer. Less hurried, not as urgent. He felt Anjalie's initial surprise fade to murmurs of contentment. The funny feeling in his stomach slowly returned, and then began thrashing all over, left and right, up and down. As he continued kissing, the tension in his belly tightened. Blood rushed like a speeding unstoppable train to his groin. Before he knew what he was doing, he had unbuttoned Anjalie's school blouse. Silently, she pressed his hand in hers, and guided him upstairs to her bedroom.

It was a disease among the greased teens. Prim desires to preserve hygiene were swept away overnight; one night they flossed assiduously, perfect in their purity; the next they swapped saliva until they were silly, pressing and exploring, petting and adoring. I smiled my aloofness and said nothing; secretly wanting more than I wanted to live forever to have one touch, just one kind caress, it needn't even be a kiss. Just something to cling to. Just one, just a touch. Yet I was alone, and the more I was seen as alone the more alone I became.

**The Oracle**

Brushing her golden mane with a pale hand back across slim shoulders, Chardelia Foss glanced up from her desk with eyes as lucid as water and quietly answered her name.

'Yes Professor Fuzzair.'

Fuzzair proceeded hastily through the register, pausing for a moment on each name without looking up once. A mass of wiry black hair sprouted from his head which hovered above thick fingers covered in orange chalk. As he called out the last name the class sank back, unified in a groan of misery. Today was probability, one of the most challenging maths topics they would cover for their exams. Fuzzair however, had a way of making it unique.

'Emily Duocorn, if two bombs were discovered in St Basil's hall today, and the probability of each bomb exploding was ¼, what is the probability of both going off before the day is out?'

Timothy pushed back on his chair and whispered to Danny at the desk behind.

'That's the second time he's mentioned bombs this lesson. Anyone would think the man's fixated!'

Emily hesitated before answering,

'Er...¼ for each bomb...that means that...¼ times ¼...equals 1/16?'

'Incorrect!' Fuzzair announced with glee, 'The answer is still ¼. If one bomb goes off, don't you think it would set off the other one as well?'

Another groan echoed from the students while Fuzzair hopped from foot to foot, excited.

'Not necessarily, sir. If the bombs were placed at opposing ends of the hall, and didn't have more than two milligrams of semtex, there is a chance that one would not set the other...'

'Detention, Claw! Right, please turn to page 35 and carry out exercises 8, 9 and 10.'

Fuzzair strode back to his desk and sat reading his newspaper, occasionally watching the class from beneath the black cloud of his wild hair. As Danny and Tim relaxed into the monotony of sums and problem-solving, Tim began to press Danny about the previous day.

'Soooooo...come on. Out with it.'

Danny looked nervous. What was Tim getting at?

'Out with what? Have you looked at question 3 yet – it looks impossible.'

' "Out with what!" Have you gone starkers? Er, Professor Pry? What did she want? She didn't come on to you, did she? Honestly, hasn't that woman got enough babies?'

Danny smirked. 'No, she didn't come on to me. She just told me I did okay in the test...and, er...'

'And er...what?'

'And that she thinks I could be a journalist...or something like that anyway...'

Danny's voice faded into nothing. Secretly, he was worried how Tim would react to the fact he had entered fully-fledged swotdom. Tim looked confused for a second, then displayed a knowing smile.

'Well done mate. I knew you were a genius,' he joked.

'Thanks.'

'So how much did you pay her?'

Danny raised his exercise book and threatened to swipe Tim with it, but put it down when he saw Fuzzair watching from the other side of the room.

'Come on. We better get on with these questions. We've only got ten minutes left.'

Danny was grateful Tim didn't ask about Anjalie. His encounter with Pry had diverted attention from his walk home. He was not sure he was ready to answer questions about what happened inside Anjalie's bedroom yet. I mean, was it normal for it to feel like that? To feel overwhelming surrender to what was essentially, a mechanical act?

He recalled how his father responded when he returned home late, shouting because he hadn't phoned. Luckily William Canterbury had also been out, attending a colleague's leaving drinks. After berating Danny with an initial lecture, William became too tired to chide his only son further. Danny managed to squirm from the questions and avoid further enquiries by claiming he had helped a school mate with her homework, which was only a mild distortion of the truth. He had been helping her at least, even if it was only out of her skirt. In fact, Danny was astonished he retained any sense of cool in front of his father after the rite of passage he had unceremoniously faced. Before his first day at school he had felt timid and uneasy. Now he was independent and knowing. Conversely, although he felt utterly confident in handling his father, the fear of school-hall gossip loomed larger. He knew the damage idle talk could achieve. Last year, he'd confided in Sloppy that he fancied Janna Chisely. The next day it was all over the school. He had not held a grudge against Sloppy – it was difficult when you saw a classmate practically every day, and Danny could not stay angry for long. But it had taught him a valuable lesson. Since then Danny always reserved revealing his intentions. He dreaded the experience with Anjalie becoming common knowledge and (although he knew it was irrational) especially if should Janna find out. Not that he held out much hope for anything happening with Janna. She had cast disdainful looks at him all lesson, so it looked like nothing had changed over the summer, that there had been no sudden change of heart. Why would there?

At the end of the lesson Fuzzair set a whole chapter of probability problems as homework, due in the following Monday. Together with Wonder's sacraments research, and Pry's re-reading of chapter two of Jane Eyre, it meant Danny would have no free time at the weekend. Although laden with homework Danny didn't stop his mind drifting as his eyes watched Janna's sleek blonde bob waltz from the classroom, an invisible halo of superiority floating above her head. Accompanied by her usual crowd of friends – the two Duocorn twins and Ella Amur, Chardelia Foss followed faintly behind. As they trooped from the room, Chardelia turned her head to look at Danny. It was a split second glance, something so short as to be easily imperceptible, but Danny thought he saw in her face a look part of frustration and part pity. It was possible there was a tiny tear in her left eye. Then she was gone.

As he packed away his things, including the ten-ton textbook they were obliged to carry to every maths lesson, Danny's mind dwelt on the evening spent in Anjalie's bedroom. The fall into lust had happened shockingly quickly. Was it the intense hunger only a virgin can feel, he thought. Danny felt the loss of control occurred without warning. A lesson of love arrived too late. He cast his mind back, desperately trying to remember how they had left it. The ending had passed in a matter of seconds, and he couldn't put his finger on the exact words either of them used in departing. Something like 'See you at school then?' or 'Hope that was okay' or 'Should I call you?' He couldn't remember – the flustered state in which he left her house had made him lose his memory of those events. Trying to marshal his mind, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

'Alright there Danny? Looks like you're miles away.'

Tim had already packed away his books and was standing waiting for him. 'You coming or what?'

'Yep fine.'

He could only hope Tim didn't ask about Anjalie. He hadn't seen her on the walk to school today, in fact he hadn't seen her in school all day. He hoped she was okay.

'Come on – Amanita will be waiting for us.'

They strolled to the music room, bringing their sandwiches. They had no intention of playing any instruments, but often spent lunchtimes there so the three of them could chat undisturbed. Squish's mum Mrs Ambrose was caretaker of the music room, and was liberal about letting students spend idle hours there, even though everyone knew Professor Flambeau frowned upon it. She thought allowing children freedom amongst musical instruments would inspire their creativity; Flambeau thought it would lead to broken windows, food on the floor and a bigger cleaning bill.

Amanita sat in one of the windowless practice rooms, small and decorated oppressively in maroon and olive paint. A samosa in one hand, Amanita's other hand tried to bash out a tune on the electric piano. It sounded like a cross between _Jingle Bells_ and _Smells Like Teen Spirit_.

'That sounds cool,' Danny said, as the two of them entered, munching on sandwiches. Amanita waved her samosa hand in the air in greeting, while she carried on playing with her other hand unpretentiously.

'I'm nearly there...Oh bugger!' Some peas and potato fell from her samosa onto the keys. She quickly cleared up. Tim watched her, amused.

'Did you see how much homework old Fuzzair gave us? Does he think we're superheroes or something? Bloody Stephen Hawking couldn't do all that work in one weekend?'

Danny knew complaining about homework to Amanita was futile. She lived and breathed teachers' assignments, especially in Maths and English, and was unmoved by Tim's outburst. She didn't even grace his question with a response, turning instead to Danny.

'So what did old Pry have to say to you yesterday?' Her eyes twinkled with anticipation.

'I wondered when we'd get round to this. Okay, okay...she said I had done okay on the test...blah blah blah...that I might be a good writer or something.'

It was easier saying this to Amanita. He knew she was more likely than Tim to understand.

'Wow! Well done – that's really good,' she said naturally, beaming at him. Danny immediately thought of Anjalie, who had pretty much said the same thing. But Amanita hadn't finished.

'Pry gave me a similar boost last year.'

Feeling deflated at Amanita's last admission, he looked at Tim. Danny knew from the expression on his face Amanita had said the wrong thing.

'Well, I'm the only bloody dunce left then, aren't I? She doesn't hold me back at the end of lessons for secret rendezvous' about becoming the next Fleet Street whiz does she? Oh no! It's the gutter for poor old Tim, who can't even get above a C- in her stupid tests!'

Having finished venting vitriol, Tim settled for sitting down and looking depressed. In consolation, Amanita pulled a paper bag out of her satchel and offered him a samosa.

'Have one. They're nice,' she said warmly.

'No thanks, I couldn't possibly', Tim replied, dishing his hand generously into the bag and grabbing two. Amanita rolled her eyes. 'Mmm – yoowaz rite. Mnice!' he said, his mouth full. She turned to them both.

'Listen, I've been thinking. I know the work is piling on at the moment but there may be an opportunity to be part of something extra exciting this year. I've been talking to Professor Pry and she said that we can use her classroom in breaks and after school.'

'For what? Why would we want to spend a second longer than we have to in that pit of a classroom?' Tim spluttered, looking aghast.

'Oh come on – it isn't that bad!' Amanita said.

Tim gave Danny a look to say he profoundly disagreed with her appraisal, and then remained silent to emphasize his point. Amanita started to speak again, but then hesitated, as if nerves had gripped her voicebox.

'Well come on – what is it?' Danny asked impatiently, opening a packet of barbecue hula-hoops and crunching loudly.

'You promise you won't shout?'

'No – come on!'

'Well, Professor Pry thinks it would be a good idea – if we three started up a school newspaper! What do you think?'

Danny closed his eyes, anticipating the impending explosion to his left.

'WHAT?!! ARE YOU CRAZY? Don't you think we've got enough to think about with all this homework...and I've got detention tomorrow night...and...and...they haven't even picked the football team yet!'

It was too much for Tim. He so desperately wanted to get into the school football team this year he refused to let anything get in the way, even if it was something they hadn't actually started yet. Amanita seemed to have expected this, and remained calm.

'Just think Tim, you can be sports editor. You can write up all the football matches, you can travel to all the away games. You can say whatever you like – you can create the real heroes and villains on that pitch!'

'But...but...hmm...'

Tim's voice faded into pensive thought. Amid the silence of Tim's whirring brain, Amanita's argument seemed to battle successfully with his own. She offered him more samosas to help, of which he took a handful.

'A school newspaper? What exactly did Professor Pry say?' Danny said.

'She said she thought we _all_ had potential in English,' throwing a heavy look at Tim while she spoke, 'and the school really needed something like this to show off its talents and offer students their own voice, especially in light of the fact _The Times_ will be coming to visit the school at the end of the year. She said it would be nice if we had a student newspaper to show off to them, to display the journalistic talents within the school. Oh, and it'd also count as coursework for our final examination.'

'What, so we could get out of other work if we wanted to?' Tim muttered.

'Perhaps.' Amanita said.

She wore a wide smile that told the pair she would do this anyway, with or without them. Danny scratched his head.

'How would we fit it in with everything else? All the teachers have been droning on about the reams of homework we're going to get, how we're doomed to fall into this bottomless educational abyss unless we devote all our energies to schoolwork?'

'But Danny, this will be schoolwork! What's more we'd be doing something worthwhile for the student body.'

Tim looked horrified at this last suggestion, as if the thought of doing something worthwhile on behalf of the student body was a dangerous venereal disease that could be catching.

'Who cares about that? I'd get to be Master Sports Editor-in-Chief: Timothy Gaunt, the man who can destroy a reputation with one flick of his acid pen...Oh, come on Danny – let's do it!'

Tim's turnaround seemed almost as incredible as his frequent outbursts to Professor Wonder.

'Well...okay then. Count me in. Should be fun,' Danny said.

'Excellent! Now listen, I've already worked out a full list of initial responsibilities. These will diminish of course, when we recruit new people to write for us...'

'Will I get a big chair?' Tim interrupted.

'You will sit on the same size chair as everyone else. This newspaper will be a democracy, not an oligarchy.'

Danny and Tim looked at each other dumbfounded. They had never understood Amanita's obsession with political movements. She handed each of them a piece of paper, with three names across the top, and a long list of what seemed like action points flowing below each name.

'We all have a lot of work to do to get this paper up and running...'

'But it will have a cushion, and be comfortable, right?' Tim interrupted again.

'Tim, kindly shut up about your chair and concentrate. As I said, the _Oracle_ will be a democracy – ' Amanita continued.

'Oh, you've already decided what the paper's called! How very... _democratic_ of you.'

Tim interrupted again but Amanita seemed immune and ignored him. She was just getting into her rhythm.

'For the cover we will display the Plunket's school crest in the top right corner. This is a request from Pry, and Flambeau, apparently...'

Danny groaned. If there was anything that got on his nerves it was the conformist school crest with its stupid meaningless motto 'St Oliver Plunket's – O Thrive Far & Free'. To this day, Danny had never understood what it meant.

' – and it will require lots of co-operative teamwork. In the short term, that means that you two do exactly as I say. We need to have some rules, you see.'

In full commanding stride Amanita failed to notice the bored looks on both Tim and Danny's faces. 'I, of course, shall be assuming the role of Editor. Tim will be Sport, Music and Features and you Danny will be News, Horoscopes and, er, advertising.'

'Advertising? How many of these are you expecting to sell?'

Danny looked appalled at the prospect of having to sell advertising space.

'We won't be _selling_ any. They'll be free, well to begin with anyway. But we need to get some local advertising to cover the print costs. I'm sure you'll do a brilliant job Danny,' she added, more softly than before. 'Our first proper meeting will be tonight after school – ' Tim interrupted her

'Hang on a minute. I can't. And neither can Danny. It's football tryouts tonight. And before you suggest it, I've got detention with Professor Wonderfully Vain tomorrow night, so I can't make it then either.'

Amanita sighed. She knew she would not win against obstacles such as immovable appointments.

'Friday then?' she compromised.

'Can we order pizza?' Tim asked.

'Tim, how do you expect to make the school football team, when your favourite pastime is eating everything in sight?'

Tim and Danny folded their arms and returned her obstinate gaze. She relented.

'Alright then yes, I suppose. Pizza sounds good. Danny – Friday?'

'Okay, but I had better get a move on with all this homework.'

Danny's thoughts were not actually focusing on homework, but had drifted back to Anjalie, and how he had not seen her all day. He should try and catch up with her before lunch break was over. Just to say 'Hi'. After polishing off a Kit Kat he left Tim and Amanita arguing in the practice room about how many pages the sports section should be.

Danny thought it was a good idea about the newspaper, and was secretly pleased Pry had picked them to start it up. The beginning of his fourth year had passed in a swift blur. Everything was moving so fast and it was only the second day of term. He felt like he needed to catch his breath. After a summer of reading and staying indoors, he had now aced a test, impressed an indomitable teacher, agreed to start a school newspaper and taken liberties with a girl of whom he should have known better. He rushed up the corridor, hoping to catch Anjalie before the bell rang for next lesson but she wasn't anywhere to be seen. He paused outside the girl's toilets, looking around. A horrible acrid smell blew his way from somewhere, and he noticed smoke rising from behind the door of the girl's toilets. Without warning the door opened and Professor Flambeau strode out. He saw Danny standing right in front of him.

'Mr Canterbury, isn't there somewhere you had better be? The bell just rang you know.'

'I know. I thought I could smell...I thought I saw...' Danny muttered into the silence, and the now thinning smoke.

'Yes?' Flambeau looked rather tense.

'Nothing, sir,' and Danny rushed off to Dr Cleaver's classroom for French.

How could a girl get hers? I could never do what the others did; parading with wild lipsticks and dangling cigarettes. Perfuming up and running seductive painted nails down smooth black nylon while the boys watched. Let them come into their panty hose; I wanted it to be just me, in my school uniform, standing there as me. There wasn't time to be anyone else.

One day my Dad told me I left the tap running. It wasn't a reprimand, just a reminder to watch the water. Watch the water, I treasured that phrase and embedded him saying it in my memory bank. I would be watching it forever. In the salty sea, in the puddles that evened out my path. In the falling rain that watered my plain plants and brought plaintive petals of shimmering summer. In the winding streams that trickled from my vantage and merged with broad, fluent tributaries.

Robin Vernal

Dr Cleaver sat at her desk, terror etched into her expression. As students filed in she glanced up tentatively. From day one, Dr Cleaver had split the class into tables of four. The aim was to try and get students discussing in French, rather than whispering about what they'd just had for lunch. Danny sat beside Coco Romeo, and opposite Lorraine Carr and Sonia Fox. Sonia was an attractive girl with fiery red hair, that sometimes matched a cruel wit. Tall and voluptuous, whenever Danny cast eyes on Lorraine he thought she belonged in a class two years above him. Her bulky lips were, as usual, heavily made-up with thick slicks of red grease. There was no danger of Cleaver calling her out on it. She had enough trouble controlling the unruly boys in her class to worry about such petty misdemeanours from the girls. While Lorraine and Sonia were rarely found outside each other's pockets, Coco Romeo was excessively polite and too shy for their group. Unfortunately, her exceptional intelligence did not spread to languages and this afternoon, on the occasion of their first GCSE French lesson, she looked more nervous than Danny ever saw her. Looking over to the other side of the classroom, Danny watched Tim and Amanita as they sat opposite Janna Chisely and Bryn Straw. He gazed at the back of Janna's silver hair and wished he was on their table.

When everybody sat down, Dr Cleaver stood to address the class.

'Today is the first lesson of your GCSE courses and I should like to outline the syllabus on which you will be tested two years from now. Please open your exercise books and write down the following.'

Reluctantly, the majority of the class opened their exercise books and got their pens ready. From the corner of his eye Danny could see Cedric Claw and Edmund Cloves had done neither, and were attempting to attach a bull clip to Olive Spritser's flowing hair while she looked the other way. Either Dr Cleaver hadn't noticed this or chose to ignore it because she carried on, albeit in a shakier voice.

'We will learn basic aspects of French grammar and develop our knowledge of French vocabulary. To this end, there will be weekly tests to see how many new words we have learnt, and to see how well we are progressing in applying grammar to written and oral French...'

'Argh!!! Ouch!!!'

Cedric had managed to attach the bullclip to both Olive's hair and the back of her chair. As she had turned her head to see what the noise behind her was, several clumps of her hair had been ripped from her scalp. Dr Cleaver looked over at Olive.

'What's the matter, Olive?'

'Dr, my hair! It's coming out! Someone has...'

'Now just settle down Olive dear.'

Dr Cleaver continued in a tremulous voice, her eyes darting across the classroom as she worried what would happen next.

'As I was saying, there are two levels of examination for which you may be entered during your course – these are Elementary and Advanced. Over the next few weeks I will be assessing you all to see what level of examination may be best for each of you. Each examination has four parts – reading, writing, listening and the French oral.'

Cedric Claw and Edmund Cloves sniggered mischievously at each other.

'For today's lesson, I would like you to find out about the family members of the other people on your table, and then be prepared to present to the rest of class at the end. All in French of course.'

Breathing a sinking sigh of relief her first foray was over, Dr Cleaver returned to her wooden desk. She soon became invisible behind scores of thin green exercise books, which she used as ramparts of defence against flying missiles.

Coco turned to Danny, smiling.

'Ooh, I think this should be okay. I've been practising the names of relatives.' She began slowly, in a faltering voice. 'J'ai une soeur. Elle s'appelle Christina. Ma pere, il s'appelle George et ma mere...tristement ma mere est morte.'

Danny didn't understand her. Having spent the summer digesting Jane's self-dignity in the face of a gallivanting Rochester, he had stuffed his French dictionary under his bed in the hope his father would forget he opted to take French.

'Sorry? What does that mean?'

'I said "I have one sister. She is called Christina. My father is called George and my mother is dead." '

Halted by Coco's casual honesty, Danny stared at her.

'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know. What...I mean, when did...'

As Danny mumbled an incomprehensible reply, Lorraine and Sonia grew impatient, as well as bored of painting their fingernails cherry red and mandarin orange.

'Oi you two – we're supposed to be talking to each other in French. You haven't asked us a single question yet!' Lorraine interrupted.

'Oh, sorry,' Danny replied, still shocked at Coco's frankness over her mother's death. Her candid honesty made him feel more inadequate than before, like something had been taken from him, but it was too late. Dr Cleaver was speaking again.

'Right fourth-years, I will now ask you to come up to the front to present to the rest of the class, in French, what you have learnt.'

Getting ready to shove notes back and forth to Lorraine and Sonia while the other tables presented, Danny scrambled in his notebook, but his efforts were in vain as Dr Cleaver pointed directly to their table first. Taking a huge gulp, Danny steadied himself and began to get up from his seat, but a figure opposite acted faster and beat him to it. Sonia had risen from her seat and made her way purposefully to the front of the class. Danny felt deep foreboding, as Coco turned her head to hear what Sonia would say.

'So Sonia, what can you tell us about the classmates on your table?' Dr Cleaver pronounced edgily, looking at her as one might a particularly aggressive tarantula.

Sonia threw back her deep red hair, and flashed dark brown eyes at the class like she was wielding fire. She pursed her lips ready and spoke in a near-perfect French accent.

'Coco Romeo a une soeur et une pere. La mere est morte.' Some of the class appeared alarmed at these last words. A few heads turned to look at Coco, while some stared at Sonia, in apparent disgust. Sonia, unfazed, continued.

'La soeur est s'appelle Christina et la pere est m'appelle George. Aussi, Coco, elle voudrait une liaison secrete avec Bryn Straw,' some of the class starting giggling as Sonia added, in a softer voice, 'comme une prostituee de qualite mediocre.'

A few people laughed, Lorraine Carr and Ella Amur among them. The rest of the class, including Danny who had not understood a word of Sonia's expressive performance, remained silent. Coco was weeping however. Through a veil of tears and bloodshot eyes she forced herself to the front and stumbled out of the door. Danny glanced at Amanita, whose stern face told a different story from the giggles. Dr Cleaver rose from her desk wearily.

'Thank you for that Sonia. Please take your seat again, and I think I'll see you at the end of class please.'

Smirking to Lorraine, who grinned unabashed Sonia strode back to her table. Sitting down, she licked and pouted her lips at Danny who turned his head to look at Dr Cleaver.

'Right, let's have the next presentation.'

Cleaver pointed to Tim and Amanita's table. Danny was relieved he had escaped the indignity of mumbling through his loose grasp of French in front of everybody, but was worried about Coco. He wondered what words Sonia used to make Coco rush from the classroom. Sure, he had heard the words 'Bryn Straw' and had assumed it something embarrassing, but he still imagined it was beyond the usual playground slurs for Coco to react like that. His attention diverted from Coco's humiliation to his own shuddering heart as Janna Chisely stood from Tim and Amanita's table and walked to the front of class.

Danny watched her silver-blonde hair sway gently, entranced by its subtle movements. In that moment, he wished that he knew all the French words in the world just to discover what precious wordflakes would drop from her delicate lips. From her buckled black shoes and black tights, up to her pleated grey skirt, white school blouse and sky blue eyeshadow, Danny could not rend his eyes from her. It was no use attempting to hide his gaze: he still wanted her passionately. She began to speak.

'Tim a deux soeurs. Helena est a vingt-cinq ans, et travaills dans Canada. Clarissa est a dix ans, et est dans ecole milieu. Il pere a m'appelle Vladimir, et il mere a s'appelle Suzanne. Amanita a une soeur, elle s'appelle Wendy – Wendy Walmer,' Janna chuckled softly to herself, before adding, 'Wendy est a vingt-huit ans, et travaills a Londres. Amanita habites a Amberleigh, avec la mere. Bryn Straw est un enfant unique.'

Danny was captivated. He could have listened to her all day long. He still had no idea what she was saying, but the sound of her elegance gripped him. Then Dr Cleaver stopped her.

'Thank you dear, you may return to your table. Now who can tell me, in English, what Janna told us about Amanita, Tim and Bryn?'

No hands went up, and everyone shuffled with their exercise books to avoid being picked on. Dr Cleaver sighed heavily.

*

The rest of the French class rolled on and Danny privately rejoiced when it finished. He rushed quickly to the school changing rooms with Tim to get ready for the football team tryouts.

'So what do you reckon Sonia said in French about Coco?' Danny asked.

'Amanita seemed to have a pretty good idea, but she wouldn't say exactly. Just that it was something not very pleasant. Coco seemed very upset, didn't she? Poor girl – she needs someone like Bryn to take care of her.'

'Don't go getting any ideas. I'm sure Coco had enough people teasing her about Bryn last year without you launching into another match-making scheme, and sending her spiralling into another depression about it all,' Danny rebuked.

'Danny, as if I would?' But there was a dark glint in Tim's eye, which told Danny Tim was far from putting the subject from his mind.

They changed into their shirts and shorts quickly, exchanging scowls with Cedric Claw and Edmund Cloves across the changing rooms. Once they strapped their shin pads and squeezed their feet into tight leather boots, they wandered into the school yard and made their way to the front of school, where several dingys waited to ferry them across the short channel to Fourlawns. Tim was delighted to see eight sets of goalposts which had been recently erected. The colours of their kit were based around the four different houses in Plunket's, and they also made up the composition of the school crest. A plum jersey top for Pasteur over olive green shorts for Jenner and light brown socks for Churchill. The only house not represented in their football kit was the one both Tim and Danny belonged to – Dahl. Apparently, Tim told Danny he was constantly pestering Spittlebug to change the colour of shorts to sky blue to represent their house. Spittlebug had replied to Tim he should work on trying to get _into_ the school team, before petitioning to change the colours of the kit. Danny suspected Tim would never achieve the sky blue shorts. He didn't think Spittlebug was much of a sky blue man.

As they approached Watershoot – the jetty from which the dingys moored – their studs clattered loudly on the wooden slats. A large crowd of schoolboys had assembled for Spittlebug and Harlequin to ferry them across. Among them Danny spotted Pigment Marvel. Tim had informed him Pigment was an 'absolutely first-rate' striker. Even though he was only a second-year, he could well make the team. He had short curly hair and looked very small and lonely. No other second-years had turned up for the tryouts and he didn't appear to have any friends to talk to.

Spittlebug and Harlequin rounded a corner and strode towards them. Harlequin chatted amiably to Spittlebug but Spittlebug, who carried an enormous net full of pumped-up footballs, looked sterner than ever. Tim heard him grunt louder as he approached.

'Oh no. You can just tell he's in a bad mood. I'll never make it into the team at this rate,' Tim said pessimistically.

'You haven't even kicked a ball yet!'

'I don't need to – the way my luck is going I'll be lucky if I even manage to get that far!'

They two friends climbed into a dingy with Dr Harlequin, and he rowed them across to Fourlawns. It was a cool early autumn afternoon and amid the breeze and tidal currents water lapped and sloshed against the side of the boat. As they drew closer to the island Tim saw the goalposts loom larger, and made out sky blue nets hanging from them.

'Like the nets, Gaunt?'

Dr Spittlebug grunted across from the other boat, as he rowed furiously into the dark water. Danny kicked Tim and he laughed. Once they moored on Fourlawns, they climbed from the boat and trudged up the waiting jetty. It was still a fair walk to the football fields, which had moved to the centre of the island. They had to be. Last year, they had lost too many footballs after being kicked too vigorously into the North Sea. The sound of studs banging heavily on the tarmac path echoed around them all. Spittlebug led the way, still clutching a gigantic net containing at least twenty footballs. Once they reached the pitches, Spittlebug assembled them into a line and began to speak.

'Now then you lot. Listen up and listen good. These are the tryouts for the school football team. Last year we lost the North Eastern coastal league by just one point, a league I fully expect us to win this year. Therefore I will not be picking none of you fookin nancy-boys for the team.'

Tim took a huge gulp.

'And so I expect you all to play hard tonight. 'An when I say 'ard I mean good clean tackles. I don't want no injuries. Studs up means sent off. We'll have a few exercises first, then a practice match. Dr Harlequin and myself will then confer, and we will post the names of the eleven players chosen on the back of my door tomorrow lunchtime. Our first match will be at home against St Cecilia's in two weeks time. Once our team is picked, there will be a rigorous training regime, to ensure those bastards down at Cecilia's don't whitewash us again. Last year we lost 5-1 – '

Dr Harlequin coughed.

'Yeah, well you don't need to know much about last year I guess. Right, twice round the fields please then back here for twenty press-ups. Well – what are you waiting for?'

They all sprinted off quickly. By the time Tim and Danny returned Cedric Claw and Edmund Cloves were already half-way through their press-ups.

'Come on Gaunt – look lively!' Spittlebug cried, while Tim muttered something that sounded very much like 'slavedriver' under his breath. They hit the deck and struggled through twenty very short press-ups, groaning at last when they had reached twenty.

'Now then, we're going to split you up into two teams'. Spittlebug went through the line, handing out maroon and orange bibs and directing people to different sides of the football pitch. Tim and Danny managed to stay on the same team, but Tim was disappointed to see Pigment Marvel picked for the opposing team, along with Edmund and Cedric.

Tim and Danny ran up and down the line a couple of times before Spittlebug walked onto the pitch with the football, which he dropped onto the centre spot. 'You two' he said, pointing at Cedric and Edmund, 'here –kick off.'

Cedric and Edmund kicked off, and the game began. Cedric passed to Pigment Marvel, who dribbled it past a couple of players before spreading it wide to the wing. Ian Phalanger picked it up, and took it down the line. Danny tried to chase him but he was too fast. It looked like Ian was going to run out of pitch as he headed for the corner flag, but at the last moment he turned swiftly and delivered a swooping cross, curling away from goalkeeper Squish Ambrose. Tim jumped in the air to head it away, but Pigment was running in fast. Without warning Pigment turned his back to the ball and somersaulted in the air, legs rising over his curly-haired head. As the ball came hurtling in Marvel's left foot made contact with the flying orb and redirected its path, sending it bobbling to the far right of Squish who looked on in horror as it creeped in the corner of his goalpost. The orange bibs erupted in jubilation, and Pigment Marvel was slapped heartily on the back by Cedric and Edmund.

'Oi Gaunt! Did you see that? Maybe you should stick to tiddlywinks?' Cedric shouted. Tim went to square up to Cedric, but Danny stopped him in time.

'Keep calm. Remember, Spittlebug's watching,' he said.

The rest of the game turned from a bad start into disaster for Tim's side. As the goals rained in it became apparent they had been unevenly matched. Brandon Wood scored a spectacular free-kick unfortunately deflected by Tim past the helpless Squish. Benjamin Sprite slid a brilliant thirty-yard pass to put Pigment through for his second of the match. Tim's side managed to score two in reply, through Sloppy Fox and Liam Flicker, and Tim tackled Sprite twice to stop him going through to get more. The final score ended up 4-2 to Cedric's side. Tim sounded more defeated than ever when they trudged back to the boats after the match.

'I'm never going to get in that side. It's just too hard.'

'Well, you'll be able to find out tomorrow, won't you?' Danny rebutted. He had not had a good match either, and was growing tired of Tim's persistent moans.

'I don't want to look. It'll be the same old names, same old faces. Spittlebug hates me.'

In this downcast mood, Spittlebug rowed them all back to Plunket's, where they disembarked, changed quickly, and returned home.

Danny was so tired that night he hardly thought about Anjalie and what had happened in her bedroom the previous night or why she wasn't in school today. After making a conciliatory stab at Professor Wonder's sacraments homework, and reading a bit more of _Jane Eyre_ , he retired to bed. Yawning heavily as he got in, he was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

His slumber grew restless, haunted by half-formed thoughts. For some reason, he couldn't rid the memory of his childhood friend, Robin Vernal, from his dreamy sleep. She had lived close to Danny when they were both five years old. They had been inseparable, doing everything together, and always sought each other out whenever play time came. Her left eye had been affected by a rare condition since birth that meant her iris very occasionally flashed different colours. Danny had nicknamed her the rainbow girl. He recalled how they played endlessly into the summer nights until his mother called him to come in for bed. Then one day Danny had woken up to find that Robin along with her father had disappeared from Amberleigh. No-one could tell him what had happened. One day they were playing happily together, the next their friendship was torn apart, and since that day he had not seen her. Unable to offer an explanation, his parents, especially his mother, had tried to calm him and keep him amused over the following weeks, by taking him to the seaside, to legoland and buying him presents and toys. All he had wanted was his childhood friend back. He'd never told his parents that for the whole two weeks after the disappearance of the Vernal family he cried himself to sleep. School had begun as normal in the autumn, but the absence of Robin had carved an irremovable gully in his soul. As the terms and years rolled on Danny moved on to Plunket's and found himself growing up rapidly. Becoming abler to cope with the absence, as a teenager he never forgot sweet rainbow girl Robin Vernal.

He began dreaming that Robin and him were walking hand in hand down a long corridor in what appeared to be a hospital. Only there were no doctors or nurses or anyone else around. Feeling a deep pain in his stomach Danny collapsed to the floor. In agony he looked up and asked Robin to seek help. She vanished. Then he slipped into a darker dream. He sat on Amberleigh beach and something or someone emerged from the water. Barely able to see because the beach was thick with morning fog, Danny squinted. Apart from him and the rising figure/person the beach was deserted. The person moved closer. He saw it was Anjalie Marjoram. Then someone else started rising up from the sea. They too walked directly towards him. Danny blinked. This second person was Anjalie Marjoram also. Several other Anjalies rose from the tranquil ocean, all moving towards him. Danny tried to rise up and walk away, but as he did his feet stuck in the sand and he discovered he could no longer move properly. About fifty Anjalies walked steadily towards him. Each wore the same floaty and low-cut silver dress. They looked as staggeringly beautiful as they did sinister. Still Danny tried to move his feet helplessly to get away, but all he succeeded in doing was shifting sand. As the figures drew closer, Danny saw each Anjalie carried a small bump beneath their dress. A bright light flashed in the light blue sky and Robin Vernal appeared above them all, floating in a satin red camisole. She opened her mouth to speak. Her voice resounded loudly in Danny's ear, yet she seemed to be whispering.

'Forget all the pain. There is no pain.'

He heard it again.

'There is no pain.'

As Danny cast his eyes back to the beach he found himself alone on the sandy shore. All the Anjalies had disappeared as had Robin Vernal, in that fleeting moment when he averted his gaze. Danny awoke to find his pillow sodden with sweat and tears.

Dunstan sat me down and held my shaking hand. I was scared, I was terrified, I was petrified. Of letting him down. I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to fail more.

The Press Room

The following morning Danny packed his books listlessly into his bag. The day would be full of science: chemistry in the morning and biology in the afternoon, with a gap for information technology in the middle. None of which he felt particularly good at. He was dreading finding out who had made the football team and didn't think he could bear another year of Tim's downheartedness at not making it again. True, Danny had never made the school team either and felt it selfish of Tim not to even notice this too.

As he walked to school Danny cast his eyes longingly at Anjalie Marjoram's house, hoping she might appear out of her door and they might walk to school together. He wanted to explain to her he never meant things to get as far as they did. But her door remained still, and there was no sign of her as he craned his neck to see in through her misty windows. Reluctantly, he left her house and continued on towards school. He felt his muscles ache from yesterday's exercise as he lumbered up the stony path toward Amberleigh castle. He looked up. The moss that traditionally creeped on the sidewalls, up the turrets and around the top of the crenellated edifice, was growing at a startling rate, especially for the onset of autumn.

As he approached the gates a group of fourth-year girls chatted in a huddle. Danny recognized them quickly as Mary Oconee, Olive Spritser, Saffelia Forrest and Hazel Brock. Hazel was smoking a cigarette casually, while Mary and Olive were busy applying thick slicks of lipstick and brushes of foundation to already painted faces. Saffelia was animated and chatting, and Danny couldn't help over-hearing her as he passed.

'Well, her mum rang my Mum last night,' Saffelia said, sounding pleased with herself, 'and apparently she told my Mum that she had spent the whole morning with her at the doctor's. My mum wouldn't tell me anything else, but I think she must be pregnant because I overheard my Mum say "Do you know whose it is?"'

Danny's heart skipped a beat, and he stopped walking. It couldn't be...it was only a few days. Yet still, with a cognizance as swift as a guillotine's blade he remembered Saffelia's mother was friends with Anjalie's. Before he could dwell on this horrifying thought for long, he noticed the voices had grown silent. As he turned he saw they all stared directly at him.

'Do you want something Danny?' Hazel exclaimed, cigarette hanging from her bottom lip. Danny rushed into school, desperate to be alone so he could pummel his thoughts into some semblance of sanity. However, without looking where he was going he ran directly into Amanita.

'Ooh – someone's in a hurry. Come on Danny, I've got something to show you.'

'I don't think I've got time at the moment Amanita, I...' Danny tried, but it was no good. Amanita's will often over-powered him.

'Don't be silly – it will only take a moment,' she said simply. Amanita walked him unwillingly up Spiral Two towards Professor Pry's classroom. As they entered Danny saw the green door at the back of the room, for years permanently shut, had now been opened. Amanita led him inside.

Danny immediately saw a set of wooden steps that led upwards. He followed Amanita to the top, and found himself in a smaller, dusty room. In the middle of the room stood four tables, one of which accommodated a computer terminal.

'Isn't it brilliant?' Amanita gushed.

'It's a secret room,' Danny said. 'I always thought Pry kept the skeletons of all the students she had murdered behind that green door.'

Amanita looked reprovingly at Danny.

'We're going to use this room as the base for my...I mean, our school newspaper. It's got everything we need! Look, Professor Pry has already given us some pads of paper to get us started, and there's a printer in the corner so we can proof the stories. Oh it's going to be brilliant Danny! I can't wait!'

Danny walked to the other side of the room and looked out the window. They were extremely high up in the castle, and from this height all the students looked like tiny insects as they moved around the playground. He saw Hazel, Saffelia, Mary and Olive still standing by the gates gossiping. It was no good – he would have to tell someone. Sitting down on an upturned box, he looked directly at Amanita who was now fiddling with the computer and trying to switch it on.

'Amanita – can I tell you something?'

'Of course you can. What is it? Oh bugger – I think I may have broken it.' She turned around to look at Danny, straight into the eyes of his worried face. 'What's wrong Danny?'

'It's Anjalie. The other night, well, we walked home together. I was so happy at acing Pry's stupid test. Well, Anjalie was waiting for me, and she invited me back to her house and...and...'

'Danny – you didn't?' Amanita sounded distraught. Danny nodded silently.

'The thing is I've just overheard Saffelia tell Mary, Olive and Hazel that...that...well...'

Amanita seemed to anticipate what Danny was trying to say, as she held up her hand as if requiring no explanation.

'And you think it's yours? Danny – Anjalie Marjoram is looser than Saffelia Forrest's idle gossip. It could be anybody's, if indeed she is...'

Her voice trailed off into Danny's studied expression.

'Well, just think – you can make it headline news for the first edition of the _Oracle_ : Danny Canterbury puts Anjalie Marjoram up the duff,' Danny said resting his chin in his hands and looking more downbeat than ever.

'Oh Danny! Why did you do it? On top of everything else it's still illegal at our age! You know she's trouble... Look, you don't know anything for certain. Why don't you just forget about it until you get a chance to speak to her? If she is pregnant, then you'll have plenty of time to figure out what to do, or even if it's yours.'

Danny knew he had done the right thing in telling Amanita. She always had a clear head about things like this. He knew after telling her it would go no further. 'Just don't go sleeping with any other loose women,' she said admonishingly.

'Okay – I'll make sure they're all frigid from now on,' he replied, with a sly grin. 'Look – do you mind if you don't mention this to Tim? Not that he'd care – he's only bothered about getting in the school football team at the moment...'

'That's not entirely true,' Amanita rejoined, looking guilty. Danny could tell that Amanita was hiding something.

'What? What do you know?' he demanded.

'I'm not allowed to tell you,' but Danny's gaze seemed to win her over. 'Oh, alright then. He's told me he's got a crush on...on a certain girl. But that's it. I can't tell you anymore, so don't press me!' she added, her face blushing.

'That's rich given what I've just told you! Okay – spare me the details!'

I'm sure I can find out anyway, Danny thought to himself.

*

Chemistry with Dr Perseud had always been pretty dull and today was no exception. Formulas of elements and compounds and their native reactions all appeared arbitrary and random and not part of any grand design to Danny. He spent most of the lesson trying to catch Anjalie's eye, who had returned to school but seemed determined to concentrate entirely on her potassium experiment. Attempting subtle hints to discover Tim's secret crush, Danny asked Tim if he had anything special to confide but Tim, distracted by the forthcoming announcement of the school football team, was having none of it.

'Forget it Danny, you'll never find out who it is,' he demurred softly. Danny had never seen Tim look so nervous. The lesson wore on and Danny, making sure he wore protective goggles, carefully ladled his small heap of potassium into the beaker of water. There was only a millisecond that passed before it ignited in a crimson and orange flash, before burning itself out in a miniature explosion. He watched Cedric Claw heap his own rather larger quantity into a full beaker, but turned away at the last moment as black smoke erupted into Cedric's eyes. His beaker shattered, sending water and smoke all along his work bench. While Danny's class mates crowded round a harassed Dr Perseud who simultaneously tried to clear up the mess and reprimand Cedric, Danny managed to reach Anjalie as she was leaving.

'Can I have a word?' he asked tentatively.

'Sure,' Anjalie replied, though something in her eyes told Danny she was apprehensive. They walked down the corridor, and found a quiet spot outside Dr Chukchi's room. Danny couldn't wait any longer.

'So – is it true? About you being pregnant, I mean.'

Anjalie looked directly into his fearful brown eyes. Her tone turned icy cold.

'Not that it is any of your business, and not that you're going to repeat this to another soul in this school, but yes – I am pregnant.'

With her curt response echoing in his ears she pirouetted on her heels and hotfooted it down the corridor before Danny had a chance to ask anything else.

While Tim was checking if the football team had been put up on Spittlebug's door, at lunchtime Danny went to the music practice room and confided his exchange with Anjalie to Amanita.

'She's bluffing – I'm sure of it Danny. You should never have got involved with her. She eats boys for breakfast. Well, now she's got it coming.'

Danny was astonished at Amanita's righteous tone.

'That's a bit rough isn't it? Besides, it could be me who's got it coming too.'

'No way. Either she isn't pregnant, and it's her idea of a sick joke, or she is pregnant by someone else and she's considering pinning it on you. She was off to the doctors the day after it...you know, happened. She must have had that planned. There's no way you can get an appointment that quick without it being an emergency and pregnancy, which takes nine long months is hardly an emergency, is it?'

On countless occasions like this Danny felt grateful he had a friend like Amanita to put his trust in. Her incontrovertible and down-to-earth attitude temporarily set his mind at rest again. When he reached in his bag to pull out his sandwiches – ham and tomato with the mild extravagance of fresh basil – there was a knock at the door behind him. Fully expecting Tim to walk through, Danny shouted without looking behind him.

'Well, did we make it into old Spittlebug's ramshackle team or not?'

Amanita coughed suddenly, in an odd way. When Danny turned his head he saw Janna Chisely's heart-shaped face peep round the door. Her perfectly formed features were smiling, guiltily.

'Oops I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt! I was just checking to see if the room was free. I'll try somewhere else. Sorry.' Smirking, she withdrew her head and gently shut the door. Danny looked at Amanita like a rabbit caught in full beam. She momentarily looked serious, then burst into hilarious shrieks of laughter.

'Stop it,' Danny said, imagining how pathetic he must have seemed. Amanita continued laughing heavily, until Danny's stare told her it was no longer funny.

'I'm sorry Danny, but just imagine if you were in my shoes.'

'I'd rather not, thanks,' Danny said shortly, 'Pink trainers don't suit me and I don't like purple laces.'

Tim walked in without knocking. He was eating a cheese muffin and looking gloomy.

'They haven't put the team up yet. I bet they're debating whether or not to pick Pig Marvel over me,' he said cheerlessly.

'Tim - you don't even play in the same position as Pig Marvel!' Danny said exasperated. Tim's eyes flashed with humour.

'I saw Janna Chisely about to come into this room as I walked up. Has she finally succumbed to your irresistible charms Danny?'

Before Danny had a chance to reply, Amanita interrupted them both.

'Now then. Listen both of you. Enough of this nonsense. Remember our first meeting for the _Oracle_ newspaper will be on Friday, in the press room after school.'

Tim mouthed the words 'Press room' in apparent confusion to Danny, who merely shrugged his shoulders.

'I don't want either of you to miss it and I don't want to hear any excuses about too much homework or any ill-advised jaunts with lithe young girls,' she winked at Danny. 'Professor Pry is counting on us three to get this paper up and running.'

'Will it just be us?' Tim asked, looking supremely unexcited.

'We will be joined by another student.'

'Do we get to find out who it is?' Danny asked, almost sarcastically.

'No.' Amanita replied shortly. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to cajole some more students to write for the first issue.'

Amanita grabbed her satchel and waltzed out of the door, looking exceedingly satisfied with herself. Tim roused himself from his cheese muffin.

'Come on Danny, let's go check Spittlebug's door again.'

*

On their way to Dr Spittlebug's room they walked through the grass pentangle that sat between the music block and the school changing rooms. However, when they finally arrived at his door they saw a huge crowd of girls already surrounding it.

'What the bloody hell is this?' Tim exclaimed. 'Why do they want to know who's made it into the football team?' But Tim didn't have to wait long for his answer, as Saffelia Forrest and Olive Spritser both jumped in the air simultaneously, screaming,

'We're in! We're in!'

'In what, might I ask?' Tim said, both eyebrows raised.

Olive and Saffelia turned to look at Tim. Saffelia's cheeks went bright red, while Olive approached him, and starting fiddling with his tie in mock-flirtation.

'What's it to you, big man?' she said, before flicking his tie up into his face and laughing playfully.

'Well, not that you're interested I suppose, but we're trying to see who has made into the school football team. What are you doing here?'

Olive began to speak but Saffelia beat her to it, blurting out,

'We're in the school netball team! Both of us! Isn't that great?'

'Fantastic', Tim said, not meaning a word of it. 'Now if you'll excuse us, can we actually get past you both to the door?' Still blushing, Saffelia looked stung. Danny shrugged his shoulders half-apologetically as he tried to push his way through the crowd with Tim. Through much giggling and high-pitched laughter, they eventually reached Spittlebug's door and saw that two pieces of paper had been posted there. The list on the left was of girl's names with the heading "Netball team to play St Cecilia's next Friday". Both Saffelia Forrest and Olive Spritser were at the top of the list. The list on the right was the one they wanted. Tim and Danny both scanned the list anxiously for their names. Tim breathed a huge sigh of relief, while Danny uttered a huge groan. The list read:

St Oliver Plunket's school football team  
to play St Cecilia's next Friday:

Goalkeeper: Richey Athurstun

Left back: Thomas Fox

Centre back: Johnny Benedict

Centre back: Gabriel Ambrose

Right back: Timothy Gaunt

Left wing: Ian Phalanger

Centre mid: Liam Flicker (c)

Centre forw: Brandon Wood

Right wing: Cedric Claw

Striker: Benjamin Sprite

Striker: Pigment Marvel

Substitutes: Edmund Cloves

Danny Canterbury

There was a little diagram to show the positions they would be playing, and a note at the bottom of the sheet which said:

Please note: All players picked for this match (including substitutes) are required to attend training next Wednesday (that's a week today, Cloves!) after school. Please bring your full school kit including football boots, shin pads etc.

SPITTLEBUG

P.S. Please don't forget your silky skills.

Tim patted Danny on the back heartily.

'What did I tell you? Well done mate, we made it,' he said enthusiastically.

'You made it. I'm a sub!' Danny rebutted, somewhat sulkily.

'Pot-a-to, pot-ar-to.' Tim replied indifferently.

'Well done Tim – you deserve it,' Danny said through gritted teeth and half-scowling.

The two of them stood staring at the teamsheet, Danny in apparent desperation that his name might move magically up the sheet before next Friday's game, Tim hardly able to keep still with excitement. Most of the girls who had been checking out the netball team drifted away. Before he even turned to look Danny sensed another girl walk towards them from behind. It was the scent of the air. An elegant aroma reminding Danny of strawberries and violets. He turned around, and saw Chardelia Foss stood there. She was looking calmly at him. She didn't say a word, but was struck by her unassuming presence. Both Tim and Danny stepped back, parting to allow her through to check the netball team. Upon taking a cursory look at the team, she sighed exquisitely, turned around and stalked gracefully away across the pentangle, skipping shrewdly round the school fountain. Danny thought he detected a slight half-smile as Chardelia had turned and looked at him, but maybe it was his imagination working overtime again. Tim scanned the netball team list.

'I don't think you'll make it into _that_ team, Tim.'

'Ha ha. Can you believe that old Spittlebug gets to train the netball team as well? Lucky bastard. What I'd give to spend my spare time watching girls run around in short skirts' Tim said absentmindedly, still staring at the sheet.

'Tim – that _is_ what you do in your spare time!' Danny replied.

'Well I don't know why little miss Foss was so upset. Probably bust a nail or something. She's made it into the netball team.'

'Has she? You'd have thought that she'd been denied from the expression on her face,' Danny said, confused.

'Nope – she's down here alright. Goal Attack. And she's captain. Just like my sister, when she was here,' Tim said, still absentmindedly.

'Aw happy days,' Danny said sardonically.

As they wandered off to Dr Ravana's lab for an afternoon of ripping plant stems apart in Biology, Danny couldn't help feeling dispirited. The dream last night still disconcerted him, and now he wondered if he had illegitimately fathered a child. He had managed to upset Anjalie, and he was on the bench for the first school football match of the year. On top of all that he had humiliated himself in front of Janna Chisely, and there was still a mountain of homework to climb. Trying to console himself, he reminded himself how lucky he was that at least he wasn't a school teacher at St Oliver Plunket's. After his experiences that day he couldn't imagine anything more sad and tragic.

*

I saw them look at me that way. The way which says they do not know what I am thinking nor can they be bothered to overcome the lodged obstacles to discover. An aloofness that is just too aloof; one step too far for them to travel, to even enquire what might be the matter.

A whole world of wonder might open up to them if they dared. A colossal epiphany or sublime revelation or sparkling profundity may be just within their reach, but they would never know. Never venture to take that step because it represents too much of a risk to their comfort zone. I never knew the whole world was scared, I thought it was just me.

Netball

'So how did it go?' he whispered.

Danny and Tim sat in The Galileo Room for their Physics lesson whilst being lectured by Professor Slattery, who was trying to demonstrate the properties of wood. Both were bored stiff. Their moods were matched by the weather outside, which rained hard on the school yard and beyond into the dark North Sea. Rather than follow in Einstein's footsteps, Danny was more eager to discover what happened in Tim's detention with Professor Wonder the previous night.

'It was okay. We played Chess. He's not such a bad stick.'

'Then why do you give him such a hard time in his lessons?' Danny replied instinctively. Processing Tim's reply he added, 'Chess? What sort of detention is that?'

Tim ignored this question, apparently considering it beneath him to answer. Professor Slattery was waving a wooden block at Tim, threateningly.

'Gaunt, pay attention! Now what would you call what I am holding in my hand?'

'What "wood" is it, or what "would" I call it? Which question "wood" you like me to answer?' Tim was struggling not to laugh. Professor Slattery did not seem impressed.

'Don't be duplicitous Gaunt!' he bellowed menacingly.

'Sir, you are holding a wooden block in your hand. I'm not in the habit of being duplicitous with men who wave things around that could do me a serious injury,' Gaunt answered unfazed.

'Canterbury – perhaps you could answer?' Slattery tried, sounding tired.

'Sir, it is a slide-rule. It is a form of calculator?' Danny replied quickly, trying to make up for Tim's ignorance.

'Correct! Ten house points to Dahl.' Tim looked overjoyed at this, but then Slattery added, 'to make-up for the ten your friend has just lost you.' Tim looked deflated again.

'Now I want each group to take a slide-rule and use it to calculate answers to the physics problems I have written on the board,' Slattery paused and pulled down the enormous blackboard, covered with dusty yellow and orange chalk. It revealed several problems, each with diagrams, angles and masses of different sized objects. The class unilaterally groaned. 'Anyone caught using a real calculator will lose ten house points – and be forced to complete ten extra problems for homework. You have until ten o-clock to work through these problems, and then we will discuss the results. Please return to your desks to begin.'

Tim and Danny slowly moved their stools back to their long wooden desk, scraping them loudly against the laminate tiles. Danny stared out of the window. The rain sliced heavily against the thick glass. Physics was always an interminable lesson. He had a foreboding the morning would drag on, inch by inch, second by mind-numbing second. His mind drifted to Anjalie, and dwelt upon whether she told him the truth about being pregnant. There was an uncomfortable sensation he had walked into a trap. Squish Ambrose appeared at their table, his exercise book in one hand, and a slide-rule in the other.

'How does this bloody thing work? Do either of you know?'

Tim shook his head, grinning 'How "wood" I know?'

Danny took the slide-rule off him and pointed to the miniscule markings that showed how to multiply and add numbers.

'Ta Danny. Oh by the way, you haven't seen Anjalie have you? She left something at my house last night that I need to return to her.'

Completely unmoved by this new bit of information, Tim continued to doodle a picture of what looked like himself and Dr Chukchi in a compromising position. Danny's ears, however, perked up.

'What? Oh, no I haven't seen her today I'm afraid.' He couldn't help adding 'Were you just...er...doing homework together then?' Squish looked at him suspiciously.

'Yeah – something like that. Well, bye then.'

Danny's heart sank. Any hope of trying to figure out Anjalie nose-dived. Why was she acting so odd towards him? How come she'd spent the previous night with Squish? Maybe they had really just been doing homework? Paralysed by a thousand half-formed thoughts and his inability to share his worries with Tim, Danny kicked his stool over out of frustration, and it made a loud clang as it clattered into the tiled floor.

*

Amanita gasped in horror at what she was watching. A hand reached into a bulging black pocket and pulled out the smooth metal of a gun barrel. It pointed at the young girl happily playing on a space-hopper in her back garden. Dr Woodbridge stepped up and switched the video off, and spoke in a sinister voice to the class.

'There are many things we can choose to make with our hands. Murder and suffering are just some of the horrors human hands are capable of unleashing.'

A few in the class looked stunned, others just rolled their eyes and went back to their benches. They were sitting in Craftwork – the CDT block – and had expected to be starting their GCSE woodwork projects today.

'I..er...just thought you ought to...' and then in a more confident voice, 'Professor Flambeau asked me to show you the video. To make you more aware of the world around us, and to encourage you to use your talents, for positive ends. Right, by the end of today's lesson I would like to see your written plans, including a diagram outlining your chosen project. Please begin.'

Although Amanita still shook from what she had been forced to sit through, Cedric Claw and Bryn Straw were already rifling through the wood samples box. Amanita turned to Tim and Danny and whispered,

'What do you think all that was about?'

'Bonkers' Tim replied, earnestly. 'They're all bonkers – it's part of the job description to be a teacher here.'

Not for the first time, Amanita looked offended by Tim's comments. Memories of several teachers, including one in particular, passed through her mind.

'You can't say they're all bonkers! That's not true. What about...' she struggled to find another example, but it was no use, '...Professor Wonder for example?'

Danny and Tim looked at each other in amusement.

'Amanita! You do know he's got a wife,' Tim said briefly.

'Yes, I know – what's that got to do with anything?' Amanita said irritably. Tim continued.

'I "wonder" if you've told him about your idea for the school newspaper?'

'It wasn't my idea – it was Professor Pry's!' she said angrily, 'Besides, he was interested to find out about it. He thought we should have a particularly large music section as it happens.'

Danny started to speak, but Tim spoke over him.

'Oh no! That's the last thing we need. Lots of bloody Christian bands being reviewed. Is it really necessary that you involve lover-boy in everything we do?'

'Oh, and I suppose you would call U2 a Christian band, would you? His brother works for Island Records – U2's record label – and he's offered to put us in touch with him so we can get advance CDs and tickets and stuff. But if you're clearly not interested...' Amanita rebuffed cleverly.

Tim immediately fell silent. U2 were one of his favourite bands. He had queued for two hours last summer trying to get tickets but ended up failing when they sold out by about ten people in front of him. Amanita had kept this knowledge to wield at the right moment. Tim's tone dropped from brass sarcasm to a subtle whine.

'Er, well I didn't exactly say I wasn't interested...'

Danny laughed, and stalked off to the samples box to find some wood for his project. Edmund Cloves was furiously throwing bits of wood to the side, searching for something he had mislaid.

'Lost anything?' Danny said quietly. He didn't usually speak to Edmund Cloves, even though they had been in the same year since they first came to Plunket's two years ago. He thought it was time to make an effort, especially if they were going to sit on the bench together at the upcoming school football match.

'Yes. My watch fell in the box,' he replied, not bothering to look up.

Danny looked down and saw a glint of chrome shining. It lay precariously on a piece of dark wood about halfway down the box. Carefully, he fished it out and handed it to Edmund who looked surprised.

'Thanks. It was a present from my Dad – he would have killed me if I'd have lost it,' he said gratefully.

'No problem. What's your project going to be?' Danny pointed to the large bundle of wood Edmund had extracted from the samples box, and was now attempting to hold in his left hand.

'Oh – I wanted to build a model house. Well, not a house exactly, more a type of castle. I...' Edmund hesitated, 'I...want to be an architect you see, like my Dad. But Woodbridge said it was going to be too complicated, so I'm going to make a CD rack instead.'

Edmund seemed more nervous than usual, and Danny wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Cedric Claw was not at his side as usual (Cedric was busy with Bryn balancing pieces of wood on top of each other like some over-sized game of Jenga)

'That sounds great. I might do something like that,' Danny said.

'Yeah – well see you later.' Edmund wandered back to his empty desk and Danny watched him trying to make sure his wood didn't fall from his full arms as he walked.

The rest of the day passed slowly and uneventfully. Tim and Danny didn't spend any more time with Amanita that day. At lunchtime she was too busy harassing fellow fourth years about the upcoming first edition of the newspaper, and in Geography the new teacher Dr Ethelraed sat her at the other side of the classroom from them both. His lesson turned out to be a shambles. Being a new teacher, Danny suspected his fellow classmates might push a little to see how what they could get away with, but he hadn't expected the lesson to descend to an exercise in evading flying rubbers, staplers, pens, pencils, pencil cases and even shoes at one point. Cedric Claw and Edmund Cloves were the main culprits, but Ethelraed seemed to have his hands full when Ian Phalanger unusually joined in with the general mayhem.

'Now...you...what's-your-name...if you throw another pen...'

Smack! A stapler had hit Ethelraed square in the nose. He rose his hands to his face, and Edmund launched a pencil case towards his unprotected mid-riff. Danny and Tim, whilst dodging the flying stationery, couldn't help chuckling. The lesson was a far cry from the boring Physics lesson they had sat through in the morning. Amanita looked sterner than ever. At one point she looked like she would walk out in disgust, but she managed to hold it together to stick out the lesson. Walking home at the end of the day Danny looked up into the azure sky and reflected he was glad he had at least one fun lesson that week.

*

As days passed Danny barely noticed how fast time was travelling. Friday arrived remarkably quickly. Danny couldn't decide if he preferred uneventful, carefree first weeks which had been the norm in the past or the fitful start to his fourth year. Anjalie had still not spoken to him since their icy exchange in the corridor. Underneath all the worry his dalliance with her had created, he still harboured mental space to remain aggrieved he only made substitute for the school match next week. Whereas Tim was in the first eleven.

In a rush to pack his PE kit that morning Danny almost forgot he promised Amanita he would stay behind after school to help get the _Oracle_ up and running. Before leaving home for school he rushed back to his bedroom to grab the sheet of tasks Amanita had delegated to him. He finally stumbled out the door, still adjusting his tie.

As he walked to school he glanced at Amanita's list and realised he hadn't completed any of them:

Visit the local businesses to see if they would like to advertise in the paper (for a nominal fee, of course!)

Decide how many pages you will need to cover all the news (and weather!)

Think of possible news topics we can include in the first edition of the paper

The first one didn't seem too hard. Perhaps he could persuade the local sweet shop O'Donnells to take some advertising? They probably didn't need to. Most Plunket's students visited the shop freely at least once a week, for gobstoppers, dolly mixture, fudge squares and, when they thought they could get away with it, twenty Benson & Hedges. There was the local hairdressers and beauty salon, Slick Nicks. They would probably be interested in advertising, although Danny preferred Amanita to approach them. Most of the female year visited the salon, especially the fifth years. They could often be found hanging around outside, if only to catch a glimpse of Nick Fasco, the young owner adored by lusty teenagers and yummy mummys all across Amberleigh. There was the Dropshot Tennis club, which he and Tim visited every Saturday during the summer months. It was not unknown for Janna Chisely to visit although when she did, much to Danny's dismay, she didn't deign to play him.

The second task was straightforward, although it depended how many pages the whole newspaper would be. Two or three would probably do it, unless there was a sudden increase in news to report. How on earth was he going to write the weather column, he thought to himself. He wasn't a bloody meteorologist! The final task Amanita had written seemed to give the biggest headache. Where would he go for news, for something truly interesting to say?

He walked past Amberleigh beach, looking down onto empty misty sands. The sea, darkly roaring an indigo blue, , rushed in and out as several seagulls scoured the beach, hungrily searching for food hidden in the sand.

Turning his attention back to Amanita's sheet, Danny thought what would usually be news at Plunket's? There was the upcoming school football (and netball) matches, but surely Tim would cover these in the sports column? What was there to report apart from Professor Flambeau's bizarre speech at the start of term and Tim's persistent liking for detentions with Professor Wonder?

He arrived at the school gates and looked up at the imposing magnificence of Amberleigh Castle. He wondered how long it had stood there, and what it had been before it housed a school. Then, it came. An idea, fleeting and weak, but still an idea. Danny could run a weekly history of the castle in the _Oracle_ – that at least would give him something new to research and talk about when there was no news to report in the paper. Flambeau would love it! Having happily resolved his little problem, Danny sped off to the changing rooms for PE with Spittlebug.

To both Danny's and Tim's surprise Spittlebug was absent from the changing rooms, and his door was locked. When they had changed they were surprised to see Dr Ravana standing outside dressed in luminous orange tracksuit bottoms and an equally revolting stripy green t-shirt. The fourth-year girls, including an unhappy looking Amanita, were crowded behind her and they too were changed into their PE kits. Danny stole a glance at Janna. She wore a pleated maroon skirt and pink and sky blue trainers. She looked adorable.

'Hello boys', Ravana exclaimed happily. 'Dr Spittlebug will not be taking this lesson as unfortunately he had an accident with a Yorkshire pudding and scalding hot gravy at lunchtime. I thought we might take the opportunity of my-taking-this-class to play a bit of mixed sport? What do you all say?'

Tim stared at Ravana wishing his eyes could bore a cavity of hatred through her feeble chest.

She led them over to the netball courts. As they approached, some of the boys could see what was coming, like condemned men being led to the gallows, and began pleading with Dr Ravana, as seriously as if they were pleading for their lives.

'Please Miss, we have reputations to protect.'

'Please Miss, my legs aren't cut out for netball.'

'Please Dr Ravana, those girls are vicious. They'll have our eyes out with that ball.'

It was all to no avail and Tim and Danny soon found themselves on opposing sides of a netball court, trying to understand the obviously overcooked rules. Tim didn't understand he couldn't run with the ball in his possession, continually mistaking it for basketball. At one point he ran the whole length of the court, bouncing the ball between several girls' legs, before scoring a spectacular goal from behind his head. While running back he kept nodding cock-sure to all the lads, who exchanged triumphant high-fives with him. Ravana's shrill whistle halted his celebrations however, and reminded him his goal would not count.

There were some advantages. Danny was on the same side as Janna. While she had not spoken to him since he made a fool of himself last year, they developed an unspoken understanding on the netball court. They passed the ball between themselves neatly until Janna fluidly sank the ball through the hoop. She moved with ease in the damp autumn air. Almost detecting a smile from Janna when she scored, Danny smiled to himself as he walked back up the court. The possibility of a smile was enough to send his emotions soaring. The next thing he heard was a loud crack, and he felt a thudding pain in the back of his head as the netball bounced off it and away off the court. Danny fell to the ground, clutching his head.

'Ella Amur!'

Dr Ravana rushed to Danny.

'There, there – where does it hurt?' Ravana brought Danny to his feet slowly and began to walk him back to the changing room, but not before admonishing Ella.

'Ella Amur – my office now! Wait for me there. That was totally uncalled for.'

*

After PE, Danny and Tim wandered off to catch the last few minutes of break-time, although the impassable rain meant they had to spend it indoors. Having been completely blind-sided, Dannyasked Tim what he had seen on the netball court.

'I dunno mate, she just turned on you. For some reason. Threw the ball at your head. She was right behind you. There was no way she was gonna miss. Scary, huh?'

Danny rubbed the back of his head. It was still sore, but there was no longer bleeding, just a small rough patch in his hair where the ball had made contact.

'Does it hurt?' Tim asked.

'Only a bit. Not really.'

It hurt quite a bit, but Danny didn't want Tim to know. They wandered off to Home Economics, where Professor Carmione the cookery teacher gave them a lesson on poaching. Tim's eggs always seemed destined to split, but Danny managed to cook at least one beautifully poached egg. It looked perfect, until Cedric Claw came along with his knife ruthlessly stabbing anything that looked remotely like success.

At lunchtime Danny and Tim wandered off to find Amanita. She was lurking in the music room playing on the piano. She didn't hear them come in so Tim tip-toed up to her before placing his hands sharply on her shoulders. She jumped visibly out of her chair, before poking Tim in the ribs.

'What did you do that for?' she cried in mock annoyance.

'A bit of fun. What are you playing?' Tim replied unapologetically.

'Not that it's any of your business, it's a song from one of my mother's favourite albums if you must know,' Amanita said stroppily.

'Go on then play a bit then.'

Danny grabbed up a couple of stools and he and Tim sat down.

'Alright then, but you've both not got to laugh.'

Amanita launched into an absorbing plethora of rising and falling chords, the cadences and melody repeating as the notes dived and undulated. Danny thought he recognized the song from the radio but the title was stuck on the tip of his tongue. The melancholy tune altered the atmosphere in the room. Amanita could really play. When she talked about her music it was just banter, but to hear it echo round the small music room made everything she said seem deeper and more real. Danny kicked his stool in time, while Tim mimed mock words to Amanita's melodies. Not that Amanita could see; she totally lost herself to the music. When she finished, Bryn Straw walked in the room and headed for the corner where all the keyboards sat. He was about to put headphones on when Amanita called across to him.

'It's alright Bryn, I've finished now. You can use the piano if you want,' she offered.

'Are you sure? I don't mind the keyboards,' he replied politely, turning his head and acknowledging Danny.

'Yeah – that's fine. Go for it.'

Bryn wandered over to the piano, sat down and launched into a mellifluous song that rang round the hexagonal music room. Amanita stood watching admiringly before Tim and Danny dragged her off to an adjoining practice room in the corner. Tim pulled from his bag four huge beef and mustard sandwiches and a pack of blueberry doughnuts.

'My mum's made too much as usual. Anyone want one?' He offered the sandwiches and doughnuts round freely. Danny was glad as he'd forgotten to pack his lunch, being so preoccupied in remembering Amanita's list of tasks. Once they were all munching happily, and Tim's self-satisfied grunts had died down, Amanita pulled a clipboard and pen out of her bag. Mouth full, Tim saw the impending doom.

'Amanita – it'sh lunshtime! Foofdtime' Tim sprayed beef and mustard everywhere.

'Much as it is my displeasure to force you to utter words while eating...' and here she sucked the end of her pen delicately, '...I have to remind you that we have committed to produce a school newspaper in two weeks time, and things have to be done.' Tim groaned, but Amanita continued. 'You still haven't been up to the press room, have you?'

'It's at the back of Professor Pry's classroom – there's no way I'm setting foot into her den of torture unless I absolutely have to.'

'Well you will _absolutely have to_ tonight, as it's our first full meeting. However...' and Amanita's tone changed from her usual self-righteous to something guiltier, '...I would also like to have a preparatory meeting now. There is something I need to run past you both.'

'What?' Tim cried outloud, while Danny grabbed another doughnut and shoved it in Tim's mouth.

'Please go on Amanita.' Danny said.

'Thank you Danny.' Amanita replied. 'As I was saying, there is someone interested in writing for us, but she couldn't make it after school tonight, so I suggested she come along at lunch today and I...I mean, we...could explain the newspaper to her. I presume you have both done what I asked?'

Tim and Danny looked at each other with equal blankness. Tim mumbled something incomprehensible and began rooting in his bag for something, while Danny sat on his stool, turning bright red in the beam of Amanita's boiling gaze.

'Guys – this paper needs effort, on all our parts! It's a good job I've planned out the first edition, isn't it? Danny, the first five pages will be news and weather.'

'What! No page three girl?' Tim inquired hopefully and meeting a stony look in Amanita's eyes.

'The remaining five pages will consist of features, music and sport – to be divided as you wish Tim. No page six or seven girls either!'

Tim looked despondent.

'Right, she should be here by now. Danny, do you want to go and see if she's lurking in the music room?'

Succumbing to Amanita's demands without question yet again, Danny got off his stool and began to walk out of the practice room, still chewing on part of his doughnut, before remembering he'd forgotten something.

'Hang on a minute – who is it I'm looking for?'

'Oh sorry. It's Coco Romeo.'

When Danny re-entered the music room he discovered a curious scene. Bryn Straw was still playing the piano, a tune that reminded him of an early eighties song. Totally absorbed by the music, Bryn had no idea Coco Romeo was sat on a stool about ten feet behind him. She watched with a gaze that could only be described as utter adoration. At first she didn't spot Danny emerge from the practice room and Danny had time to see a look of complete submission in her light blue eyes. He recognized that was how he must look when gazing at Janna. Coco rubbed her hands together nervously and looked like she was willing herself to do something. To get the courage up to do something. Danny realized shouting out would crack the atmosphere irreparably. Instead he waited outside the practice room door until Coco spotted him, which she eventually did with an embarrassed sigh. Pulling herself together she walked over, greeted Danny and walked in, cheeks still flushing. Bryn was immersed in music but as Danny walked back in he caught Bryn glance over at him and smile knowingly.

Amanita briefed Coco briskly on the newspaper idea, while Tim and Danny sat silently like lemons trying to look like they knew what the hell Amanita was talking about. Coco understood quickly though, and was especially keen to get involved with the features for the newspaper.

'I think it's a great idea. I've got this idea for a feature on drama the school has put on in the past. My sister Christina was here a few years ago, and she saw some really fantastic plays, so she could always help me out with research and stuff,' Coco enthused.

'That's great. Do you think you'd be able to put something together for two weeks time?' Amanita asked, growing into her role as editor-in-chief.

'Oh yes, no problem,' Coco smiled. Tim and Danny looked alarmed at how well this exchange was going, and worried Coco was setting Amanita unrealistic expectations. Especially as neither of them thought they'd be able to get something done in two weeks' time.

The lessons pass like wine draining from the bottle. The illicit sips I stole when father wasn't looking. They filter delicious sweetness through my brain, lingering when my thoughts dwell on the natural world – a panoply of purple desire unable to extinguish itself no matter how hard it tries.

Literature is rich and has the power to distract me for long enough, to force the fear out with a flood of words. Language rolls round my mind like a crumbling sausage, liberating greasy letters attaching to neurons that will eventually fail. It hurts when they assume I don't notice their rolling eyes or easy dismissals. It catapults me into distress when they gather in huddles to gossip, knowing I am likely their subject or perhaps worse, that I am not.

**Dr Plum Chukchi**

After Bryn finished his piano practice the five of them wandered up to Dr Chukchi's classroom for their poetry lesson. As Amanita, Danny and Tim walked in, Bryn held back and barred Coco from entering. Alert to the idea they would witness some momentous gossip, the trio pressed their ears against the thin classroom walls to hear what Bryn would say to Coco.

'I...er...I just wanted to say, that I..I thought it was awful what Sonia Fox said about you in French...'

'That's alright Bryn, it wasn't your fault. I don't really take what they say seriously anyway.' Coco replied, taking all her concentration to keep her composure.

'Oh, well that's a shame because...because, I quite fancied having a secret liaison with you too, sometime, if you'd like to...'

Bryn's voice trailed off into nothingness. Danny could hear a terrible silence. He wondered whether Coco had perhaps fainted at the shock of hearing Bryn finally ask her out. Impatient to find out what had happened, he risked poking his head back out the door to get a quick peep. When he did he saw a heart-warming sight.

Coco reached up to Bryn (she appeared small compared to his height), and took his face in her dainty hands. She kissed him full on the lips with her little round mouth. Danny withdrew his head, his face blushing madly. Amanita and Tim pressed him to tell them what he'd seen.

'Snogging,' he replied simply. 'Unashamed snogging.'

'Well it's about bloody time!' Tim announced to the class, who didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about.

Seeing Coco and Bryn kiss suddenly brought back memories of him kissing Anjalie. The first time he had ever kissed a girl. It had been sweet. Nerve-wracking. A tingling sensation had passed through his entire body when her face had moved close. His lips had finally submitted and submerged themselves into hers. Then despondency had spread through him. He had wished it was Janna. If only she could see him for the kind, nice, friendly boy he aspired to be, and not the awkward, embarrassing, gangly geek he feared he really was. Life is a bastard, he thought.

Dr Chukchi glided into the room. She wore a clinging red dress and jet black tights. Tim shuddered in visual ecstasy as she seemed to float to her desk on a wave of male students' adulation. A few days older than twenty-five, Chukchi cast lascivious blue eyes around the class and each male student felt she was looking directly into their own heart.

'Hello class,' she began softly. 'I feel like I'm in the mood for something creative today. How does everyone else feel?'

Caught unawares by Chukchi's opener, the class remained silent.

'What's this class?' Chukchi continued in the same mellow voice. 'Lost your voice? Danny, darling – how do you feel about doing something creative?' Chukchi waved her delicate pale white hand at Danny.

'Um, yes. Something creative. Sounds good.' Danny mumbled quietly, stunned she had called him 'darling'. That was one for the memory bank. Chukchi flashed him a wide smile, exposing brilliantly pristine teeth beneath cochineal coloured lips.

'Luuuurrrvely,' she cooed tenderly. 'I think today we'll have a look at a little number composed by one of my favourite poets of all time – John Keats. Has anyone read any poems by Keats?'

Drifting smoothly through the aisles between the desks, Chukchi handed out photocopied sheets of paper, each with a poem written on one side. She skipped girlishly back to the front of the class.

'I would like us all to read the poem first before commenting...' she paused dramatically, '...upon it. We'll all take it in turns, one verse at a time. I will begin.'

In a barely audible voice Chukchi began reading the poem. Her speech fluttered exquisitely around the classroom, words dropping languidly into the ears of each student. When she finished the first verse Chukchi pointed a red varnished fingernail at Tim to begin the second. Danny looked down at his piece of paper. The poem was called 'Ode to a Nightingale'. He had never heard it before but then again he had never heard of John Keats before. Tim began reading loudly and clearly. When Tim had finished reading, she pointed again, indicating Danny this time. Danny cleared his throat and began reading.

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget

What thou among the leaves hast never known,

The weariness, the fever, and the fret

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;

Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs,

Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;

Danny paused, swallowing a gulp of breath, before continuing.

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow

And leaden-eyed despairs;

Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,

Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Danny stopped, wondering how such a small passage had made him feel exhausted. The words seemed to dominate him as they resonated around his mind. They expressed a hidden unity Danny couldn't put his finger on. The rhythm of words spoken with regular beats and breaks made him feel sleepy and at peace. Dr Chukchi smiled at Danny almost pityingly before pointing at Florence Croft to continue reading. She progressed through the rest of the fourth-year class, each reading a different verse, until finally Chukchi read the last verse aloud herself. She added a dramatic flourish to the last two lines.

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

Fled is that music – Do I wake or sleep?

Unfortunately for Dr Chukchi her flourish didn't pay off in the way she intended. Appropriately enough Cedric Claw's head had sunk on his desk between two strewn arms while he slept soundly. He began to snore. However instead of shouting at him to wake up however, Chukchi walked silently to Cedric's desk and placed her hand affectionately on his blond head. Slowly Cedric began to come round, murmuring to himself.

'Hmm that was nice, wasn't it Cedric?' Chukchi burbled softly in his ear, her lips so close to his lobe they left a trace of red lipstick on the soft skin.

'Yes. Lovely.' replied Cedric, still half-asleep.

'Good. Please see me after class,' she returned, again into his ear. Before returning to her desk she kissed him, leaving a light red imprint on his sallow cheek. Cedric came to immediately, rousing himself on his chair. He touched his cheek at which several other boys in class now looked enviously.

'I would like all students who read a verse aloud, to spend some time working out what they think that particular part of the poem means. The rest of you, I would like you to work on an individual interpretation of the whole poem. Please remember that there are no wrong or right answers in this exercise.'

Chukchi sat down, and began marking the huge pile of exercise books on her desk that threatened to tower over and fall upon her.

Danny began touching his cheek, even though it hadn't been kissed. He didn't want to work on an interpretation on his verse. He wanted to run up to Dr Chukchi and kiss her full on the lips. He wanted to embrace her in his arms, and stroke her soft dark hair. He wanted to run his fingers down her slender white arms. He wanted to tell her he loved her. And then Amanita spoke, shattering his fantasy.

'Miss, I'm having trouble with a particular line of the poem. Could you help me please?'

'Of course,' Chukchi soothed eloquently. 'Which line is it?'

' "I have been half in love with easeful Death" ' Amanita said humbly and unostentatiously. 'How can someone be in love with death? Surely there is something wrong with the man? He wants to die? Why?'

Dr Chukchi breathed a long slow breath, and exhaled deeply.

'Oh Amanita, that is part of the tragedy of man!' she said dramatically, and cryptically. 'Have you never thought about death, dear?'

'Er no, not really. I guess I've never had to. Surely death is a bad thing?' Amanita said, confused at Chukchi, but clear in her own mind. Chukchi smiled.

'What do you think Keats is trying to say by calling death "easeful"?' she said slowly.

'I really don't know miss. Perhaps he thinks it's the easy option?' Amanita said hopefully.

'Oh my dear Amanita, you are yet wise beyond your years.' Chukchi said mysteriously before retiring once again to her desk.

Amanita looked round at Tim and Danny, who like her shrugged their shoulders, equally perplexed.

When the lesson was over Tim caught up with Danny in the corridor as they watched Bryn and Coco walk off hand in hand.

'Isn't that beautiful? True love. I told you mate, didn't I?'

Danny didn't say a word. He was already thinking about Janna, and what he would give to have with her what Coco now had with Bryn. At one point Janna and Danny had been friends. There had been so much potential for what could have been. She had even nicknamed him 'Dancan', in an abbreviation of his first and last names. "If anyone can, Dancan", she had joked when they were friends. "If you've got a problem that no-one else can help you with, Dancan!" That had all been before his secret leaked out and he had foolishly blundered on and asked her to be his girlfriend. Might she have assented had he waited longer? Might she have melted into his arms if only he had used the right words? Words were annoying little fuckers. They obstructed everything. He had no way of telling what words really meant when your back was turned. Nothing seemed fair when words had to be trusted. Quiet, silent thoughts – they were the perfectly formed bodies he would invest in. Nobody could interfere with them. Nobody.

Amanita appeared next to Tim and Danny. She too watched Bryn and Coco walk off in the distance.

'She's a very pretty girl, isn't she?' she said fondly, before changing tack completely. 'Right, you two – upstairs to the Press Room! We've got our first meeting NOW,' Amanita declared excitedly.

They climbed up the steps on Spiral Two, Tim groaning under the weight of his bag which now bulged awkwardly with his PE kit. When they reached Professor Pry's classroom Pry was still inside, tidying up her already excessively neat desk and packing a handful of essays into her bag.

'Oh no Amanita! The old bag is still in there!' Tim whispered. 'We can't go in yet – can't we hide until she leaves?' He stopped to turn around, but Amanita pushed him forward.

'Don't be ridiculous. She's just a teacher, and she's given us permission _remember_!' Slowly, and extremely tentatively Tim pushed the door open to Pry's classroom. Pry immediately looked up and Tim froze, as if Pry were Medusa herself.

'Um...we were...we were just...um...Amanita?' he looked round helplessly at Amanita. Luckily Amanita had the presence of mind to push her way to the front.

'We're just going to use the room upstairs now Professor, if that's okay with you?'

Amanita spoke in a mock-confident voice, shaking inside but performing an excellent rear-guard action on her outward appearance. Pry nodded and the three of them bundled themselves quickly to the back of the class and scrambled through the green door which stood ajar. Once safely upstairs, and out of earshot of Pry, Danny pulled some chairs together while Amanita switched on the computer and began playing with some settings. However Tim, having not seen this room before, strolled round inspecting his surroundings. The floor was still dusty, and cobwebs hung on the beams in the corner of the room. A dank musty smell floated on the stale air and a pile of old books rested in the nearest corner from where they had come in, behind the door.

'If we got rid of all the junk in here this would make a decent games room. Pool table over there,' Tim pointed with one arm, 'Table football over there', he pointed with his other arm, 'and a big TV and DVD player in the middle. What do you think Amanita?'

Amanita rolled her eyes, whilst still fiddling with the computer.

'Anyway, who is this other "mystery" person who is supposed to be joining us?'

At that very moment there was a knock at the door. Amanita leapt up from her chair and screamed feverishly 'Come in!'.

The door opened, and in walked Janna Chisely, looking as demure as the pallid glow from the autumn leaves.

'Hello!' she said in a friendly voice. Danny, who had been arranging the chairs around Amanita's computer, nearly stumbled over the leg of the table and it took all his remaining composure and balance to stay upright.

'Hi,' nodded Tim, before continuing his examination of the room. Goggle-eyed, Danny immediately sat down beside Amanita and desperately tried to control his leg which for the obvious reason had begun shaking.

In the meeting Amanita covered what she'd already told Tim and Danny a few days before. Janna seemed particularly keen to become involved in writing news stories, and asked a few questions about the type of news stories they would cover.

'I've thought about journalism. It's one possible career when I leave school, just like my sister.'

Summoning his remaining courage, which wasn't much, Danny decided to ask her a question.

'So, er, like, what does your sister do?'

Janna turned to him and looked directly into his dark brown eyes. Danny's leg shook increasingly faster. When she spoke her tone was nothing like what he had expected. She was polite, almost shy.

'She writes for _The Observer_ in London. She has a wonderful time! I've been down to their offices – very fancy! Who knows? Maybe she'll give me a job when I'm older!' Janna enthused.

Danny was struck by how different the Janna in this room was from the Janna he had asked out at the end of last term, and even the Janna who had turned her nose up at him in Maths earlier that week. She seemed chatty, and willing to speak to Danny. However Danny was afraid to test it further, partly for fear of the old embarrassment rearing its ugly head, and partly for fear she would close his conversation down quickly. A second rejection would be too much to bear, and likely to prove fatal to, if not his life, any remaining social standing he held in school.

When Amanita had asked her questions, berated Tim for his lack of effort, and praised Danny for thinking through possible advertising options, she finished up the meeting.

'Thank you for coming. I should remind you we will need to recruit more people to write for us, especially if we are going to issue a half-decent first edition in the next few weeks. Professor Pry has offered to help us in arranging the printing of the paper – so all we have to do is write, and lay out the paper! Tim – can I get you to write music and sports stories, and recruit some more writers? Danny and Janna – I would like you two to work together on the news side of things. Oh and horoscopes, very important. Can we meet here this time next week?'

'I thought we were going to get pizza?' Tim interrupted, absentmindedly.

'Ooh – I've got to run,' said Janna breezily, before adding, 'Danny – could I have a quick word?' raising her eyebrows to indicate she wanted it in private.

'Sure,' said Danny flatly, his leg now uncontrollable. All the blood rushed from his head and he found that putting one foot in front of the other now required great concentration. On his way to the door he whispered in Amanita's ear, 'Why didn't you tell me it was her?'

'Would you have still come along if I had?' Amanita whispered back.

'Good point.'

Danny walked down with Janna, as she started to put on her coat. Danny's heart sank – what was she going to say? That just because they were now working together on the paper, he shouldn't get any ideas about her? That there was no way on earth she would go out with him? That she thought he was an illiterate uneducated blot on humanity? Maybe he should just jump off the tower now and save her the effort of having to dismiss him twice.

'I just wanted to tell you that I was so sorry Ella threw that ball at your head. I hope you weren't hurt too much?' she said, her eyes as innocent as the blue sky.

Shocked as much by his overwhelming relief as by Janna's question, Danny managed to mumble a few quiet words in response.

'Um...no, no, just a scratch.' Finally he added a vague 'Thanks, anyway.'

Smiling at him curiously, she walked out of Pry's classroom and down Spiral Two until he could no longer see her. Blimey, Danny thought. Janna actually said something nice to him. He could hardly believe it. When he wandered back up to the Press Room, Tim was already on his phone ordering pizza, while Amanita was busy typing something in the computer.

'What do you want Danny? Ham and pineapple? Spicy chicken? Lots of chillies? Oh hello, yes I'd like to order pizza to St Oliver Plunket's school. Where is it? It's in Amberleigh castle.' Tim raised his arms in exasperation to Amanita and Danny. 'Yes, we'd like one cheese feast and two spicy chicken. Oh and a bottle of Pepsi. Oh and some Ben and Jerry's. Oh and some garlic bread. With some onion rings too. Thanks. Twenty minutes? Great.' Tim hung up, and turned round to face Danny and Amanita who were both staring at him, astonished at Tim's greed.

'Do you really need all that extra food?' Amanita admonished.

'I'm a growing lad!,' Tim defended. 'Besides, Danny'll help me polish it all off. Shame Janna couldn't stay, eh Danny.'

Tim winked cheekily at Danny. Shaking his head at Tim's lack of subtlety Danny sat down beside Amanita and watched her set out the pages of the newspaper on the blinking screen. After a while Tim wandered down to the gates to pick up the pizza, leaving Amanita and Danny alone. Outside the colour was beginning to fade from the sky and streetlamps were lighting up along the promenade that lined Amberleigh beach.

'She doesn't hate me then?'

'Of course she doesn't hate you, Danny. No-one could really hate you Danny – you're not the type of person that anyone could hate.' Amanita said kindly. 'Annoyed at, possibly,' she added, before Danny's head could grow too much.

'Cheers,' Danny said, without really meaning it.

He walked over to the window and looked out. On the ledge creeped the omnipresent dark green moss. He watched Tim exchange money with the pizza delivery girl before returning inside with three flat cardboard boxes and a bulging bag of extra food. From here there was a magnificent vista out across Amberleigh bay. If Danny looked hard enough he could just see his house Dunkinley, popping up on the brow of a hill.

Something distracted his attention. Danny's glance shifted from the romantic lamplight of Amberleigh promenade to the pounding waves and surf roiling out there in the dark. There were no lamps in the sea, but there was some source of light shining. Surely not – _it couldn't be?_ What looked like flames were skipping across – _it couldn't be? – it was!_ Deep red and yellow flames were burning out in the ocean. Maybe it was a boat in trouble? He turned to Amanita.

'Hey Amanita, come and look at this! Quick!' Rising from her computer terminal, she ambled slowly to the window.

'What is it?'

'It's fire... in the ocean. Look – there!' But where he pointed his finger there was just deep blue and black sea. All the flames had disappeared.

'What? I don't see anything,' Amanita murmured. Confused, Danny scratched the back of his head, which was becoming sore again.

'I don't understand – it was there a minute ago. I'm positive there was a big eruption of flames right near Watershoot! It looked like a boat in trouble. I'm not going mad! Honestly!'

But there were no flames burning now, and neither of them could see any boat. Disappointed, Danny sank down on the window ledge, still staring out into the sea in case the fire reappeared, but there was nothing.

Tim walked in carrying steaming boxes of pizza, and a half-eaten garlic bread. Amanita looked at him sternly.

'Sorry. I got hungry on the way up. That pizza delivery girl was cute!'

Danny couldn't get the words out fast enough.

'Tim did you see any fire out in the ocean when you were collecting the pizza?'

'The only fire was in my stomach – a fire of hunger.' Tim said, opening up one of the boxes and taking the biggest slice of pizza out.

'This is serious – I just saw what looked like a boat in trouble. On fire!'

'No I didn't see anything mate. Sorry. I didn't hear anything either. Apart from my stomach rumbling.'

They sat for a while, eating pizza and discussing possible news stories. Amanita thought they should have something respectable on the front page, to prove to the teachers they wouldn't abuse the power they had been given. Unsurprisingly, Tim thought they should have some dramatic and scandalous story emblazoned across the front, in big red letters if at all possible. His ineloquent argument concentrated on trying to get enough students to read the paper, and wanting them to become involved. Danny wouldn't admit it aloud, but he saw a point in Tim's argument. The time flew by and before long the school caretaker Dunstan Blackbuck had climbed up to their attic press room, to inform them he would be locking up the school gates soon.

'Cheers mate – we'll just tidy up for you' said Tim.

'All in good time, sir. I don't want to hurry you. The river of life is long and varied, and sometimes things take longer than we think. Please take as much time as you need, and please don't worry about tidying up. I will be sure to tidy before I leave tonight. Goodnight sirs, and miss,' Dunstan said, scratching occasionally on his small white beard.

Dunstan wandered back down the stairs, and they heard his footsteps echo quieter and quieter until they were indistinct against the reassuring rumble and swish of the sea outside.

They said there was a secret river, a hidden spring running underground. But what do they know? It's the waves on the beach against the rocks crashing sand turning tides that pulls me in.

**Beach Party**

The weekend arrived like a cushion floating on a pool of water. Danny felt excited at the prospect of getting his homework out of the way and spending some time enjoying the last of the dwindling summer. Lying beneath his duvet in Dunkinley, Danny's small seaside home, he reached out a lazy arm to pick up his brand new mobile phone and turn it on. Placing it back on his bedside table, he rolled back over and stared quietly at his poster of Marilyn Monroe. An electronic beep rang out. He picked up his phone again, and read his first text message.

Party on the beach later on this afternoon. Catch the last of the summer sun. Join us? We'll be there at 2. Amanita xx

Danny clumsily grabbed at his watch. Fumbling ungracefully, it fell on the floor. Grumbling, he reluctantly arose from his bed and picked it up. It was 11am already. He pressed a text message manically into his phone, to reply to Amanita.

Should b able 2 make it. CU xx

The message would probably annoy her, Danny thought lazily. Amanita hated both uncertainty and text-speak. Language was for experiencing in full, she kept saying. After showering Danny wandered downstairs to find his father and sister had already had breakfast, left him a note and ventured into Amberleigh. Shrugging his shoulders to the empty room he made toast and fixed a glass of orange juice. Turning on the television an early morning sports programme blinked into life, and Danny curled up on the sofa to watch. It was presented by an attractive blonde lady, with shiny lips and a large chest. Sighing to himself that here was another woman he could only dream of making love to, he finished his toast and lay back. He couldn't help thinking of Anjalie and Janna. What had happened? In the bright light of Saturday morning events from the past week seemed surreal. He had not spoken to Anjalie since their meeting in the corridor when she had told him she was pregnant. Was it his? He hadn't been given a chance to ask.

The sun shone through the kitchen window, throwing pallid beige shapes on the sparkling white floor. Danny's father, William, must have cleaned it before going out.

Grabbing jacket and sunglasses Danny locked up the house and walked out into alluring sunshine. Dazzlingly sunny, Danny stood for a moment amid the resplendent rays bathing the back of his neck and warming his spine. He breathed in deeply and smelt the wafts of sea breeze combine with tempting aromas of frying onions and burgers from down the hill. Walking into Amberleigh, the opposite direction from Plunket's, Danny allowed his whirring brain to overtake the gentleness the weather had created. It was good to be alone for a change. All week he felt homework pressures, Amanita's _Oracle_ demands and the school football game bearing down on him. Despite the _Oracle_ , only Amanita was able to help him shed light on the way he felt about Anjalie. Was he growing angry at the way she turned on and trapped him? Was it a trick?

He wandered into the local record shop, Dreamland Discs, where Bryn Straw had a Saturday job. Glancing through the chart, Danny picked up a few albums and browsed the track lists. Local Amberleigh band Verdant Shack had released a new album. After perusing the other albums on offer Danny resolved to give Verdant Shack a go and took the album up to the counter. Bryn was unpacking some boxes with his back to Danny.

'Hi Bryn.'

Bryn turned around.

'Good effort this. My mate's the singer – just about to do a UK tour.' Bryn said, taking the CD from him and scanning it.

'Great,' Danny replied. 'How's your own music going?'

'Fantastic. I'm working on this new song. Very bluesy and soulful. Quite different from my usual stuff.'

Bryn wrapped the CD in a bag and handed it to Danny with his receipt. Danny had a thought – why not extend the invite?

'Hey what time do you get off? You don't fancy coming down to the beach later? Amanita's having a party,' Danny asked.

'Yeah, sure.' Bryn said easily. 'I can make it after five. How's that? Can I bring someone?' Bryn asked, and Danny smiled.

'Yeah – that should be fine. It will be good to see Coco too. See you later.'

As morning gave way to lunchtime in Amberleigh, the sun reached its zenith in the sky, beating down heavily on the early afternoon shoppers. At the moment he was about to return home to get changed for the beach party, Danny spotted Anjalie Marjoram walking out of a shop. Momentarily thinking he would run up to her and try speaking with her again, he saw she was not alone. Squish Ambrose emerged from the shop behind her and, walking in the opposite direction, they reached for each other's hands, which they held, fixed and united for a moment, before Squish put his arm around her. With his heart in his mouth, Danny staggered backwards. He would have lost his footing had there not been someone behind him to prevent him falling over.

'Alright mate, have a nice trip?'

It was Tim.

'Oh...hiya.'

Danny was still stunned at seeing Squish and Anjalie together. It had only been a week since they had... and now she was already onto...seeing someone else. None of it made any sense!

'Well that's a bit of a poor greeting. Want to try again mate?' Tim asked humouring himself, and facing down Danny's stern gaze .

'Look Tim, do you know if there's anything going on between Anjalie and Squish?' Danny said, confused and frustrated.

'Well...no not really. Unless you mean the fact that they're now boyfriend and girlfriend.' Danny looked at Tim. 'What's it to you anyway?' Deciding to change tack quickly, Danny said, in a completely calm tone of voice,

'No reason. So you coming to Amanita's party then?'

'Suppose so. Not like I've got anything better to do. Need to get back before five though. Football results!' Tim smiled.

Slowly they drifted away from town and ambled back to Danny's house to get ready the last beach party of the year.

*

At half past three precisely Tim and Danny strolled down the gritty gravel path, littered with flourishing green palms either side, towards the golden sands of Amberleigh beach. The sun, a radiating orange beacon in a light lavender sky still beat down rays with effortless persistence, and they both listened for the gentle fizz and slosh of the ocean as they drew closer to the beach entrance.

Amanita sat with a couple of others, eating what looked to be the remains of a rather large picnic. Swivelling round she saw Tim and Danny and waved. Danny returned her wave. He thought he saw something different about Amanita but couldn't put his finger on what. With sunglasses on and desperately trying to look the definition of cool, Tim averted his glance to the heavens, as if some far more compelling drama were being played out among the clouds. The pair walked over and collapsed joyfully on the large tartan rug on which Amanita sat. Her two friends lay either side of her, apparently trying to cultivate a tan in the early Autumn sun. Danny saw the two friends were Olive Spritser and Saffelia Forrest. While relaxing under the rays they giggled softly to each other about something.

'Any food left Walmer?' Tim said passionately trying to rid his voice of anything that could be construed as enthusiasm. Amanita passed him a scotch egg, which Tim happily munched on while Danny took his shoes off.

'Good day Amanita?' Danny asked.

'Lovely thanks. Went to Slick Nicks this morning...' both Saffelia and Olive giggled loudly, '...to get my hair cut. Like it?'

That was the difference. He didn't know what until she had said. Her hair was now curved round her face, in blonde and fair brown wisps. It gave her a modern, chopped, no-nonsense look and suited her.

'Yes. It's nice. It reminds me of Molly Ringwald in _Sixteen Candles_.' Amanita beamed. 'Fancy a paddle?' Danny asked.

'I can't. I've just done my toenails Danny. Hey, you two fancy a paddle with Danny?' Amanita shouted at the other two.

Danny blushed at Amanita's bold question. Saffelia shook her head slowly still giggling, but to Danny's surprise Olive got up and said,

'Come on then. Race you to the sea.'

Without another word, Olive ran off. Danny followed tentatively behind, glancing back at Tim who shrugged his shoulders as he dipped a half-eaten baguette into a tub of taramasalata. Once in the sea, Danny felt the familiar, refreshing coolness wash round his ankles. This close to the ocean, the soft wet sand underfoot crumbled every time he took a step forward. Olive was already in up to her knees and waving Danny to join her. Before he did, Danny looked along the line of coast that stretched away from him. There was a magnificent view of the beach from here. He was surprised by how few people had taken advantage of the fine weather. Switching his gaze to the headland on which Amberleigh Castle stood, he watched the water crash against the rock. Numerous small caves dotted about the bottom of the headland, meeting the ocean with tiny shelters. Danny saw the sea crash into some of them and rebound out onto the calmer surface outside. Some of the caves looked pitch black. In their swirling tempest some waves continued their inward journey, as if pulled by an invisible current.

There was a powerful tug on his knees, and before he could react Danny was face down in three inches of salty sea. Olive had sneaked up behind him and tripped him with a swift trailing leg, slowed only by the rushing water. In playful retaliation, Danny got up gingerly and lunged at Olive's legs. He did not mean to grab her so hard. He found her mid-riff instead and managed to pull down her shorts as he fell again into the water, face first. Olive stopped laughing.

'That's not funny!' she bellowed pulling up her shorts as fast as she could, and stomping up the beach. Huge clouds of sand billowed from the backs of her feet as she hurried away. Danny couldn't help smiling to himself. She had started it, he thought.

Standing in the sea for a few minutes, Danny allowed the sea to wash round his feet and toes. Looking down at the pale green sand through translucent shallows he noticed a glint of gold. Bending over slightly, Danny looked closer to discover a ring embedded in the sand. Kneeling down so his upper thighs touched the cool surface of the sea, he fished the ring out of the sand and rubbed off the grit and stones. It looked like an engagement ring. Gold all the way round, with what appeared to be seven deep red rubies set in at various points. It could have been worth a thousand pounds. It could have been worth nothing at all He put it in his pocket and walked back up the beach. Perhaps he would tell Amanita later on when they were alone. Perhaps he wouldn't say anything at all.

The afternoon flew by. Saffelia and Tim played each other at cards, Tim winning each time. Saffelia begged him to tell him how he managed it, but Tim being Tim he just winked and said, 'Deal again.' Danny thought Tim secretly liked the attention but knew he would never admit it. Olive had forgiven Danny for pulling down her shorts and helped him enact his penance by continuously throwing sand in his face at random intervals during the sun-baked afternoon. Amanita was reading a book. Danny stretched his neck and turned his head upside down to read the title.

' _Villette_? What's it about? Hang on it's by that infernal Brontë woman!'

'Danny Canterbury! I thought you liked Charlotte Brontë! Anyway, it's good. Similar to _Jane Eyre_. Full of strong women.'

'I think I'll give it a miss thanks. I've got my hands full with one Brontë let alone two of them,' Danny said.

Soon the sunset was upon them. Tim and Saffelia went to fetch burgers and drinks, and Olive lay on the rug lightly dozing. Danny looked out at the settling ocean, now still as a mill pond. The tranquil evening made him feel utterly serene. He glanced at Amanita. She sobbed quietly.

'What's the matter? Amanita?' Danny said.

Amanita said nothing, but wiped away her tears. Danny thought it best not to push further. Perhaps something she'd read in her book? The things that upset Amanita were unlike the things that upset other people, like him and Tim. By the time Tim and Saffelia returned with food she'd wiped her face and was wearing a broad smile, if appearing a little tired. Tim and Saffelia were not alone. Bryn Straw and Coco Romeo were with them, holding hands and smiling irresistibly.

The evening wore on into inky darkness. The persistent sound of the ocean brushing its peripheries on the sand made the seven friends relax. Soon they were chatting amiably about summer holidays and had forgotten schoolwork. As eleven o'clock struck Coco and Bryn got up to go, and Saffelia and Olive walked down along the beach to hail a taxi home. Saffelia couldn't resist a last look at Tim, although he was too busy admiring the reflection of himself in his sunglasses to notice her. Soon he too stalked off along the beach, as the dark fell with only moonlight from which his precious eyes needed protection. As he went he bemoaned loudly into the night the fact he'd missed the football results.

As Danny helped throw out the rubbish and pack up Amanita's rug, she wondered aloud about the seeming lack of news for the _Oracle_.

'What if we end up with a blank front page? Everyone will think we're stupid. What if it all goes wrong!' she said, panicked.

'Don't worry,' said Danny. 'I am sure something will turn up in time,' he added in a consoling tone, not knowing how accurate his last comment would prove to be.

*

'He's dead! He's dead! He's dead!'  
From eight o'clock Cedric Claw and Edmund Cloves

had run round the school shouting wildly, letting anyone and everyone know. Since then the gossip had spiralled out of control in the Plunket's playground, spreading like wildfire, touching several new groups of students as each minute passed. Danny was tired after staying up late the previous night watching a television drama about a bomb attack in America. As he walked up to Amanita and Tim sipping a coffee, he read instantly the alarm and fear on their faces.

'What is it?'

Amanita, too shocked to speak, could only watch Tim break to Danny the rapidly spreading news.

'Dr Woodbridge died at the weekend.'

*

Nigel Planks walked proudly into Plunket's reception and strode, grinning from ear to ear, to the desk. As part of a school experiment to give students more experience greeting members of the general public, Planks was greeted by a particularly snotty second-year student called Lucas. Mr Planks adjusted his large purple tie across his white and blue checked shirt. He smiled widely at Lucas before speaking.

'Would you be so kind as to direct me to the headmaster's office please? My name is Mr Planks, I have come to inspect the quality of teaching in this educational establishment.'

Planks looked around almost disparagingly at his surroundings. Lucas noticed. He looked up at Mr Planks with intimidated awe. Planks beamed, until he saw the child wipe his nose thickly on the sleeve of his school blazer. Mr Planks turned his head away in disgust. The child raised his arm, displaying rivulets of mucus sticking to his sleeve as he pointed down the corridor.

'At the end of the corridor go through the double doors and it's the first room on your left,' he said, his voice full of cold.

'Thank you,' said Mr Planks not smiling this time, before striding as purposefully as he could muster from reception and to Professor Flambeau's office.

Danny Canterbury sat on the chair beside reception. He had watched Planks' entrance and exit with quiet interest. When he heard of Woodbridge's demise he had uncharacteristically fainted with shock. Amanita and Tim had helped him back on his feet before Professor Carmione assisted him inside school, sat him down and gone to fetch a glass of water.

So, there was now an inspector wandering around the school. Danny wondered whose class would be the first to receive an inspection and, both ominously and deliciously, which teacher would be the first to flounder.

*

Danny's first question was answered during the opening lesson of the week with Professor Wonder. Planks entered mid-lesson, interrupting one of Wonder's ebullient sentences, walking proudly to an empty desk at the back of the class before sitting down, his wide grin fixed immovable to his broad face. Professor Wonder paused in apparent confusion at the intruder. Danny looked at Amanita, a faint smile growing in his soul and Amanita returned a swift two eyes back at Danny to confirm her own intrigue. Both secretly hoped drama would occur and they were not disappointed.

With the agility of an alley cat, Professor Wonder leapt up onto students' desks, jumping from desk to desk to the back of the classroom where Planks sat. Frightened students crouched under the tables until Wonder had leapt from their shaking worktops. As he landed on Planks' desk, Mr Planks stood up. So did every other student, now craning their necks to get a good view of the imminent exchange between the two men.

'And who might you be?' bellowed Professor Wonder loudly, yet cheerfully.

'I, sir, am Mr Nigel Planks, member of the Regional Schools Inspection Board, holder of an honorary inspectorate degree from the Polytechnic of Portsmouth and chair of the Amberleigh campaign to replace inadequate teachers with new and improved school ambassadors. You may address as me Mr Planks, or by my professional title, The Guru of Educational Quality.'

Although trying to appear composed Planks delivered his response hurriedly and in one breath. Professor Wonder stared at him with cold hard eyes, until he burst into a fit of giggles, echoed by the rest of the students. With not another word to Mr Planks, Wonder walked back to the front of the class and continued teaching. Planks turned bright red, and sat back down.

As Wonder cracked into the lesson, Saffelia Forrest scribbled furiously onto a scrap of paper, before passing it on to Olive Spritser who read it, and then gasped audibly before passing it to Hazel Brock who did the same. However, when Hazel attempted to pass it Florence Croft, Wonder, who was walking down the aisle at the time, and apparently looking the other way swooped his hand down upon Florence, snatching the scrap of paper from her grasp before she had a chance to read it. He opened up the folded paper, studied it for a moment before smiling curiously and, to the amazement of the students, placed it back onto Timothy Gaunt's desk and said casually,

'Pass it on, Gaunt.'

Tim read it and passed it to Danny. When Danny opened it he read the short sentence hesitantly, as he knew Professor Wonder was watching them all, and he too could not help uttering a profound gasp when he read the words.

Dr Woodbridge was murdered.

As Danny passed the note on to the desk behind him, Professor Wonder started to speak. Mr Planks appeared disconcerted at the unfolding commotion in front of him.

'Class, what happened to Dr Adam Woodbridge is a tragedy. All of our thoughts should be with his wife and his two exceptional daughters, Candi and Maple, at this time.'

Wonder paused for a moment, looking round at the shocked and worried expressions on the faces in front of him. Mr Planks fidgeted in his seat, and seemed to want to get up but couldn't quite manage it. Wonder continued.

'I do not believe in keeping secrets from my students. It is true the police are investigating Dr Woodbridge's death as a murder. Professor Flambeau will address the whole school in an assembly following this lesson, but I would like to say this to you now: while we should not be unnecessarily alarmed by this terrible tragedy, I would urge you all to exercise to a little caution as you travel to and from your lessons, across the school, and around Amberleigh.'

As Tim and Danny pushed themselves into the crowded corridor after Wonder's lesson, Amanita sidled up to them both and whispered between them.

'What do you think Wonder meant by that? "A little caution in school"? I know it's terrible that Woodbridge has died but what has it got to do with us. I mean, we're not in danger are we?' she said, her eyes flashing with excitement at the prospect of danger.

Tim shook his head blankly while Danny tried to clear a way to St Basil's Hall for the assembly.

Once at the entrance to St Basil's, they were met with slow-moving masses of people. Many students were already seated in front of the staff platform and Flambeau's lectern. All the staff were present including caretaker Dunstan Blackbuck. Danny noticed that Dr Drum looked as pale as a sheet. Professor Flambeau stood at the front of the lectern, clearly impatient to begin the assembly. Amanita, Tim and Danny quickly found a trio of vacant seats at the back of the hall and watched the rest of the students file in slowly. Soon there were more people than chairs, and the remaining students found themselves standing at the back, sitting on desks and leaning against doors.

Flambeau breathed in deeply. From the back of the hall Danny thought he looked like a tiny sandy-haired dwarf, with a sandy-haired moustache, in front of the huge mass of uniformed pupils.

'Students and teachers, a terrible event has occurred.'

Flambeau took another deep breath, audible in the dramatic silence created by his pause, as he gazed intermittently at various students.

'By now I am sure most of you are aware that a member of teaching staff here at St Oliver Plunket's, sadly passed away at the weekend.

'Dr Woodbridge was a loyal and excellent teacher, who inspired many young people to develop skills and indeed careers in one of the noblest professions there is, by using their hands. All the students who were taught by him knew him to be a quiet yet charismatic teacher, who helped everyone he could, even those who perhaps were less deserving than others.'

Several students looked at each other. Flambeau again moved his gaze round the room, like a tractor beam, before continuing.

'We will all miss Dr Woodbridge from this school. I remember when I first met the Doctor as a young man, fresh from carpentry school. He was a diffident man, quietly spoken yet deep down extremely confident in his own abilities. He proved a great asset to the school, and we shall all have to hope the school's reputation is not diminished by his loss.'

'That is all I wish to say about Dr Woodbridge. Those students due to be taught by him today are exempt from lessons. A counsellor will be on hand in my office, for students to speak to should they so wish. Thank you. You are dismissed.'

The students began filing out again. Amanita turned to Danny and tapped him on the shoulder.

'Hey, Flambeau didn't even mention that Woodbridge was murdered. We don't know if it has got anything to do with the school or not? We could all be in danger!'

'Always looking for a news story eh Amanita? Don't you think that's a bit extreme?' said Tim, looking at his untied shoes and thinking about the bag of crisps in his form room desk.

Amanita offered Tim a stern look before linking arms with Danny and leading him out of the hall with her.

He was funny today, watching her as he usually does when he thinks no-one is looking. But someone is always looking. I am looking. She tosses her hair too much but she is sweet – I can see what he sees in her. Would he see it in me, if I tossed my hair in the same way? I can't do it though. I don't have the energy or the inclination or the skill. Still, it would be nice – it would be wonderful to hear that he was looking at someone else for a change. Looking at me.

The Visitation

After lunch Danny walked down the corridor towards Spiral Two, and saw a distinctive figure approach in the distance. It was no use. Even when he managed to fool himself for the briefest millisecond he had not recognized her, he still loved her. It was impossible to avoid being struck by the simple beauty of the tall and elegant, blonde-haired girl. The butterflies roused in his stomach, lurching from side to side and making Danny feel sick. Trying to think quickly of acceptable words he might say to her, he only succeeded in scrambling his thoughts. Inappropriate images of a photo of himself snogging Janna on the front page of the _Oracle_ rushed in and out of his conscious mind. That would be headline news.

'How are you Danny? Did you have a nice weekend?', she said airily.

Nice. She's just being nice. Remember that.

'Er...yes thanks. I went to a party on the beach with Amanita and Tim was there as well so it wasn't just us two and I played in the sea with Olive Spritser and managed to accidentally pull her shorts down but I didn't mean to...'

Danny's voice faded into silence. He could feel flames burning red in his cheeks. He looked at Janna's confused face and his heart sank. He tried again.

'How was your weekend?'

'Oh wonderful, thanks. I went to the coast with my Mum and Dad and my boyfriend. It was great. We went to a theme park...,' she said lightly, and her voice trickled off into the morning air.

She could have said anything after that and Danny would not have heard it. Janna continued talking, but none of it really mattered any more to Danny. Those two simple words had struck a piercing cavity in his soul through which air now seemed to gush. "My boyfriend." How could she? How could she lead him on like that? Just when he was getting somewhere? Or thought he had got somewhere. He realised all he had gained was her forgiveness, and even that was fragile to the point of rocky.

He managed to catch her last sentence before his burning cheeks gave him away.

'Are you coming along to English?' she asked.

'Yeah. Okay. Lead the way. Just out of interest Janna, who is your boyfriend?'

'Cedric Claw.'

Dragging his feet along like lead weights attached to his heart by metal strings, Danny made it to Professor Pry's classroom. He had avoided embarrassing himself further by staring fixedly out the spiral windows on which crawled the deep green and brown Amberleigh moss.

Professor Pry stood at the front of the full and silent classroom, poised on tiptoes, bobbing up and down like a yo-yo. She looked through crescent shaped spectacles down her nose at the intimidated students.

'Please turn to chapter three.'

The sound of thin paper pages rustling filled the room.

'In this chapter, Jane reflects on whether or not she would like to go to school. She perceives it as a place where beautiful works of art are painted, songs are sung, of embroidery and learning new languages. She is excited by the idea of school. But most of all, she perceives it as a long journey and entry into a "new life". 'I would like you all to spend some time reading this chapter, and then discuss with the person sitting next to you what your ideas of school were before you came to St Oliver Plunket's, and what they are now. You have twenty minutes to read the chapter.'

Pry sat back down at her desk, smiling contentedly as she heard the gentle murmurs of people settling themselves to read for a while.

Having read the _Jane Eyre_ chapter the previous night, Danny pretended to reread the words again. He couldn't concentrate on them; it was like drinking air. His mind grappled with the shock of Woodbridge's death and, shamefully more pressing, the fact Janna and Cedric Claw were an item. An item, he hated the cliché. An item was an object or a thing, not a pairing of two individuals. Not a pairing of one individual who should be with him. He felt guilty for thinking of himself and his own foolish desires when one of his teachers had only recently been slain, but he couldn't rid her from his head. The blonde locks and sweet smile were just surface attractions. There was another thing, something else that seemed to gleam from her. A radiance he felt only shone for him. The beauty of her glow only served to make the deception cut deeper. He thought about how he felt when she said it, very matter-of-fact, as if she had completely forgotten he had asked her out. Perhaps she had. It had been months ago, but to him it was only an instant, like they were both travelling in different orbits round a time-dilating black hole. It had been like a skewer puncturing his heart before worming out the other side, celebrating the blood it bore. His imagination worked overtime to punish him: when Janna and Cedric sat next to each other they probably whispered sweet nothings whilst Pry wasn't looking. It made him feel sick.

He glanced across to Sonia Fox, with whom he would soon have to maintain an adequate conversation about literature. He felt angry at Sonia for her humiliation of Coco in French. It seemed cruel, although he still had not discovered what she had said. It must have been something embarrassing because he remembered the definite delivery of words 'Bryn Straw' and subtle glance at Coco when she had delivered her presentation. Watching her read silently, he could not summon the anger that had risen previously. Emotions were like waves, rising and falling with time, as they sped towards the shore and crashed themselves into obliteration. In fact, Sonia's vibrant red curls and shiny pink lips this close up looked terribly attractive. The danger of her unpredictable aggression made her more so. Her skin was palest white and made the remaining colour on her face more vibrant and alluring.

Sonia raised her head and looked at Danny. She had finished reading.

'So what did you make of that then?' she said, in a half-bored voice.

'Sonia – can I ask you a question?' Danny asked, trying to keep the threatening tone at bay. Sonia did not detect his tone because she replied in the same disinterested fashion.

'Shoot', she said not looking at him, but resting a lustful eye on Liam Flicker two rows in front.

'Why did you humiliate Coco Romeo in French?'

Sonia's striking pencilled eyebrows raised as she turned to look at Danny.

'By what right do you ask me that question?' Sonia said without pause for breath and with a hint of menace, her eyes ablaze.

'Coco is my friend,' Danny said simply.

Sonia raised her eyebrows again, looking perplexed. However when she spoke the menace had vanished from her voice.

'Shouldn't we just get on with the discussion about the book?' she said.

Danny hesitated, holding Sonia's gaze for a moment and dwelling upon her hazel-green eyes before replying. The chatter began from those around him, talking about their experiences, and their expectations of school.

'Yes, okay.'

'Good. Now Danny, tell me about what you expected secondary school to be like,' Sonia asked in a voice laced with sarcasm, as if she didn't really care.

'I guess I expected it to be exciting. Inspiring. I guess I felt a bit like Jane in the book. I thought I'd get to meet new people and do new things. I thought it would be fun to go to different lessons and have different teachers, rather than the same one all year. I thought it would be scary as well.'

Sonia brushed away a red lock of hair from her eyes, beginning to gaze directly into Danny's. Danny felt his tongue fly to the top of his mouth.

'Tell me Danny, is my lipstick smudged?' Taken aback by this sudden change of subject, Danny shook his head.

'It looks fine to me,' he said, 'you look good,' he added, before he could think.

'Good?' Sonia smiled. 'Thank you Danny' she said, fluttering her eyelashes. 'Now, did your experiences of school live up to your expectations?'

Danny reflected for a moment. He decided he didn't really like school at all. The promise of what he thought it would be like had vanished in a mist of homework, equations, language tests and playground bruises. All those old people who told you it was the best days of your life – what the fuckhell did they know?

'No, I don't think it has. Most of the time I feel trapped at Plunket's. I feel like a prisoner. I don't know why but I just don't like it. It must be something to do with the environment, or the teachers. How about you – do you enjoy school?' Danny looked at Sonia, who was now smiling softly at him.

'It's strange you feel that way. I feel the opposite. I love coming in every day. It's like freedom here. I can do what I want, I don't have people shouting at me, telling me what to do, pushing me around. It's great.'

Sonia's voice descended to a seductive whisper, and Danny could tell she was no longer being sarcastic. There was a falter in her usually bold voice. He wanted to ask her how she could feel so free in a place where the imposing walls and intimidating teachers made it so claustrophobic, but he didn't have the courage. Instead he returned to his original question about Coco.

'Why can't you leave that subject alone? Do you not think for one minute that maybe she deserved what she got? That may be she isn't all sweetness and light? That may be things aren't as black and white as you'd like to make out?'

All Danny could think as Sonia's wrath boiled over was that she looked terrifically pretty now that she was angry. Danny swallowed, and tried again.

'You humiliated her. What's the justification for that?'

'You are so fucking righteous Danny Canterbury! She swans into every class with her little smile and blonde hair, her little pout and secretly expects every guy to fall for her, even lovely curly-haired Bryn Straw! I know things about Coco Romeo that would make his hair curl more!'

With the final revelatory flourish Sonia realised she'd said too much. Danny's shock left him with nothing to say and he knew it was the end of the conversation. It was also the end of the lesson.

*

In the cold evening after dinner Danny rushed to his bedroom, made even colder by the open window. It was no use, he couldn't get Janna out of his head. By default, her boyfriend would now be his mortal enemy. The horrible insidious thought wove and stuck in his mind: he couldn't control the way his life would turn. There would always be something round each corner to surprise him, unnerve and unsettle him, push him from his chosen path and onto a different, darker route. Perhaps he should ask Sonia Fox out. She would be up for some guilt-free, no-strings-attached fumbling for sure. It was obvious she was not greatly impressed with his entreaties that afternoon but he'd spied a fireball of passion from her outburst that made just as deep an impression on his heart as her supple lips and pale unblemished skin had on his fiddling groin.

He laid down on his bed and continued to think. Dr Woodbridge's death shook him a little, but Woodbridge had not been known to many students incredibly well. An image passed fleetingly through his mind, before it was replaced again by the golden-haired Janna. He did not feel in the least tired.

A girl appeared, sitting by the side of his bed. Danny sat upright, shocked by the sudden vision, and broke into a cold sweat. She wore a pale blue dress, and the tiniest rainbow ribbons amid her fair-brown hair. It wasn't possible, but then, clearly his eyes told him it was. The girl who sat beside him was Robin Vernal.

How had she got into his room? Where had she come from? He hadn't seen her in ten years! And now she was sitting opposite him, on his bed, smiling softly, holding him with a gaze that connected instinctively to his eyes.

'Bu...but, but how did you...where...I mean...I didn't see you...I don't understand. Robin!'

The questions tumbled out of his mouth before he had a chance to finish any of them. He took a moment's silence to compose himself, and blinked. When he opened his eyes she remained sat on his bed, smiling a puzzled, questioning smile. It was too much for Danny. He managed another question, in a strange high pitch that signalled his voice had not fully broken.

'Where did you come from?!'

From its position resting on her lap Robin Vernal moved her hand to Danny's, and slowly lifted both to her breast, under which her heart beat steadily. It was a real heart, not a mirage. Now conjoined, she transferred both hands to Danny's chest, and to Danny's own heart, beating wildly. Danny stared at her intensely, pouring unformed thoughts into his gaze. His eyes asked all the questions his heart and soul could conjure but his mind could not articulate. Without words, an unspoken understanding rose up, through gesture. For five minutes they sat until Danny had calmed himself and his breathing steadied.

There was really only one question Danny wanted to ask. It came slowly at first, and then in quicker bursts, yet always the same. 'Why?'

Robin put her finger to his lips to signal some quietude. She reached her hand into her dress pocket and pulled out a small folded slip of lilac-coloured paper. Danny gazed at her. She was now not the small girl he had known when he was young. She was a freckled, but pretty teenager of fifteen, like him. Her lopped haircut fell on her face in sharp stabs, and her eyes were coffee pools of mystery. Danny could not read the content of those irises at all. She passed the slip of paper into Danny's fingers, still unopened. Danny didn't want to read it. He wanted to hear Robin speak again. He had waited too long for this. He didn't want to read her bit of paper. He wanted to embrace her, to ask never to leave him again, to ask her to stay forever. He started to speak again, but her eyes were beckoning him to open the paper she had passed him. He knew deep down doing so would be wrong. He did not want his eyes to leave the image of the girl sitting opposite him, but to linger on it like an addict. Inevitably his curiosity rose up inside him and, urged on by the silent Robin Vernal sitting so close to him, he opened up the paper and looked on the words written there, neatly underlined in small girlish handwriting:

bad policy must end

The words meant nothing to him. As he turned his eyes again upwards his heart knew what his eyes would discover, that Robin Vernal was no longer there. He turned the slip of paper over and found another short message on the back. It said simply.

i can see she loves you

*

As the following day dawned Danny faced training for the school football match. Still shocked by Robin's appearance yesterday evening, he considered skipping it. He had dismissed sharing what he had seen with Amanita and Tim. It was hard because he had a deep yearning to tell what he had seen to them, but he was afraid. Afraid of their censure, of their opinion that he might be mad, that he might be seeing things. That he might be going off the rails in his desperate and hopeless love for Janna Chisely. Despite their closeness, he concluded they could never understand how he felt about Robin.

Spittlebug appeared in the boy's changing rooms, holding a football and a stopwatch.

'Now then listen up you lot. As you're aware, we are playing St Cecilia's on Friday in the first match of the season. Bad luck to all of you who didn't make into the first team – better luck next time. But...' Several people groaned '...I would like you all to be in shape before then, so today I am sending you on two laps of the cross-country course before we have a short kickabout. The quicker your times are the more time we will have to play football. Follow me please.'

Spittlebug led them through a light drizzle to the dingys tied up outside Watershoot, and rowed them to Fourlawns. From the mainland, the playing surface looked immaculate. A dewy smell of freshly cut grass wafted thickly from the island. It had been trimmed to within a centimetre of each blade, and Tim was reassured to see white painted lines now adorned each of the four football pitches. The cross country course was essentially running around the perimeter of Fourlawns. However it was not an easy run – there were rocky sections, unavoidable wooden obstacles, and a perilous part where the barriers forced them to run along a high cliff edge, where wild flowers grew amongst stone that liked to crumble easily. They made it back in one piece, although not to Spittlebug's satisfaction.

'That was terrible Gaunt! And you too Canterbury. I don't know how you expect to outrun St Cecilia's strikers jogging along like it's a lazy Sunday morning! Ten press-ups each please.'

By the time they had finished their press-ups, there was only time for a cursory twenty-minute game before they rowed themselves back to Plunket's. The drizzle had turned into stinging rain. Tim breathlessly attempted to chat to Danny while rowing his heavy dingy through thick waves.

'Was...out...rag...eous...ne...ver...had...to...run...so...hard!'

'You think that was bad? Wait until the match on Friday.' Danny reminded him.

'Oh bugger! I'd...al...most...for...got...ten...about...that!'

Once back in the warmth of the changing rooms, the football team were rounded up by captain Liam Flicker.

'Listen guys, I know Spittlebug's putting on the pressure a bit, but it's only for our own good. St Cecilia's have improved vastly from last year and we all desperately want to win this one. It would give us a great start to the season. Sadly our netball team is foxfucked this year, so it's all resting on our shoulders. I expect to see you all here promptly after school on Friday for the match. Thanks guys.'

After they had changed, Tim chased after Danny, who was walking rather fast.

'Hey mate – where you off to in such a hurry? We're supposed to be meeting Amanita remember? To talk about the _Oracle_?'

Danny didn't turn around and kept on walking. It was too hard to explain to his best mate the way he felt right now. In the last few days he had endured the revelation that Janna Chisely, the girl he hoped would one day notice him, was seeing Cedric Claw the class clown. If that were not enough he was having visions that his childhood friend Robin Vernal was appearing to him in his sleep, and in his bedroom passing him notes. But the note was real. He still had it in his trouser pocket, and he patted it now just to make sure it was still there. Real or unreal – he could not decide, but he knew he didn't want to share it with Tim. Not yet anyway.

'You go.' Danny shouted over his shoulder. 'I can't make it tonight. There's something I've got to do.' And with that, Danny left Tim standing at the school gates while he stormed off.

'But I was counting on you to tell me what the hell "foxfucked" means!' Tim shouted to a retreating Danny.

*

For once Danny knew exactly where he was headed. It would be a brief encounter but he felt compelled to speak to her, to establish once and for all what the hell was the truth. With every little thing erupting round him, he didn't want this cold fact clouding him any longer. As he walked up the crazy paving, stepping on all the cracks between the slabs Danny knocked on the door loudly before realising there was a bell. He was about to press it when the door opened. Anjalie's mother stood before him.

'Hello Mrs Marjoram. I wondered if I could have a word with Anjalie?'

Mrs Marjoram was a modestly attractive lady in her late thirties, having had Anjalie when in her early twenties. She was too old for Danny of course, but it didn't stop him considering her curiously. A glass of something in one hand, a cigarette in the other, her illicit allure softly beguiled him. Smiling, she flashed purple lipstick, wielding an easy manner like a Kalashnikov at close range.

'Oh hello Danny darling. Do come in. Anjalie's just upstairs getting changed.'

Danny was not sure he wanted to know this final detail. It brought back memories of the last time he had witnessed Anjalie remove her school uniform, when he had helped her. Mrs Marjoram continued, this time in a quieter voice.

'You will have heard all about Anjalie's pregancy of course. She's still very young. But she's very determined. She told me straight out no way was she getting rid of it. She wanted to keep it and bring it up like a real mother. Very maternal is our Anjalie.'

Mrs Marjoram brought the glass to her lips and he watched as the transparent liquid emptied down her throat. She looked at Danny sternly and he wondered how much she knew. It was true then. There was no escape now. Soon he would face the music. Soon his parents would know. It would travel round the school like wildfire, if it hadn't already. Danny Canterbury had illicit and illegal sex with Anjalie Marjoram and she had fallen pregnant with his child. It would be all his fault of course, the tide of sympathy would inevitably fall on her side.

Mrs Marjoram didn't seem to like silence, as she filled the empty air again with her wistful, matter-of-fact voice.

'To be honest with you Danny, I've got my reservations about this Squish Ambrose. I'm not sure what kind of father he will make.'

A vague feeling of elation flitted through Danny's liquid soul. This uncertainty was too much.

'But...but I thought...'

His voice faded, realising he shouldn't say too much for fear of surrendering something damaging.

'What's that dear? You didn't know it was Squish's?'

Danny felt like dancing in their living room. He wasn't the father. He could breathe a huge sigh of relief. Why had Anjalie told him...well, she never had told him that it was. But she hadn't told him it wasn't.

Anjalie appeared at the top of the stairs. Spotting her daughter Mrs Marjoram sighed cheerily and bustled off to make their dinner. Anjalie descended and then stood on the bottom step staring at him.

'I was wondering when I'd be seeing you Mr Canterbury. Have you come to own up to your responsibilities as a father?'

She had a mischievous glint in her eye.

'What! But...'

'I'm just kidding mate. I know it's not yours. Come upstairs.'

Danny looked at her, not wanting to believe this girl's desire to give affection came hand in hand with duplicity. He walked up the stairs to meet her, and they went inside her room – the room where it had happened – and sat on her bed – the bed where they made love. She sat on the opposite side.

'Isn't it terrible about Dr Woodbridge? I was shocked when I found out. He was so nice to me. He helped me so much last year when I was doing my woodwork project. He's going to be a huge loss to the school, don't you think?'

'Yes', said Danny flatly, recovering his composure. 'Anjalie – I didn't come here to talk about Dr Woodbridge. Your mother just told me your baby is Gabriel Ambrose's. Is that true?'

Danny looked her over. She wasn't really showing yet, although he thought he detected a slight tummy.

'Crikey Danny, you're such a complex guy! Sometimes I don't think I ever understood you at all.'

Already conned by her once Danny wasn't interested in her psychoanalysis and he repeated his question.

'Is it his?'

'Yes,' Anjalie sighed.

'Thank you.'

Danny left her bedroom and rushed downstairs and out of the door, not even bothering to say goodbye to Mrs Marjoram.

The tide is coming in, I can feel it. It always happens when the moon is high like that, when the first drip begins, running red like a river in the shower. When it happens it makes me feel alive and that I am dying all at once. As we all are I guess, second by punishing second. It's so much effort to go to just to stop yourself leaking at school. The other girls can tell – they know what it's like, what the pain feels like. Well most of them do. The boys have no idea, no concept at all. It's a relief to me. I don't want them to know, because then I can go to them unashamed, even when I am red raw, even when I am dripping, and smile sweetly at them to see them smile back and then retreat to the ladies until it all floods out in one glorious gush.

**Detention**

Crowds of students packed out the six sides of the hexagonal music room. Amanita stood at the other side of the room from Danny. Her sleepy head rested on the pale blue wall. She looked serene and exhausted. Everyone listened to the piano, although from behind the throng Danny could not see who sat playing. Dawn Russet was preparing to make some sort of speech. Danny would have liked to speak to Amanita before Dawn began, but it was too late. Dawn had already pulled up a chair and was clambering onto it to address the gathered students.

'Hello all of you. Thank you for coming. I am very pleased to introduce Bryn Straw's latest piece of music, which he has kindly donated to the school as a candidate for the new school song. Without any further ado, take it away Bryn!'

A brief pause was followed by a couple of experimental tinkles on the piano keys, to make sure the instrument was still in tune. After furtively pushing himself past Lorraine Car and Sol Castle, Danny reached the front, and noticed a microphone and speakers either side of the piano. Bryn was staring straight ahead at the piano, composing himself. With no warning he plunged his hands on to the waiting keys and launched a rousing melodic introduction. The audience's heads swayed as Bryn began singing.

As moonflower water moves

My mind alludes the thunder

I seem to lose my riverheart

As water moves me along

Your blue eyes move firespring

As fire it dims my beachmoon

I need to prove to earthsnow

How water moves

A repetitive rhythm pounded while a lilting tempo rose in the middle section, until it unfurled into a pleasing chorus.

She sang that song

As loud as air

She sang those words

In my ear

The water moves moonbeach

In my earthy soul

Be my girl

Make the earth move forestfire

Make my heart move rainbowmoon

Gradually, Bryn played out the song's fading cadences until they rose and fell in an alternating two note trill. It was a sinister yet fitting end to the humble tune that preceded.

Amanita deftly concealed a tear in her eye. To Danny's right stood Florence Croft. To his left Cedric Claw who held hands with Janna Chisely. A ripping feeling passed through Danny. People started to leave the room, Janna and Cedric included. Danny took his chance to walked over to Amanita.

'Feeling emotional?'

Amanita looked at him, and nodded wordlessly.

'Fancy a bit of lunch?'

Again she assented, and together they left the music room for the Roasthouse.

*

Everywhere they tried to sit in The Roasthouse, there were flyers advertising a party. Chardelia Foss was holding a spring soiree at her house. Amanita picked up a flyer and held it close to her face. She was short-sighted.

'Hmm. Looks like everyone's invited. Do you fancy going?'

Danny sat down on the bench and held his head in his hands. He was tired of life continually smacking him in the face. Could he bear to go to this party, where no doubt all his school friends would be? Could he bear to see the mouth-on-mouth action of Janna Chisely and Cedric Claw, of Anjalie Marjoram and Gabriel Ambrose, the new father in town, and of Coco Romeo and Bryn Straw? It was all too much. He didn't want to live and he didn't want to die. The pressure of being alone in a school which slowly seemed to be coupling off weighed down on his meek shoulders. It felt like he was being pressed into the ground.

Amanita watched him, worried.

'Are you sure you're alright Danny? Shall I get you a glass of water?'

The kind offer from Amanita only served to make him feel worse. Now he was filled with self-loathing and angst that he had detracted Amanita's attention from something he was sure would make her happy. Now his own unhappiness was polluting the air, infecting the environment and spreading, rabid-like from friend to friend. Unsure, he nodded. As Amanita walked off to get drinks, Danny put his head in his hands once again. He didn't want to remove his face, his eyes from his hands. It was so nice feeling closed off, impenetrable, unreachable. He could visualise the effects of his introversion, laid out like a long but clear path in front of him. First of all his friends would be concerned, characterise him as withdrawn, troubled and anxious. As realisation dawned that their efforts to pull him from his miserable stupor would inevitably fail, they would slowly regard him as distant, pathetic and alone. Thus efforts to rescue his living soul from increased isolation would only serve to make him more isolated. It hit him over the head every day like the dull thud of a mallet, or the persistent tapping of an irritated teacher, telling him to get in line. He didn't want to get in line, he just wanted to be himself.

Amanita arrived back with a glass of orange juice for them both.

'I bought you some orange juice. I hope that's okay.'

Danny smiled at her. She was kind. Without thinking what he was doing, he found himself putting his hand on hers, before withdrawing it in embarrassment. Amanita looked long and hard at her hand before moving it from the table. Neither said anything for a moment. Then they ordered lunch and chatted about the pros and cons of attending Chardelia's party. They hardly knew her. Danny kept his fears to himself. He was trying to exercise some restraint to help guide him through the minefield of his own feelings. However, Amanita was keen to see Chardelia's house.

'I bet it's really posh now. It's the other side of Amberleigh. I've only ever there once, when my sister Wendy was doing work experience for Mr Foss. She never told me what she did exactly – I think it was to do with chemical testing or something like that. Must have put her off anyway, because she's now working in books in London! The house was all done out in white. Everything was white, the floor, the ceiling, the furniture. Even their car was white. I was scared to walk on the floor or eat anything in case I made a mark.'

Danny sipped his orange juice. To distract himself he glanced at Amanita's chest. It wasn't entirely his own fault. She wore a low-cut top and the top hemispheres of her breasts were plumping against its rim. He had never paid much attention to them before, but as he sipped the fresh orange juice he couldn't help the connection forming between that of two ripe juicy oranges and the voluptuous curves of her upper torso. Danny wondered if Amanita knew yet how much power she could wield just from her choice of top.

'We stayed for dinner. We had salmon with aspargus and hollondaise sauce. It was lovely. I even tasted white wine that night.'

Out of nowhere a cannonball landed on their table. The unformed and shapeless mass came thundering down onto the bench opposite. It was Tim's school bag, and Tim wasn't far behind.

'Hallo hallo!', he said, beaming with unusual optimism, even for Tim.

Danny immediately took the bait.

'What are you so happy about Gaunt?'

'Nothing, nothing', said Tim, more annoyingly than ever.

Danny looked at him suspiciously. Whatever Tim was hiding; he was not sure he would like it. Then it struck him. Saffelia must have told him she fancied him, or something must have passed between them. Or some other girl. Soon he would be the only one without anyone. It was becoming too much to bear.

'Ready for the big match tomorrow Danny?'

Amanita breathed a huge sigh.

'Listen guys. Can you tear your attention away from football for one moment and spare a thought for the _Oracle_? We've got a huge deadline coming up and if we don't deliver we're going to look like complete arseholes.'

They stopped and stared at Amanita. They had never heard her swear before. She looked angry too, as well as upset.

Tim was the first to respond. He spoke in a quiet measured voice.

'Listen Amanita, we know the newspaper means a lot to you, but so does this football match to us. We've both never made the team together before. This is a big moment for us.'

His seriousness convinced Danny and Amanita for its rarity, and it nearly convinced Tim too.

Amanita stared in his eyes for a few seconds and no-one said anything. The sounds of clattering plates and hollering voices echoed into the middle of their conversation from across the hall. Then, with a weary sigh, Amanita stood and left the room.

Tim turned to Danny.

'Listen mate, I've been thinking about something. Can I ask your advice?'

Flattered Tim would want to confide in him, especially since he was not willing to reciprocate, Danny raised his head and nodded Tim to go ahead. Tim breathed deeply, and began.

'I didn't want to say this in front of Amanita, but I think I've got an idea for the school newspaper. I didn't want to say it because I know what she's like. She'll tell me it's crap, or she'll have some better idea or she'll find a way to usurp it. We are going to have to cover Woodbridge in the paper, and I don't just mean an obituary. I mean like, a proper investigation into his death. You heard what Wonder said. The guy was murdered. I've been doing a little bit of subtle asking around, and I definitely think something suspect is going on in school. I was walking past Flambeau's office earlier and he had the police in there. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it must have been serious as they took away loads of papers with Flambeau's signature on.'

'How the hell do you know that Tim?' asked Danny, incredulous. Tim smiled.

'I accidentally on purpose bumped into one of the police officers as I was going to class and he dropped all those papers and had to pick them up again. Clever eh? It was easy really, the whole corridor was crowded and it was easy to mingle back into the bustle again.'

'Without getting arrested?'

'Without getting arrested. Listen mate. They think it's got something to do with the school, and so do I. Things are really weird around here now. There's all these odd things going on. Have you noticed how all the teachers are behaving strangely?'

Danny thought for a moment. Teachers always acted strangely; he put it down to being an occupational hazard. Danny had been too preoccupied with his own pathetic solipsistic dramas to pay much attention to what happened in lessons. Sure, Wonder had said a curious thing in the last lesson. But he was always acting strange, it was his idiosyncratic way. The other teachers were just being cautious. It was normal behaviour, especially considering one of their own had just departed this world. Tim was off again.

'I'm going to get to the bottom of this. You mark my words.'

Danny became exhausted listening to Tim, but liked the idea of concentrating on something to take his mind off his own inadequacies. The football match was tomorrow. That too required his attention lest they both invoke Spittlebug's wrath. He gazed out the window. The sun still shone, despite the bitter wind.

'Are you coming out for a bit of pre-match training after school?' he asked Tim.

'Can't mate. And neither can you. We've got detention with Chukchi remember?'

Of course! He had completely forgotten. Having misplaced both their poetry exercise books, Chukchi had sentenced them both to detention in their last lesson. It seemed unfair to Danny, but Tim didn't seem too bothered.

'As long as my tea is still waiting for me when I get home, I don't really care.'

Danny wondered if the skin-tight jeans Chukchi had been wearing at the time she admonished them both had reconciled Tim to the idea of detention.

*

Plum Chukchi sat at her desk, slowly drumming her fingers in an arch before her dominion. Tim gulped before entering the classroom. Danny pushed him into the door and he fell through, only just maintaining his balance but looking ungraceful and clumsy as he did. Danny giggled. It felt a relief to do something spontaneous and cheeky. Chukchi glanced over at Tim, and whispered huskily,

'Hello big boy.'

The smile vanished from Danny's face fast. He felt as if a train had hit him. What on earth was Chukchi playing at, whispering nowhere near subtle enough sexual innuendoes to one of her students?

'Did you bring along your football kit then?'

Chukchi fluttered black mascara beneath crimson eyeshadow, and her gaze bore deep holes into Tim. He stood still and could not speak. Danny decided to attempt to take control of the situation.

'Er, miss, I mean Dr, we've both brought along our poetry exercise books. Can we please make a start, as we both need to leave at five on the dot?'

This was clearly a mistake.

Not looking at Danny, but definitely addressing him from the marked firmness in her voice, she barked.

'Danny Canterbury. Run along now little boy. You are excused from this detention.'

'But...' he began.

Chukchi said nothing, but held out her arm and pointed a polished fingernail toward the door, while still holding her gaze at the blushing Tim. As Danny turned to leave from the corner of his eye he saw Chukchi's finger beckon towards Tim before shouting out mysteriously.

'Don't forget the school play next term Danny. I think you'll enjoy it.'

With her final instruction issued, Danny had no option but to depart the classroom, and leave his friend to the mercies of the seductively suggestive and dangerously sexy Plum Chukchi.

*

Danny did not want to walk home yet. All his nervous energy required release, and he wished to channel the anxiety into something productive. He decided to venture towards Professor Pry's and attempt to access the makeshift _Oracle_ newsroom. His heart leapt when he discovered Pry had already left for the day, and to his further delight the room had been left unlocked. He wandered up the stairs and into what Amanita had crowned "The Press Room", now marked by a small plaque on the door.

It looked much better and neatly ordered now Amanita had taken it to task. The silent computer sat on a desk at one end of the room. At the other there hung a whiteboard and a blackboard. The whiteboard was blank, but three words were marked on three separate lines on the blackboard. They said:

Foss

Amur

Flambeau

This could have been Amanita's musings, although it seemed a little terse for her to write these three names on the board cryptically. Perhaps she was trying to rein in more supporters for the _Oracle_ , and these were her last three targets. This would make sense considering her last conversation with Amanita about Chardelia's party.

Ella Amur. She was a mystery to Danny. For the few years he had known her she hung, almost lasciviously around Janna Chisely and the two Duocorn twins. In fact he didn't think he had ever seen Ella alone. There was something aggressive and unpredictable about her that frightened him, which was possibly the reason they had barely spoken. The only exchange he could remember, apart from the netball incident, had been in one music lesson shortly before Danny had taken the fateful decision to ask Janna out. It had not been pleasant. Ella had slinked up to him, smiled and said without anger or malice:

'She'll never fancy you, you know. No-one will ever fancy you.'

Since then he had deliberately avoided her, and it seemed she also avoided him. Thinking back on that moment he wondered how much influence that encounter had on him taking the plunge to ask Ella's best friend out. Had it toppled him over the edge of something he would never have done ordinarily? It was so difficult to detect where his motives had begun and ended, and where the desires of those around him had exerted some manipulation. Bah, he thought. What was the use? Thinking was like cycling through it all, in some mental hamster wheel he was trapped in.

Danny stared at the stationary computer. The emptiness and silence got the better of him and he sat down to switch it on. He wanted to try and write an obituary of Woodbridge, do something constructive for the sake of the paper, for the sake of something other than his own introspected melodramas.

At first it was hard to say anything original at all. No words would come, and he sat staring at the white computer screen and the title of his subject, Dr Woodbridge. He thought about starting with the newspaper report he'd read in the playground and then he thought about starting with Flambeau's tribute in assembly. Neither seemed right. Finally he rested upon a few words he had overheard Dr Drum tell Dr Ravana the day after he'd discovered Woodbridge's death.

'I miss him.'

It seemed to sum it all up. All the affection, tenderness, waste, shame, and regret the whole school felt after the sudden demise of the woodwork teacher. After that the words flowed as fluently as a gushing river. It was as if floodgates had been opened and the torrents of language grew both in weight and power. In an hour he had a pages, then five, then ten. What had started out as an obituary slowly transformed itself into a treatise on what makes a good teacher, what students look for in their mentors, and the teachers who make a lasting impact. It didn't stop with Woodbridge. Danny referenced Pry, Chukchi, Slattery, Wonder, Ravana, Fuzzair, Spittlebug, Harlequin and the others. He observed distinctions in their teaching styles, and tried to highlight the good points and portray constructive points in a sensitive tone.

It felt wonderful, like a cork had been popped from a bottle and golden wine came flooding out. The trapped, isolated, resticted Danny Canterbury was free. This was his home. He felt real, needed, validated and euphoric. The words were his friends. The paragraphs were his lovers. The page was his girlfriend. The essay was his wife. It was falling in love, with nothing to stop him falling deeper and deeper. The loss of all control, while maintaining the illusion he was controlling everything. Here he felt too alive for words to say.

As he typed an intrusive sense of someone watching him from behind grew. He couldn't quite say how he sensed it, perhaps a slight reflection on his computer screen, perhaps the slow realisation that another human's breathing pattern had invaded the dusty air. He swivelled in his seat and fixed a stare into the shadows. A small man walked forward from the darkness. It was Dunstan Blackbuck.

'Hello Mr Canterbury. I'm sorry to disturb you. I was just cleaning up for the evening. I'll be on my way now.'

Alarmed and swallowing fast, Danny signalled for Dunstan to halt.

'How long have you been standing there Dunstan?' he said, not without a hint of anger. Danny wondered how much of his private moments Dunstan had witnessed.

'Oh not long sir. I came up by the...'

Dunstan stopped, looking hard at Danny. A strange hardened look covered his eyes.

'This used to be my school. Not any more. The river of life takes many twists and turns before it reaches the ocean. It will never be mine again, I know that much. I am sorry I disturbed you. I'll just be on my way Mr Canterbury.'

Before Danny could say anything else, Dunstan had disappeared down the stairs and was gone.

Danny glanced at the clock. It was already approaching five. Disconcerted and tired he decided to pack up for the evening. The essay had grown to a lengthy and unmanageable thirteen pages. There was no way Amanita would agree to this being printed. It would need to be cut by eighty or ninety percent just to make the paper's final edit. But he wasn't changing a word of it. He had already decided that. It was better to have it go unpublished and still be his than surrender something so personal to the whims of those who wanted to change it to commodity.

With a tinge of regret he reluctantly switched off the computer and went to fetch Tim, in the hope they would be able to walk home together.

The release of words had sent blood hurtling through his limbs and Danny bounded down Spiral Two several steps at a time as he made his way back to Chukchi's classroom. The sky outside had already transformed to indigo dark, and the burgeoning autumn wind he had felt through draughts in the newsroom would make it a chilly walk home. He arrived at the corridor windows to Chukchi's classroom and glanced inside. Danny looked away, and then gazed back in, not willing to believe the sight he saw there the first time.

Dr Chukchi was straddling Tim on a wooden classroom chair, that threatened to topple back with the weight of them both. This wasn't what made Danny's jaw drop. Chukchi wore her usual jet black tights, but nothing else. They rose to halfway up her thigh, the lacy hem curving round her cylinder of flesh and marking the end of its concealment. The rest of her epicurean figure was abundantly exposed to anyone who might be watching. When Danny realised he was the only one watching, he experienced a drenching sense of immense shame as he was unwittingly cast as a voyeur, a role he would never have hoped to occupy in a million years. They didn't see him, and as cognizance of this passed through his fleeting thoughts, a lustful consuming thrill ran through his own blood.

Tim's shirt was ruffled and loose, but he still wore his trousers. Well done Tim, Danny thought, for he had managed to evade the serious trouble so far. How Danny was going to break up the debauched and discomposing situation was beyond him. He stood watching Plum Chukchi kiss Tim softly on his lips, his cheek, his neck, his chest, leaving smudged pink imprints wherever she landed. Tim looked flustered and uncertain, but was not emitting any protest to Chukchi's advances.

It dawned on Danny it was not down to him to break up this situation or even raise the alarm. Mutually consensual, albeit beneath the age of consent, Danny felt little recourse or intention to break-up what two humans had decided must be done. He knew it was wrong but knowing it was wrong did not grant him any authority or means to alter or even affect it. As their liaison became heated Danny wanted to leave but he couldn't rip his gaze away, which was drinking in every morsel of the scandal. Chukchi was undoing Tim's belt. Danny's inner self wanted to shout 'No!' to Tim. It was no good. He was paralysed by fear and excitement. He realised he needed to remove himself lest they notice him and compound their shame. Danny would be complicit then, more so than at present. He didn't know if he would ever be able to look Tim in the eye again after today; that was a lie, he knew full well he could.

The walk home was cold and windy. Seagulls crowed anxiously from their clifftop homes as Danny climbed the hill. A grey cloud that intimated rain moved gradually overhead. Danny reminded himself of his writing earlier, and a warm glow kindled inside.

The image of a girl with golden hair and green eyes reflected in the cool water of the shimmering pond. It had been a long afternoon. First the hospital, then a meeting with Louis and Father and the others in the group. The words from both were like echoes travelling from the other end of a tunnel. It was time to get some space.

The shivering shaking truth. An ending, before time had really begun. The loss, that was all that was on my mind. Those who held my hand while tears welled could not know. Could not comprehend the desperate desire, the guttural wish, the piercing longing to discover what the loss felt like. The intimacy of pale skin against pale skin, of wide eyes into wide eyes. Of gentle caress against soft kisses. It was the only thing, the one remaining instinct, but to give language to it would be to risk embarrassment and condemnation. A deep hollow inside me yearned to be filled. I would never know, I would remain an empty, floating vessel for all time.

Perfect Match

The wind swirled all the girl's curls across the naked air of Fourlawns. They had come down from the castle to watch the football match against St Cecilia's. Danny wouldn't start, he knew that. Tim anxiously kicked a football back and forth to him. They did a few keepy-uppys and then Spittlebug blew his whistle to indicate the game was about to start.

St Cecilia's were extremely organized. Their pristine kit shined brighter than Plunket's in the dim grey light. And tall. Very tall in fact. Danny was glad he didn't have to make a fool of himself straight away.

Benjamin Sprite and Pig Marvel kicked off and ran upfield to begin an attack. The opposing defender lunged in towards Marvel but he was too quick and skipped past, returning the ball to Sprite on the eighteen yard line. Sprite unleashed a ferocious shot that flew through the gusting wind to the right hand corner of St Cecilia's goal. The goalkeeper got a hand and parried it, but only to the waiting Pig Marvel for whom it was a simple tap-in. The crowd cheered and Pig Marvel strolled casually back to his half.

The game continued one nil to Plunket's until half-time. As a tired Tim gathered for the team talk, he rested his elbow on Danny's shoulder and reached for a half-orange which the team feasted their dry mouths on hungrily. When they resumed the second half, Spittlebug substituted Squish Ambrose for Danny Canterbury.

Danny finally got his moment on the pitch.

St Cecilia's kicked off and passed it among their defence. There was little for Danny or Tim to do, languishing in their own defence and watching St Cecilia's trying to break through Plunket's sturdy midfield. Danny raced over to Tim and pointed to the small woman furtively looking over at Tim by the touchline.

'How did your detention go then?'

'As if you need to ask.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Weren't you watching the whole thing?'

Danny felt his chest had been hit hard. He paused for breath while he regained his composure. St Cecilia's were edging over the halfway line, and their winger was making short runs on Tim's side.

'Tim, I really don't think...what did Chukchi want with you? I mean, why?'

Tim turned to Danny to rebuke him. 'I was doing research you fool. She knows, she knows.'

Danny didn't get to find out exactly what it was Chukchi knew. At that moment, the unmarked St Cecilia's winger crossed to an attacker who raced past a stationary Danny easily, to score against them. Eyes shut, Danny anticipated the shouts and curses from Spittlebug a split-second before they came.

'You fool Canterbury! What were you thinking? Fool!'

At the restart Danny moved upfield, determined to make amends for his error and to allow the defence to play the offside trap. Tim supported him from the rear, covering him against the confident St Cecilia midfielders. It was hard going and when the rain came down in heavy splashes a stalemate appeared the most likely outcome. A lofted chip from a defender threw the ball in the air but as it flew over Danny's head and landed in front of him Danny knew it had drifted too far. The defender would arrive there before him. Then, like a cracking of the heavens, like a wink from God, something fortunate. On his penultimate stride, the defender slipped on a divot and fell face first into the squelchy mud. Danny advanced. With a quick one-two with Benjamin Sprite he took the ball round the keeper and shot into the empty net.

As the ball trickled over the goal line Danny swallowed and relished that snug moment of pause, that perfect symphony of silence that preceded the roar of the crowd and team-mates, in which anticipation grew exponentially as all eyes concentrated on the motion of the leather orb. In that moment time seemed to stand still, before touchline cheers rang out. In that moment, Danny thought he saw flames burning out in the dark blue ocean. Then his screen went black. He was being hugged from all sides by fellow team mates. As the referee blew for full time, he was held aloft and carried back to the changing rooms.

Danny didn't begrudge the elation he felt. It was nice. But he had never felt particularly close to his team mates, apart from Tim. For him, there was a disingenuity that clashed with the celebration. Once inside the changing room, Spittlebug came up and gave him a hearty pat on the back.

'Well done son. You'd make it in a good solid Yorkshire Sunday side, of that I'm sure.'

He beamed. Unsure what to do with this oblique praise, Danny just smiled and said 'Thanks sir.'

*

Danny was late. He had woken with a headache and brushed his teeth in a whirl, swilling water and toothpaste all over the sink. Polly made him stay behind until he had cleaned up the mess.

He had run all the way to Plunket's, nearly tripping up on the rocky path to the main gate. The clifftops and clouds were a blur and nesting seagulls flew past in amused interest as he quickened his pace.

Running into the empty playground – an eerie sight with no teachers or pupils – he didn't head straight for his form room, as would be his normal routine. Neither did he head towards reception to check in as a late student. He rushed in the nearest doorway and zoomed up Spiral Two for Professor Pry's classroom. When he arrived Professor Pry was mid-flow teaching English to some second-years. He rushed into her classroom and with a guilty nod to the omniscient teacher continued shuffling to the back of the classroom, through the door and up to the now bustling and busy pressroom.

The first thing he saw was Amanita's furious eyes staring straight ahead. There was complete silence. There was only one thing for it, as all pairs of eyes fell on him.

'Sorry,' he said softly.

'Danny Canterbury!' boomed Amanita, looking straight at him. The others in the room – Saffelia Forrest, Ella Amur, the two Duocorn twins, Janna Chisely, Tim, Chardelia Foss and Professor Wonder – politely looked away.

'I would have expected this of Timothy but you? You? Never? I thought you were dedicated to this paper?!' There were almost tears in Amanita's eyes, and Danny thought for a moment she was overreacting. He was only a half hour late. Without warning something snapped.

'What the fuck would you know about it anyway Kit Kat?'

Danny realised he was punching below the belt – Kit Kat was a nickname all the fifth year boys gave her in first year after her favourite snack to taunt her about her size. She had lost a lot of weight since then. But Danny was on a roll, and in his moment of incandescent release he continued unabated and unashamed.

'You know nothing about my life, really do you? You've no idea how hard it has been, what I struggle with every day of my life? What the fuck are you moaning about? You live in this safe little world where no-one can touch you.'

He stopped. Professor Wonder had walked round the back of Danny and wordlessly rested his hand on his shoulder. Danny ceased his outburst. There were tears welling up again in Amanita's eyes, but they were nothing compared to Danny's streaming face.

Slowly and with his head bowed Danny retreated from the room and descended the steps, through Pry's classroom where everyone turned and whispered, back down Spiral Two, through the gates and back out into the empty playground.

*

Later that morning as Danny sat alone, his head in his hands on the bench in the playground, he heard a familiar voice from directly in front of him.

'Can we be friends?'

It was not Amanita. Before he looked up, his face still red and blotchy from his earlier confrontation, he remembered to whom the voice belonged. Even now, after all he had been through that morning, his restless dreams, his dark visions, he managed to conjure a smile at the deep irony life had just thrown him.

Why had he exploded in front of Amanita? He was not angry at her, not really. Where had it come from? It scared him, not knowing within him there existed a profound pit of despair that could erupt violently without any sign whatsoever. Would Amanita forgive him? Who might he hurt in the future? With these questions washing round his mind, he knew he had squandered the goodwill he had earned as the school football hero. Having made a gigantic fool of himself in front of his friends he didn't expect the first person to approach him to be the embodiment of his unrequited obsession.

As he looked into her irises, deep pools of blue set above glistening ivory cheekbones, he felt the unique warmth a smile from only Janna Chisely could provide. Those lilting eyes felt like a soul's embrace to Danny.

'I mean really friends?' she said, breathily.

Months ago Danny feared they would never speak again. Now he had been defeated by Cedric Claw, now she was victorious, she was offering the desultory gift, a weak form of friendship where the power imbalance favoured her. The words were out before he could stop them.

'I wouldn't be friends with you if you were the last girl on earth.'

*

Fuzzair scribbled furiously onto the blackboard. Nobody could make out the words, or the numbers.

'This is a formula for...can anyone tell me what this is a formula for?'

The class groaned, arising from its communal slouch.

Cedric Claw's hand shot into the air. So did Ella Amur's.

'Yes Cedric?'

'It's a formula for making whisky!' he announced proudly, impressed at his own brazen stupidity. Fuzzair hopped from foot to foot.

'Sadly not Cedric, although a good guess. A hundred lines homework for your trouble.' Cedric slouched back down in his chair, cursing his thoughtlessness.

Danny doodled in his exercise book. He drew a circle, and then a loveheart with the initials JC inside. Then he drew a tree, and then a sun, and then a castle. Then he drew a river, with a boat sailing down it. Then he drew some flames. He was happily creating his own world when Professor Fuzzair appeared at the side of his desk looking down at his exercise book. The whole class was busy doing the sums he had just set.

'Very nice Danny.'

'Yes, I thought so sir.'

Danny felt he was losing his amazement at his own alacrity for dissent.

Fuzzair stared at him. He expected this kind of insolence from Claw, but not from Canterbury. He hopped onto his other foot as if successfully reaching a decision about something.

'I suppose detention is not going to resolve your rudeness Canterbury. I think perhaps something else for you. See me after class.'

Desperately trying to emanate an attitude of not being bothered, Danny shrugged away Fuzzair's riposte by rolling his eyes, but Fuzzair had already departed.

The damp autumn rolled effervescently into a sparkling winter. It was barely the end of November before the cold acquired a subtle bite and the grey-white heavens announced the season of light and death, casting the earth in its frosty white shroud.

Danny bought a pair of wellies in Amberleigh. He had wanted the dark blue ones, but Samuel Mills was in front of him in the queue in Trench Boots, the local footwear shop, and had managed to swipe them from him just in time. He had shrugged a half-hearted apology as he passed over his twenty pound note to pay for the boots Danny had wanted. Instead Danny settled for the dark green pair consoling himself that at least they went with the colour of his jersey.

He walked to school alone these days. Anjalie avoided him, taking a completely circuitous route to do so, which Danny thought the ultimate betrayal. The promise of her giggly accompaniment on the first day of term had transformed to a recurrent nightmare, everyday living out the same indefinite rejection. On the days Danny spied Janna walking into school he regretted his own angry refusal to even be friends with her. It was totally illogical – a friendship with her would help the _Oracle_ , be a snub to Anjalie and help him overcome his own demons about their past history, or what little of it there actually was. It would even make him feel better inside himself.

However, the voice of cool reason was overpowered by a surging pique of berating indignation. Everything seemed set contrary to his comfort. Even if it wasn't, Danny would find a reason to force it so.

Perhaps that was what led Fuzzair to force Danny to attend a counselling appointment with Professor Alessandro at the start of next term. Danny didn't have a specific grievance against Alessandro; in fact he didn't have a specific grievance against anyone, just a general one directed at life. Life's irritating inability to clarify Danny's identity for him. In a nutshell. That was how he would like it. Who was he? Why the fuck couldn't anyone tell him?

*

Blinking lights glowed across the gleaming surfaces of St Basil's. It was the evening of the school Christmas disco, and the hall's wooden floor was already caked with spilt coke.

Dawn Russet sat alone on the edge of the dance floor. Saffelia Forrest and Hazel Brock had been the first two up there, situating their handbags on the school stage while dancing and giggling casually round it. Others joined them a few songs later, when the best music started coming. Dawn Russet chewed nervously on her brown hair, molting her ashes of rose lipstick. Her eyes flitted from boy to boy as they passed her. She sighed, wondering what it would feel like to circle her arms around their necks, and feel their rough calloused hands pressing against her hips. It had taken her a half hour to roll on harlequin black tights and the navy blue skirt now pressed tight against her upper thighs had cost thirty quid. As Madonna blasted Dawn's favourite song out the speaker, she cast her eyes round again. Watching everyone else dancing she unusually felt like a bittersweet island. For once, no-one had bothered to ask her.

Copies of the first issue of _Oracle_ had been dumped on the table in front of the school noticeboard that afternoon. Danny's obituary on Woodbridge and teaching in general had made it, albeit cut down to make it fit the paper's modest pages. Timothy's comparative piece on schoolgirls and their respective breast-sizes, had not. Danny's twinges of guilt for leaving Janna to co-ordinate the entire news section evaporated when he dwelt on the sight of her Cedric snogging. Other students had written nuggets of information about movements in the parent's and teachers society, playground disputes, school romances and Amberleigh notices, but it was not enough to fill entire stories and Danny suspected Janna had written most of them herself to save face. There was regret but no guilt for his comment about not being friends with her if she was the last girl on earth. He couldn't explain why and how he had moved from love to hate so quickly. He was reminded of a scene from the play he was studying. Hermia and Lysander plucked asunder by Puck's infernal messing. If love was a fickle beast in Shakespeare's world of fairies and metamorphoses; it definitely was fickle in the real world of teenagers too. Danny didn't know why his emotions were leaping about like fairy dust other than some vague explanation William had given about teenage hormones which sounded too much like one of Ravana's biology lessons for him to listen properly.

Saffelia Forrest had thrown Danny a couple of funny looks. He danced wildly with those school friends who had not witnessed the embarrassing episode in the Press Room, Mary Oconee and Lorraine Carr. Lorraine wore hideous neon red lipstick that on her oversized lips made her look clownish. Yet in her swaying dance she advanced towards Danny as though a snog later on was distinctly possible.

Madonna ceased and The Bluetones kicked in. Danny saw Tim and Amanita sidle in and he sighed. He was not ready to speak to Amanita. They walked his way. Thinking quickly Danny walked in the opposite direction, over to Dawn Russet.

'Hello Dawn. Would you like to dance?'

Dawn looked over him suspiciously before hormones kicked in and she broke into an alluring smile.

'I'd love to!'

Taking her hand he led her to the dance floor. Danny smiled – it was impossible to either see Amanita or be seen by her from where he stood. That was just the way he liked it.

The music stopped and Pry and Wonder appeared at the front of the hall. Saffelia and Hazel stopped dancing on the school stage, looking silly up there on their own. Wonder spoke first.

'Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight is _your_ school disco, please make sure you eat, drink and have a good time, above all!'

Cheers rang out around the hall.

'Of course, enjoy the varied music we have on offer! You will all be pleased to hear that I have forgotten my guitar!'

Groans resounded from the students eager to resume their flirtations. Then Professor Pry spoke.

'I expect you all to behave responsibly,' Pry cast her eye on Anjalie Marjoram, 'and to leave quietly once the disco has finished. Otherwise, I may be forced to engage the gentlemen in a little cheek to cheek dancing with yours truly.'

Cedric Claw positively winced, and was nudged in the ribs by Janna Chisely at his rudeness. Pry didn't see him, or if she did, gracefully neglected to react.

The music started again, and Danny felt relieved he could forget about Amanita. As the evening wore on Danny twirled and pirouetted and allowed Dawn Russet to throw her dainty hands around his bristling neck. Eventually the temperature rose in the hall and Danny decided to leave Dawn on the dance floor to fetch a glass of water to cool down. Amanita was waiting to pounce. Only when she reached him and rested her hand on his arm in a conciliatory gesture, did he turn to the other side of him and begin to chat to Lorraine Carr. Amanita stormed away in a huff and went to sit on the other side of the hall with Tim. Lorraine grabbed Danny and pushed him onto the dance floor, just as a romantic ballad began to caterwaul from the speakers. Before Danny knew what had hit him, Lorraine pressed her cheek against his. He could feel the powdery crust of her foundation rub away like breadcrumbs from the bottom of a toaster. As he moved his cheek away in disgust there was nowhere to go and she plunged sticky lips onto his, plastering crimson grease over his mouth.

To the left of him Mary Oconee was embracing Sol Castle in a romantic clinch, while on the right Ella Amur seemed to be trying to let Samuel Mills eat her whole, starting with her face. With her mouth opened wide Danny was reminded of the dark cavities that sit beneath Amberleigh Castle, where the sea meets the rocks, as Samuel's tongue plunged inside her like a motorboat exploring every crumpled crevice. Olive Spritser danced lightly with Rosetti Duocorn on the stage, her hand squeezing Rosetti's bum. Timothy stared at them goggle-eyed while Amanita stared straight ahead above folded arms. Her face told the story of one who feels thoroughly miserable and out of place. Danny smiled, before Lorraine launched herself at him again.

Amberleigh is full of transcendence on a day like this. Sheer azure sky. A golden ball of fire burning brightly. Sand stretched across the coast like the curve of a rainbow. Hills and mounts rising from the sea like the bosom of the earth awakening. I couldn't decide whether this beauty, this canvas of emotion invoked by landscape, was a trick, an illusion, from which the curtain was drawn upon death, or whether the honest grit and infinite cosmos was all there is, defined by no-one, designed by nothing, just a great eternity of existence with no origin or ending.

**Christmas in Amberleigh**

As the night wore on Danny became tired of dancing and he went to wash off the lipstick stains that marked his mouth. Lorraine gestured for him to return to her arms but he was weary of her snogging and instead went to sit down, deliberately beside Janna Chisely. When she eventually turned to say something Danny looked the other way. Cedric Claw was busy dancing, as well as trying to look up Mary Oconee's skirt. Amanita had already left, frustrated by Danny's lack of effort to speak to her. However Tim was still there.

'Alright mate?'

'Not too shabby. Catch up with Amanita while she was here?'

'No. Must have missed her. How's she doing?'

'Yeah, she's doing alright. A bit pissed off like that you're not speaking to her, but apart from that fine and dandy.'

Danny smiled at Tim. Whatever dilemma or teenage crisis they seemed to endure, he always found a way to make it seem reassuringly trivial.

'At least she'll have the Christmas disco to write about in her blasted school paper now. I wonder if she's got any inspiration for songs for the house music competition?'

'So you gonna take Lorraine home or what?' Tim asked casually.

'Or what. I think one teenage pregnancy scare is enough for one term.'

Tim laughed and skulked off to find Saffelia Forrest.

Rubbing his eyes, Danny decided he wanted to go home. Alone. Lorraine had nipped off to the loos so he had an ideal chance to make an escape. He exited quietly from St Basil's, but walking across the playground to the school gates he saw a short woman walking towards him, her blue eyes glowing. As she approached he recognised Professor Pry. She stopped in front of him blocking his path. Whenever she looked directly at him like that he felt like she had the power to see through him.

'Yes?' Danny asked insolently.

'Canterbury!' she barked officiously. 'A word if you please,' and Pry began walking to her classroom. Danny had no option but to follow. He had not yet graduated into the habit of flagrantly disobeying direct orders from teachers although he was considering it.

Reluctant to admit it out loud, her classroom was lovely and warm away from the cold wintry evening and he sat down on a chair, yawning involuntarily. Pry sat at her desk and began to mark some books. Neither said a word for a few minutes before Pry finally broke the silence.

'Amanita Walmer is a friend of yours I gather,' she said, not looking up from her books. Danny breathed in. He smelt a musty damp rising from somewhere.

'That's right Miss, I mean _Professor_.' He emphasized her title with a level of sarcasm not undetectable from Pry but definitely unpunishable.

'Your work has started to slip Canterbury,' Pry whispered, a hint of danger in her voice.

'Big deal,' Danny said.

Pry got up from her desk and walked over to where Danny was sitting. She pulled up a chair from the desk next to his and sat in it. She placed both her hands on the desk in front of him, with her palms open.

'Listen to me Danny Canterbury. I would like to tell you a story and I would like you to listen. Fifteen years ago I met a remarkable man who changed my life. He came into my life when I least expected it, and remained there for a whole year.'

Danny looked up at her and saw truth and pain blazing in her sky blue eyes.

'Then he died. Among other things, he was a handyman. He built a shed for me in my back garden. I used to long for him to come round every evening after I got back from school. In the summer I used to sit out in the garden while he worked and I did my marking. We used to chat about all sorts – his ambitions, his wife, his only daughter, his past, his previous... anyway we became close friends. When my shed was finished I was distraught because I realised I would never see this man again, or not in the way I had before. And then he was taken from me, from us all. Six months later his wife gave birth to another daughter and it was a bouncing baby child. Her mother was understandably still in grief and it was bittersweet for her to have another child so close to the loss of her husband.'

Danny rested his head on his hand and visibly sighed. Pry continued, still not looking at him.

'Danny Canterbury – do you know what it is to lose somebody? Do you have any idea of how it feels to know that you will never see that person again, never? Someone you love. And what is worse, can you imagine what it feels like to grow up never knowing your own father? Always wondering what he was like, what your genetic inheritance is, or could be? How your life would have been different if he'd been around? Can you imagine the terrible burden of carrying that round with you? Do you understand what I am saying?'

'Professor! What has all this got to do with me and Amanita?!'

Pry looked him in the eyes and he knew the truth in that instant, as soon as he said it. The daughter in Pry's story had been Amanita. It came to him like clouds passing across a blood-red sun. He had been an awful friend to her for no apparent reason. She had known true pain, and he had insulted any memory she might have of the father she had never known. An awful dark shame began to creep over him and he lowered his head.

Pry rose from her chair and stalked her way back to her books to mark.

'It was I who suggested to Professor Fuzzair that you have counselling sessions with Professor Alessandro. I think you need to talk about your problems – or problem. You may leave now, Danny.'

*

Christmas fell on Danny like a plane dropping from the sky. One minute it was autumn: the russet leaves dropping and swaying gently to the ground in a mild November breeze; the next the air had hardened with frost and the slate grey sky threatened rain and snow. Danny watched as the usual parade of holidaying tourists leached from the town, and remaining residents clung coats around themselves less liberally than before, squeezing out any opportunity for the biting wind to infiltrate their cotton or suede armour.

Amberleigh town became aswarm with shoppers. Harassed and hurried gift-buyers rushed from street to street, from shop to shop, furtively watching those around them for fear of being upbraided for rude pedestrian etiquette. It was the usual tale of winter weariness. Christmas – the annual rush, the annual pursuit, the annual anti-climax.

One Sunday morning Danny sat on a bench in Amberleigh park, reflecting on the term shortly to end. On one hand there had been undeniable highlights – Pry's confident appraisal of his talents, sealing the deal with Anjalie and losing that part of him that was becoming more burdensome than beloved. On the other hand his future was clouded by uncertainty and the unpredictable vagaries of teenage life. The only certainty was harder school and coursework in the Spring term.

A small fountain spurted water into an emerald pool perilously close to him, but he had no energy to rise. If he was splashed by a little water, so be it.

He could hear footsteps. Someone was walking towards his bench, slowing as they approached. Danny looked up and saw a young boy stood before him. He held a toy red lorry in his hand. Tears crusted to his red face leaving sallow stains.

'Mummy's gone,' the young boy said simply.

Beginning to panic at the intrusion to his reflection, Danny couldn't think of what to say in response. Then he realised he was dealing with a small boy, someone just like him a few years ago, and relaxed.

'Where's your Mummy?' he asked softly but firmly.

'Gone. Can't find her.'

'Which way did she go?' Danny asked, hoping there could be a fast resolution to the boy's lost parent. The boy pointed back the way he had come, his small arm stretching out like a stumpy branch on the trees surrounding him.

Danny breathed a deep sigh.

'Come on. We'll go and look for her.'

'Mummy says I'm not to go with strangers.'

Danny looked at the child, and remembered a story from his childhood.

'Okay then. I'll walk two paces ahead and you can follow behind. How's that?'

The boy thought for a moment and a slow smile gradually crossed his tiny face.

'Yes. That's okay, thank you very much.'

'What's your name?' Danny asked.

'James. James Chonut.?'

'Chonut? Like Donut?' asked Danny, instantly wishing he hadn't.

'What?' the boy asked, confused.

'Nothing.' Danny said.

'What's yours?'

'Danny Canterbury,' said Danny.

Danny walked into town, occasionally looking over his shoulder to check the little boy followed. He did. Smiling now, James seemed to be enjoying the little game Danny was playing with him.

'Can you see her yet?' James asked, in a high-pitched almost scared voice.

'I don't know who I'm looking for, do I?' Danny responded, a tad irritable.

A scream rose behind and glancing back Danny saw James running forward towards a woman with speed.

'There she is!'

James pointed forwards to the back of a lady with raven black hair and wearing a light blue coat. Danny wanted to warn him to slow down in case he tripped up, but it was too late. He seemed out of reach. A random heel kicked out of the town crowd at the wrong moment catching James' little leg and launching him into mid-air. At full stretch Danny reached out both arms and ran forward. He caught James and gingerly placed him back on the floor.

The lady turned, her black hair parting to reveal a pale face with two mauve slicks of lipstick hovering in front of brilliant white teeth.

'James! Darling!' she cried.

Glad James had reclaimed his mother and his job done, Danny turned to walk back to the park.

'Wait!' he heard a voice call. It was the lady. She held out her hand. It had something in it.

Danny reached out and took a jar of something red off her.

'It's cranberry chutney. Wonderful on Christmas turkey. Thank you for finding my son.'

She leaned over and kissed him leaving a mauve imprint on Danny's cold cheeks.

'Merry Christmas!' she whispered huskily to him before turning back to her son.

Danny stood for a moment, and thought hard. Amanita was not the only one. Amberleigh town looked the same as it did every Christmas. The decorations were the same. The masses of people were the same. The same market stalls. But a feeling rose up in Danny that distinguished itself from the usual Christmas glow. He couldn't put his finger on what it was. A bittersweet melancholy, a resolution with the past. Its small flame warmed him.

*

At last the Christmas holidays had arrived. Days of rest and time with Polly and William. Snow fell a few days before Plunket's finished for the break and the thick frost ensured Amberleigh was constantly bathed in watery white light. The ocean's springing surf looked colder than ever, yet Danny resolved to take long strolls on the beach on those days he wasn't helping his father with chores, or his sister with her school-work. He enjoyed every self-filled second of being alone. The long walks along the beach soothed him, even though the spray from the sea was cold, and the biting wind cut into his cheeks with a venom Danny never noticed when he was small. He dressed down, wore thick scruffy jumpers and tired, faded and often food-stained jeans. He doubled up his socks, wearing two pairs on top of each other. He didn't feel the need to wear nice clean clothes when he wasn't even bothered about people seeing him.

One morning he took a languid forty-five minutes to walk the full length of Amberleigh beach, the harbour, and the second, quieter beach beyond. The wet sand caked his wellies and by the time he reached home he felt he was carrying half the beach with him. With the stream of white light pouring through his bedroom windows he retired for an hour to read more of _Jane Eyre_. It calmed him. Jane lived an anguished life eloquently, enduring her range of problems with demure passivity and an iron will. She was a role model for any person who saw themselves as an individual, he reflected.

The seawater too moved him. All his life he heard the sound of the ocean rolling around his head, a soothing melody that never ended. The lilac piece of paper in his pocket pressed on his mind – a niggling subtlety behind his every thought.

Christmas day arrived exuberantly and Danny opened his presents from Polly and William with glee. Memories of Plunket's were now embedded deep in his unconscious, but thoughts of Robin Vernal kept popping out of nowhere, like there was something about her existence hardwired into his mind. The girl from his childhood. Would she ever reappear in his life? Whenever he mentioned her to Dad he encouraged Danny to think about his current friends. But Danny longed for something he had lost. The return to that innocent pre-teenage joy, the notion of identity invisible, only touching distance from the foetal bliss of ignorance.

*

Talk. Why do they always think talking is the answer to every problem? Talking doesn't solve problems, thinking does. In some cases, talking makes it irreparably worse. The demand to inflict what comes naturally to you on those to whom it is not only unnatural but damaging, was a fascist demand Danny resented. Why should he be made to talk when his was an individual struggle he and he only could resolve? Talking was pointless to him, and he really couldn't give a fuck if teachers thought this made him moody, sulky or stroppy. He was who he was and he wasn't prepared to change his identity for the fickle whims of other people.

The start of the Spring term came too quickly for Danny. Long baited as the zenith of the year, now the Yuletide and New Year celebrations seemed just the few days in winter they actually were. With the tinsel and fairy lights and carols and fruit pudding and mince pies and gifts and joyful days watching cheesy films long forgotten, the cold and wintry winds grew in strength. The word Spring was an abomination. The gilded haze of spring seemed a million miles distant.

Danny skulked along to Professor Alessandro's study, dragging his feet along the dusty wooden floor. Alessandro was tending a plant on his windowsill when Danny arrived. The whole room was filled with greenery, plants and flowers. Rushes of grass peeped from his cupboards, and a large oddly shaped bag of moss rested against his desk. With not a single book in sight, let alone any mathematics texts, Danny wondered how a teacher got by with such an absence of reading material. Alessandro wore a traditional grey suit. When he had arrived many of the students at the top of his set – himself, Tim and Amanita included – had wondered what impact, if any, this man would have on the teaching at Plunket's? Danny felt he was about to find out.

Alessandro turned round and greeted Danny warmly. Gesturing to a comfortable looking chair, he invited Danny to sit down with a swift wave. The bag of moss sitting against Alessandro's desk moved, and continued moving. Danny realised it was tied to a piece of wire that Alessandro was now pulling towards his window ledge. As he pulled it a small trail of moss poured out of a hole in the corner of the bag. The instant the moss hit the floor it turned green and grass start growing there on his office floor.

'Fast-growing stuff, this ExtraGreen. It's a fantastic shrub!'

Danny lowered himself in the seat tentatively, careful to place his bag a deliberate distance from the peculiar substance Alessandro was raving about. He felt stranded in this unfamiliar man's world.

'Now, young Master Canterbury! I think we need to have a little chat don't we? Or perhaps you need to have a little chat with yourself.'

Danny stayed silent. Alessandro didn't speak either, but stared straight at Danny. The tension became too much for Danny and he blurted out,

'What is the point of this? Talking isn't going to help this.'

'Of course it won't. If that's what you want,' Alessandro soothed.

'I'm fine. I don't need to talk about this. I don't need counselling.'

'Of course you don't. I know that,' Alessandro assuaged.

Danny moved in his seat. Alessandro's agreeable attitude caught him off-guard. He had been expecting a confrontation. Danny tried again.

'Well, if you know that I don't need counselling why am I here?'

The moss began growing again beneath Danny's feet. Some had spilled onto his shoes and tiny blades of grass had started erupting on his laces. It happened so fast that his smart black shoes were soon interlaced with a wiry green lace-like grass.

'Sorry about that,' Alessandro said and pointing to his shoes. A chill flew through the room and Alessandro shut the window.

'Why are you here? That is a very good question. Why do you think you are here?' Alessandro asked politely.

'Because Professor Pry asked me to come.' Danny said, beginning to feel himself opening up.

'Exactly! You are obeying her request. Doesn't that make you feel a little better? Doesn't that make you feel like you belong a little more to the school? That you fit in?'

Danny wanted to answer very loudly in the negative. That he'd rather be at home, yanking his chain, taking his dog for a walk. Or on the beach reading. Or in bed with Janna Chisely. Or a myriad of other things he'd rather be doing. He thought for a moment. There were far worse places he could be. Being in the company of the head of Mathematics was not the worst predicament he had found himself in. It was certainly better than facing the wrath of Amanita he knew was waiting round the corner. He hated the words "fit in" but deep down knew he wanted it more than anything, that it was a hidden privilege to belong. There were no words in his head to communicate all of this, so instead he answered with a simple yes.

Alessandro rubbed his hands.

'I've got something to show you.'

Alessandro reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a ring. It had seven red rubies set into the solid gold frame.

'Does this mean anything to you Danny?'

Danny was gabberflasted. The ring he had found at the beach was safe in his room, in a special place only he knew about. Either Alessandro had been sneaking round in his room or this was a duplicate ring. Danny decided to lie.

'No.'

Alessandro sighed. 'That's a shame. This is the replica of a ring that has gone missing and belongs to...well, it belongs to someone very important, and we, and when I say 'we' I mean 'St Oliver Plunket's', desperately need to find the original before, well, before anything bad happens to it.'

Danny looked at him and smiled an empty vacant smile.

'I'm sorry I can't be of help, sir. Why did you think I might know about this ring?'

Alessandro looked at him intensely, as if weighing up whether to confide something. Danny felt the pressure of this look, which continued for a minute.

'Because, Danny Canterbury' Alessandro said, turning to some books on his desk, 'I have it on good authority you are the most... _observant_ student in your year. All the teachers talk about it in the staffroom – they know nothing passes you by.'

'Is that so? I'm sorry sir, I must go – I have a lesson with Dr Ethelraed.'

Danny stood up and closed the door on his exit.

*

Ethelraed's lesson was chaos as usual. As Danny and Tim entered the classroom a stapler flew over their heads and landed in the corridor behind them. They couldn't imagine how the latest indiscipline had begun but it had clearly spiralled quickly out of control.

On the whiteboard a diagram displayed what seemed to be a river portrayed at all angles: above, below, along and face on. The colours used were curious but perhaps this was just down to the markers that were available with ink left in them. The banks were all painted in creamy violet while the water was neon green. At the top barked the heading: erosion. The geography of rivers: how their banks subside and give way; how faster currents chip harder at the crumbling soil, how hidden surges beneath the surface have the power to pull a human under.

In one diagram – the one from above – the river was shown to be part of a network, a system of tributaries and confluences that flowed into each other, like the roots of a tree or jagged streaks of lightning that occasionally lit up the sea along the Amberleigh coast.

However no-one else was paying the slightest bit of attention to what was written on the board. Danny's split-second gaze was inspired and his brain whirred, creating oxbow lakes, imagining how rivers could take on a life of their own, that they could begin and end, from the mountains to the ocean. The smallest stream, the thinnest tricklet could grow into the widest weep of water, from modest beginnings mighty power could be generated.

It would have been a lesson Danny would have immersed himself into – like the soft submersion into bathwater on a Sunday evening – had he been given the chance. The thought of flowing water made him think of life and death, and for the briefest of intrusive moments, of Janna and Chardelia.

Dr Ethelraed stormed up the aisles attempting to keep his class from throwing their pencil cases, erasers, blackboard rubbers, pens, compasses, rulers all toward the front of the class. The lesson hadn't even begun, when a compass came flying through the air and landed in Ethelraed's cheek, piercing the skin. He clutched his face, blood seeping from it as he attempted to quell the uprising.

'Listen class – I will not accept this unruly disruptive behavior from any of you. You will all gather in detention unless – '

'Unless what you wanker!' came a voice from the back of class that Danny recognized as belonging to Edmund Cloves, despite his attempt to conceal it by cupping his mouth with his hand.

'You – you...' Ethelraed began, pointing at no-one in particular.

Laughs and sniggers emitted from behind the flying detritus that still flowed into the air from the back of the classroom. Danny paused, watching the scene, scared for his own safety to spend another moment in this class.

Another, more substantial object appeared in mid-air. Danny squinted, and gasped.

It was a house brick.

The arc of the object indicated an imminent collision with a student. It was heading straight for the back of Janna Chisely's head, as she sat unwittingly, one of few well-behaved students at the front of the class. Without thinking Danny leapt across the classroom, pushing Tim and Cedric Claw out of his way. He landed heavily on Janna, pushing her to the ground. Screaming out at the pain of having her face rammed against the floor, Janna quietened when she heard the brick crash into her desk and her desk collapse in a wooden mess. Danny held Janna on the floor for an extra minute in case anything else fell. Beneath him Janna trembled from the shock of the intrusion. The whole class was silenced. Ethelraed was nowhere to be seen.

As they got up, Janna screamed again.

Lying on the floor, a huge stream of blood trickling in a glossy pool behind his head lay their teacher. Danny leaned over him. His eyeballs rolled back and his mouth agape, Dr Ethelraed was dead.

Hysterical, all the students pushed their way to the door, and as Danny tumbled out with them the thought popped into his head like a bubble created from nowhere: there was a murderer among them.

They were not allowed to leave until the police interviewed them all and accepted written statements from every pupil. To begin with two officers arrived, both with intensely serious looks painted across weary faces. Then three more showed up and began marking the classroom with yellow tape. Finally, a detective arrived around eight pm. Once he was happy statements had been gathered from every student they were slowly allowed to leave to the waiting parents in the playground.

Inside Ethelraed's office inflatable globes and cross-sectional models of waterfalls containing life-like mossy grass were removed by the police for inspection, and in order to establish the office as a temporary interview room. Amanita and Danny had entered together, partly because they were old friends, partly because they were near each other in the room when it happened, and partly because they both wanted to. Their argument had sunk beneath the waves of this new crisis. Despite their earlier stand-off Amanita held Danny's hand throughout their interview and when they embraced as they prepared to leave, Danny discovered they both still violently shook.

Professor Flambeau retained an ashen face throughout the police interviews. It frightened Danny to look up and see this shadow of a man, the headmaster of their school, his dark olive-brown eyes so freaked out as the rest of them.

Rumour emerged that no-one had seen, or claimed to have seen what happened to Dr Ethelraed. Danny had been lying on the floor with Janna Chisely when it happened, their gazes fixed on floor tiles. No windows were smashed, there were no other people entering or leaving the room when he and Janna arose. Whatever occurred had happened amongst their class. Whoever had thrown the brick was someone in the room at the same time as Danny.

When Danny arrived home William wanted to discuss what he had seen, but Danny ran upstairs and unleashed a stream of bile-coloured vomit into the toilet. He remained stationed on the toilet rim for a further half hour until, drained and tired he crawled into bed and closed weary, fearful eyes.

Danny couldn't sleep. He woke up at half three in the morning and watched television to pass the time. An obscure Australian drama about two tribes at war. The remnants of one stranded on an island gathering together their only resources in order to fight an oncoming assault from a much more violent opposition. Then a Los Angeles soap opera flashed into life and he watched for an hour, the wooden sets matched by wooden acting. The intimate encounters, beautiful-looking people and emotional tension were a refreshing artificial counterpoint to the painful episode, his traumatic day.

When he woke in the morning William came in to speak to him. He told Danny he didn't have to go to school, and there were some visitors waiting to see him downstairs. Danny showered, threw on some clothes, intermittently gazing out of his bedroom window. The sun broke through the clouds to reveal shafts of sun bathing the ocean in silver light and illuminating the bluey green coral and sea-bed beneath. As ever, he saw Plunket's school and Amberleigh Castle in the distance.

Four people waited for him in the lounge of Dunkinley. Two he had expected, two he did not. Tim and Amanita were seated at his breakfast table. Amanita sipped an orange juice, but very slowly while not eating anything. Timothy looked like he was still in shock, but it failed to stop him polishing off five croissants and a cup of tea.

Across from them sat Janna Chisely and Ella Amur. Danny didn't know why they had come, other than out of a desire for companionship and solidarity. Janna greeted him with a beaming smile as he came into the room. Danny pulled up a stool and sipped some orange juice. Tim was the first to speak.

'Anyone fancy going into school today?'

Everyone laughed. A bizzare cathartic communal laugh. Ella raised her head and her serpentine curls bounced up and down by her cheek.

'I don't know anyone who would want to go into school after seeing what we saw yesterday.'

Janna nodded.

'I can't believe it,' she said.

Danny twiddled his tea-cup in his fingers and looked at his bare feet. There was still some sand lodged between the toes on his left foot.

'Did anyone see what happened to Ethelraed?' he said. 'Someone must have seen.'

The atmosphere in the room suddenly became serious. Tim lowered his head, as did Ella. Amanita looked at him but didn't speak. Janna reached out and touched Danny's hand, which felt like the plumage of a soft dove, or the condensation of a million rainbows, or a glancing breach of heaven into earth. She spoke in a similarly gentle voice.

'They obviously haven't told you, have they?'

Walking down the cobbles of Amberleigh high street I clicked a button on my personal stereo and soothing melodies of eighties pop music came filtering through my ear drums. Here was release. Here was something to cherish, to remember, to savour. Remember every moment. That was what they had said, but they were just words – easily spent and just as easily forgotten. Living it was far harder.

Tourists passed me, on their climb up to the train station. Many would take the train that led back down the coast, to their commuter towns and their nested suburbs. I envied them, but then again also pitied them for they did not have what I have – the clearest sense of direction a human being has ever felt. In the end time was not a feeling or a thought – it could not be twisted or stretched or distorted. It was a hard reality, like the concrete edges of the road, that would not buckle nor bend. Like the shining cobbles beneath my feet, reflecting the sun, making sea-dripping bathers slip and slide like skaters on a field of ice.

**Janna Chisely**

Because of the likely trauma, all the students present in the classroom at the time of Ethelraed's demise were permitted the day off. Not wanting to waste their unexpected free time, and to rid accumulating anxiety from their system, the five of them decided to visit the Dropshot tennis club and test their early Spring form.

Walking down the hill towards the club Danny still processed what Janna had told him. Dr Ethelraed had been stabbed in the back of the head. There was no implement next to or even near the body. Nobody had seen anything, but it was not the brick that killed him, it had been a knife wound. The unspoken shock of this revelation still reverberated, and made his body feel weak.

Passing through the open club gates they walked over to the club-house where Janna and Ella excused themselves to get changed. Amanita sat on the bench and put on her tennis shoes. Tim got his racket out and began swinging through the air, loosening his muscles.

Ella had never played tennis before and it showed. They had to retrieve five tennis balls from the nearby brambles in the first set. Janna and Danny were regulars at the club in the summer months. It was how they had first got to know each other, before he committed the blunder of asking her out. For a moment, Danny believed that was behind them, that it was all forgotten, but then he cast his eyes to the pewter sky and remembered life was not that easy, that there was always a reckoning to be made.

The wind rustled through the tall poplars behind them. After a couple of games Danny got into his stride. Here on court, he felt more at home and managed to lose himself in his game. They played doubles with one sitting out every three games. Amanita was the first to sit out, and Ella challenged both the lads to a girls versus boys match. Tim smiled knowingly. There was no way they could be beaten by a couple of girls.

In a couple of games it was all over and Janna and Ella were the ones smiling. Tim skulked off court for a drink, moaning about close net cord calls and the need for line judges. His absence made way for Amanita, who smiled nervously at Danny as they began their game. They took the first game. Then Ella hit a crisp backhand slice down the line and sitting at the net Janna struck a comfortable smash to make it one all. Amanita and Danny could feel the artificial tension growing. They had to win this game. Janna and Ella had already beaten Danny once.

The score reached deuce. Danny played a powerful cross-court drive pushing Ella out to the tram lines. Amanita followed up with a lovely drop shot at the net to make it advantage to them.

Danny took his time. It was his serve. He bounced the ball a couple of times and looked up at his receiver, Janna Chisely. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, and he bounced the ball once more before hurling it up into the empty air. A thousand thoughts fleeted through his small mind as he waited for the ball to drop. Why had Ethelraed been killed? Where was Cedric Claw? Had he split up with Janna? Had Amanita fully forgiven him? What did Professor Pry really think of him after his outburst? Far away he could hear the faint sound of a waterfall, and he realised it must be Amberleigh Cascades, the small but pretty waterfall that rushed into Amberleigh river the other side of the headland. There was also a strong smell of tar coming from the road. They must be redoing the road surface he thought. The tennis ball reached the apex of its toss. It stopped in mid-air before slowly starting to descend, gathering pace as it hurtled back towards Danny.

Then he realised the position he was in. He was about to serve to Janna Chisely – the sole object of his frustrated desire. It had been months since he had been given the opportunity to play her at tennis and the old days, when they would endlessly parry the ball back and forth between each other, her fluttering hair at the other side of the net giving him palpitations and those feelings that circulated round his aching groin, which were now long in the past, buried by the fiery teenage hormones, represented an idyll that he might, just might one day, decide to devote his entire life to reclaiming.

Danny threw his elbow in the air, pulled his racket back, the weight of his body resting on his back foot. As the ball entered its final few seconds of freedom, he launched his right arm into the warm air, whipping it forward as swiftly as he could muster. A split-second later the strings made contact with the ball on the sweet spot of his racket, hitting it clean and through the fluffy yellow orb just as he had been taught. It bounced hard on the edge of the service line on the other side of the court. He had given Janna no chance. Ace. Game, set and match to Amanita and Danny.

Afterwards they played a few practice games each then packed up and wandered into Amberleigh. Amanita, Tim and Ella wanted to visit O'Donnells to buy some food. Danny told them he was going to head to the record shop, Dreamland Discs to buy a new U2 single that had just been released, something about wild horses. Janna looked at him, as if she too sat on the edge of making a decision that could be misinterpreted. She casually announced her acquiescence.

'I want to get that single too! I'm going to go with Danny. See you all later.'

Just like that they were off, walking together among the sparse Friday lunchtime crowds. Danny could feel his heart hammering, his throat losing moisture and his eyes about to water with confused embarrassment and craving. Her arm hung limply by her side, her hand empty. Danny couldn't help looking at it, and longed to grab those thin ivory fingers and entwine them with his. What would be the consequences, he thought, if he did this without asking? Steady on Danny, a voice spoke within him. You already acted too hastily once, don't make the same mistake again.

They walked into Dreamland Discs and, away from the tennis court where his confidence surged, Danny could feel his awkward self-consciousness returning. Janna was browsing through the Belly records. He didn't know what to do with his hands but made a mental note that Janna liked Belly. He found the single he was after and bought it. After Janna queued and bought her own copy the pair walked back into crowded Amberleigh. As the trees behind blew gently in the breeze, Janna spoke first.

'What next then?'

Danny had no idea. He was completely stumped and could feel his cheeks burning. He looked at Janna like a deer caught in the flashing blue headlights of a police car, and then realised she was smiling gently at him.

'What are you smiling at?' Danny found himself saying accusingly. He had not meant it to come out like that, but Janna's giggle told him she had not taken it the wrong way.

'I'm smiling at you Danny Canterbury. You're such a one!'

'What does that mean exactly?' he said, now smiling too. 'And can I get it in writing?' he added cheekily.

'It means that you're unique. You're a one.'

She leant over and kissed him on the cheek.

Danny blushed purple as the invisible weight on his shoulders lifted, and a hidden spring rushed through his calves, up his thighs and into his pulsing heart. Janna blushed too at her boldness and they walked on in a silence more comfortable than awkward conversation.

*

It felt like flying. The next two days were a blur of wild and unfettered emotion. Every time he looked at her he couldn't forget the contrast between the Janna of now and the image of the girl who bluntly turned him away last summer. Every time she looked at him he couldn't reconcile the dream in his heart with the reality in his head.

She had become his girlfriend.

Every time she touched him on the hand, he jumped as if he expected a fatal dose of electricity to hurtle through his pathetic, mortal body.

Danny discovered much in the following days. He learnt Janna's often icy surface harboured a yearning for affection deep down. He learnt she ate cornflakes for breakfast with just a smidgen of sugar. He learnt the challenge of keeping her hair like that was no casual five-minute effort, like his own hairstyle, and sometimes it bugged her, especially when the wind was up. He learnt they fitted together as a couple like a flower in a vase.

Amanita and Tim didn't see Danny at all for days. He felt he had entered a pampered, indulgent limbo. He should be and was still in shock from the events in Ethelraed's classroom, but it was as if they had been shoved to the trash bin of his mind, ready for deletion. Those horrific memories had no place now, apart from being the one thing that had brought Janna to him. They had been displaced by an emerging surrender to acceptance, and an optimistic hope of happiness Danny found hard to resist.

Later in the week the new pairing walked into school hand in hand. People stared. Tim looked agog. Amanita smiled, uncertainly. Cigarettes falling from their mouths, Olive Spritser and Hazel Brock ceased smoking to gaze at the latest school romance. Even Professor Wonder winked in congratulations as they both passed him in the corridor. In fact the only person who seemed a little piqued at the coupling was Janna's best friend Ella Amur. She kept her distance and scowled whenever she, or rather they, tried to approach her. Danny attributed it to the lack of time Janna now had available to spend with her bosom buddy, not that Ella had much of a bosom yet, Danny reflected gleefully.

A letter had been sent to all pupils and parents that the school was now under surveillance from the police, and that a criminal investigation was under way within the wider Amberleigh Castle.

Danny and Janna were interviewed again, having been the nearest students to Dr Ethelraed when it had happened. But they had seen nothing, and when they asked the police how a fully grown adult could be overcome in a matter of seconds by someone who vanishes seconds later, the constable shook his head and admitted they didn't know. However, Danny suspected they knew more than they were letting on.

What was happening in Danny's life seemed like a living fantasy. An ugly or sublime trick, like sudden fleeting fame, that teachers were dropping everywhere while the one girl he held a torch for, had finally fallen for him.

As they arrived for Professor Wonder's lesson, the whole class appeared weary with the knowledge that the recent murder of Ethelraed would be dredged up again. Having been interviewed by the police, by Professor Flambeau, by their parents all most of the students wanted to do was forget. A lesson with Wonder evangelising and using it as some distorted theological example was all they needed. Except when Janna and Danny entered the classroom, Professor Wonder was not there. They sat down and waited, pulling exercise books and bibles from their bags.

A moment or two later the ever-smiling Wonder walked in. He said nothing. Instead he climbed onto his desk and stood on his head. He remained stood on his head for five minutes while the class watched. They were not in the least surprised nor impressed. Wonder always performed random theatrics like this and the novelty often wore thin. However they knew an instructive point would eventually emerge from his circus behaviour.

'Class. Can anyone tell me why I am standing on my head?'

Afraid of the worst, most of the class held back. It was however too much for one student.

'To stop your brains falling out of your arse?'

'Detention Gaunt!', Wonder bellowed. 'Anyone else?' he asked calmly.

No-one answered. Then, tentatively, a hand rose in the air, violet nail varnish gleaming on daintily manicured nails.

'Yes. Chardelia Foss?' Wonder said, and wobbled a little on his head.

'Sir. You are standing on your head because you believe – I should add I agree with you faith is indeed an admirable thing – you believe it demonstrates a religious point, or at least sets an example of how a certain biblical preacher viewed the world, compared with those around him. Sir?'

Wonder smiled again and slowly righted himself, pouncing to his feet in front of his class. He walked to Chardelia Foss' desk and passed her a slip of paper, which she read. The whole class watched as comprehension of what was on Wonder's slip of paper dawned on Chardelia. A beaming smile broke on her lips and stretched across her face, making her eyes sparkle with dewy poise. A murmur echoed around the class as to what was written on the paper but Chardelia had already safely stowed the slip in her blouse pocket, next to her water-blue eyeshadow.

'Class, Chardelia is correct. Jesus of Nazareth was surrounded by people who expected him to be something different than he was. There were groups who wanted him to be a great warrior king. There were groups who wanted him to lead a revolution. There were groups who wished he would just remain quiet. But he wanted none of these things. All he wanted to do was to spread peace, and this proved too much for some. It proved too much that they killed him. A little peace can be a dangerous thing to some people.

'For your homework I would like you all to write fifteen hundred words on why Jesus spent so much time with the sick and sinners. Thank you, that will be all.'

And just like that, Wonder brought the lesson to an end. The class slowly rose and made their way to exit. As they were leaving Janna, Danny and Chardelia were halted by Wonder in the doorway.

'Ladies and gentleman. I wonder if I might have a word?'

*

Janna and Danny sat in the Roasthouse after school. It was a Friday afternoon. Most of the dinner ladies had gone home for the evening. A couple were clearing away the leftovers of the day's food. One of them brought a plate full of sandwiches over to the pair.

'Hungry?' she asked, passing them the plate and a jug of orange juice.

Danny smiled and tucked in to the sandwiches, offering Janna one. The other dinner lady was cleaning some dishes and looking over at the pair suspiciously. Danny recognised her as Minni Amur, Ella's Mum.

They were still reeling from what Wonder had told them. A cover-up in Plunket's! They didn't know whether to believe him or not. They had asked him plenty of questions. Why Plunket's? Why had Ethelraed been murdered? Who could have committed the crime? What was going on? Why wasn't the school being closed as they spoke? Surely Professor Flambeau must be close to resigning – the second teacher death in one school year? The questions had poured from Janna and Danny yet Chardelia had said not a word, instead listening intently while her eyes filled up with water.

Wonder had likened the events in Plunket's to a war – a war of goodness against immorality. This seemed strong to Danny, despite the horrific encounter and Janna's lucky escape earlier in the week. They drank orange juice and sat, quietly glancing at each other, either not knowing what to say to the other. He had trusted them, perhaps that was the most shocking thing of all. A teacher trusting those he teached. It made Danny believe he had a contribution to make.

As the afternoon turned into early evening, Janna moved to sit beside Danny. He knew what she was thinking. Her parents were away for the weekend, and her sister was in London. She put her arm around him, and her head on his shoulder.

'I want to go home now. Take me home, Danny,' she said in a faint whisper.

On their walk they met Olive Spritser emerging from her ivy-laden house. She held a small puppy in her arms and walked up to the pair, smiling.

'Look what I've found! It must have wandered into our garden last night. I found it curled up in our shed this morning. Isn't he cute?'

Janna reached out her hand to stroke the sleeping animal. Danny watched her eyes fall on the little dog and light up with affection: he could not describe her emotions accurately. Her eyes flooded with warmth when her femininity was aroused. In her other hand Olive held a garland of flowers. Daisies, pansies and violets peeped out of a small paper wrapping tied with a blue ribbon. The little puppy woke up and began sniffing Olive's flowers curiously.

'Won't you both come in for a cuppa?'

Danny observed Janna anxiously, but she was already nodding and agreeing with Olive, and pulling Danny into Olive's house. Once inside they found themselves in what could only be described as a greenhouse without glass walls. Plants adorned every surface, and moss grew up the kitchen cupboard doors. On the kitchen window sat a magnificent herb garden in a giant green-glassed bottle garden. Rosemary, fennel, columbines and rue grew sprightly inside and filled the kitchen with a wonderful earthy aroma. Shards of coloured glass poked out of another huge plant pot, surrounded by a protective pink covering. Thick cookery books rested against the plant pots.

They sat in the lounge, sinking into Olive's sponge-like sofa while Olive made them a cup of tea. The lounge too was a sight to behold. A huge brickwork fireplace dominated the centre of the room, while around grew all manner of plants. To one side was a small statue of a little person that looked like Noddy. It had a blue hat, a yellow jersey and red trousers. It was holding a spade and imitating someone who was about to dig a hole. It wore a cheeky smile.

Olive brought through a pot of tea and some biscuits, and they settled into conversation.

'What do you two both think about Ethelraed then?'

Janna waited for Danny to speak, who sat staring straight ahead. No more questions please, he thought. It was time to leave the subject behind, if only for one evening. Janna smiled courteously and waved to Olive that it wasn't a good subject. So instead Olive asked another question.

'Heard from Cedric, Janna?'

Danny's heart sank into his stomach. Unable to deflect this question and knowing Danny's ears had pricked up, Janna squirmed slightly in her seat.

'He's been in touch, yes.'

Danny looked at her. Angrily. She hadn't told him this.

'And what did he have to say?' he said, trying to restrain the rising fury in his voice.

'He wanted to know if I was seeing anyone new. I told him I was seeing you,' Janna said, observing Danny's eyes for any sign she'd said the wrong thing on the tightrope of his feelings. It seemed to be the correct answer, as he visibly relaxed and sank back in his seat. Olive smiled at them both.

They drank their tea thirstily. A muffled sound reached them from the hall. The front door opened and Olive's mum Dorothy walked in, her thick brown hair scattered with soil and moss. She wore light blue dungarees bearing deep green stains on the front.

'Hello kids,' she called as she dumped a couple of bags of shopping on the kitchen table. Olive called back.

'Alright Mum? Have a good day at work?'

'Yeah, not bad thanks love. Had a few customers after wreaths. Very sad business. Very sad.'

Janna nudged Danny who was staring into his empty teacup. A remnant of his dunked hob nob lay at the bottom.

'We better get going. Thanks for the tea Olive.'

'My pleasure. Just remember, you're always welcome to pop in any time you like.'

*

Janna's bedroom glowed every shade of pink. The walls were painted alternately lilaclavender and mauveviolet, and her curtains were white with small purplepink hearts arranged in a random pattern. Her bedspread was pale yellow adorned with pink coloured clouds, with a huge white cuddly stuffed panda sat in the middle of her pillows. A smell of faded rose ashes wafted from a scented candle, and on the wall above her bed was pinned a crucifix from which draped a pair of pink panties.

Janna began kissing him as soon as she shut the door. She tasted of orange juice and chocolate. And sugar. And raspberries. Danny was sure it was lipstick, but all the tastes and aromas crowded in and confused him. There were incense burners and air fresheners oozing sweet fragrance on her dressing table, at which also sat a mirror, decorated with photos of herself and friends giggling and laughing.

Her jewellery box lay open. There were expensive looking bracelets and a necklace that could have been diamonds, but was probably something else. Sapphires twinkled at him from Janna's fingers – she was showing him a ring she had been given as a child by her grandmother. Danny shut the jewelry box, taking a last glance at gems that looked like they were rubies sitting beneath a gold watch.

She pulled him onto the bed and they kissed for a while, softly stroking each other.

'This is nice,' she said.

'Yes,' he replied, acquiescing to her teasing giggles and airy manner.

They kissed some more, still softly on the lips. Danny grew tired and soon Janna was in his arms and they were both asleep.

The morning sun reflected off the white snow leaving shadows of palest peach. As the light broke through her curtains it cast heart-shaped contours on the bedroom wall. Janna rubbed her eyes and pushed the bedclothes off her lithe body. She smiled at the gorgeous day beginning and reached for her book, making a fold in her nightie to keep the heat in. She was reading _Jude the Obscure_ by Thomas Hardy and loving it, especially the passage where Jude stood up and recounted the latin exactly in it's correct form. She liked things to be right, perfect. Danny spied her with one eye half open as she read. Janna turned the page and continued reading. Danny nudged her with one elbow and pretended to be asleep when she glanced at him.

'You're not going about the right way for breakfast in bed.'

Danny smiled, eyes still closed. He pulled Janna towards him and gave her a gentle hug.

'Maybe I don't want breakfast,' he said, finally opening his eyes and gazing into hers. 'Perhaps I'd prefer a feast instead.'

Janna hit him with her pillow before dropping her book on the floor to submerge herself in the foetal warmth still languishing beneath the covers.

Her nightie slid from her smooth skin easy. It bore a childlike design, with a picture of a fuchsia elephant on the front. Janna didn't resist, but when he lowered his hand from her stomach she caught him and whispered softly.

'We've got plenty of time. There's no rush, is there?'

Danny relaxed and gave her a cuddle. He didn't think he could feel more content than he did right then, at that second in which Janna ceased speaking. At that same second the realisation dawned what he meant to her. There was no pressure for sex. There was no pre-ordained destiny. It didn't have to be a quick fumble and then finish. It could be simple, it could be soft, it could be cuddling, it could be as light as air. For as long as they wanted it to be. Danny drew her closer, and embracing each other they fell back to sleep again.

When they awoke it was early evening. Outside the snow had begun another downfall and clouds sent slategray flakes floating down, like covert soldiers committing tiny missions under cover of inky darkness. Janna awoke Danny by softly tracing an outline of a heart on his upturned palm.

'I'm hungry' she exclaimed.

Danny reluctantly arose and put on his pants. He wandered downstairs and, after orienting himself around her kitchen, cooked her bacon and eggs and fried toast, with orange juice. He brought it up to her and they both ate happily.

Later on, with their hunger satiated, they rested contented heads on the same pillow. Janna put a film on her video recorder – _Brief Encounter_ –but neither were really watching it. They chatted instead. By not mentioning the incident in the classroom both knew it was underneath everything they said. It directed their conversation to topics students wouldn't ordinarily venture. They both now knew that lives could be cut short.

'What do you think you might be when you grow up?'

'A cytogeneticist.'

'A what?'

'A cytogeneticist,' she repeated.

'What does a cytogenetiwhatsit do then?'

'They test for unborn babies, chromosome disorders, that sort of thing. It's important work.'

Danny breathed in, taken aback. Janna had thought carefully about her career whereas he hardly thought about his at all.

'So, what do you want to do?'

Danny hesitated. He didn't want to appear weak in her eyes but he prided himself on always striving for honesty, even when painful or embarrassing. But he couldn't tell her. Not yet. It was too early to reveal something so personal

'I'd like to work in business...'

'Yes, but what business.'

'Would you like another orange juice? I'll just nip downstairs and get some.' Off Danny trotted, leaving Janna wondering.

On his return he brought a pot of tea stood on a flowery tray. Steaming and sweet, he poured her a cup and sat on her side of the bed. They both still wore night clothing and the clock had advanced to seven o'clock.

'So,' Janna said, 'what would you like to do today?'

They fell into light giggles as they drank the hot sweet tea. Janna reached for her lipstick and mirror and applied a supple coating of hazy lavender gloss. She smiled at Danny, who was crawling back into bed and smiling too.

They were both late. Monday afternoon had arrived and Professor Pry was bound to have noticed their dual absence from English. She would correctly suspect the reason for their truancy to be romantic and therefore, illegitimate. They rushed up Spiral Two and legged it down the now empty corridor. On approach they spied a full classroom through the windows, a disheartening sight. Everyone turned and looked. Danny could feel himself going bright red, but Janna held his hand.

'Come on babe. What can she do to you that I can't make up to you later on?'

He had to agree. There she had a point.

* * * * *

The footsteps fell away, each one imprinted on his dreaming waking mind. Ron and Eddie looked directly at it, each shivering in the underground cold. The water rippled at the hull of their boat and it swayed in the gentle currents as they stared at the bloody, silent and still body lying on the wooden planks of the jetty.

He had left them alone to clean up the mess.

'Come on Ron, you better grab the other end.'

They tugged at the heavy and motionless human, now no longer a human but a corpse. A mere matter of flesh and dust and bones and blood waiting to be shoved to its next destination. Inch by gasping inch they managed to haul it into the boat. They tied a thick slab of stone to each leg. With heaviness in their lead souls and a gigantic final effort they pulled the body up and over the edge of the boat, followed by the stones and watched it sink in the murk of the neongreen water.

'I'm fucking hungry,' Ron said. 'Let's go for pizza.'

* * * * *

Cherry Pie

Professor Lustrous Carmione strode into Roasthouse kitchen number one humming a Cliff Richard tune and carrying a shallow dish of dark cherries. Sadly, Danny thought he knew the song from his father's record collection. Carmione was almost singing. He could just about make out the words.

'Right class! I trust you have all brought your ingredients!'

Carmione surveyed the class with bespectacled green eyes. Sixteen units were set forth in front of her, each with two pupils on either side. On every unit stood glass dishes, packets and punnets of cherries, pastry cases and bags of flour. Danny had bought his cherries on Sunday in a frantic last minute rush.

'Today we will be making sweet red cherry pies. Remember, no eating of any of the ingredients. The recipe is on the board. Please, if you get stuck put your hand in the air and I will come and help. You have approximately 45 minutes. Please begin.'

Carmione sat back on her chair and sank into an article from _Woman's Own_. A slow hum rose up from several desks as people settled into baking. Opposite Danny's desk sat Florence Croft. She was a short girl, but her dirty-blonde hair fell over her face in attractive wisps, and wide pink lips widened into an enchanting smile. Her cherries looked withered and he felt a pang of sympathy as he started removing the stalks from his own. Florence looked up shyly at Danny and spoke tentatively.

'Could I have some of your cherries please Danny? Mine are a bit shrivelled.'

He passed some cherries to her wordlessly, and continued to make his pastry cases. She smiled at him and he felt his heart perform a familiar somersault.

'Is it true you're seeing Janna Chisely?' she whispered. Janna was at the other end of the kitchen, working opposite Cedric Claw much to Danny's chagrin.

Danny nodded, glancing again at Florence's profile. She had high cheekbones and petite ears. Her neck curved gracefully into her top, below which rested a charming bosom and the pleasing gully of her cleavage.

'How's it going?' she asked again, persistently and not a little cheekily, Danny thought.

He gazed at her. Love was a fickle animal. Here he was, indiscreetly checking out a classmate he had known for over three years but before this day, had barely spoken to. His girlfriend was making cherry pie with her ex. Puberty had transformed them – they were all developing different expectations of each other, at changing paces. Girls hung around with girls and boys hung around with boys. When a girl spoke to a boy it was usually to respond to a romantic question. It wasn't how it was before they all started...developing. They all used to be friends and casual with each other. Hitting the age at which things started to grow and sprout and emerge had changed them all irrevocably. There was no turning back even if they wanted to. Life was pouring into them all the ingredients for creating more life and no-one had given them any lessons to deal with it. No-one seemingly cared. All their personal relationships were altered, affected, changed by their metamorphosis.

Danny scratched the back of his neck and paused again before answering.

'Janna...Florence, I can't really tell you what it means to me.'

He stopped speaking as a lump arose in his throat, and he found he couldn't speak at all anymore.

Florence grinned, cheerily placing cherries into a bowl with some sugar. A jug of cream rested on the edge of the table. As Florence was gazing at Danny, she accidentally knocked the jug off the table. There was no rescuing it as they both watched it fall. It landed with a loud smash and cream spilled everywhere over the black and white checked floor.

'Oops,' said Florence.

Professor Carmione rushed over, hastily slamming her magazine down on the desk. Everyone turned to look.

'What a mess! Florence, the dust pan and brush is in the cupboard – go and fetch it please. Oh dear, this will never do. You can't have your cherry pies without cream! Does anyone have any spare cream for Florence's pies?'

Danny could hear Edmund and Cedric sniggering at the back of the class. He looked at Florence's working surface. It looked like an explosion of pastry and thick gloopy cherry filling. He thought presupposing the end-result of Florence's pies was a bit optimistic.

Michael Vitus put up his hand and brought over a small jug of his own cream to Florence's desk.

'How kind!' Carmione beamed, as the tall Michael poured his cream into Florence's remaining empty receptacle, a bowl decorated with pretty yellow flowers.

'Everyone back to work.'

Carmione was just about back at her desk when a piercing and deafening scream rang through the air.

It was Sonia Fox. She was shaking and pointing at her sink.

'What is it Sonia?' demanded a concerned Carmione, hurrying up the aisle to reach her at once.

'A spi...spider, miss!'

Carmione breathed a huge sigh of relief and peered over into the sink. It was indeed a big yet harmless house spider. Sonia had already reached inside her bag for a lighter.

'What are you going to do with that Sonia?' Carmione shouted. 'Burn its legs off?'

Carmione reached for a jar on the windowsill and ushered the large-legged arachnid into the jar. Putting the lid on firmly, she passed the jar to an already distressed Sonia Fox.

'Sonia – please take it outside and make sure the spider is released safely! I mean it Sonia, no stepping on it or anything like that. Go.'

Carmione walked round the classroom checking to see how everyone's pies were coming along. Danny had nearly finished sealing his up and was ready to put them in the oven. He placed them in five rows of five on his greased baking sheet and, wearing the hideous Roasthouse oven gloves, opened the oven and popped them in. Florence's were nowhere near finished. There were six half opened pies still sitting on an ungreased baking sheet and the rest just looked a soggy mess.

'Dear oh dear,' uttered Carmione as she passed their unit. 'What went wrong here, Florence?'

Florence glanced up at her, her wide eyes hoping she would not have to answer the question. Strangely inspired, Danny piped up.

'Please Professor, it's my fault Florence's pies haven't, er, worked out. I've been distracting her all lesson by chatting to her...'

'Have you now? Five points from Dahl then,' she said, smiling at them both wearily.

*

In the playground at break time Danny wanted to talk to Janna, but couldn't see her. He strolled over to Amanita who was chatting to Tim. The early spring wind blew through the trees which enclosed the yard's perimeter on one side, and through the hair of the young children playing within.

'Hello you two. Look like you're as thick as thieves!' Danny said, his voice thick with smugness.

Tim shot him an irritated look but Amanita smiled while waving away a fly that buzzed near her wind-tossed hair.

'How are you Danny? How's the romance of the century?'

Danny rested his hand over his heart and smirked at both of them.

'Are you coming on Saturday,' Tim asked. Danny guessed he referred to Chardelia Foss' spring party, which was drawing closer.

'We should be there,' Danny answered, grinning warmly at them both, and shivering as a gust of wind ran through his chest at full speed. The weather was so unpredictable along the Amberleigh coast – it regularly knocked students off and there were warnings not to walk too close to the cliff edges on days like this, for fear of tumbling over. Tim placed a cupped hand to his forehead to spy some approaching students. Olive Spritser and Mary Oconee ran up to Amanita and upon reaching her were followed by Hazel Brock, Anjalie Marjoram, Dawn Russet, Emily Duocorn and Florence Croft.

'Hi Amanita!' they all chirped at once. Hazel seemed particularly excited.

'Are you going to go on Saturday to Chardelia's party? Do you know what it's like in her house? We've no idea what to expect. Edmund Cloves says she lives in a huge mansion but how would he know he's never set foot inside it. I imagine she's far too classy to allow him anywhere near her house. Oh tell us Amanita please, we can't ask Chardelia she's not in today. Please!'

Hazel's sweet pleadings won Amanita round and she perched herself onto the fence to address them all. She would never admit it, but having an audience of friends hanging off her words was idyllic.

'Chardelia's house is lovely. I imagine it will be a sublime party, with lots of posh food and fine wines. There's six bedrooms and countless other rooms. It will be a fantastic event.'

All the girls beamed and chirruped at once, like tiny birds cooing at the idea of flying and flitting around Chardelia's huge house. It was too much for Mary Oconee who took Amanita by the arm and escorted her to the music room to interrogate her further. The other girls followed close behind, noisily chattering and giggling fruitlessly against the blustery wind.

Tim looked at Danny.

'Come on. We might as well go find your bird.'

*

Tim and Danny sauntered around the perimeter of the castle and along the dusty corridors of the school, chatting and idly looking for Janna during the gaps in conversation. A cold spring had come, and the renewed wind blew green leaves and sprightly daisies and dandelion remnants across the school playground. They walked past the Roasthouse, past Craftwork, over towards the sea where they paused to look out onto Fourlawns, site of their recent victory in the school football match. Fishbone clouds skirted a light blue sky as they talked.

'Any more news you would like to share about you and Chukchi,' Danny asked.

Tim held his gaze straight ahead. Danny let the question drop as fast as the wind swerved, and stared out to the ocean with him. A few figures moved on the island, removing the goalposts and marking out an athletics track with white paint. Danny had heard rumours, indeed some cheeky and anonymous sprite had written a less-than-subtle rumour column in the _Oracle_ that implied Chukchi was seeing Professor Wonder in secret. Danny was surprised it had passed editorial review. Only Amanita knew who the column writer was, being the all-knowing, all-seeing, omniscient voice behind all the contributors to the student newspaper.

Tim scratched his head. He seemed to be about to say something, but stopped himself. Danny moved along the edge of the coast line and back round towards the front of Amberleigh Castle. Even now in the spring sunlight it appeared imposing and dark, a brutish gothic monolith. Turreted windows pointed heavenwards, and faded black and sandy stone contrasted in stark relief to the proliferating green moss which crept up the walls.

They walked round to reception, the main entrance for visitors to the school. Three stone steps led up to a curved almost circular tardis-like entrance. Inside the first sights to greet a visitor was a thinning red carpet and school trophies glinting in the artificial light that invaded from above. Tim and Danny didn't linger. Once they had chatted briefly with Sloppy Fox and Samuel Mills, who were doing reception duty in the break, they set off again towards the other side of the castle, and in the direction of The Honeybee Room.

Danny couldn't help asking again.

'Is it true?'

Tim looked at him solemnly, before looking away. Again he seemed about to say something when something else caught his eye.

'Oh look, there's Saffelia. Look who she's talking to.' He gave Danny a friendly nudge in the elbow.

Danny strode up to Janna, and gently rested his arm around her back. Tim strolled up slowly, nodding to Saffelia and Janna.

'What's up Tim?' Janna said sunnily.

'Nothing,' Tim said sulkily.

Danny looked at his friend with Saffelia standing beside him. She also looked anxious, as if she too knew the extent of Tim's troubles, and was carrying some of the burden.

Janna kissed Danny lightly on the lips.

'Do you want to come over to mine again tonight?'

There was only one answer to give.

*

As the fourth years trooped into assembly, Emily Duocorn listened intently to Amanita describing Chardelia's house from the limited knowledge she gained from her one visit. Chardelia was currently not in school, and some unlikely and mischievous rumour had it she would be away all week preparing for the party. Danny wandered in with Janna by his side and Tim shuffling along looking pensive, while Saffelia sat behind them, looking equally pensive and fidgeting nervously. The teachers walked in and took their customary places. As a mark of respect, Dr Woodbridge's chair had been left empty on the stage, but there were now two vacant chairs, the other being Ethleraed's. Professor Flambeau walked in, accompanied by a policeman and a man dressed in a light brown suit and a serious expression.

Professor Wonder was about to jolt the students into the school song when Flambeau held up a hand to halt him.

'Please Harrow, I think we'll give the music a miss today thank you.' Wonder sat down again looking disappointed and, Danny thought, slightly angry. Danny glanced behind him and saw Tim grinning widely at the put-down of Wonder.

'Students, I will keep my comments brief. Today's assembly will be led by Detective Constable Tyburn and Chief Inspector Pemberton.'

The fourth years were shocked when Professor Flambeau walked from St Basil's hall, leaving them in the hands of the two policemen. Danny glanced to the side of the hall as Flambeau departed and saw another policeman stand by the door. Possibly guarding entry or to stop anyone leaving, he thought.

The uniformed policeman sat down on Woodbridge's empty seat on the stage, and the plain-clothed Chief Inspector Pemberton walked up to the lectern and addressed the wide-eyed pupils.

'I will not beat about the bush, ladies and gentlemen. Two teachers from this school recently died. I have to tell you now we have good reason to believe both were murdered, one within this very school. Our investigations are already at an advanced stage and while we will obviously not be able to share details, we wanted to reassure you all that our main concern is catching the culprit or culprits to safeguard the school's inhabitants, and impressive reputation.

'My name is Chief Inspector Pemberton and that there,' he pointed to the uniformed policeman on the stage, 'is Detective Constable Tyburn. We will be occupying the school for the rest of the year or until a time we are confident the villain has been apprehended. Please be under no illusion that we have left no stone unturned in our search for the cause and person responsible for these deaths. Both teachers were caught, I mean, found in extraordinary circumstances. We will not rest until safety can be restored in school.'

Pemberton paused to sip some water. As he watched the students he could see if they weren't terrified before they definitely were now. Deep fear widened in many of the student's innocent eyes. Danny's hand shook mildly and he reached out for Janna's hand but she had cupped both to her mouth to stop herself from making a noise. Even Ella Amur in front of them was shaking.

Pemberton continued.

'I want to reassure you we are here to do our level best to apprehend the villains responsible for these heinous crimes. However in doing so we will need, from all of you, your full co-operation. The media will become tremendously interested in this school and Amberleigh Castle from hereon in. No-one is permitted to speak, talk, communicate in any form whatsoever with any representative, spokesperson or anyone connected with the press or the television media. This is crucial to the success of our investigations. We may require at some point to interview you. I know that many of you have already talked extensively to the police, but as we uncover new information we may need to test, I mean, check our facts with some of you. It is absolutely vital, and I cannot overestimate how important this it, that none of you reveal any of the details of our conversations to anyone. I am sure none of you want to be responsible for another death within St Oliver Plunket's.

'That is all. Myself and Detective Constable Tyburn will be occupying Dr Woodbridge's office for the time being until a more suitable location can be found. If any of you have questions pertaining to the investigation, please do not share them with any of your friends or teachers: come and see either me or Tyburn and share them with us. Thank you.'

With his final flourish, Pemberton walked out the door of St Basil's hall, quickly followed by Tyburn. It was one of the quickest yet most alarming assemblies they had ever had. With no-one to lead them students slowly began to rise and spill out onto the playground, chattering and reassuring each other with kindly words and gentle gossip. All the teachers, all but one, like the students, looked staggered by what they had just heard.

At the bottom I stopped at the harbour and gazed up at the castle. Those turrets reached into the sky like fingers pointing to heaven. If there was a heaven. I hadn't decided yet. The thick walls absorbed the sunlight and between the bricks every crevice was filled with an irrepressible moss and lichen that climbed the building. Was it luck to have landed in a place like this, to be able to study in such a stunning castle? I thought so. I thought there was no more perfect stretch of landscape in the whole of England than right here in Amberleigh.

Turning away from the harbour I walk along the west promenade where it is quiet. In the distance the ruins of Amberleigh Abbey rises up from an exposed heath, encircled completely by trees. The only way to reach it is via a path through the forest. The shops along the seafront – selling buckets and spades, sweets and sticks of sugary rock, fresh fish, cockles and mussels – gradually become spaced out, with stately hotels and residences populating the Western side of town. Posh Amberleigh Louis likes to call it. I often imagine going to stay in one of the seafront hotels, if only for one night, and then sneaking out onto the balcony at sunset to see and feel the rich mauve auburn light as it passes through Amberleigh's pocket of atmosphere.

**The Chandelier**

It seemed to Tim, Amanita and Danny as they sat through a dull biology lesson – Dr Ravana was explaining the reproductive qualities of flower stems – they would never reach three-thirty. When the bell eventually resounded a tiny leap of excitement stirred in Danny's stomach. As soon as he said goodbye to Amanita and Danny he ran to the playground and hastily made his way to the front of the school to meet Janna.

She waited for him by the wrought iron gates, displaying proudly the school crest of St Oliver Plunket's. Danny had always wondered what the significance was of the water otter on the crest.

'Ready to go?' she asked, showing him an exquisite touch of her pale leg in fanciful fashion, and laughing at her own ironic take on her beauty.

Nodding he took her arm and they began the walk back to hers.

Danny was nervous. Janna's parents were returned home and they were all going to have dinner together. He had no idea what to expect. He had never met Janna's parents before. Sure, he had seen them when they dropped Janna off to tennis every Saturday in the summer but they had never spoken to him.

Arriving at her house he realised he needn't have worried. As soon as he entered the house he encountered a whirlwind of activity, noisy chatter and the loud hum of lives being lived energetically and happily. Surely no-one would have time to notice his nerves. Even so, Janna squeezed his hand and smiled at him generously.

Dinner was a home-made chicken pie with leeks and carrots, and creamy sauteed potatoes. They had ice cream for pudding.

'How's the school football team?' her father asked him.

'Not too bad,' Danny answered, hoping simultaneously that his answer would be approved of and would halt further questions. But now her father had broken the ice, her mother was already gearing up for twenty questions.

'So Danny, tell me about your family? How many sisters do you have again? And what about your mother, what does she do? It must be nice living in Dunkinley, we pass it often on the way into Amberleigh. Well sometimes we drop Janna off at school, and oh, it always looks like such a lovely house.'

At this, Peter Chisely, Janna's father gave his wife a stern look, and she rushed off to get drinks. This time Janna spoke.

'Oh no thanks Mum. I think me and Danny are going to go for a walk. You know catch a little of the sunset.'

Peter and Patricia looked at each other. Clearly this had not been in their plans. Peter recovered first.

'Oh. Right. Well, that's fine then. Well, don't stay out too late, it's going to get cool later. And we need to begin thinking about packing for our holiday to Mexico, Janna. It was very nice to meet you Danny. Take care now,' he said, as Janna ushered Danny out of the house with more haste than grace.

'It wasn't that bad,' he said. 'They're nice.'

'Oh yes it fucking was!' Janna exclaimed. It was the first time Danny had ever heard her swear. 'Another question from my bloody mother and I was ready to throttle her. Stupid little...'

'Now now Janna. Calm down,' Danny said soothingly, squeezing her waist gently, and bringing her face closer to his for a lingering kiss.

They set off down the road back towards Amberleigh Castle. In the salmon light of the setting sun it looked a romantic masterpiece, piercing a sky the colour of turkish delight with impressive silhouttes. Before they knew it they were back at the school gates but the school was deserted, and they both felt the sexiness of the opportunity that the silence promised. They wandered along the empty playground, gazing out at the ocean and the sun sliced in two by rippling waves. When the breeze brought a chill to the shoulders Danny put his arm around Janna.

'Come on. Let's go.'

As they had come all this way, they decided to take a secret look inside Plunket's before heading home. They wandered furtively round to the front reception area. The door was unlocked. Danny stuck his head in to see if the cleaners, or someone else was there. There was no-one. Janna took his hand.

'Let's go in,' she said.

'We can't. It's getting late,' he said.

'Let's go in,' she said again, in a breathy seductive whisper, her wide irises shining dangerously.

She pushed him inside against the open oak door and began snogging, leaving soft wetness around his mouth. Danny perched Janna on the reception desk and pulled her waist closer to him. He pushed her legs apart as her hand reached down inside the back of his jumper, caressing the small of his spine. The familiar biological imperative of wanting to take it further awoke but this time something inside warned him, a part he had never listened to before. He grasped her hand and pulled her off the desk.

'Come on. Let's go for a wander,' he whispered, making it sound as alluring as it was illicit.

Janna followed wordlessly. When they reached the upper floor of the school corridor, Janna danced and twirled in the darkness down towards Bookshelf, the school library. Once inside it was difficult for Danny to keep his hands off Janna, but yet again, like a recurring twitch the voice within told him to stay alert. He remembered a nature programme which taught him most predatory males were killed by other predators while they were mating and their back was turned.

They wandered to the back of the library and Janna started taking books from the top shelf to make a comfortable place to sit. She removed _The Great Gatsby, Middlemarch, War and Peace,_ and _Anna Karenina_ and sat, smiling half-seductively, half in self-parody at Danny on the flimsy shelf. He reached his hands around her waist, and his fingers unconsciously tugged at her pleated grey skirt. Again the voice boomed in his soul and he turned around, alarmed as if it had been a real human voice but there was nothing.

The red door at the back of the library was ajar. He glanced at Janna who limbered up for another snog, her thin ivory arms resting on the grooves in his shoulders where his school bag usually hung. Releasing himself, he walked to the red door. He had never seen it open before. It was Dr Beaublade's private planning classroom and no-one he knew had ever been inside, although he once heard Mary Oconee say he had seen Dr Beaublade and Dr Cleaver doing unmentionable things in there at the end of last year. He peered inside, as he felt Janna's hand on his bum. It was dark but he could just about make out a desk with a stack of papers and essays on one side. The other side was occupied by three piles of neat green exercise books, piled almost to eye-level.

Janna was at him again, completely untaken by the mystery. He flapped his hands to indicate to her to stop. In the corner was another much smaller green wooden door. It was closed shut, but Danny wanted to give it a go anyway, though he suspected it wouldn't open. To his surprise it only took a gentle push and as it creaked open, a stone spiral staircase going upwards was revealed. The staircase was lit with flaming torches encapsulated within decorative red glass casings.

Danny thought for a moment. They were roaming in the heart of Amberleigh Castle. There was no time he had been deeper inside the great fortress than this. It felt like touching the tip of an enormous iceberg with his tiny, unclipped and unclean fingernails. He looked at Janna, who returned his gaze with raised eyebrows, as if to say, "What are you waiting for?"

Holding hands, they both walked up the staircase. The steps were similar in size to the one leading to the _Oracle_ pressroom, apart from shafts of scarlet and gold light discharged by the torches. They climbed for forty steps, ascending higher and higher all the time. Danny wondered what possible room could be so high up, almost in the middle of the clouds, and if it was possibly hidden from outside view because of the turreted classrooms at the front of the school. Finally Danny reached a stone landing which led to another green door, just as rickety as the last. Janna followed him up panting. The exercise had stolen the lust from them both. He reached to reunite her hand with his and together they approached the green door, not knowing or imagining what wonders or dangers might be beyond. Danny pushed, but it was shut firm. Trying the handle Janna found it rigid and unmoving. He couldn't believe it. After climbing all those stairs, risking being caught in the school after hours and forgoing what would have been unforgettable delights with Janna he was going to be locked out.

'Give it a nudge then.' Janna said, smiling.

Reluctantly Danny tried barging the door. It didn't open, but creaked painfully on the first attempt. On the second attempt something within the lock clicked and the door submitted to the force of Danny's shoulder. They were in.

They were stood at the top of what appeared to be a royal box on one side of a theatre. This wasn't any old theatre though. It was luxurious and magnificent in every possible respect. The royal box opposite was gilted with crimson velvet and gold, as were the two balconies above. Below a ceiling which drooped down in blue-silver and dramatic gold, rows of chairs covered in red velvet lined the floor. Above, held fast to the roof by four golden bolts hung a huge glittering chandelier which, in its entire shape, resembled a huge droplet of water. All the lights were on, although only a few feet of the stage were visible before a thick blue velvet curtain which rippled softly from an unseen draught.

Danny found himself struggling for breath at the beauty. It was only by seeing that he could believe his school housed a resplendent and awe-inspiring theatre that thus far had been kept hidden from the students. What was Dr Beaublade thinking, keeping this sumptuous space all to himself? Danny wanted to touch it all.

'Let's go down to the seats,' he said eagerly to Janna, pointing at a metal staircase spiralling down from the box into the stalls.

Janna sat on one of the seats in the box, looking out at the theatre.

'I'm tired after the climb Danny. Come sit next to me.'

Danny obeyed wordlessly, still absorbing the throbs and blossoms of the red and gold light which reflected off a silver mirror behind them and onto their heads. It was sublime to sit in a marvellous place only a stone's throw away from where he learned every day of the week, to feel you had been let in on a clandestine secret few others were privy to.

Janna rested her head on Danny's weary shoulder and for a moment he rested his head on hers, closing his eyes and feeling for the second time in his life, perfect contentment. The softness of the silence was endearing; they sank into its presence as if it were warm pool of shimmering water.

After a time had passed, Janna whispered in his ear.

'We had better be getting back. I suppose we had better keep this to ourselves too, or we might get into trouble.'

Danny looked at her, about to say something but caught it before it came out and instead merely nodded his assent.

They made their way down the stone staircase, the lights warming the cold air. Upon reaching the exit they cut across Beaublade's private study and back into Bookshelf. Janna neatly replaced the books she had dislodged and they made their way downstairs to the reception. They were almost at the front gates, and about to embark on a long anticipated farewell snog when a great clatter and crash made the school ceiling sound as if it might cave in.

Danny tore himself from Janna's grasp, placed his finger to his lips and listened intently. Janna looked around as if to discern the cause of the commotion. There was no-one she could see, but the lights around were dim, and darkness had long fallen. Danny retrieved Janna's gaze and was about to pull her back into his arms when another crash louder than the first made the floors and ceiling vibrate. Danny grabbed Janna by the hand and ran down the corridor to investigate.

'Danny we shouldn't be here!' Janna implored him. 'Remember what that cop said. It's still dangerous. Especially at night.'

Danny wasn't listening. He wanted to find out what that crash was.

They reached the bottom of Spiral Two and saw a shaft of murky light thrown from a passageway which was now revealed by an open door, hitherto concealed. They had never realised the door was there, hidden as it was beneath the staircase and never having a reason to visit that dank corner. They peered in, and discovered another spiral staircase, this time leading down into a lantern-lit stone cylinder.

'Come on Janna. We're going down.'

'NO!' she said, firmly.

She pulled his hand onto her heart to prove her point. It was beating at twice the normal speed. Danny consented, reluctantly. Even now he could hear the beating ocean, the waves pummelling the shore. It seemed so close, like when you put a sea shell to your ear and you're imaginings are whisked to a place on the beach beside the sea, even when you are at home cosy and safe and miles from the coast. He pushed the door closed on the staircase. A real discovery, Danny thought. As he did so, he noticed words engraved into the inside of the door, like graffiti or the act of some random vandal.

'O Thrive Far & Free – St Oliver Plunket's 1973-77'

Janna finally managed to drag Danny away. On their walk back, they said not a word to each other. Their hands hung limp and empty by their sides. In the distance Danny could hear the soft moans of a trickling waterfall.

*

Huddled in a corner of the castle's open cloisters, Saffelia Forrest and Timothy Gaunt sat on a wet stone bench. They smiled to each other. Danny sat at the other end, looking at his wet fingers. Nearly a week had passed since Janna had flown to Mexico with her parents on holiday and he was missing her. He couldn't hear what Saffelia and Tim were saying to each other. No doubt Tim would fill him in later. Or maybe he wouldn't. Danny thought for a moment: are there things about him and Janna he wouldn't tell Tim? Definitely.

Despite the thunderstorm and the rain, the air remained full of humidity and students mopped away beads of moisture from their perspiring brows. Chardelia's party was coming up and Danny really didn't want to go alone. He thought about asking someone else if they wanted to come but it was no good. Word would get out, he would be found out, Janna wouldn't be happy. They control you when you're not with them, and they control you when they are. You can't win no matter what you do.

In the distance he watched Amanita advance towards him to join him on the cold stone, but Sonia Fox stumbled out of a classroom unexpectedly and walked up to claim the spot beside Danny. Smiling she plonked herself, complete with ripped skirt down on the bench. From the corner of his eye, Danny saw Amanita turn around and walk back the way she had come. Sonia spoke.

'How're you doing Danny? Are you going to Chardelia's party tomorrow night?' she asked confidently.

'Yeah, I will be. But it looks like I'll be going alone. Janna's in Mexico. She's gone with her family. Apparently some business trip her Dad got extra tickets for. How about you – are you going?'

Sonia's eyes lit up and she smiled beguilingly, pursing baby pink lips in a soft pout.

'I might go along. I could do with letting my hair down.'

Danny glanced at her hair, tied in a ponytail, glistening golden. He smiled, thinking of something witty and winning to say. As he paused Tim landed in front of him, clutching a football and looking excited.

'They're having a kick about after school – fancy joining in?'

'Who are "they"?' Danny enquired.

'Oh just some mates – Cedric, Liam, Benjamin, Brandon, Gabriel. What do you say?'

Tim was hopping from foot to foot in anticipation of the end of the school day and the chance to relive some footy glory. Danny felt tired though, and it wasn't just Sonia's creeping hand around the back of his shirt, building a warm glow within his stomach that made him say no.

'I've got something to do after school,' he said simply.

'Suit yourself,' Tim rebutted, failing to hide his disappointment.

*

Professor Pry stood at the front of the classroom bobbing up and down on her tiptoes. A mysterious near-smile threatened to break on her thin lips. The fourth years in her class remained silent as always, awaiting her next move as if an almighty chess game was slowly being performed. Danny held his head in his right hand as he gazed at Pry's desk, and the small plant buried in a pot three times too big for it. The moss from the plant was in danger of creeping from the pot onto her neatly arranged desk stationery.

'Michael Vitus,' Pry uttered in crisp consonants, with an authority that made everyone, not just Michael, sit up straight. 'Would you be so kind as to pick up the story in chapter twenty-six? From " _Jane Eyre, who had been an ardent, expectant..._ " '

Michael cleared his throat, coughing loudly before allowing his baritone voice to echo over the delicate Victorian sentences:

'Jane Eyre, who had been an ardent, expectant woman – almost a bride – was a cold, solitary girl again; her life was pale, her prospects were desolate. A Christmas frost had come at midsummer; a white December storm had whirled over June; ice glazed the ripe apples; drifts crushed the blowing roses; on hay-field and corn-field lay a frozen shroud: lanes which last night blushed full of flowers, to-day were pathless with untrodden snow; and the woods, which twelve hours since waved leafly and fragrant as groves between the tropics, now spread, waste, wild, and white as pine-forests in wintry Norway. My hopes were all dead.'

Michael paused, glancing into the mid-distance as he arrived at the end of Bronte's momentous sentence. Danny was rapt. He had never heard such exquisite poetry within a novel before. All Jane's situations, her efforts, her future hopes were expressed through nature around her, nature that perhaps didn't exist but in the mind of the genius author. Danny could hear students' heavy breathing as the whole class listened. Amanita's eyes focussed entirely on Michael; Saffelia Forrest twirled her fair hair with her finger idly as she sank into the enchanting language. Tim however played finger football with a scrunched up piece of paper on his desk.

Pry smiled. It was a warm and open smile Danny rarely saw her give. She nodded for Michael to continue. His voice, tremulous and deep, hung over every word, extracting each drop of emotion and presenting it to the languid class:

'Real affection, it seemed, he could not have for me; it had been only fitful passion: that was balked; he would want me no more. I should fear even to cross his path now: my view must be hateful to him. Oh how blind had been my eyes! How weak my conduct!'

Pry paced up and down at the front of her class. She appeared exhilirated and agitated at once, and the fourth-years knew something was coming. Perhaps something profound.

'See how she blames herself! Do you see it?! Florence Croft – what do you make of this passage?'

A startled Florence looked up from her book into the water-blue eyes of Pry.

'I...I...Miss, I mean Professor...She feels sad because Mr Rochester is married to someone else.'

'Yes!' boomed Pry again, and Florence smiled relieved she had got at least one thing right in her lessons.

'Jane is sad, but she also blames herself. Rochester was about to commit bigamy, break the law and implicate someone he loved in his crime. Yet it is Jane who is bearing the heavy burden of responsibility for this error. Why? Why does she do this? She suffers, in this final chapter of the second volume, such a crisis of faith that her only option is to turn in on herself and flee. Human instinct. Why do we always rush to blame ourselves? Why do we always turn immediately to our own insecurities, our long-held fears and cracks within our own hearts instead of looking outside. Jane has no need to blame herself, but she fears Rochester's reaction to her. She fears the world's condemnations. Most of all, she fears herself. It is an excuse. Yes, her world has been shaken. Yes, Rochester has upended her universe. But students ask yourselves, what is more frightening to Jane – a lifetime of fear and struggle and hardship, or the possibility of a lifetime of happiness?

'Students, perhaps our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, or that we will face terrible privations, or undergo incredible struggles. Perhaps our greatest fear is the opposite: that we are all powerful beyond measure. Our greatest fear may just be that our dreams our within our grasp.'

Pry paused to watch her class, alert and listening attentively. Danny had seen her lecture like this only once before, when she taught them Lawrence. His heart felt alive in lessons like this. The whole world could crumble outside and he wouldn't care. It was a pleasure to dissolve your fears and submerge your conscience beneath the fantasy of other people's lives.

Eventually I reach the cascades. A flowing waterfall that never ceases, a stone's throw from the Abbey. At the top I stand over the violent rush and feel the energy of the air, like matter that gets too close to a black hole, if it approaches the tipping point too close it will be plunged down with those speeding droplets and be annihilated into the explosions on the rocks below. For a moment I wonder what that would be like. To fall in the water, to let that unseen current guide you along with the rhythm of the earth and be completely surrendered and consumed into the life force of nature. At the bottom the water streams away, forming rivulets which course round the headland on which I stand, eventually making their way to the sea. The sea. The ocean. The great goal to which we are all headed. I lean over and let my fingers caress the falling tide, feeling its liberation with a smile, and the wonder of being kissed by nature.

**Chardelia's Party**

The party was in full swing by the time Danny arrived. Stars twinkled vaguely as pale blue skies surrendered to indigo night. As he heard the distant sound of carousing grow closer, his steps slowed and his stomach swam with nerves. His hands remained stuck in his jeans pockets, clammy with cold. With no Janna to accompany him he had decided to dress down. This was a chance to let his hair down and relax amongst friends, his fellow year group who, though he felt he didn't really know them at all, were growing up and coming of age just like him.

Chardelia's house was huge. White pillars adorned a lavish porch upon which several young men and women were draped. Danny did not recognize many of them. The large garden at the front of the house contained an oval pond glimmering in the evening. At its centre a small marble statue of a woman stood. Water sprang from the tips of her upturned fingers and splashed softly into the pool below. Danny walked past it as he entered the open front door. Someone thrust a drink in his hand and, instinctively, Danny cut a path through warm throbbing crowds to the cool sanctuary of the kitchen.

It was enormous, with three stunning long white work tops, on which rested chocolate brownies, bowls of punch, bottles of Bud and numerous bowls of mini-breads. Littered round all were small white candles, their flames dancing in the twilight.

In one corner, standing elegantly straight and listening almost animatedly to Michael Vitus stood Chardelia Foss. The light from the candles reflected her pale white features, marked in sharp contrast to the deep violet on her lips and vivid water-blue mascara on her eyelashes. She looked conspicuous and striking, but not just because of her make-up.

The soft contour of her deep roman nose led a path from her eyes down to a demure chin and for a second Danny watched her half-parted mouth, caught in a moment about to speak. He wished he could hold that moment in his memory forever, like a photograph.

As he approached to greet Chardelia and thank her for inviting him he felt a hand grasp his arm. Turning to his left Amanita came into view. She wore a curious smile and was moving clumsily, almost drunkenly from side to side.

'Hellllooo baby!' she cooed.

'Amanita. Darling, I think you've had a little too much to drink.'

'Never baby! I am absolutely... shfine.'

To emphasise the point she winked at him, lazily. Taking care to remove her hand gently from his arm Danny moved deeper into the kitchen throng. In the opposite corner from Chardelia, Sonia Fox sat on the top of the working surface, chatting excitedly. She had allowed her long hair to flow down and the reflection from the candles sent flickers of gold onto the white ceiling. Her social zeal enhanced her beauty. Danny paused before approaching her, as she was chatting to Edmund Cloves and Cedric Claw. Both seemed to be using their hands a lot to explain whatever it was they were discussing in their unknown conversation. Sonia wasn't saying much, in fact she looked slightly bored. When her eyes drifted from the pair and rested on Danny, her maligned spirit seemed to alight. She extended a bare alabaster arm and beckoned seductively with a red nail for Danny to come forth. Walked forward Danny stood mischievously between Cedric and Edmund, and smiled lasciviously to Sonia.

Music echoed from the lounge to the kitchen. A song subtle and sweeping, majestic in dinking undertones and gentle acoustic harmonies. Danny didn't recognise it but started dancing slowly when Sonia took his hand and placed her head on his shoulder in the living room.

'Hold on,' she said simply.

Other couples danced around him: Tim held hands with Saffelia while they grinned at each other. Samuel Mills embraced Ella Amur. Even Rosetti Duocorn was hugging some unknown boy who looked as though he may be from the year below.

Danny felt increasingly aware how this might look should word reach Janna, as it undoubtedly would on the insidious gossip grapevine. A sweeping sensation of claustrophobia brushed through him like a breeze and he hugged Sonia closer. Her body felt electric, like she had volts of potent charge running through her skin. No-one understood her and he understood nobody else. There was something wonderfully multi-layered about the mystery of teenage hormones.

Chardelia Foss glided into the living room and turned the stereo down. She stood before the gathered party-goers and looked as though she would say a few words. Several people pushed past her into the living room and sat down on the floor below a large circular red and white clock. When she spoke her voice was high and reedy, like a flute.

'Has everybody got a drink? Good. I'd like to welcome you all to my house, and say thank you for coming, I hope you're having a simply lovely time. We all know that with coursework piling up, and the recent tragedy, school is a bit mad at the moment so I thought I'd hold this party to lighten things up and welcome in the warmer weather. You're welcome to crash here tonight. If you've brought sleeping bags please just roll them out on the floor. If you need a bed we have six bedrooms for six people, or more.' At this Chardelia smiled. 'Please help yourself to a drink. We have plenty of water, or of course there is something a little stronger if you prefer.'

'Oh and one more thing. The girls would like to hold a kissing-while-trying-to-balance-a-glass-of-water-on-your-head competition at eleven pm. Everyone's welcome to enter.'

She turned the music back up and people resumed dancing. Gazing at the corner Danny saw Amanita being chatted up by Johnny Benedict. At first glance it appeared he was giving up as he resolutely put down his bottle, splashing drops of beer on the white carpet and storming upstairs. However when Danny looked back five minutes he could no longer see Amanita anywhere.

Sonia whispered in his ear.

'Fancy coming outside for a walk?'

Danny nodded. He couldn't see any harm in a moonlight stroll with a school friend. While his girlfriend was in Mexico. Probably fucking lots of Mexicans.

After the cacophony inside, the balmy weather outside soothed. As they walked down the maple-tree lined street on which Chardelia lived, the hum and buzz of the party faded away like the heat of the day. Sonia's hand swung by her side, but when she tried to grab Danny's hand he stopped and turned to her, shaking his head.

'This isn't going to happen Sonia. I like you. That's all.'

She gazed at him, eyes flaming with passion.

'I'm really sorry,' Danny emphasized.

'I'm not,' Sonia said cryptically.

They walked on. An early Spring breeze blew through the maples and made a light rustling. There was barely any traffic on the road and no passers-by. The suburbs of Amberleigh always became quiet by this time of night. Soon Sonia and Danny reached the edge of the hill on which Chardelia lived. By walking across a small park they watched all of Amberleigh light up beneath them beside the shifting night-blue ocean. They stopped, sitting on the grass and staring out. Enjoying the serenity of the tranquil dusk, neither said a word for a time. Then Sonia began humming, before quietly singing some lines.

"My picture flashes in the mirror. A history of love."

Danny looked at her while she sang.

"When lunar shadows claim the above."

Danny had heard the song before. Richey Athurstun always played it in music lessons. Through Sonia's mellifluous voice it sounded different. Husky, darker and sweeter. More intense. In that instant he wanted to kiss her, but he held back and let her sing on.

'I have heard,' Sonia said when she finished singing, 'that on nights like this, when the moon is full and exerting its tidal gravity on the great bodies of water on earth, that people behave more erratically, especially teenagers. It's because we're all bodies of water ourselves. Humans are made primarily of the stuff, so when the moon moves oceans and seas, it's also moving the stuff within us, in a way controlling us, and making us mad. Or at least, more mad than usual.'

Back at the party it grew quieter as groups of tired students settled down for the night. They chatted in groups of four and five around slow burning candles. Chardelia sat on the edge of the room slowly twirling her hair. Her mascara had faded and the rush of violet that had been her lips had now faded to soft mauve, matching the colour of the sky.

Danny and Sonia separated into different circles. Saffelia cuddled Tim as his eyelids wearied. He didn't seem bothered at his submission and rested his head in her lap. They had begun talking about the deaths at the school but then the conversations turned to holidays and the government and the state of the football league and which poetry they liked best and how much cigarettes cost these days in comparison with CDs and which teachers they preferred and how Plunket's wasn't as interesting as the mysterious Amberleigh Castle and the caves beneath the huge rock on which it stood and how the water in the school toilets was too hard to drink and who was going to be made prefects next year and who had the most annoying sibling. Before he knew it Danny fell asleep on the floor besides a restless Amanita and a snoring Tim.

Danny awoke in the middle of the night. The sky outside had turned inky black. Something had disturbed him, but the dream-like stupor in which he remained prevented him discerning what it might have been. He glanced across to the red and white clock and saw it was quarter to four in the morning. Rubbing his eyes, the familiar bodily demands registered in his semi-conscious brain. He was thirsty and needed the toilet. Stepping over dozing bodies Danny made his way to the kitchen, where the half-naked Samuel and Ella had squeezed into one sleeping bag. As silently as he could manage Danny turned the tap on and filled a tall glass with cool water. Bringing it to his lips he drank slowly then quickly, allowing its fluid to flow fluently through to his tired mind and exhausted limbs. He stepped back over Samuel and Ella and made his way upstairs. There was a bathroom on the ground floor he was sure, but as he had awoken he felt the need for a wander, and was seduced by the opportunity to explore the house while the rest slept. Reaching the top step it creaked ominously but nobody rose to reprimand him. All the bedroom doors were ajar and the open windows allowed the air to flow freely through the mansion. Moonlight shone through the pale rooms onto the landing, casting ghostly shadows across short strips of corridor. Sleeping bodies lay on white duvets and double beds. In one room a velvet lined four poster bed housed Anjalie Marjoram, Hazel Brock, Olive Spritser and Dawn Russet, who lay on top of their bedclothes in shorts and t-shirts. A guilty thrill of voyeuristic pleasure flowed through Danny as he made his way swiftly to a gleaming white bathroom at the end of the landing.

Once inside Danny locked the door and took in the exquisite bathroom. The walls were all white and the floor was covered with a plush bath mat the colour of pale teal. Above a wide circular mirror hung three wide and empty shelves. Danny relieved himself, an arcing line of urine falling softly onto the smooth ceramic toilet bowl, creating a pleasing tinkling. He sighed, and relaxed.

Glancing over at the bath, a decorative tub on which rested a golden spouted tap, he felt a strong urge to jump in and run a glorious steaming bubble-filled bath. No-one else was awake and as he considered it the temptation grew. At last, as his resistance faded he undressed his lower half and jumped in. The tap twisted slowly, emitting an odd creak as pipes kicked the water up through the house. Danny allowed a steaming trickle of water to bathe his feet and slowly heat the veins carrying warm blood to the rest of his body. He poured in a capful of bluey-green bubble bath from a bottle that stood beside the tap.

Danny removed his shirt and threw it on the floor. Delightfully he submerged his entire naked body into the refreshing turquoise liquid, feeling at peace with the world. The encounter with Sonia served to remind him how unlike Janna she was, how she didn't make him feel a tenth of what Janna could make him feel. He didn't want Sonia. Now alone, and returning to the warm company of his liberated thoughts, he wasn't sure he wanted Janna forever, but it would do for now. An hour passed and Danny, feeling slumber call him, decided to dry and dress. Slinking his way from the foamy bathroom he made sure it was left near-enough how he found it.

As he switched off the light he saw, with readjusting eyes, the slight silhouette of a girl glide forwards. The shadow moved towards him across the landing in the moonlight. A sheaf of papers gripped in her right hand and wearing a white nightdress that cast a shadow over her slim feet, Chardelia appeared to be floating. She stopped and stared at Danny, her eyes bulging at the sight of him. Danny ran his hand through his hair; it lay incriminatingly wet.

'I took a bath,' he whispered so as not to wake anyone else. 'I'm sorry, I hope you don't mind.'

Chardelia continued gazing at him.

'Is everything okay?'

Then it hit him. Chardelia was still asleep. She was sleepwalking. Her fingers loosening, she dropped the papers in her right hand and they billowed out into a huge mess over the landing, the moonlight casting pale shafts of light over the fluttering parchment. Chardelia continued staring straight at Danny.

'Come on Chardelia, look what you've done. Let me help you.'

He bent down to retrieve the papers. Shuffling them all the correct way up, Danny tried to make them look neat. Standing up he offered them back to Chardelia. Instead of accepting them she continued looking at him, alarm etched into her face. With the suddenness of a cloud shifting across the moon her stern gaze melted and she bent her sleeping head towards his cheek, kissing him tenderly. With the light pressure of her lips on his skin Danny momentarily raised his fingers to touch it but not before Chardelia had turned and walked away from him, leaving him clutching the pile of papers.

Still rubbing the soft damp ring on his cheek, he glanced at the header on the top sheet.

CONFIDENTIAL: To be read by AF and disclosed parties only.

Curiosity rising in his blood like a dormant friend, after his bizarre encounter with Chardelia, Danny couldn't wait to read the illicit papers. The thought occurred to hand them back to Chardelia when she awoke, but he recognized the silent opportunity he had been granted and the inquisitiveness inside him was too irresistible to quench. He rushed to the bathroom, shut the door, turned on the light and sat down. He guessed it was now five am, so he had at least a couple of hours to read before others commenced their morning search for the shower.

The papers weren't numbered so trying to make sense of them was difficult. But what he did read made his mouth drop open. Much of it seemed to be written in technological language. There were many mentions of chemical formulas that Danny didn't understand. He reached the tenth section and became certain he was reading something you couldn't pick up in any bookshop.

An attack is inevitable. Communications should be planned for the aftermath of an attack now. London, Bristol and Birmingham have been named as targets. Defensive strategies are underway in these cities. Locations in Ipswich and Brixton have been suspected as harbours, as well as possible targets. Smaller targets close to the North East cell should not be overlooked: Alnwick, Amberleigh and Berwick. Initial plans will concentrate around dismantling the network of agents discussed in document CHAR1. Contacts in London and Edinburgh have been and are now active. Intelligence is currently restricted on suspect names but the HS is aware of the current threat and likely participants. Estimated timing of first attack should network remain – within next five months

DB for PATS

It went on. Heart pounding like thunder, Danny put the papers down, his mind buzzing. Perhaps there was somewhere innocuous he could leave the papers. He didn't want Chardelia to know he had read them. Many questions tore through his mind. Was his country under attack? What were the suspect names? Did they not know the names of the suspects or were they classifying that information? What was the nature of the smaller targets that should not be overlooked? Was Amberleigh in serious danger? what did DB for PATS mean? As these questions formed and half-formed in his sleep-deprived mind, the first sentence repeatedly threw itself to the forefront of his mind: an attack is inevitable.

He resolved to share this information with Amanita and Tim and hoped they could help him reach some answers. If anyone would listen to him they would. 'An attack was inevitable'. Deep tides of foreboding welled in the pit of his stomach. It scared Danny. The earth, it seemed, was not solid any more.

*

Back at school, Danny managed to find time in the first break to share his night-time experience with Amanita and Tim. Since neither of them knew Chardelia well enough they couldn't shed light on what Danny had witnessed or what the papers meant. They walked to Professor Wonder's class, discussing the matter when Dawn Russet rushed from her form room, a terrified look in her eyes. She was quickly followed by a laughing Cedric Claw and Edmund Cloves, throwing what looked to be handfuls of flour at her. With no teachers around Cedric and Edmund had taken advantage of the absence of authority to run amok. Amanita, Tim and Danny rushed to class hoping they would not be their next victims.

Professor Wonder sat calmly at his desk as students poured in, many still chattering about Chardelia's party. Unusual for her, a flour-covered Dawn Russet couldn't stop talking, especially to her group of new found friends who circled her as they walked in. Amanita smirked at Tim who furtively held Saffelia's hand. Danny thought he saw a sideways glance from Wonder to Tim, but when he looked again at Wonder it had vanished. Once all students were seated, Wonder began speaking in a voice unusually meek and quiet.

'Class, please take out your textbooks and begin reading from page sixty-five.'

Disconcerted by the lacklustre opening from their most vibrant teacher, the class reluctantly drew their hands into their schoolbags, pulled out their books and obeyed Professor Wonder.

Danny's head ached. It wasn't just the weekend party and the lack of sleep. It was the general atmosphere of unpredictability that surrounded him. The disruption to his normal routine and every day jolts made him feel he needed to permanently be on his guard. Janna hadn't returned. He feared the uncertainty was beginning to wear him down. Professor Wonder still sat at the front staring into what appeared to be a piece of paper on his desk. Then he rose and walked out of the room, nodding to the class to continue their reading during his absence.

Danny felt a familiar tap on the shoulder. It was Amanita.

'Go and have a look on his desk,' she said, in a half-whisper. 'Find out what he's concentrating so hard on.'

Again another strange intervention; it was not like Amanita to promote disobedience, especially within Wonder's class, whom he knew all the girls fancied. Other people heard her too and also joined in her with plea.

'Go on Danny. Go and have a look,' Saffelia and Emily urged.

Danny rose to his feet and, with a sneaky glance to check if Wonder was on his way back to class, strolled to the front desk to read what was written on the piece of paper Wonder was reading.

It was blank. Danny could not understand. He was sure Wonder had been concentrating hard, even saw his mouth open a couple of times as if he was reading something back to himself. But the parchment was clearest white, and brilliantly empty.

Then it caught his eye. Something glinted at him from the floor. It was sitting inside the open briefcase by the side of Wonder's desk. A golden ring with six rubies inset, flashing at him in the morning sunlight. It was attached to a piece of string which was binding a folder full of papers. Again with another glance out the window, Danny bent down to read the first page of the folder. It was a letter addressed to Dr Ethelraed. It had his full name and address at the top of the letter, but contained a brief yet stark message:

Dear Dr Ethelraed,

Beware the River of Fear.

From a friend

Danny breathed a huge sigh of relief. He did not remove the papers from the briefcase, but rapidly went to sit down again, which was fortunate as at that moment Professor Wonder. Amanita nudged him in the back to elicit some response and an answer to her question, but Danny would make her wait. He needed time to unravel the confusion.

*

The next day in double maths the trio were surprised again. Instead of Professor Fuzzair teaching them it was Mr Planks, the school inspector. What was more, Detective Constable Tyburn and Chief Inspector Pemberton sat at the rear of the classroom, clipboards in hand. With heavy hearts and sagging faces the students sat down for what they knew would be a boring lesson. It was. Planks tried them out on quadratic equations, trigonometry and even a touch of Pythagoras, which they had all learned in the third year.

Halfway through the lesson Detective Tyburn began walking the classroom aisles asking students if their current lesson matched up to what Professor Fuzzair usually taught. Not wanting to cause any undue attention to themselves, nor extend the lesson any further most students simply nodded. However when Detective Tyburn reached Amanita, who was undoubtedly the best in the year at Maths, Amanita looked hard at him before replying.

'No, it doesn't match up really. For one thing Professor Fuzzair is a teacher, and Mr Planks isn't. Secondly, Fuzzair taught us things that would come up in our exam, and thirdly Fuzzair never got distracted by his own reflection in the windows,' she said resolutely. Some people giggled.

Chief Pemberton stood up and walked over to Amanita.

'Look here Miss, Detective Tyburn asked you a simple question...'

'And I gave him a simple answer. It's not my fault if he can't understand it.'

Chief Pemberton shook his head and pulled Tyburn out of the way while the lesson wound down to a tedious finish.

Later in the playground, Danny couldn't believe Amanita's cheek in front of the police.

'Well what right have they got interfering here? I know some terrible things have happened but that's no reason to interfere with the teaching is it? I mean they're police officers. What do they know about sine and cosine? Fuck all, if you ask me.'

Danny and Tim said nothing, taken aback. They could not work out where this new fire within Amanita had come from. Before Danny could broach it with Tim, Saffelia appeared by his side and dragged Tim rather easily to the other side of the bikesheds, which they all knew was reserved for smoking and canoodling. Amanita looked up at Danny with a tired look in her eyes.

'We've got to sort out the next edition of the _Oracle_. We might also consider renaming it, seeing as it's more than a week since the last one...'

'Amanita we need more help. Coursework is getting on top of me at the moment.'

It wasn't. In fact the only thing that had got on top of him in recent weeks was Janna Chisely, but he wasn't going to admit this to Amanita.

'Is there anyone else who might be interested in working on it?'

Amanita looked a little sheepish, and spoke with reddened cheeks.

'Johnny Benedict might be interested.'

I lay on the quilted rug and gaze at the food. Pots and tubs of oozing dips and crisp carrot and celery sticks. A few feet beyond runs the fishing river and further upstream anglers sit poised by the bank waiting for their moment to come. My moment will come too, it is in the hands of Gods or fate or what controls the majestic universe. Those all-seeing omnipotent eyes that watch and wait, like a melting candle behind a clock face, burning itself down to the wick before the chimes ring out.

**Lovers and Madmen**

The moon hung low over a torchlit Amberleigh castle. Cars roared in from the main road, subsiding to a soft hum as they approached the towering building. Danny squeezed Janna's hand. She returned two nights before, and he had waited at the airport to see her emerge from behind the arrivals gate. When she finally appeared she ran to him and hugged him, jumping into his arms and embracing him with her legs. He had felt exhilarated by love. A weightless feeling as though he were floating in mid-air.

Her parents drove them both into school. They parked in the playground, dark and abnormally suspicious in the evening light, and several other cars parked up alongside. Although not a parent's evening many parents were joining their offspring in attending the annual school play. It had come round quickly, like the start of term after the summer holidays all those weeks ago.

All the school lights glowed, guiding parents and children into school as a lighthouse floods ships in its warm glow. Danny reached into his coat pocket to make sure he still had his copy of the play. He didn't want to miss a single word. Even if he did, he wanted to be able to relive it immediately. Not even sure who was playing whom, he had looked forward to seeing and hearing the play he had studied all year, being performed up there on the school stage. Dawn Russet was one of the fairies – Peaseblossom, he thought, but he had no idea who was playing the principals.

Secretly he had watched snippets of the actors practicing in St Basil's hall as he passed on his way to The Roasthouse. He hadn't had enough courage to enter the hall and watch openly, although he desperately wanted to. Instead he had hid himself behind one of the windows and spied from there. When he first read the play he had felt confused but also that something moved inside him. It had been a dawning realization that old Shakes had infused the language with a special syntactical quality that made them sink deeper than ordinary everyday sentences. The pleasing symmetry of the drama hounded his mind and marked an impression on his quaking teen soul.

Still squeezing Janna's hand, he followed her parents through the main entrance. The hallway was crowded with people: fellow students and their parents. On a table to the left, students volunteers Mary Oconee and Florence Croft handed out glasses of wine and orange juice. As Danny went to fetch orange juice for both him and Janna, Florence blushed and nearly spilled juice all down his shirt. Danny managed to jump from the liquid's darting path in a split-second's time. Mary passed him two glasses and after smiling his thanks to both, he wandered back to Janna.

She was talking to Cedric Claw. Now it was Danny's time to blush. He felt his cheeks slowly boil. After achieving a state of redness to rival beetroot, Danny nudged Janna to give her her drink, but she wasn't paying any attention. In fact as he approached Danny saw the conversation with Cedric had become heated.

'What do you mean you'd rather I didn't. It's my choice! We're not a couple any more. You don't get to tell me what to do any more!' she shouted.

'In fact, I never really did,' whispered Cedric in a dangerously low voice. 'You just took it that way,' he added.

'Come on Danny,' exclaimed Janna loudly enough for several mothers to turn their heads, their antennae tuned precisely whenever the potential for new gossip was roused by some commotion. 'It's about time we sat down.'

She unceremoniously grabbed the orange juice out of his hand and gulped it all down in one, before speaking in an odd blank voice.

'I need something stronger.'

Danny tried to hold onto her, but she marched toward Mary and Florence and demanded they supply her with wine.

'Damn it girls, I need one. Please?' she pleaded. Danny had never seen her like this before. Something had unnerved her.

Mary winked and passed her a glass of red, which Janna again downed in one, before burping magnificently. Embarrassed, Danny clutched her by the arm and dragged her into St Basil's, determined to get some straight answers. It was no use. Once sat down she proceeded to flirt unashamedly with the tall dark man sitting alongside her, who turned out to be Nick Fasco, owner of the local hairdresser's Slick Nicks. Apparently his sister was playing Hermia.

Danny resigned himself to an evening of disappointment. He had long anticipated this date, watching a captivating play with his enchanting girlfriend but the flighty mood of airy Janna had ruined all that.

The hall filled quickly with people and chatter about sons and daughters and pride and homework and who was voting for who on the Parents and Teacher's Society and which teachers were liked and which were hated and who was involved behind the scenes and who had painted the set designs and who wasn't here and wasn't it a scandal about Dr Beaublade and Dr Cleaver?

'I heard they were at it behind the bikesheds after school last week.'

'I heard she's knocked up now!'

'Poor Apollonius. She's such a gold-digger.'

Danny sighed and then laughed when he realised Dr Beaublade's first name. The last few people came into the hall and sat down. The lights went out and silence descended as the stage was cloaked in darkness. Then the sound of someone's mobile phone pierced the thick summer air and the parents groaned as the students giggled. Danny looked round and saw a man scurrying to the back of the hall, raising his phone to his ear before reaching the door.

A flash of light on stage drew everyone's attention and a large huddle of people rushed on. A blast of music broke from the speakers at the front of the hall. Danny recognised it as a tune that had been ripping through the charts that week, a song about clandestine cavorting and lunar gleams. A thickset man, who Danny had seen about at school but whose name escaped him walked to the front of the stage, holding the hand of none other than Dr Chukchi and about to speak. In a unusually high and squeaky voice he began:

Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour

Draws on apace; four happy days bring in

Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow

This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires,

Like to a step-dame or a dowager,

Long withering out a young man's revenue.

Many laughed at the ironic delivery of the lines; many were drawn to the stark jade and pewter colour scheme of the set, whispering to their neighbours how much effort must have gone into the costume designs. But for Danny it was the words that sent him into raptures; it was the language that made him forget he was sitting beside a conquest long desired ever since he first set foot in Plunket's. He didn't see the people in front of him, nor did he hear the chattering behind him. All he heard were the comically light and tragically dark lines emit a fusion of despair and desire, as they conducted a private dialogue with his soul.

Janna was swaying, as if a leaf in a breeze; not due to the words but her drink. Unbeknownst to Danny she had lingered near her father's whisky before Danny arrived. Now the disappearing light, consumed by the rapid emergence of darkness, triggered something within Janna's mind to initiate sleep. Her eyelids drooped and her breathing became increasingly louder. Danny prayed she would not snore.

The play progressed. Danny was impressed by Hermia, played by Actinides Fasco. He learned from Nick, who was assisting in keeping Janna still on her seat lest she slip off from slumber, that Helena was played by Amatory Poise, a final year student Danny had seen walk around school. Almost statuesque at nearly six foot, her dark amber hair, pouting honey lips and shining skin marked her out as some school celebrity. She portrayed Helena brilliantly. Danny knew she had succeeded in suspending the audience's disbelief when her dulcet shrieks prompted murmurs of pity from the audience.

Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex.

We cannot fight for love as men may do;

We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.

Later in the play the inevitable cat-fight between her and Hermia was spectacular. Danny was surprised to see Coco Romeo in the energetic yet manipulative role of Puck, flitting around the stage with subtle grace. However the whole show was stolen by a superb Bottom, played by the fantastic Kath Lynx, a fifth year girl who Danny had seen knocking about with Michael Vitus from time to time. Her humour was exquisite, timing precise, expressions hilarious, and demeanour utterly perfected. Her eyes wandered over her audience with a comic glint in them, knowing something they did not, like when she was about to leap on another cast member, or shadow the other actors with sublime singing or ironic sweetness.

Danny looked around at his peers. On the other side of the hall, Samuel Mills sat quietly with his parents, directly behind Ella Amur. Every now and again she turned round to give him a surreptitious smile, hidden from their parents. Near them Sonia Fox sat with a tall lady, whom Danny assumed was her mother, although it could have been her sister as she looked quite young. Sonia perched forward on the edge of her chair, her glowing rust hair flowing behind her. From here Danny could see her captivated, as she trembled. When Puck was about to drop her enchanted dust irrevocably into the sleeping eyes of poor Demetrius, Sonia looked like she might stand up and shout out. Instead he saw her shock, mouthing the word, 'No' to herself, and the blocking gesture of her hand rise to her mouth.

After a satisfying denouement in which Lysander and Hermia, Demetrius and Helena become reconciled, the thickset man returned holding Dr Chukchi's hand. Again the words echoed round Danny's head as he ignored the slumbering Janna on his right shoulder:

More strange than true. I never may believe

these antique fables, nor these fairy toys.

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,

Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend

More than cool reason ever comprehends.

As the principal actors rested on pouffes to watch the rustics perform the play-within-a-play, Danny's eyes again shifted round the audience. Olive Spritser and Mary Oconee sat at the back ignoring the play, fiddling with their mobile phones and giggling. Ian Phalanger stood at the side of the hall, holding what looked to be a large holdall. Saffelia and Tim had walked to the back of the hall and, with their hands behind their backs, were doing all they could to resist each other. Michael Vitus sat a couple of rows behind, drumming his fingers on the chair in front. Lorraine Carr and Liam Flicker sat quietly together in the front row. However, amongst all his class mates Danny still couldn't see Amanita anywhere. He thought she would have made it – she loved Shakespeare. After much laughing the actors wound down to the play's light and lilting conclusion. Little Coco Romeo ended the performance, delivering in her enchanting sing-song voice the last lines.

Give me your hands, if we be friends

And Robin shall restore amends.

Puck bowed alone on an empty stage, and as the lights dimmed for the final time, plunging the hall into thick darkness, the audience launched into rapturous applause. A wave of people stood up at the front, and the wave flowed through to the back of St. Basil's. Danny supported Janna carefully, who was beginning to rouse from her deep slumbers, no doubt having dreamt her own midsummer fantasy.

As they made their way from St. Basil's into the crowded corridor, Danny felt a strange pride he studied at Plunket's. His year, the other years: he felt he belonged to it all. The play had done justice to Shakespeare. Whenever and wherever those words were brought to life, magic trembled in some unfathomable, sagacious place in Danny's mind. As he dwelt on the closing lines, Samuel Mills pushed past him roughly, and Danny saw his parents rushing to keep up with him. Well-dressed, his father wore what looked to be a Gucci suit.

'Samuel, darling. Wait for us.'

Danny squeezed Janna's hand again, and looked into her slate-blue eyes. She looked tired, but she squeezed his hand back and rested her head on his shoulder.

'I love you, Danny,' she said, softly in his ear.

Danny didn't know what to say. Looking confused, yet pleasantly surprised, he decided to leave his questions about the argument with Cedric until another night.

*

Amanita was behaving oddly, Danny thought. Twice she had stalked along the same strip of corridor, furtively looking left and right every now and again. He sat in Bookshelf the school library, meaning to revise for his upcoming French reading examination, but instead spent most of his time people-watching, gazing out of windows watching various students come and go. Amanita hadn't spotted him. He was about to abandon his revision attempt to see what she was up to when a pile of books landed on the desk on which he was studying, nearly trapping his fingers in the falling crush.

'Hallo mate,' said Tim, smiling and looking tired.

'Oh hiya. Enjoy the play,' Danny said still gazing out of the window at Amanita.

'Yeah, not too bad. Saffelia wanted to hang about after though and chat to her mates. All I wanted to do...'

'...Was go off and find something to eat.' Danny finished the sentence for him. Tim grinned.

'I haven't done any revision yet. Can't be arsed. Anyway there's so much gossip going on to concentrate on stupid schoolwork.'

'What gossip?' Danny finally looked up. Would it be anything to do with Janna and Cedric?

'Oh you know, this and that,' said Tim cryptically.

'No. I don't know. Please tell me,' said Danny firmly.

Tim looked hard at him, frowning.

'I'm sorry mate,' putting his hand on his shoulder. 'It's not really for me to say. Don't want to add petrol to the flames, y'know? Look I've got to go, Saffelia wants me to go into town with her so she can buy some clothes.'

'Under the thumb,' Danny said under his breath, but loud enough for Tim to hear.

'Yeah whatever mate. Amanita wanted me to tell you that we'll be having another _Oracle_ meeting after school. Just you, me and her. She wants to talk about what should go in the next issue,' Tim uttered quickly before Danny could interrupt.

'Okay,' sighed Danny, 'You better run along. Theresa Green will be waiting for you.'

Tim whacked him over the head lightly, picked up his books and rushed from Bookshelf. Danny stared after him, and glanced back to the corridor. Amanita was nowhere to be seen, and the corridor was now quiet.

Several thoughts flowed through Danny's mind instantaneously. What had happened between Saffelia and Tim, and how had he missed it? What was going on between Cedric and Janna? It hurt his head just thinking about it. He had got no French done whatsoever. He stared out of the library window onto the playground below, where the calm North sea sat like thousands of individual strips of silver, glistening in the early June sunshine. He packed up his books and left for his next lesson.

*

The press room was cold, even in the early summer heat. Danny opened the window to let some of the sun in. He sat on a cold wooden chair and breathed in. On the whiteboard Amanita had written a complicated matrix, indicating who was writing what for the _Oracle_. She had managed to find herself a wide team of writers from across school. They were all commissioned to write stories, articles, columns for the paper. Even the horoscopes had departed Danny's remit and next to his name was written the solitary word 'freelance'. Tim's name was still plastered next to sport, even though Danny knew he hadn't written anything in months.

Despite everything that had happened that year, through ups and down, Amanita's loyalty had never wavered. Danny and Tim had never devoted more than a cursory interest into the _Oracle_. Yet Amanita still supported and favoured them. He felt ashamed.

He heard footsteps tread the staircase to the press room and turned his head. The door opened and Amanita and Tim walked in, both carrying school bags heavily weighed down with coursework and books and sports kit. Amanita dumped hers on the nearest chair and flopped into the only armchair in the room in the corner. Tim peered out of the window.

'It's a bit cold in here, isn't it?' he said.

'Yes. It is,' replied Danny, exhausted with mechanical conversation.

Amanita dug in her bag and pulled out a bottle of cola and a big packet of milky bars.

'Thought we might need a bit of sustenance,' she said, opening the cola and pouring herself some in a plastic cup.

'Amanita. Look, I'm really sorry I haven't, you know, devoted more time to the _Oracle_. You've done so much and we've, well we've done so little. Are you sure you still want us on the team?'

Danny looked downtrodden as he spoke. Tim was about to say something but Amanita cut him off.

'Of course I still want you on the team!' she said, almost angrily. 'We've all got to stick together. Besides, I started this thing with you two, and I am damned if I am going to let you off the hook now, just when things are beginning to get interesting.'

She added this last bit in a part-whisper, but both Tim and Danny caught it and walked to her.

'What? What's interesting? Amanita – what have you got to tell us?' exclaimed Tim, his eyes reclaiming their vigour.

Amanita stood, and walked to the whiteboard.

'I have not asked the other members of the team to join us this evening. They are all working on articles for the next edition, and besides they have also got to fit in all their coursework and revision.'

Tim and Danny looked at each other, both reading the equal pangs of guilt in each other's eyes. They had not started their revision properly yet. Amanita went on.

'There is something going on in this school, and I think it's about time the _Oracle_ investigated the recent deaths, happenings and odd occurrences.'

'Are you mad? We'll never get something like that printed with Beavis and Butthead policing not just the school but every single lesson,' Tim shouted.

'It's not every lesson. Just chemistry and physics they're interested in. Ever noticed that? Besides, we will have some help in presenting the paper. Professor Wonder has agreed to get the paper passed for printing, and has said he will accept whatever consequences come his way should Tyburn and Pemberton not...like the results.' Amanita smiled at them both, and sat down again.

Tim and Danny looked at her, not knowing what to think. Tim helped himself to a Milky Way and poured himself a cup of cola.

'How are we going to investigate this?' he asked.

'Very simple,' replied Amanita. 'We just make sure everything odd we've seen gets recorded in the paper. We make sure we don't become distracted by schoolwork, or parties, or...well, anything else that could distract us.'

Here she looked directly at Danny, and appeared to bite her tongue.

Danny looked away. He knew what she was thinking. There were many odd things that had happened this year and he had pushed many of them to the back of his mind because of his obsession with Janna Chisely. Because of his encounter with Anjalie Marjoram, Because of his own teenage insecurities. There had been two deaths: Ethelraed and Woodbridge. There were the flames he had seen, from this same room, flashing out in the ocean before vanishing. There was the fact Fuzzair was now missing from school, his lessons replaced by Mr Planks. There was Dunstan Blackbuck appearing mysteriously in the press room, and whom Danny suspected of writing names on the whiteboard that Amanita now filled with her news matrix. The strange message about Ethelraed in Wonder's briefcase. Surely Wonder could have elaborated on this but Danny had been too scared to ask him. There were other things too that Amanita and Tim knew nothing about. The golden ring with six red rubies set into it, he had discovered at the beach and now lay locked in a drawer in his bedroom at home, that Professor Alessandro had asked him if he knew anything about. There was the discovery of the hidden passage behind Spiral Two, that only he and Janna knew about, with the peculiar engraving 'Thrive Far & Free'. There were the papers Chardelia had given to him whilst sleep-walking at her party. They had predicted attacks of some kind all around Britain. Finally, there was the appearance of Robin Vernal, his childhood friend. He couldn't possibly tell anyone about that, let alone report it in the school newspaper. It was too personal and they'd all think he'd gone mad. When he added them all up – like some great equation – a lot of odd things had happened that year, he had to admit it. Yet Danny did not speak a word. He silently poured himself some cola while Amanita continued.

'I have already received one article for the paper. It's about how the school is coping in this difficult time. It's very eloquent and well-written. It's by Sonia Fox.'

Tim gargled his cola, and Danny nearly spit his out.

'What? Sonia Fox? Eloquent?' Danny burst out ungenerously.

'Yes Danny,' Amanita said calmly. 'Is there something wrong? You certainly didn't mind her company at Chardelia's party?'

Tim looked at Danny, but Danny shook his head, ignoring his sidelong glance.

'Nothing happened,' Danny said quietly.

'And why not?' Tim asked, grinning. Amanita picked up her thread again.

'Just be alert to anything odd, and don't be afraid to write something about it. We need to build some momentum into the _Oracle_. Tim, you need to continue with your sports column, and Danny we also need a review of the school play which I would like you to write.' Danny nodded. He knew he'd be able to do a good job of that.

'Do either of you have anything else to add?' Amanita asked them both, sipping her cola.

Tim helped himself to another Milky Way and stuffed it into his mouth, his countenance clearly showed him thinking furiously, about whether or not to say something. Finally he decided.

'Yeah I do. What's going on between you and Johnny Benedict?'

'Meeting adjourned,' Amanita said briskly.

The breeze has unfixed my hair but I don't mind. I don't mind at all. When the water flows and the wind blows through my fragile wisps I feel just another atom of nature, on its journey from the source to the sea. That feeling surfers claim to when they ride a wave that carries them to shore. Of being completely at one with the rhythm of the earth, its living spirit: mother nature. Always a mother because they can understand what it is for nature to take hold of your body, just as it has mine.

The Seven Stages of Love

By the time Danny arrived at Professor Wonder's class a full line was already waiting outside. Danny looked confused – Wonder never usually made them line up like this. He approached Michael Vitus at the front and asked him why the wait.

'Oh, he's in there. Won't let us come in yet. I think he's preparing something,' he said.

Danny went to the back of the line where Anjalie and Squish stood, snogging unashamedly in each other's arms. Anjalie caught sight of Danny and extracted herself from Squish's ample arms.

'Hi Dannyboy!! How are you?'

He hated the nickname. He decided to ignore her and looked the other way. Eventually Wonder opened the door and beckoned them all in, a glint shining in his expression. Tim rolled his eyes as he walked in.

'Detention Gaunt.' Wonder bellowed.

'Of course sir. My pleasure,' retorted Tim, without a hint of being annoyed.

Once inside they saw a large television and video sat in place of Professor Wonder's desk, which had been pushed to the side of the room. Everyone mechanically withdrew their exercise books.

'This,' said Wonder, patting the television on the top, 'is for later. For now I would like you all to pay close attention. This lesson will be one of the most important lessons you will have while at school. Indeed, it may well be one of the most important in your life.'

The fourth years slumped slightly in their chairs. Whenever a teacher said that it usually meant something boring and more work than usual.

'You,' Wonder pointed at Ian Phalanger, 'can you tell me what love is?'

Ian looked startled to be picked on so early in class, although it was a well-known trick of Wonder's to try to catch people off-guard.

'It's...it's what we feel for people we really, really like...' His voice faded away into embarassment. Did Wonder not realise that boys don't talk about love?

Wonder stared hard at him. Then he nodded.

'That will do. That will do nicely. Phalanger is right. But it is also more than this. Love is one of the world's, and one of human nature's most enduring mysteries. Where does it come from? Why do we need it? Who knows? The way it can make you feel is incredibly powerful. It can make you act in opposite ways from your natural behaviour. It can give you extra energy. It can lift you from the darkest despairs, or rescue you from the deepest well of fear.

Today, I am going to talk about love, not just filial love, or the love of God, but sexual love. Sex is an important part of growing up. All of your parents have signed consent forms for you to attend this lesson, to realise your sex education in a spiritual and loving context.'

Many fourth-years thought they didn't really need this education, some had even had sex already. Yet, to hear a teacher, a person in authority, even Professor Wonder the most liberated of all Plunket's teachers, talk so openly about sex, startled them. Their ears pricked up. Dawn Russet and Rosetti Duocorn gazed open-mouthed. Tim just sighed. Wonder continued unabated.

'What is the first stage of love? Who would like to have a go? Not you Gaunt. Who can tell me what would have to happen first before sexual love can take place?'

Again the class gaped in stunned silence. As the hush continued Wonder merely smiled at them, waiting for someone to volunteer an answer.

After a couple of minutes passed, with a deep gulp which descended to his stomach like the descent of a fast rollercoaster, Danny summoned the courage to raise his shaking hand.

'Yes, Danny.' Wonder looked pleased.

'Sir, I guess...er...the first stage would be...er, like, when you see someone...sir?'

Memories of the first time he saw Janna flew into his mind. Standing alone on court, legs slender like a crane's, holding an oversized tennis racquet and a bucket of balls by her feet. And then, when he had first seen Chardelia as a child, buttoned up in her grey school uniform, her buttergold hair, even then, flowing from the top of her head down the back of her spine like a cascading fountain. Danny couldn't believe he was the first to volunteer information in this bizarre lesson. This was new territory, Wonder stepping into their minds and fantasies.

'Absolutely!' screamed Wonder, joyous with delight. 'Yes, when you see someone. Very good Canterbury, five house points for Dahl.'

'You are all teenagers. I am sure you have all had the experience when you've seen someone, perhaps across the playground,' Wonder looked tellingly at Coco Romeo, 'and thought that you'd like to get to know them better. That you think you might fancy them. Gaunt, what's your type?'

'My type, sir?' emitted Tim, slowly but assertive.

'Yes, Gaunt, your type,' said Wonder impatiently.

'You mean apart from yourself, sir?' said Gaunt, deadpanning. There wasn't even the hint of a smile on his comedic face.

Wonder didn't even bat an eyelid, and his voice adjust to a slow pace to match Tim's. He became more delicate, as if levelling to deal with an equal or a worthy contestant on a quiz show of which he was the presenter.

'Of course, apart from myself,' he said calmly.

'Well...' and Tim looked round at Saffelia who stared at him, 'I suppose I'd have to say a nice face, blonde, straight hair, decent breasts and lovely thighs.'

Some of the class looked shocked but Saffelia beamed.

'Thank you for your honesty Tim,' said Wonder, smiling. 'Everyone will have their type. Someone they are attracted to. In pairs I would like you all to discuss with your partner what your type is. Make a few notes and be prepared to report back to the class in five minutes.'

Danny turned to the person sitting beside him, Chardelia Foss. Opening his mouth to speak no words came out. He didn't know what to say. She sat there calmly, smiling serenely at him. He knew in that instant she did not remember the encounter at her party. It was a lightening of a load and Danny breathed a sigh of relief.

'So...Chardelia,' his voice trembled, although he tried to disguise it with false confidence, 'what kind of person would you say is your type?'

'Oh you know,' she said playfully, her voice flowing like wine, 'someone like you.'

Her words were meaningful but uttered in such a casual manner as to lend barely any weight to their purpose. Something curdled inside Danny. He wanted to shout out 'Well you can't have me!' but restrained the impulse.

'Oh,' he said bluntly. 'Is there any other type you'd go for?'

'Well, my ex-boyfriend was very kind to me. I'd quite like to find someone like him again,' she said, sportively twirling a few strands of her hair.

'You ex-boyfriend – I didn't know you...what was his name?'

'What about you little Danny Canterbury? What sort of type do you go for?' she asked, ignoring his question.

'Well, I'm going to have to say Janna, aren't I?'

'No. You can say what you want. I won't tell.'

Danny gazed into her green eyes. They were other-worldly, like a pair of watery moons. He couldn't get past the mesmerizing greenness of them or tell at all what she was thinking. Something indolent and dreamy no doubt.

'Janna Chisely. That's the type of girl I go for,' he said, sternness creeping into his voice.

'So you wouldn't go for someone like me then?' Chardelia asked politely.

Exasperation flowed in Danny like he were a vessel sinking floating amid a tempest of emotion. Why did girls always do this? One minute they rejected him left, right and centre. Then when he found someone, they queued to be with him, to entreat him to join their dramas. Danny knew it only disturbed because the relationship was riven with faltering cracks.

'Chardelia. Please. I'm with Janna. Maybe if I was single, maybe I might...'

'Time's up!' shouted Wonder, who now stood at the opposite side of the room. At least they were safe from being picked on.

'Danny – would you like to share with us what Chardelia's type is?'

Danny's heart sank. He looked at Chardelia, her lips glistening like water, then at Janna, whose hair moved gently in the breeze from the window, and finally at Professor Wonder, the enthusiastic glint never shining brighter in his eyes than now. A decision beckoned.

'Sir, I would rather keep that to myself,' he said quietly. The class stared at him, and Janna's icy glare told him he would pay for his reticence later, but Wonder wasn't bothered and simply moved on to Dawn Russet and Ella Amur.

The double-lesson class continued after break, in which Danny sought brief solace with Amanita and Tim, and to chat more about the _Oracle_.

'How's the review coming on?' asked Amanita.

'It isn't,' said Danny. Amanita recognized from his voice it wasn't wise to press further. The burning sun had popped out from behind a steel cloud and they smelt the aroma of newly cut grass float over from Fourlawns, carried on the sea breeze. Tim slumped against a fence while eating a ham sandwich and pear drops simultaneously.

Once back in class, Wonder strolled up and down the aisles, checking every one's exercise book and writing in some log books. He had written something on the blackboard and pulled it down to show the rest of the class.

'There are seven stages of sexual love. I have written the first one down – 'Looks' – on the blackboard. I would now like volunteers to write the other six up on the board. So the second stage is – who would like to have a go?'

Having warmed into the lesson, and grown used to Wonder's catalytic methods, several of the class felt braver expressing their views. However no-one seemed to get the next stage right.

'Fondling – Brandon Wood?! Some of us like to take a bit more time over these things,' Wonder shouted, jovially. Amanita put her hand up.

'Smell?'

'Excellent Miss Walmer! Please go ahead and write it up on the board. I remember your sister Wendy when she was in this class. She never missed any of the seven stages.'

Amanita got up and went to write 'Smell' on the board, whilst Wonder clambered onto an empty desk and sat on it, facing the class.

'Smell is vitally important. Remember that Gaunt, should you ever become single again.'

Tim feigned mock shock, before continuing to doodle a new picture of Wonder in his exercise book, this time playing guitar in assembly.

'We each have an individual smell, we give out, that none of us can help. I'm not talking about BO, although now I think about it, there are a few lads in here who could do with upping the Lynx.' Several people laughed.

'Smell can draw you into a person. When you're talking to them, when you're listening to them, when you're close to them you can't help but smell what a person is like. A person's smell can stay with you for a long time.'

The class were rapt. No-one wanted to interrupt Wonder, when he was on a roll like this.

'I'll never forget what my wife smelt like the first time I met her. Gorgeous,' he said softly, almost to himself.

'Anyway, the third stage. Anyone care to have a go?'

Emily Duocorn put her hand in the air, and answered 'Touch'.

'Correct,' Wonder said. Emily went to write it on the board. 'Touch is one of the most powerful ways to bring yourself closer to someone. To communicate when words fail. You probably start by holding their hand, then you might put your arms around each other. I remember when I was dating this girl, I put my arm around her in the cinema, and because it was the first time I'd done it, I was too nervous to remove it when it got tired. Eventually it became numb, but I didn't move it.' The class laughed. 'Now when I go to the cinema with that same girl, who is now my wife incidentally, I ask her if I can remove it when it's tired. That's love.'

The windows in the classroom were open and soft summer air floated in, caressing their tawny skin. Wonder clasped his hands together.

'Okay, the fourth stage. How about you Danny? Are you going to have a go?'

Danny thought for a while. He thought he knew what Wonder was after but couldn't be sure. His mind flashed back to the beginning of the year, to the first day of term, to Anjalie Marjoram. He hesitated, but Wonder saw his mouth open and nodded, encouraging him.

'Is it...kissing?' he asked tentatively.

Wonder looked at him. He didn't say anything but turned around to switch the TV and video on. The screen flickered into life. They were watching a film of two people: a boy and a girl. Danny recognized it instantly. It was one of his favourites. The boy and the girl were themselves watching a video of a rainbow filter down as a burst of sunlight met slate clouds. It curved in the sky like a graceful melody. As the camera drew back to view the pair, the boy gazed hard at the screen but the girl was looking at him. She reached up to his face and took it with her hand, drawing him closer to her lips, until they both touched.

Wonder paused it on the kiss.

'That's how a kiss should be. A moment. Not rushed, but when it means something. Not lustful or bawdy, but gentle and caring. Kiss someone when words won't do the job.'

At that moment the bell went.

'We shall have to continue this in the next lesson,' Wonder said reluctantly. Students grabbed their bags and walked out of the classroom.

*

The week wore on uncomfortably. Tim, Danny and Amanita were anxious for Wonder's next sex lesson. Danny and Janna weren't getting on very well. Janna was following him round in break times and at lunch, when all he wanted was to go up to the press room and help Amanita with the next issue of the _Oracle_. She had become a pest, always asking if he had any money for treats, for lunch. One time she asked him to lend her a hundred pounds for a trip to the clothes shops. As if he had that kind of money.

Spring slowly surrendered to summer. The trees flourished varied shades of green across the school grounds, hemming students in from all angles with canopies of leaves. Spittlebug was training them to run the four hundred metres in PE and Danny, despite beating his personal best on several occasions, dreaded the side-splitting feeling that tore across his mid-riff when he crossed the line. Still, he was grateful for the small pleasures the sun offered. He spent a lot of time chatting to Tim and Saffelia, who were now officially an item. Tim had assured Danny it was now official because Saffelia had made an announcement in the _Oracle_ for all lower year boys to stop pining after her; she was now taken.

In one after-school session, at which Saffelia had brought along salad for both her and Tim (much to Tim's visible dismay) they began talking about careers, and what they wanted to do in the future. Tim munched loudly on a hard-boiled egg while Saffelia explained how she had wanted to be a nurse at the local hospital, to follow in her mother's footsteps.

'Cedric was teasing me about it the other day. I said what's wrong with wanting to be a nurse. He said it was gay. Idiot. Anyway I put him in his place. At least he didn't have to split up with his girlfriend because he found her stealing money from his wallet.'

She knew at once she had said too much.

Danny's head darted to Saffelia so quick she jumped. Her face glowing bright red, Tim leapt in front of her.

'What! What was that you just said? Janna stole from Cedric?!'

Saffelia rested a hand on Tim's shoulder and gently pushed him aside. She still blushed a bright shade of vermillion.

'I'm sorry, Danny. I didn't mean to say that...I meant...oh well, I didn't mean, I wasn't thinking...sorry.'

Her voice tailed off into embarrassment, but Danny knew she had spoken the truth, and Tim and Amanita's silence confirmed it. So Cedric dumped Janna because she stole from him. It was almost unbelievable. But not completely. A sad despair grasped Danny. Would he end it now? Things weren't going well but before, when she was just a sublime fantasy he never thought it would end, let alone end before the year was out. After Tim and Saffelia had left for the evening, Danny stayed behind and chatted to Amanita.

'What should I do, Amanita?' he said, disconsolate.

She looked at him kindly. She was wearing a water-based lipstick, that gave her face an elfin, nymph-like quality. Amanita never usually wore lipstick at school.

'You love her, don't you?' she whispered.

Danny stared at her. The pain in his chest was so apparent that he raised a hand and tried to rub it better.

'I thought I did. I thought I knew her. I'm not sure I do now,' he uttered miserably. 'I had been so sure.'

'You think deep down love can conquer everything, don't you?' she said, again softly, resting her hand on his knee.

Danny turned and looked at her.

'How can I love someone that deceitful?'

Amanita didn't reply, but rested her head on his shoulder.

'I miss our chats Danny,' she said, and Danny knew it was time to leave.

*

A Midsummer Night's Madness

By Danny Canterbury

Strolling in from a verdant wonderland, Bottom looks up at the moon and exclaims loudly into gorgeous Titania's lughole: 'to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days'. He is correct of course, a sentiment resounding not just with donkeys and fairy queens, rustics or noblemen, but with the whole world, rich and poor, then and now, old and young. Meek teenagers can connect with the simple yet eloquent wisdom from Shakespeare's most imaginative play. And this play, put on for teenagers by teenagers cannot fail, even it were to be performed spectacularly badly. To even suggest this were true would be abominable, as this is a fine Shakespeare. A Shakespeare whose young actors muse carefully, with an attentive ear to the gentle and rolling comedy of love. The scenery is not overwhelming, light in places but always illuminating. Walls, moons, fairy dust and lions. It's all in a midsummer night's work for these young thesps.

Kath Lynx steals the show as an antic, aminate Bottom. Always alive with energy, unexpected in her high pitched or baritone delivery. Coco Romeo also sparkles as Puck, flitting about the stage with confident lightness.

All are brilliant in their efforts, in bringing Shakespeare's portrayal of the fickleness of teenage love to bear with such acute exquisiteness. Should Demetrius be cured of his love for Helena, or is it a happy tragedy that he remains under the influence at the end of the play? Should Egeus get his way and put his poor daughter to death for her sins? There are deep dark questions underlying Shakespeare's great comedy of love, but for this night, and forever I suspect, they remain unanswered. A beautiful mystery, acted nothing less than beautifully.

*

Danny and Janna sat in the Roasthouse, attempting to eat lunch as a forbidding cloud hung overtheir coupling. Wonder's sex lesson was next. After having waited all week for it to resume Danny now wished he could put it off forever. It was a shadow taunting him with failure, reminding him of his doomed relationships, of the darkness in his soul that rooted itself out in the end.

Janna played with the mashed potato on her plate, glancing idly at Danny every now and then. Danny had confronted her about Cedric's reason for splitting up with her at the start of their lunch, perhaps the last meal they would share together. To her credit, she had not denied it, but told him everything, about her need to spend and spend until she was happy.

Danny didn't know what to say. He didn't want to split up with her over it, especially if it was some kind of problem she already recognised. But he couldn't see a future for them now either. There was little energy left in Danny to continue a relationship or fling, as some would inevitably call it, that flailed on rocks as sharp as those that acted as the mossy barrier between the ocean and their school. He had known deeply for a while what the problem was, but only recently admitted it to himself. His expectations of Janna Chisely, his infatuation with her had been so extreme. It had lived up to it briefly before reality began to sink in. This was the be all and end all for Danny. There was no turning back, no accepting the fall, no taking a compromise with both hands. He had to leave it alone, to move on, to try someone else, Chardelia perhaps, or to be single for a while. To go and reach some quiet within himself. He would have to tell her.

'Janna...'

She looked up, fear glimmering and prancing in her sky-blue eyes, like a lonely white horse, lost at sea.

The bell rang for next class.

There are a few fluffy clouds bubbling up that float past in the sky. Come up from the sea, most probably. The water winds its way from the mountains, through the land, into towns but does not wait or stop for any person on its path to consummation. When it arrives at that great sweet mother herself it evaporates – its tiny particles rising into the air, unseen and unheard, collecting there as clouds until the moment comes to fall again. I want to be like that water.

The High Jump

Wonder was already sat cross-legged on his desk when the students piled expectantly in to his lesson. Some like Edmund Cloves, knew exactly what was coming and grinned widely, until Wonder's smile vanished and Cloves sat down wondering if he'd been mistaken.

Amanita was the last to arrive and sit down. She walked in, the flush of red visible in her cheeks as Wonder waved her politely to her chair. He opened his mouth to speak then closed it again, saying nothing. Remaining silent for one full minute, no-one spoke, although they looked from each other, wondering what Professor Wonder was up to. Then he leapt from his desk, and wordlessly wandered to the back of his desk to pull his guitar from its case. Tim rolled his eyes and Wonder, noticing this instantly, looked sternly at Tim until he raised his hand in apology.

Wonder began strumming a familiar tune. Danny couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but he recognised the slow lilting intro.Wonder began singing.

'When we speak or sing

Words cannot change our inner chimes

It's better to act with love

Show with kindness what you mean

Silently caress but never say

Those words because the sounds don't rhyme

With the wistful inside pleas

Then our hearts speak every day

When Wonder ceased singing he continued strumming until he got bored. He shot a look at Amanita who trembled, knowing what was coming.

'Amanita? Would you like to elaborate on why I have introduced this class with a song. Not just any song of course, but a special song. Your favourite song, I believe.'

Amanita blushed a dark shade of puce in the process but being a true domineering editor she cleared her throat and addressed the class.

'It's _Kinder Chimes_ by Souveer,' she said, faltering. 'It's a song about se...' She stopped to correct herself. 'It's a song about making love.'

Wonder rapped his knuckles on the guitar twice, the hollow wooden sound echoing around the classroom.

'Dr Woodbridge made this guitar for me. It was one of the last things he did before he died. So, I've sung you a song about making love. Not just about sex. Sex is only what happens when a man inserts his penis into a woman's vagina. But making love...would anyone like to hazard a guess as to the difference.'

Without waiting for anyone to volunteer, Wonder strolled round the class and lightly touched Florence Croft on the bonce.

'Florence, what do you think?'

A soft balmy summer breeze blew through the classroom window. Danny heard the gentle pock sounds of people playing cricket, the shouts as people ran round the athletics track on Fourlawns, the buzzing of a bee outside the window.

'I think,' said Florence, 'that making love is something more than sex. It's about when you want to show them something...'

Her voice shrank into the quiet of the classroom, and the sounds of summer outside seeped in the room at every pore.

'Exactly right,' boomed Wonder, who now straddled a chair between Amanita and Danny's desks. 'Making love is about showing someone how much you love them. When words won't do. When saying the words "I love you" seems to mean nothing compared to the vast tumult of feeling, and the most open, frank and natural way of telling someone how you feel about them is...to make love.'

The class sat silent. Wonder continued.

'I remember when I first starting going out with my wife. I had some funny ideas about sex then. Things I thought you should do. She soon put me straight. We had a lot of fun finding out. But it never became cheap or sordid because we loved each other. It meant something, a silent connection between two people. There is nothing worse, believe me, than to give away something so precious, so irretrievable to someone with whom you don't have a connection. I mean it. Sometimes it's better to wait until you meet the right person.

'So, I believe we had got to kissing. What's stage number five then? Janna?'

Janna sat at the rear twirling her hair in her hands. She looked at Danny who returned her anguished gaze.

'Er touching, feeling each other?' she said nervously.

'Yes,' said Wonder, nodding almost solemnly. 'You can't just go straight into it. You have to get close to each other, be with each other, feel comfortable with each other's bodies. So you might fondle each other for a while, until it starts to feel natural. This is all perfectly natural, I don't know why most of you are blushing. I know this is what you all talk about in the playground!'

The class laughed.

'How about stage six? Olive?'

'Er...I don't want to say, sir,' she demurred.

'But you have a pretty good idea?' Wonder asked politely.

'What are you implying?' Olive replied, laughing.

Everyone in the class laughed, easing the tone.

'Okay, okay. You might be tempted to discover each other's bodies before launching into the main act. You might want to explore each other's orifices. Let's just say that you should always act in accordance with your partner's wishes and never go further than they permit. But if they wish, it is natural to want to caress each other, with your mouth, in the most sensitive parts of your bodies. This might continue for minutes or hours, depending on what you fancy or how slow you would like to go. All this acts as natural and becoming prelude to the main act, stage seven, making love.'

Wonder paused.

'And that is where this lesson ends for today.'

The bell rang and reluctantly, they trooped out into the summer sunshine, gossiping wildly, chatting excitedly, chirrupping loudly about the best religious studies lesson of the whole year.

*

The latest edition of the _Oracle_ was distributed across school late on Friday afternoon, ready for the weekend. Piles of newspapers landed on spare desks in the corridors and on the floor below school noticeboards. Roguish first years pulled heavy trolleys across the playground, depositing bundles at strategic points. Amanita instructed them to make sure every group of students were interrupted with the opportunity to read the latest issue. One poor first-year nearly lost control of his trolley as he scooted around the top edge of the yard near the rocks, and the descent to Fourlawns. Several papers fell off the trolley and fell down, spilling their pages onto the rocks and crashing waves beneath.

Tim and Danny were playing five a-side with Samuel Mills and Ian Phalanger when Amanita and Saffelia approached, wearing smiles of familiar relief.

'Well, I think that's all of them,' she exclaimed. 'No thanks to your girlfriend Danny! Where is Janna by the way? I haven't seen her in ages.'

Danny and Tim looked at each other. Their silence spoke volumes to Amanita, who quickly changed the subject.

'So, er, Saffelia, I hear you've got plans for the summer holidays. Anything exciting?' Amanita asked, still red-faced from her trawl round the school with the first-years.

'I'm going camping in the Snowfall Grove with my Mom. Should be fun. Tim said he might come too.'

Saffelia blushed. Everyone turned to look at Tim. Tim was now pretending to not listen, and concentrating very hard on the football match that now continued without him. Danny grabbed his arm to attract his attention.

'What's this Tim? Leaving us for the summer are we?' he asked.

'What? Oh...yeah...going camping or something with Saffelia and er... some of her friends...'

His voice trailed off trying to conceal embarrassment with disinterestedness.

'Tim – she's my Mom!'

'Oh...yeah...whatever...should be cool.'

Tim added, desperately trying to appear very matter of fact. Amanita rolled her eyes and her and Danny made their way to St George's gym to get out of the sun and to read copies of the new _Oracle_.

Once inside they found a corner by the rickety wooden bars they were forced to hang from once a week by Spittlebug. There was no-one else around. Danny looked at the floor and ran his finger along the dusty surface whilst browsing the paper. Tim had done a good job with the sports pages – there was news of the football team rising up the schools league. While both Danny and Tim had since been dropped from the team, they still followed their progress and tried not to remain bitter, although Danny observed he managed this more successfully than Tim. He glanced down the four-page spread on the latest triumph, Plunket's defeating St Giles 5-0. Danny chuckled. Tim had even managed to squeeze in half a column on the school's netball and hockey results. He was clearly getting soft under Saffelia's influence.

'Your review of the play is really good Danny. Well done,' Amanita beamed.

'Thanks', said Danny, distracted. His eye had been caught by something else.

'Hey who wrote this?' he asked, pointing to an article on page three, with the headline "Why we shouldn't exaggerate the talents of the dead". Amanita looked at it, and frowned.

'Oh yes. Well I'm not supposed to say. It was submitted with the intention of anonymity.'

Danny looked at Amanita in the eye. She relented

'Okay. It's Sonia Fox. Flambeau insisted it had to go in. I thought it was a bit, well a bit insensitive, but I was...,' and here she hesitated, and Danny could see dissonance in her eyes, '...overruled.'

Danny looked at her. There was something upset and frustrated in Amanita's countenance. She clearly thought this article looked as out of place in the paper as he did. Danny read on, growing more horrified as he did.

Why we shouldn't exaggerate the talents of the dead

It is of course tragic, tragic news that Plunket's lost two teaching members of staff this year. I am sure that many students were fond of Dr Woodbridge and Dr Ethelraed. Yet it remains important in these dark times to retain a sense of proportion and truth. Our head and leader Professor Flambeau, has been doing an expert job in guiding us through these challenging times. We must not forget, while he is as sorry as anyone for the demise of two members of his staff, they caused a series of problems while they were alive. While it is not becoming to trample on the deceased, it is important to remember and to have courage to state the truth: they were both inadequate teachers.

Ethelraed could not control his class, portrayed little enthusiasm for Geography and displayed a weak influence among the student body. Perhaps the permittance of indiscipline in his class was one of the reasons that led to his downfall.

Woodbridge refused to abide by school rules: he never wore a suit to work, and encouraged his students to rebel against school spirit. While an adequate woodwork teacher he became a bad influence on developing and inquiring minds. Perhaps it is no great shame he is no longer teaches at Plunket's.

I conclude by merely stating that I say these things not to be mean or cause offence, but to bolster Plunket's reputation for always having the courage to express the truth, and unfailingly never becoming a victim to recent events, however tragic.

Danny let the paper fall from his hands on the floor. He looked up at Amanita, who retained her expression of deep frustration.

'Amanita? How could you let this be printed? How could you let Sonia write this? It's awful! Both in substance and style. What if one of Woodbridge's or Ethelraed's family read it. They'll be destroyed!'

Danny stared open-mouthed. It was too much for Amanita. Having in her eyes been unfairly overruled, Danny's reaction confirmed her name would be unjustly tainted with the piece. She burst into tears.

'I know, I know! Danny, tell me, what could I have done? Flambeau insisted we represent the whole of the student body. He was very persuasive. He told me he'd consider someone else for Editor if I didn't allow it. What was I supposed to do?'

Alarmed by her distress, Danny rested his hand on Amanita's bare knee. Her skin was soft. She sniffed and blew her nose, tears still falling. The gym was silent apart from Amanita's cries echoing off the windows and tall ceiling. This was the venue of the annual Christmas mass, where the school sang their favourite carols, where everyone had come together. Now it was just Danny and Amanita and a poisoned article. The same four walls felt a completely different place, like another world.

The lights above them flickered on and Spittlebug appeared in the gym doorway.

'Well, well, well. What 'ave we 'ere then? Two young fourth-years chatting in St George's gym.'

Amanita and Danny looked at each other, then at Spittlebug, wondering what to say, when the booming voice began again. Nothing got past Spittlebug.

'I say now then, lunch hour's jus' comin' to an end. You two 'ad better run along. Off you go now.'

Wordless and tearful Amanita got to her feet, helped by Danny. As they walked from the gym, Spittlebug put his arm out to stop Amanita.

'Eh, lassie. What's wrong with tha? You been crying, ha'ant ya? Whate'ers the matter?' His voice softened as he looked at Amanita with the same sadness pouring from her eyes.

'Y'ad better come with me,' Spittlebug said to Amanita, gesturing to Danny to leave. 'Off you go lad. Next class.'

With that he could only watch as Spittlebug escorted Amanita toward the staff room.

*

Danny had an overwhelming urge not to attend his next lesson. There was only one person he wanted to speak to, and speak was perhaps too mild a word. Hurl abuse at was more appropriate. He walked fast through the Pentangle, into the school corridor, past the Geography displays, replete with river diagrams, and the Physics noticeboard portraying pictures of the moon, past the religious classrooms, past Wonder's, past Fuzzair's maths room, past Alessandro's office. He knew exactly where she was likely to be, all students being required to check in with their form tutor before afternoon lessons began. Danny burst unashamedly into Pry's classroom, red-faced and sweating. Pry looked aghast, but Danny ignored her. He caught sight of Sonia and walked up to her desk.

'How could you? How could you write such...vile things! What were you thinking? Have you any idea what you've done?'

Sonia looked up at him in mild-eyed surprise. A hand rested softly on his shoulder, but the voice that commanded him from the front of the class was not soft at all.

'Master Canterbury! What on earth is the purpose of this rude intrusion? Come on! What drives you to such uncharacteristic rudeness?!'

Danny stood there and looked round. Once again he had forgot himself, and let his emotions speak over his mind. Someone had to. He took a couple of deep breaths. Everyone stared at him, even Mary Oconee and Cedric Claw. But the harshest look came from a pair of sky-blue eyes in the corner that melted his soul in a milli-second. The reminder of his impending split with Janna hurtled to the forefront of his mind, and the next thing he knew he was on his knees and in tears.

Pry leapt forward to catch him by the arms.

'I'm sorry,' Danny muttered. 'I'll go now.' He tried to get to his feet but stumbled and nearly knocked over Benjamin Sprite's desk. Pry took him by the arm to the back of the class.

'Sit down, Danny. Class, you are dismissed.'

The other students reluctantly shuffled to their feet, still staring at Danny as they left. Professor Pry glided to her desk at the front of the classroom. She seemed to look around on her desk for a moment, and then inside her bag, before she rooted out an old hardback book. She walked to the back of the classroom and sat at the desk beside Danny's. They were both alone. She presented him with the book. There was no writing on the front, but on the spine of the black clothed book, in gold lettering, there was a brief description.

'This is one of my favourite books,' Pry said. I'd like you to have it.'

Danny took the book wordlessly from her, and read the title on the spine. He smiled.

'Thanks,' he said quietly. He found enough strength in his legs to get up and walk to the door. Turning he nodded to Pry who sat cross-legged at her desk, spectacles halfway down her nose, smiling at him.

'One more thing, Master Canterbury. I think you might be a little more lenient in your next conversation with Miss Fox. You never know what you might find out. And besides...' here she hesitated, 'I believe she has a crush on you.'

With that passing shot, she returned her gaze to her marking and Danny knew again with a sinking feeling it was time to go.

Tim waited for him in the changing rooms. It was their turn to do the high jump that afternoon. As a mixed sex PE lesson athletics generated an unusual frisson of energy. The boys got to gaze at girls in their gym pants and the girls giggled with greater glee as they indiscreetly ogled boy's legs. Spittlebug gathered them around outside Watershoot.

'Now then. Just to get you warmed up, I want you to run to the end of the jetty and jump as high as you can into the sea,' he said.

Everyone looked at him in fearful trepidation. No-one moved.

Spittlebug laughed loudly. 'No-one up for it? Okay, just my little joke there!'

The fourth-years groaned loudly.

'Into the boats then, come on. Off to Fourlawns!'

They piled into the wooden dingys and rowed to the island where the athletics track and field had been marked out in white paint. Tim looked anxious. Despite being nearly six foot, Danny knew he hated the high jump. It was the individual attention, everyone watching, especially the girls. A perfect opportunity to screw up and be reminded every day of your failure. Danny breathed a nervous sigh and watched as Chardelia climbed from her boat, her freckled limbs slender and smooth as they climbed onto the island. After a couple of gentle jogs round the track, Spittlebug walked them over to the high jump.

'Now then class, gather round. There are two ways to jump over the high jump. The first is to stride over it, one leg at a time. This is the method I'd like you all to use. The second method was developed as a better way of surmounting extremely high..er, heights. It's called the Fosbury Flop and was invented by someone called Mr Flop. Anyway, all you need to know about it is that professional talented athletes use it, and it involves sticking your head over first, something you won't be doing cos you'll probably all break your necks! Now then, with that let's get started. Who'd like to go first?'

The class sank away from the run up. Spittlebug fixed his gaze on the shivering fourth-years and was about to pick on someone when Chardelia stepped forward.

'I'll do it,' and she glanced sideways at Danny who, in the full beam of her lunar gaze didn't know where to look.

She stepped back on her heels and strode slowly forward, gathering speed as she hurtled toward the metal frame which held the thin wooden bar above the raked sand pit. As she reached the jump time seemed to curdle and stiffen for Danny. She seemed to glide, and then float like water, up in the air and over the bar, effortlessly. She landed on the waiting, untouched sand neatly on her posterior. The wooden bar hadn't even vibrated.

Everyone applauded, including Spittlebug.

'Very good, very good Chardelia Foss. Ten house points for Churchill I think. Now then, everyone form a line and we'll see how you all do.'

The lesson accumulated some minor and amusing embarrassments: Mary Oconee managed to straddle the wooden bar whilst jumping over it, leading to a few rude suggestions being shouted out about favourite positions and whether it was the right length for her. Brandon Wood managed to headbutt rather than jump over the bar, and unfortunately for Michael Vitus his jump was so spectacular he completely missed the sand pit and crashed into the harder grass beyond. Spittlebug had smiled.

'Great jump Vitus!' he shouted, whilst Vitus massaged the huge bump that was growing from the top of his head.

Back in the changing rooms Tim and Danny chatted about the inflammatory article in the _Oracle_.

'That was a bloody gutsy thing you did in Pry's class!'

Tim looked on with awed respect.

'I know. Bloody stupid too. Still I could have got a lot worse from Pry.' Danny muttered, not knowing whether he was more bewildered by Pry's or his own behaviour.

'Yeah well we all know Pry has got a soft spot for you, don't we?'

Tim smiled, as he wandered off towards the showers.

At close of school as Danny walked out of the gates, his legs still aching from his high jump lesson, he was accosted by Sonia Fox: the girl with fire for eyes and flaming hair.

'Hello mister.'

Danny stared at her, then looked straight ahead.

'I'm going home. Leave me alone,' he said in a monotone.

'I thought you wanted to interrogate me about something!' she said, playfully skipping along beside him as he walked. Danny proceeded in silence until he could no longer ignore her. Finally he stopped, turned and pressed a firm gaze into her eyes, inches from her face.

'You just don't get it do you! How could you write that article in the paper? How could you say those things about Coco Romeo? Then you come on to me at Chardelia's party! While I still had a girlfriend! You're unbelievable!'

The outburst was unstoppable. Sonia looked struck with hurt.

'You don't have a girlfriend now, do you?' Before Danny could answer, Sonia opened her mouth again.

'You've got it wrong about me. Completely wrong. Okay so I said those things about Coco in French, but that was a while ago. It was only for a laugh. I'm sorry if I offended you.'

'I don't believe you!' Danny blurted out angrily.

'But that article,' Sonia continued, unfazed and a fiery look in her eye. 'I didn't write all that stuff about Woodbridge. I don't know why you think it was me.'

Danny turned toward her to lambast her with another tirade, but this time no words came out.

Sonia stood silently, staring at him determinedly, blinking quickly to hold back the tears. She refused to look away, allowing the pain to flood forth and the truth to dawn. An unseen revelation.

'What did you say? You wrote that article?!'

'No I didn't Danny,' she put her hand on his arm as she said his name. 'That's what I've been trying to tell you. I don't know anything about it. The first time I read it was after the paper was printed.'

Danny didn't know what to think. He was tired from his long day, and his muscles were already seizing up: he knew he would have trouble walking tomorrow. Athletics and emotional exhaustion from Amanita's and his own outburst had made him lethargic. He wanted to sit down on the mossy floor and go to sleep.

'I'm going home,' he said quietly. He was about to trudge on when Sonia half-shouted, half-screamed.

'YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME! I DIDN'T WRITE IT! PLEASE FUCKING BELIEVE ME!'

Turning round, Danny saw a fire blazing fast and furious in Sonia's dark eyes, her hair fluttering softly in the oncoming summer breeze, the tears now rolling quickly down her cheeks and onto the cold earth.

Danny opened his mouth once more. The force of her passion convinced him.

'Okay. I believe you Sonia.'

Then he turned toward the sea and walked home.

When the end-point comes, without any hope of future, would I regret having given myself, or would I regret the opposite? I have read about the sensation in books, of the miraculous love that explodes in you like fireworks, to the immense pain and blood and struggle that marks the beginning of womanhood. I have even watched scenes from films – beyond my age – when no-one was looking and experienced the entrancement of visceral thrills flesh enveloped by flesh suggests.

The Girl Who Fell in Love with Water

Cedric Claw stood with Squish Ambrose and Edmund Cloves in the middle of Amberleigh town centre. Squish and Edmund had been throwing small stones at passing pedestrians but Cedric seemed bored of their usual past-time, and sat down on the fountain outside Dreamland Discs.

Danny spied them as he walked from Amberleigh's bookshop, clutching a pile of the latest novels in the three for two. At first he wanted to walk the other way to avoid them, but then remembered how much longer it was. Also, something pricked his pride. Why should he walk to avoid them? Just because one of them had fathered the baby with his first...well, the first person he had loved, in a biblical sense. Just because another had been the ex of his latest girlfriend. He had as much right as they to walk through the centre of town. He could live with their pathetic heckles.

As Danny approached he watched them spot him, limbering up for a verbal assault. Cedric rose from the edge of the fountain which was sprinkling his jacket with water and pulled the other two back before greeting Danny himself, his palms open and a warm smile on his face.

'Hi Danny. How about a drink?'

Danny looked at him for a minute considering his options. Despite his fears it seemed churlish to resist. He nodded silently, and they made their way to Wilfields, the local pub that turned a blind eye to age. Edmund and Squish wandered off in the opposite direction, still searching for pedestrians to taunt or women to wolf-whistle at.

Cedric bought him a drink and they took a seat in the corner of the pub. Cedric lit a cigarette, and when Danny frowned when he offered him one, Cedric grinned, wearing the same uncynical and deranged look.

'Great place this. They don't ask no questions,' he said, taking a long drag.

'What, you mean about smoking?' Danny asked.

'Or drinking.' Cedric smiled again, lifting up his pint of Guinness. 'School's getting on my tits, mate. Sick of it. Just wish it'd end now. Bloody teachers getting on my back every five minutes. And then there's bloody Janna, everywhere I go.'

Cedric did not seem to realise he had said anything out of place, until he looked up at Danny's red face.

'Sorry mate, didn't mean to upset you. It's Janna I wanted to talk to you about. You've split up with her I gather now. Can I ask why?' Cedric took another sip of his molten black liquor.

'I would have thought you'd know all about that,' Danny replied, still on his guard. Cedric looked at him blankly for a time, and then his face broke into a knowing weary sigh.

'Yes. Yes. I do know about that. Not the most honest of girls is Janna. Stole from my wallet most of the time. I knew about it of course, but don't forget these were the early days of our...well, our _thing_. I didn't want to rock the boat. But then – ' Cedric paused, looking at his feet. He seemed nervous to continue.

'Go on,' Danny urged, leaning forward as Cedric's voice broke into a whisper.

'Well then, one time we were in this jewellery store. She wanted me to pick out a ring for her. Something with diamonds in. Well, there was no way I could afford that, what with her picking all my loose change every five minutes. I was pretty pissed off with her by then anyway, so it wasn't going to happen. Shouldn't have gone in there at all actually.'

Cedric stopped and took another long sip of Guinness, which was quickly emptying from the pint glass. Danny didn't say anything, but continued to look at Cedric in expectation.

'Well, we left and we were walking down the street. I offered to buy her some flowers to make up for me not buying the ring. Some daffodils. She smiled at me with a guilty look on her face, and pulled out the ring from her pocket. She had nicked it from the shop.'

Danny gulped a huge breath.

'So that's why you split up with her?'

'No. That wasn't it. I was prepared to listen to her, but she was totally unrepentant. Thought she hadn't done anything wrong. Thought she deserved it, thought she was entitled to it. I'm not hanging around with a girl like that. She'll get me into trouble.'

Danny sat back and smiled ironically. Cedric Claw – always misbehaving in classes, always the one kicking footballs at people's heads in PE, always sneaking off for a crafty fag behind the bike sheds, always giving the teachers lip. Not wanting to get into trouble. It hardly seemed believable, yet one look at Cedric's innocuous face told Danny he wasn't faking. Cedric leaned in again.

'If there's one thing I've learnt from the whole Janna debacle,' he said breathily, 'it's never to judge someone from first appearances. I thought I knew Janna, but I never really knew her at all.'

Danny finished his coke and made his excuses to leave. The ponderous walk home already invited him.

*

In a sublime pincer movement Amanita and Saffelia had crowded Tim and pinned him to the wall, closing off any route of escape. Danny watched them as he entered the school gates. Scratching his head to remove the beads of sweat dropping from his overgrown mop of brown hair, he rushed to see what was going on with his best mate.

Tim was being man-handled by the two women. He didn't have a chance, as his hands seemed tied behind his back. Danny walked between them and split them up.

'What's going on here?'

Amanita frowned at Danny but Saffelia looked furious.

'Hand it over. Now,' she demanded.

Danny looked confused as Amanita stepped back from the situation.

'Perhaps we should leave them to it,' she offered.

'What is it he's got? What has he done that is so terrible that both of you were assaulting him?' Danny said, half-seriously. Even Saffelia seemed to step back when she heard Danny's words.

'This...friend of yours, has only being going and buying pornographic magazines from O'Donnells!'

Danny looked at Tim and saw why his hands were behind his back. As he brought them round slowly, still protecting his wicked prize, Danny saw the familiar cover of _BalmyBoobs_ scream out the pictures of alarmingly well-endowed women who adorned the front cover. Danny smiled in sympathy. It took all his powers of restraint to repress a wide grin.

Amanita gazed at Danny to monitor his reaction.

'It's scandalous! Tim – hand it over now!' Saffelia shouted again. 'I am not going to let you read that disgusting stuff while you are going out with me. It's the mag or me!

Tim looked at Danny and then ruefully at his magazine, as if he was really considering keeping the mag in favour of Saffelia. His hesitancy only fuelled Saffelia's anger, and she slowly turned from crimson into a darker shade of scarlet.

Eventually Amanita managed to creep between the wall and Tim's back whilst he was distracted by Danny and snatch the magazine from his grasp, passing it to Saffelia who began ripping it to shreds. In mock protest Tim fell to his knees to mourn the destruction of those hallowed nude bodies. When there was no hope of reassembling the torn pictures, they trooped back inside for their maths lesson.

*

Fuzzair's hair appeared wilder than ever as he patrolled the aisles of his maths class. He was handing out results of the mock examination they had been given for their homework. As per usual he ranked those who had come top. Four people had attained the highest mark with seventy-nine percent and were ranked as first equal – Sloppy Fox, Timothy Gaunt, Amanita Walmer and Danny Canterbury. It was a nice feeling coming first, Danny reflected, although he secretly felt sharing it with three others jarred the experience.

Squish Ambrose whispered something to Richey Athurstun. Danny turned his head to look at them; it was the wrong move and Fuzzair immediately picked on him.

'Danny Canterbury – if I were to draw a right-angled triangle on the board with one side nine centimetres and another side twelve centimetres long how long would the remaining side be?

Danny thought quickly as familiar cold sweat ran up and down along his spine and he felt the whole class' gaze on him, especially Janna. It was a simple three, four, five question. Only they were multiples of three. So the five would be a multiple of three. Fifteen in fact.

'Fifteen centimetres, sir? he half-answered, half-asked.

Fuzzair stopped mid-pace. With dramatic effort, he turned his head to Danny and looked at him. He paused for a few beats before pronouncing the solitary words.

'Correct. Prove it.'

Danny hated this. Just as he thought the public humilation might be over Fuzzair had this uncanny knack of throwing another equally hard if not harder question on you. The momentum in the class built and interest in Danny's proof grew among fellow students. His mind raced. He knew he was blushing, felt his heart racing at everyone staring at him, including Janna. How could he prove it? Then he remembered the ditty about the hippopotamus. The square of the hippopotamus was equal to the sum of the square of the other two sides. So that would be eighty-one and one hundred and forty-four. Fifteen squared would be two hundred and twenty-five. Neglecting to add in his head, as mental arithmetic had never been his strong point, he only prayed he had got it right.

'Two hundred and twenty five is equal to nine squared plus twelve squared, sir,' he answered breathless, but confident his mental agility was correct.

'That is...correct again, Canterbury. You seem to be on a roll today. How about another one?'

Danny groaned, resigned to the mental torture Fuzzair routinely put him through.

'If I were standing on a right-angled cliff, say nine feet high.'

'Not a very high cliff then, sir,' joked Tim, 'Certainly not one of Amberleigh's cliffs!' Fuzzair looked unamused.

'Detention Gaunt! So Canterbury, to continue, if I was standing at the top of this cliff, this very meek cliff, and I wanted to throw a grenade to land on the beach below, approximately twelve feet from the bottom of the cliff, is it possible to say if I would have to throw it a distance of fifteen feet, or more, or less?'

Danny shuffled his feet underneath his desk. He had a feeling one of his toes was slowly working a hole in his left sock, as he could feel it rubbing against the soft leather. He thought. A grenade, as if. Throwing it would mean it travels further in the first few feet than it descends, where it would descend faster than it travelled across once gravity got hold of it. Therefore it would travel in an arc. Like a rainbow. The arc would coincide with both the top of the triangle, Fuzzair, and the bottom corner on the beach. It would be a curve, not a straight line. Straighten it out and it would be longer. Longer than fifteen feet, he was sure.

'It would be longer, sir.'

Fuzzair considered him for a moment, frowning.

'Theoretically you are correct Canterbury, but I am afraid in actuality is impossible to say. You have never seen me throw so you have no idea if I could throw that far in the first place. The grenade might even explode mid-air, or worse still, I may forget to throw it before it goes off leaving no triangle, no cliff, and no Fuzzair either!'

A few of the class sniggered. Danny was growing weary of the torment.

He could hear Squish and Richey grinning. They were both no doubt delighting in Danny's squirming, but they nearly ate their words as Fuzzair turned to them next.

'On the back row, please tell me what the root of six hundred and twenty five is?'

Suddenly Professor Alessandro burst into the class, banging the door against the wall with confident ease.

'I would like to speak to Danny Canterbury please, Professor Fuzzair.'

'Of course. He's particularly good on triangles today.'

*

Professor Alessandro led Danny down the corridor, past his office and through Pentangle, the centre of Plunket's before coming to a halt at a stone bench overgrown with thick moss.

'Master Canterbury. I trust you have overcome your angry episode?'

Danny looked at the Professor and nodded.

'Good. I am glad to hear it.' Alessandro put his hand on the bench, on a particularly overgrown piece of moss.

'Do you know what this stuff is?' he said, fingering the light green carpet and not looking at Danny.'

'It's moss sir,' Danny said simply, confused by Alessandro's question.

'Yes that is right Danny, but not just any old sort of moss. It is all around this school. Do you have any idea what this moss does or what it's doing here?'

Danny looked at him hard. Alessandro's face was inscrutable. He had no idea what Alessandro was talking about but he'd learnt it was better with teachers not to let them know what you were thinking, if it could be avoided.

'I think you'd better elaborate sir,' Danny said, still glaring at Alessandro.

'Danny, my boy.'

'With respect sir, I'm not your "boy",' Danny uttered, quietly.

Alessandro paused and took a deep breath.

'No, no of course not. Danny, the school is in danger. There's not much I can tell you right now, but I want you to be cautious and careful. Remember that. Will you do that for me?'

There was almost a pleading note in Alessandro's voice. Danny's leg started knocking with nerves. He put his hand down to stop it shaking, but noticed his hand vibrated also. He closed his eyes and prayed for composure. When he opened them again, Alessandro had disappeared.

*

Glancing lazily at the clock as the seconds ticked by, Ian Phalanger, Benjamin Sprite and Tim stood outside Wonder's classroom. Some second-year girls rushed past on their way to lessons, chatting loudly, clutching pink and purple folders. Ian accidentally on purpose brushed into one of the girls who promptly turned and punched him on the arm.

'Ow – that hurt!' Ian exclaimed.

But the girl had already noticed Benjamin Sprite and suddenly became overcome by an extreme fit of giggles, her angry demeanour vanishing as quickly as it arrived.

'Hi Benjy!' She smiled at Benjamin. Both Tim and Ian felt as if they weren't there. 'How's things going?' she enthused, blinking rapidly, showing off luminous pink eyeshadow.

Benjamin didn't move an inch, remaining lounged against the doorway of Wonder's classroom.

'Not bad,' he offered without an ounce of enthusiasm.

'Well I'll be seeing you then,' she said, winking as she left.

Tim and Ian made puking gestures at the precise moment Wonder emerged from his classroom, stepping aside Benjamin.

'What do we have here boys? Keen for my next lesson, what, ten minutes early, you might as well take your seats now instead of blocking up the corridor.'

'But...' tried Tim.

'Now!' said Wonder, firmly.

They trooped in and found Danny sat at his usual desk, who grinned having watched the scene through the classroom window. Reluctantly Benjamin, Ian and Tim took their seats in the otherwise empty classroom. Twiddling their thumbs they looked up at the blackboard. On it hung a beautiful painting that Danny was staring at hard. It was a replica, it had to be. It couldn't be the real thing.

Eventually the rest of the class trooped in, Rosetti Duocorn and Ella Amur throwing him evils. As per usual Danny thought. No doubt some inexplicable rumour of his bad behaviour to Janna had reached their ears and they were now determined to take it out on him with their silent fury.

Wonder closed the door as a hurried Amanita rushed in, the last pupil.

'Sorry I'm late sir, Professor Pry wanted to see me.'

'That's quite alright, Amanita.' Wonder said.

Tim and Danny looked at each other, rolling their eyes in unison.

'Today class we will be examining religious symbols. Now I know we covered some of this earlier in the year, but I want to make sure you are all absolutely "hot" on this for your end of year examinations.' He paused. 'You do know that you've got end of year exams, don't you?' Wonder pronounced, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

The class groaned in the affirmative.

'Good. Excellent. I hope you will all have noticed the painting I have brought in to show you today. It took quite a lot of effort and paperwork from the Tate Gallery to get this in to show you, I can tell you...'

Danny gasped. It _was_ the real thing. Wonder continued.

'...so I must ask you not to step within a foot of the painting or, I might be arrested!' Wonder joked. Tim sat up straight, his interest caught by the idea of seeing Wonder escorted from the school by police officers and being driven away in a haze of blue neon.

'Ah, I thought that might bring some of you back from the arms of Morpheus.'

Nobody knew what Wonder was talking about, but nobody minded as it was quite usual for Wonder to be misunderstood. Most of the class knew by now he preferred it this way.

'This is _Sunset in Venice_ , a painting by Claude Monet. It's worth millions. Don't get any ideas – there are two policemen outside, waiting to transport it back to London the moment this class is over. Professor Flambeau and myself wanted you all to see it. Anyone have any idea why?'

The class sank back into their usual silence.

'Look closer,' Wonder said, softly.

The class leaned forward looking at the painting. It was a simple picture. Somehow the colours radiated a light both surreal and unearthly. Ambers, cobalts, crimsons, coppers and violets all merged into one to produce the transcendent haze of an emotional sunset. A portrayal of the scene's reflection was painted into the strokes and lines that represented the dark unknowable water. The canal in Venice. At once beautiful, extremely uncertain and slightly threatening.

'How does looking at this picture of water make you feel? Would anyone care to answer?'

One solitary hand of pearly skin rose into the air, the loose purple sleeve of her jumper falling back down her arm to reveal more pellucid flesh.

'Yes, Chardelia?'

'Sir, it makes me feel full of an ominous feeling. Full of fear. To be precise.'

Danny turned to look at her. She had put into words exactly how the painting had made him feel. Chardelia continued, not noticing Danny gazing at her intently.

'It also fills me with an emotion somewhat distinct from fear. Like a poignancy about the correct direction to travel, to fall. Destiny.' Her voice ceased, like night replacing evening.

Wonder opened the question to the rest of his class, but Danny only wanted to hear more from Chardelia. A knotty feeling grew inside him. He wondered what it would be like to be in Chardelia's mind. She spoke fluidly, easily about her own emotions. Why couldn't he be more like that? When he awoke from his subtle reverie Wonder had resumed teaching.

'Water can make us feel lots of different things. It can make us feel alone, lost, but it can also make you feel good, like a reminder of familiarity. Which of us feels delight when we hear the ocean lapping the shores below Amberleigh Castle on our way into school every morning?'

'Actually it's more like dread,' Tim added in a voice that was over-casual.

'Detention Gaunt!' Wonder bellowed.

Tim smiled. 'Actually, sir you can't give me detention any more. You see I've now received enough detentions to last me for the rest of the year. I don't have any more free evenings for you to penalise.'

He smiled ironically at Wonder who laughed, before his expression transformed to a serious frown and a grim narrowing of eyes.

'And you think that's funny, do you Gaunt?' he said turning on Tim and striding over to his desk.

Tim cowed from Wonder as he approached, placing his hands either side of the desk and leaning in to speak to him. Tim's voice was now anything but casual.

'No. No, sir. Of course not. I just meant...I just meant you'd have to think of an alternative punishment. Obviously I do need to be punished,' he added in a wincing tone.

Amanita smiled in faint amusement. The twinkle in Wonder's voice and eye returned and he retorted in a very quiet voice.

'Of course Gaunt. You are correct, we shall have to think of something else.'

'For the rest of you please write down in your exercise books the various different things water symbolizes in your life, and think then what it could symbolize within Christianity.'

Danny lifted his fountain pen and pressed it against the blank page of paper. Pale thin blue lines polluted it in regular one centimetre spaces. A splurge of thick indigo ink flowed from his pen marking the page. It was now polluted by him too. He sat and thought for a moment. Water. What did it mean to him? It was all around him, in the sea, it was in his taps at home, it was in his drink in his packed lunch. It was in the local swimming pool, Fluviallia. It was in the fonts at church, in the dishes into which he dipped his hand and made the sign of the cross every Sunday. It was in the air when it rained and on the ground when it had stopped raining. It was in his eyes when he was feeling sad. No worse than sad, an emotional wreck. It was down his back when Janna unsuspectingly placed a cold ice cube inside his shirt, when she had entered one of her more playful moods. It was the source of life, he couldn't live without it and was irrevocably indebted to it. Yet it was a source of fear and terror too. He had hated swimming lessons when he was a child and remembered vividly the time he had to be fished out of a swimming gala in which he was hopelessly, and literally out of his depth. He remembered when he scalded his hand after spilling water from the kettle. He remembered slipping and falling on the floor in St George's Gym when it had just been cleaned and he had forgotten his trainers. There was no doubt about it at all, water was as dangerous as it was useful.

How was it a symbol? He looked down at his page which was now full with writing. Three thoughts filled his mind as he wrote the word 'Christianity' on a new page and underlined it. Life. Death. Purity. It symbolized life because you couldn't live without it, bodies were made of mostly water anyway and we needed to drink it to live. It symbolized death because it could kill you by overwhelming you, by drowning in it or by being burned by it or suffering a slippery fall under its deceptive influence. Water was not to be underestimated.

Danny poured his gaze over to Chardelia, the girl also deep in thought. She had written nearly two pages.

It symbolised purity because...because...because. He couldn't concentrate. He was thinking about Chardelia Foss and what she had written and longed to be able to walk over and have a look.

'Time's up! Please hand in your exercise books on your way out.' Wonder shouted.

The fourth years sped out of the class, Chardelia included. She had left her exercise book on her desk. Danny went up to her desk and picked it up. He was going to hand it in, but before he did he wanted to have a sneaky look at her essay. Just as he was opening the book and had found the correct page, he felt the gentle pressure of a warm hand on his shoulder.

'I think I'll take that now Danny.'

Danny handed over his and Chardelia's book to Wonder and walked slowly out of the class, but not before turning to look at the enigmatic Wonder as he stood by his desk, staring out of the windows onto the roiling navy sea.

I would almost...almost, like a tantalizing tease feel the proximity of skin when I crawl under my duvet at night and pretend someone else is there when I close my eyes and imagine that he is holding me, his arm crooked over like a warm barrier of love and his breath upon my neck, pleading to protect and please me for the evening, with his toes touching my toes, and his thighs pressed up against the back of my slender legs while we both lay naked next to each other – was that what it was or would be like?

**Fluviallia**

Some were thrilled, some were over the moon. Danny was petrified. Spittlebug and Harlequin were taking the class swimming in their next PE lesson. Even Dr Ravana had joined to take the girls along. They piled into the cramped white minibus that was to take them down the road to Fluviallia, the local swimming pool. Danny managed to get the best seat at the back and, Chardelia, the girl with honeygold hair climbed in and sat in the seat in front. From the back she looked divine. Her rippling hair shimmered in morning light. Even now after her party, their troubling yet honest discussion in Wonder's sex class, the only thing he knew for sure about Chardelia Foss was that he really did not know her at all. There remained something unreachable about her.

They drove off and before long pulled into the familiar car park. It was the place where Danny had learnt to swim as a child and brought back painful memories.

In the changing rooms boys glanced nervously from each other, unconsciously checking each other's sizes and comparing with their own. As Danny pulled his trunks up, shivering in the chlorine-infused air he felt the cold wetness of the plastic floor slide beneath the soles of his feet. It was a warning. He was about to slip or fall. Better get in the water fast. He shuffled towards the pool, stepping through the little bath of water designed to restrict non-swimmers from entering the poolside area. Danny had always been fascinated by this air-lock type feature. More like a water-lock. The water below warmed his feet and calmed him, even though it acted as a barrier by keeping people in and keeping people out. Perhaps that was why Danny found it so soothing.

All students were asked to swim a couple of lengths before Spittlebug assembled them on the side of the pool, standing in a line. He was going to make them jump in.

'Now then listen up. After I count to three I would like you all to take one step forward and jump in the pool. I don't care if you dive in or belly flop in. But you must not, I repeat, must not climb in!'

Danny's hopes were dashed. He was sure he would make a splattering fool of himself.

'One, two...three!' Spittlebug blew his whistle.

Instantly lots of water splashed everywhere, flooding the edge. Spray hit Danny firmly in the face but that was it. When Spittlebug had blown his whistle Danny had closed his eyes. Now when he opened them, he was alarmed to find everyone else in the water, all looking and pointing at him. He remained stood on the edge, having not moved an inch. Then a deep pressure collided with his back, a pressure too hard to resist and as his body unvoluntarily submitted to that pressure he found himself falling head first into swirling blue and grey wallows.

At first it felt like bliss. All the sound and noise died. Danny felt completely alone. Like a long forgotten memory stepping forward into his conscious mind, for a moment he was completely happy. Then water rushed up his nose, in his ears, and crept into the base of his mouth, stinging it with pungent chlorine. It threatened to enter his lungs and when he gasped for air like a flailing fish he finally spurted upwards, back to the surface. He had never wanted anything so much as fresh air. Spittlebug stood on the edge of the pool looking smug and pleased with himself.

'That's better Master Canterbury. We wanted you in the water, not out.'

Something like flames rose up inside Danny and a desire to inflict a levelling revenge overcame him. He slowly swam over to Spittlebug, as if about to speak to him or perhaps ask a question. Then, without giving any outward warning, he wordlessly grabbed both of Spittlebug's ankles and pulled as hard as he could. It didn't quite work the way he intended. In his desperate attempt to break free from Danny's grasp, Spittlebug slipped on the watery edge and there was only one result waiting for him. The splash was huge as Spittlebug fell in on his side. He came to, spurting rings of water out of his mouth.

'That's better,' Danny taunted. 'We wanted you in the water, not out.'

Spittlebug took a couple of gulps of air before gurgling.

'Detention, Canterbury! Detention for a whole week you little bastard!'

Danny appeared shocked on the outside, but inside he was laughing. He couldn't give a damn. No-one would push him in a pool of water and get away with it. Despite the punishment it was worth every second. He was quite sure Spittlebug would never try the same thing again. Even Harlequin had strolled over with Ravana, who had been teaching the girls synchronized aqua-aerobics, to suppress amused giggles at the sight of a sodden Spittlebug climbing out of the teenage-strewn pool. The something-angry inside him had combined with a passing streak of bravery. Hold that feeling, Danny thought.

As the lesson wore on, Danny's limbs grew tired. He swam four lengths then took a breather in the shallow end whilst other swimmers continued with their front crawl.

A girl swam towards him from the middle distance, wielding her eloquent breast stroke with fluent poise. Her jade green eyes came floating out of the blue. Her flaxen hair flourished about the water's surface like a golden mane. Her small dainty nose and rosy cheeks were decorated with a couple of freckles on each side, at the same place her dimples caved when she smiled. She smiled now as she swam to Danny. He gulped, but this time not because he was gasping for air, but for nerves. Her purple swimsuit clung to her slender, poised body as she carved through the water with undiminished grace.

She paused before approaching Danny. Blinking, emerald flashes of light seemed to beam from her as chlorine-tainted water fell from her eyes. He had never been this close to Chardelia before. With no clothes on either of them and only water between, revealing both their cold pimples, there seemed to be a stripping away of something hidden. Her lucid eyes seemed more green than the grass outside his home, more wild than the grass on the isle of Fourlawns. When she spoke her voice was tuneful and melodious, as though she struggled to with-hold a song from inside her. Danny couldn't help reflecting how the echoing room and splashing surface transformed her. He felt he was meeting Chardelia for the first time.

'I am sorry Danny about what Dr Spittlebug did to you. I hope, I trust you are not too upset by it?'

She blinked again as more water fell from her eyes on her naked shoulders. Danny couldn't believe it. She had been watching. She had been watching him, his humiliation, his embarrassment, his teenage disaster. He felt more pleased than he could say.

'No...no, I'm...er...I'm fine,' he stuttered, clumsily.

'That's alright then, my baby,' Chardelia uttered smoothly, before turning to her left and swimming the other length, away from him.

Danny removed the water that lingered in his ears. Had he heard her correctly? Surely not. It must be the echoes from the pool in Fluviallia's tall ceiling. He thought she had called him her "baby".

*

Tim caught up with Danny as he walked to the minibus.

'I fucking hate swimming.'

Danny nodded, smiling.

'And so do you or does the smile creeping across your face mean something different?' Tim asked, naughtiness invading his tone.

Danny ruffled his damp hair and looked at his watch, deliberately avoiding Tim's gaze. He did not want to confess this early his budding infatuation, he wanted to treasure it for a moment, to let it be solely his, and nurture it like a potent sapling in the soil of his imagination. Something popped into Danny's mind about Tim and his own romantic misadventures.

'So has he done it then?' Danny asked.

'Has who done what mate?' Tim replied pulling himself into the seat beside Danny in the crowded minibus. Danny whispered.

'Has Wonder had a word with, you know, Chukchi?'

Tim's eyes suddenly widened.

'Alright, alright! Keep your voice down! Yes, I think so. That little chat we had with him after his first sex lesson must have had quite an impression on him. I guess with Amanita's loose threats about closing the school down and reporting all the teachers to the school board for harbouring a sexual deviant and student menace it must have been difficult to forget. It's funny, I never really minded...'

Danny looked at Tim, who held a slight frown on his face, battling with his usual surreptitious grin.

'She was molesting you.' Danny said simply.

'Was I complaining?' Tim replied, equally as straightforwardly.

Danny dropped the subject. Knowing Chukchi was being packed off to St Cecilia's next year he thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie. Not that anyone would ever describe Professor Chukchi as a dog. She was a fine poetry teacher despite the wanton flaws Tim had fallen prey to. Not that he seemed to mind. Ever.

'So what "research" were you doing that night then? Are you prepared to tell me now?' Danny asked, unable to hide the hint of curiosity rising in his voice.

Tim remained silent, his face inscrutable. Danny knew from experience what was likely in his mind. He was working out how best to put what he had to say into words, in a way that would give enough to shut Danny up but also cast Tim in an admirable light. Tim frowned and Danny smirked, clearly amused by Tim's inner struggle.

'Okay. I was wrong about Chukchi,' he finally admitted. 'She told me she had come to St Plunket's to be near the great majesty himself, Professor Wonder. She had heard great things about his...his...his...' Tim could hardly bring himself to say it.

'Go on Tim,' urged Danny.

'She said she had heard great things about his...teaching. There! Are you satisfied now? She was young and wanted to learn, and no doubt was taken in by his strange ways.'

'Some might call them charms, Tim?'

'Yeah whatever. Anyway, she only knew what he had told her, and that seemed to be very little. That the school was in danger. Well, with all the killings it doesn't take a fool to work that out, does it?' Tim blurted out unhappily.

Danny tried to suppress the raucous laugh of irony building in his throat, threatening to release at any moment. It would be terrible to betray this delicate moment with his best friend and bit his tongue until it started to bleed.

As the minibus turned the corner the gothic exterior of Amberleigh Castle fell into view, growing larger as the minibus pulled back into Plunket's school playground.

Tim and Danny had five minutes to grab a snack before rushing to history. It was usual for Flambeau to teach them history, although most of the year had been taught by supply teachers. Being head of the school must have its time-consuming demands, Danny thought.

They climbed Spiral One in haste. The history classroom was situated on the top floor of Amberleigh Castle at the opposite corner to Pry's classroom and the _Oracle_ press room. Flambeau was waiting patiently for the two swimmers to enter.

'Ah, at last, our final two fourth years. Had a nice swim boys?'

They nodded clumsily before taking their seats. Danny glanced at Janna, who was sitting next to Ella Amur and deliberately avoiding his gaze by staring straight ahead.

Flambeau stood up, his nervous twitch accelerated for some reason, and began teaching.

'Today class, we are going to explore the history of someone who should feel very close to all of us. Who can tell me the year in which the patron saint of our school was born?'

Danny thought hard. He knew it from somewhere. He had seen it written down. He tried to remember where. It was right at the very back of his mind. A logo and a crest. The word ' _Oracle_ '. Of course, Amanita had insisted on putting the dates of his life and death in the banner at the top of the school newspaper. He couldn't remember the numbers though. He looked across and predictably saw Amanita's hand high in the air.

Flambeau looked around for someone else to offer an answer. No-one volunteered. Despite knowing he would kick himself when he found out, Danny could not remember the date at all. Flambeau sighed.

'This is most disappointing class.' Amanita still held her hand high in the air. 'I would have thought at least one of you, apart from Amanita of course...' Flambeau said, almost sneeringly, inviting Amanita to put her hand down, '...would be able to supply me with the answer to this simplest of questions. Okay then. Let's try an even more simple one. What century was Oliver Plunket born in?'

Amanita's hand shot up again, followed more casually by Danny's. He was going to have a stab at it anyway. He was tired of being lumped in with the rest of the class's apathetic attitude.

'Aha. Mr Canterbury. You have an answer for us, I hope?'

Danny gulped. There was something about the headmaster he had always found slightly intimidating, and he was reminded of it now.

'Yes sir. Was it the sixteenth century?'

Danny hesitated, fearing he had already screwed up from the inscrutable expression on Flambeau's face.

'Or the seventeenth, I mean?'

His voice trailed into nothingness and Flambeau strode over to Danny's desk, pausing to look out the window at the isle of Fourlawns.

'Such a splendid school we have here. Such excellent...facilities' Flambeau announced mysteriously, before snapping out of it and turning to address Danny.

'Well boy, which is it? Make your mind up.'

'It's the...' Danny thought to go with his first answer. If in doubt always go with your first answer.

'...the sixteenth century.'

'Wrong! You are quite wrong!'

Danny could feel the redness grow in his cheeks as Flambeau stared down on his stupidity and the class turned to do the same. Flambeau continued.

'Perhaps Miss Walmer can furnish us with the correct answer?'

Amanita cleared her throat.

'Sir, St Oliver Plunket was born in Ireland in 1629. As part of his efforts to bring sacraments to the suffering he endured extreme privation and hardship, often eating very little food with no roof over his head...'

'Yes, yes, that is quite right Amanita. Well done. Take ten house points.' Amanita beamed. Tim and Danny scowled. Flambeau walked back to the front and began writing on the blackboard.

'I am writing down some of the key relics that remain from St Oliver Plunket's life. You may be surprised to learn that Plunket's severed head is still intact and held in a convent in Ireland.'

Hazel Brock exclaimed suddenly.

'Urrgh, sir, that's gross!'

Flambeau merely smiled.

'Indeed Miss Brock, you may think so. But many miracles have been recorded from visitors to the convent from seeing the head. People have been healed from incurable wounds, have undergone transformations from severe depression to becoming joyous, pious and happy. Some have even claimed they have seen old friends who have died many years previous, all in the presence of Plunket's head.'

Danny looked up, his attention caught by Flambeau's last remark. The ghostly image of Robin Vernal swam into his mind. He reached his hand down and padded his trouser pocket, which still contained the lilac piece of paper he had received from Robin that fateful day when she had appeared to him. It was tangible proof he had not been going mad, to himself at least. Flambeau continued, appearing more excitable and interested in what he told. This was shared by the rest of the class who now sat on the edge of their seats

'There are more relics, there are even some that are have gone missing but are rumoured to still exist, somewhere. Perhaps some reside in this school, deep within the secrets vaults Amberleigh Castle once possessed...'

At that moment the bell rang for the end of the lesson.

'I am afraid we will have to leave the lesson there, students. We will continue with the history of Oliver Plunket in the next lesson.'

Danny and Tim trailed out of History, struggling to keep up with Amanita who wandered off hurriedly, no doubt to the press room to work on the final edition of the _Oracle_. About to readjust his heavy school bag on his straining shoulder Danny felt a warm touch on his arm. Turning, Chardelia's pale face came into view.

'Might I have a word Danny?' she asked sweetly. Danny shifted his eyes to Tim who just shrugged his shoulders and skulked off. Danny suspected a mischievous smile on Tim's face as he about faced and walked away.

'Yes Chardelia?' Danny said, nerves making his voice more officious than he intended as his heart drummed inside his chest.

'I just wanted to say...I just wanted to ask you...I.......I...'

A gang of girls hurtled round the corner not looking at the direction they were travelling. Danny had time to see Rosetti Ducorn and Lorraine Carr's heavily made-up faces crystallize inches from his own as the pair collided into both Danny and Chardelia, knocking them against the wall and falling on the floor themselves.

They picked themselves up, all apologies.

'Ooh, sorry Danny, sorry Chardelia! Chardelia, you've got to come quick. Dr Ravana's going on about you singing in the house music competition. Apparently no-one else will do. You've got to come now, the meeting's about to start. Without another word to Danny they pulled her away down Spiral One. As the duo claimed each of Chardelia's arms, Chardelia turned her head to give Danny one last lingering, backward glance, and he was left wondering what on in the name of Neptune she was going to ask him.

*

As the end of a long week approached Danny was relieved to be leaving school for a weekend of sunshine and lazing in Dunkinley's garden. On his way out he ambled past Flambeau's study and heard loud noises from inside. Glancing in the direction of the study Danny saw the door ajar and a light on. From the noise it seemed papers were flying everywhere and furniture was being moved. What was Flambeau doing in there, Danny thought. As he heard footsteps approach the door and saw the light go out, Danny quickly hid behind the trophy cabinet. He didn't think it sensible for Flambeau to know he had been spying on him. His eyes widened as the figure who emerged wasn't Flambeau, and Danny recognised the familiar cut of suit that delineated school inspector Mr Planks. The inspector looked either side of him, as if watching to see if anyone had seen him, before exiting the main school doors clutching a folder of papers he had obviously claimed from Flambeau's office.

The more I consider, the more I become desperate to know. Would it hurt, and if it did was luxurious pain worth bearing? Would it enhance rather than reduce the pleasure? Was there an ecstatic zenith when the blood burst that in the spilling forged a special kind of union? Will the bond of the first time last with me in my memory for all time or will it merely be an arbitrary episode, a random occurrence that no law oversees or governs? It is all beautiful whilst remaining a mystery.

**Explosion**

As consecutive days of sunshine started to bake Amberleigh, the following week began in an aura of bleached gold. Students expectant for the end of the year trudged on enduring boring teachers, itching for the summer holidays to kick in like a trough of treasure at the end of a long journey. As the focus turned to revising what had already been taught, lessons grew dull. Because the school was still in the grip of heavy security there was little chance for mischief in the corridor or playground. Police usually escorted children in through the main gates every morning, and Tyburn and Pemberton regularly patrolled the school corridors, especially on the second floor near The Cinnabar and Galileo rooms where Dr Perseud and Professor Slattery taught.

It was a Wednesday afternoon in Dr Ravana's biology class when the fourth-years received a glint of excitement and a tidal wave of the danger to come. The Honeybee room was filled with light, as the sun rising high in the sky like a flaming torch filled them with hope it would still be sunny at the end of the day.

'Right fourth-years,' Ravana half-said, half-shouted. Please return to your desks and follow the instructions for the experiment on page seventy-four of your textbooks. Please work in pairs.'

Ravana sat down at her desk and settled into reading the recent edition of the _Oracle_. The lesson was just beginning and, as students quietened to concentrate on their plant experiment, Mr Planks strolled in wearing a ridiculous yellow and black striped tie over a blue and purple checked shirt.

'Dr Ravana I presume?' he asked officiously, and Mary Oconee and Florence Croft closest to Dr Ravana's desk giggled indiscreetly. Dr Ravana nodded, with the slightest hint of a giggle also tracing the corners of her mouth.

'I am here to inspect this class,' Planks said, unable to hide his inherent pomposity.

'Okay then mate. Why don't you take a seat at the back of the class and watch,' said Ravana jovially.

'Er...Miss,'

'It's Doctor actually,' drew Ravana curtly, standing up.

'Sorry. Dr Ravana. This is my class now. I think I would rather patrol, I mean stroll round the class inspecting the experiments. If that's okay with you of course,' he added in a belated attempt to be civil.

'As you wish,' said Ravana and returned to the gossip column in the _Oracle_ about students seen kissing by Pentangle's water fountain.

Carefully listening, Danny overheard the conversation but ignored the experiment in which his partner Sloppy had taken over. Sloppy nudged him in the ribs.

'Oh sorry Thomas. I was, er. Well. How's the experiment going?'

'Okay. And it's Sloppy,' he said, miserably.

'Right,' said Danny, distracted. He had no idea why he insisted on being called Sloppy. Thomas was a regular swot, and anything other than sloppy. Mr Planks walked over to them.

'And what have we here,' he boomed unnecessarily.

Danny floundered. Luckily Sloppy knew what to say.

'That is the phloem, that the tap root, and there is the lateral root. Over here is the guard cell and the stem which we are removing and opening to see the vascular bundle.'

Planks looked bemused, and after about a minute of intent listening he nodded studiously.

'Very good, very good. Please continue.'

Planks moved on and Danny wiped the beads of sweat from his brow as he left their desk.

'Gee thanks mate. I was really stuck there. It's amazing you know all that stuff. You really dug me, I mean, us out of a hole there,' Danny said gratefully.

'Is it true you're still going out with Janna Chisely?' asked Sloppy, ignoring Danny's last statement.

Initially taken aback, Danny recovered his composure.

'No,' he said, in a resigned voice. A voice inside him said 'But I'm not sure if I made the right decision.' Danny added vocally 'Why?'

'Oh no reason. I just...I've just seen you two around a lot together lately. I was wondering if you'd...er...if you'd spoken to Cedric much lately.'

Danny turned his head so fast he nearly got whiplash.

'What? Why should I speak to Cedric? Cedric Claw is not going out with Janna.' Danny was almost shouting.

'Yeah, I know, I know. Calm down mate, I didn't mean anything by it. Calm down,' he said soothingly.

They continued their experiment in silence, Danny's sore point eventually subsiding. Planks finished with the desks on their side of the room, and proceeded along the other side where a white hot sun shone on student's heads through sparkling clear windows. Danny watched Planks move up and down desks, occasionally stopping to speak to students and was reminded of the Duke of Edinburgh at Wimbledon chatting to ballboys and ballgirls. Finally Danny saw Planks rest against the back wall, and exhale.

'Are you going to help me here or what?' Sloppy exclaimed.

'What? Oh okay.' Danny replied returning to the experiment.

Before he heard the noise Danny had a split-second premonition something was wrong. He didn't have time to linger on or trace its genesis, but it felt like a straw, like a small cylinder of air in his brain that resided in the same area as instinct. The next instant a loud explosion roared from the back of the room. Black smoke and flames billowed from the corner in a colourful and uncontrollable eruption.

Everyone jumped.

Several windows shattered. Smoke filling their class, Danny couldn't see anything for the panic of students pushing and barging their way out quickly. A shocked Ravana gathered most of the students together and literally pushed them from the room into the corridor. As he left on the tidal force of the human wave Danny took a last look at The Honeybee Room, preserving the scene for a moment in his mind's eye before a forceful shove pushed him out. The smoke had started to clear. An incongruous hole in the corner of the classroom allowed the smoke to escape rapidly, spiraling out in rising plumes. The hole led out onto empty blue sky and through it Danny saw Fourlawns in the distance, like a wise old mystic always cognizant this explosion would happen. Danny couldn't see Mr Planks among the throng rushing down Spiral One towards the safety of the playground.

The fire alarm began ringing in the hallway as Ravana led lines of students outside. In the playground most of the other students had already gathered. Still in shock at the sound, that terrible ripping noise Danny looked for Janna. She hadn't been in his class, but knew she was in the class next door, adjoining the wall where the explosion blasted through. Craning his neck he failed to see her, so he paced up and down the separate lines of form-rooms until a stern Professor Pry stood in his path .

'What are you doing here Canterbury?' barked Pry.

'I...I was wondering...if Janna was...if she was here.'

Pry's stern exterior softened, and she pointed a single nail-varnished finger to the back of her line of students where Janna stood chatting with Sol Castle. Danny breathed his relief heavily and, smiling at Pry, returned swiftly to Professor Fuzzair and his own form room line.

*

Professor Flambeau stood at the lectern and gazed at his students in a packed St Basil's. On the lectern were no papers or prepared speech, just a solitary glass of water.

'Students I regret to inform you our school inspector Mr Planks has died.'

Behind Flambeau stood five police officers in black uniforms and luminescent yellow windcheaters led by Chief Inspector Pemberton wearing a sharp suit.

'I regret to inform you the current school term will now be suspended. As from tomorrow the school will be closed. You will all return to your form rooms where your form tutors will look after you until the end of the day. We will be in touch again with all your parents by post on arrangements for when the school may open again in the near future.'

With that Flambeau exited, quickly followed by Pemberton and the five police officers. Cheering inside that their prayers for an early school departure had been answered, the students started to walk back to their form room. Danny caught Tim's eye as he was led by Pry back to form. Amanita broke ranks to run up to Danny and look at him, fear and shock wide in her eyes.

Upon reaching his form room Danny sat down but couldn't think straight. Fuzzair was missing and they had no teacher to oversee them. Danny was quickly surrounded by fellow students. The air was thick with damp air and he could taste the pungent smoke in the back of his throat. A million questions seemed to shout at him from every direction, but it was Amanita's gentle hand on his which steadied Danny. As students returned to their seats, their curiosity quenched, Amanita leaned over to Danny and whispered softly in his ear, so close her bottom lip touched his ear lobe.

'We have to go. Now. We have to go now.'

Danny looked at her in surprise, barely knowing what to think.

'I'll meet you outside the toilets,' she continued, still in a temperate, calm tone.

'What is it?' Danny asked quietly.

Amanita detected the note of alarm in his voice.

'They're going to shut this school tomorrow. And then we'll never know. We might never see Fuzzair again. We might never see this school again. We might never know who wrote that article. You might never discover the truth about the river of fear that has run through our school all year. It will haunt us forever if we don't act now.'

Danny looked at her and then at his palms, still black from the smoke. He got up and left the room making for the gents. Amanita appeared five minutes later. When she arrived she marched him to Spiral two.

'What about Tim?' Danny said.

'Do you honestly think Pry is going to let him out of form when there are bombs and murderers on the loose? Come on – we may not have much time.'

'But wait,' Danny blurted out, searching for the words to halt Amanita's urgency. 'How do you know about that doorway? How do you know it to leads to anything good?'

Amanita looked at him rather pityingly.

'Danny, I'm not blind. I don't know much, but I know this: that doorway definitely does not lead to anything good, but when has discovery ever been a pain-free process?'

Reflecting on his teen years so far Danny felt the truth of Amanita's bald statement, and trusted it. He trusted her. They rushed along the corridor as fast as they could but held up by a mass of worried students hurrying the other way. However, at the door at the back of the spiral staircase no students lingered. Danny took a furtive look around to make sure no-one was coming and kicked the door open. Immediately they were hit with an obnoxious odour similar to the one in The Honeybee Room after the explosion. It told them with a certain dread that difficult answers lay ahead – or below. They both put their hands to their faces to shiled them from the smell.

'Come on,' Amanita said, 'we've got to shut this door or people will find us.'

They descended a murky spiral staircase, cupping hands against their mouths and noses in desperate attempts to filter oxygen through. Again, Danny heard the trickle of something like water. Damp, dark green moss grew on the cavernous stone that surrounded the stairs. As Danny stood on the first few steps he could see some lettering had been carved into the stone. It read 'Plunket's Pothole'.

As they progressed deeper Danny felt he was travelling back in time. They were illicitly plunging into the bowels of Amberleigh Castle. The staircase grew smaller until Amanita and Danny were squeezed tight against the walls and each other. Continuing for what must have been several minutes they eventually reached a stone plateau. With little light to see Amanita delved into her pockets and pulled out a lighter.

'I thought you didn't smoke?' Danny asked politely.

'Shut up. I could do with one right now,' Amanita said.

They strained their eyes in the dim light. The plateau extended a few feet further. A few more steps and they would have fallen off the edge. Taking careful steps towards the ledge, they looked over the side. Below them, about fifty feet down, was a river. It flowed fast from right to left in luminous green currents. The colour of the liquid made the gushing torrent look positively toxic.

'Whatever you do, Amanita, don't drop your lighter into that river,' Danny said nervously.

Amanita looked at him and then across the river. Wiry looking branches and tree roots protruded from the other side, beneath another stone ledge. It looked about ten feet down.

'Not that I'm one to ask obvious questions, but how are we going to get to the other side of the river?'

Amanita stood firmly, but the hand holding her lighter shook so much the flame was in danger of extinguishing itself.

Danny looked at the gap and then the plateau. The stench was immense and he found it difficult to breathe. He almost couldn't bear it anymore. They were out of options. Something clicked inside him. There was only one decision to be made.

'We jump!' he shouted, not realising what this meant until he said it. Amanita too held her nose at the awful aroma rising up from the river below. Danny walked as far back as he could go, to give himself enough of a run-up. It was like an extremely difficult high jump. Only there wasn't a wooden bar, just a nasty toxic river and devilishly sharp rocks waiting to greet him if he failed. He took a deep stench-filled breath and then, without any particular signal to Amanita, without thinking it through, without thinking about the lack of time he had been given to think it through, he launched himself as fast as his legs would carry him toward the end of the plateau.

It felt like flying. He saw the blur of green below him as he soared through the air. By the time he started to fall he knew he hadn't made it. Stretching every sinew of his arms, and pointing his toes outward he tried to make himself as big as possible, hoping and praying something would catch him and push him up on to the opposite ledge. Instead Danny's flailing loose hand caught a branch sticking out of the cold rock. It was rooted in, and Danny pulled himself up as far as he could go, until his other hand could reach the top of the ledge. He adjusted his leg so it rested on the branch and, with an almighty push, heaved himself up and over, onto the cold wet stone ledge. He looked back up and saw Amanita's eyes wide with fright.

'Are you alright?' she called, her voice wavering.

'Yes. I'm okay.' Danny replied, feeling his knee gingerly which was slowly seeping blood. 'Your turn,' he called back.

Amanita looked at the ledge and the gap and shook her head.

'I don't think I can Danny. It's too far.'

'Course you can, just give it a good run-up. I'll reach out a hand to catch you.' Amanita did not look reassured by this piece of advice. She brushed herself down, and walked back until Danny could no longer see her.

Then, with the suddenness of a flock of birds changing direction, Danny saw something large advance fast towards him. It would hit him if he didn't get out of the way. He ducked and it flew over him, landing behind in a large puddle. Amanita stood up, dirty water dripping from her pleated school skirt.

'Told you you'd make it.' Danny smiled.

They ran on into the only vacancy before them: a murky cleft in the rock and down a set of shallow stone steps until an oak door with a rusty iron handle blocked their way. As Danny pushed the door open he caught a glimpse of a small engraving on the handle. It bore two squiggly lines that, with a bit of imagination might have resembled waves. Once through the door Danny immediately saw another obstacle. They both stood in a small cave. Another oak door lay opposite them, but between them and the door was a sharp descent of three deep steps and a pool of water, which looked dangerously deep, and rippled into the sheer stone walls that bordered it to the left and right. A small pebble lay on the step in front of Danny. He picked it up and threw it hard into the water. It made a small splash, and as it did a thousand mini-electric shocks seemed to explode on the surface of the water the moment it was disturbed.

Amanita reached for Danny's hand and he knew the boundary of her terror because he felt it himself.

'How will we get across? No-one knows we are here. We can't go back.'

Danny stood for a minute doing the only thing he knew how to do well: thinking hard. There was nothing left to help them. The walls were plastered with olive green moss, the stench wasn't so bad here on the other side of the river but Danny felt it dangerous to linger. There could be anything in the cold dark water. He looked up. Thin green vines clung voraciously to the caved stone ceiling, winding their way through various stalactites, like sharp daggers threatening to fall at any moment.

'I don't think we can jump this one,' he said slowly. Amanita crouched down and sat on the top step, still panting after her gigantic leap.

'What if we...' Danny's voice sank into nothingness.

Suddenly Amanita was on her feet.

'See those vines – well, they look pretty strong to me. If we could only get some to fall to down we could probably swing across.'

'Like Tarzan?' Danny said, incredulous.

'Like Tarzan,' Amanita confirmed, nodding. She got some stones and started to throw them at the vines, hoping to free some. Instead she only succeeded in striking and releasing the smaller stalactites which fell to the ground at speed, hitting the water and causing the same electric pattern to spark on the water's surface. Amanita persevered and Danny joined her. After they dislodged several of the smaller stalactites, a green vine flew down to them from near the other oak door.

'Catch it quick!' Amanita shouted.

Danny reached out a hand but missed it. Quick as lightening, Amanita jumped forward and held for dear life onto the vine. However her momentum created by launching so swiftly at the vine carried her forward so much that she had no choice but to cling on for fear of falling in the water. She swung right across the water and landed, inch perfect on the stone steps on the other side.

'Are you alright?' Danny shouted.

'Fine. A little giddy, but fine. Here you go.'

She threw the vine back to Danny, who managed to catch it this time. He drew back until he was standing on the top most step, and then he raised his legs until no part of him was touching the ground below and swung forwards like a pendulum across the water. As he was starting to reach the other side, a whining creak rang out, the vine snapped and sent Danny plummeting into the dark water below. Amanita watched with horror as electric shocks sparked on the surface which closed around Danny's head. For a moment, he was nowhere to be seen.

Then, gasping and spluttering, Danny's head emerged from the surface before disappearing back below again. Amanita leant over the side watching carefully. Without warning, Danny's hand came up near the bank and Amanita grabbed it and with all her strength pulled Danny up and onto the steps. He was dripping wet, shivering and shaken.

'Are you okay?' she said, but Danny was bleary-eyed and could not speak.

'Sit here. Don't move. Rest for a moment.' Danny tried to recover his composure while he shook his head to rid his sodden hair of the burning water. Amanita could see some of his hair was singed black.

'Let's get out of here,' said Danny, as soon as he found the energy to speak again.

They proceeded through the next oak door, into which a small cloud had been carved into the rim. Finding themselves in a second cave, they paused. It was totally empty apart from a dry stone floor. In the middle of the floor was a circle of bright coloured stone. It was only as Danny and Amanita moved forward they saw a brilliant shaft of light descend from a circular gap in the rock ceiling. The oculus refracted light from the Amberleigh sky to reflect a tiny rainbow on the stone. Another oak door faced them with a large circle cut into the wood. The pair moved quickly through the door, deciding swiftly not to linger in case the room decided to expose concealed horrors.

They found a much larger cave waiting on the other side. The dim light revealed what appeared to be a miniature playing field, only with mounds and hillocks carpeted in lush green grass. The grass met the stone step in front of them. Amanita stepped forward but as soon as her foot made contact with the grass it sank like a lead weight into the mossy earth. Frowning, she pulled her muddy foot out again.

Amanita looked at Danny who sat down on the cold stone. He felt dizzy. How much more of this was there? He had only agreed to accompany Amanita because of the curiosity to discover if the river of fear truly existed. The endless hazards and obstacles were like some gigantic test and, as a pang of pain shot through his knee again he felt weary and ready to succumb.

When my eyes opened I felt my head would explode. Why was the television aerial moved beside my bed? That flashing light was not there before. And the dull thud of my head aching, repeating and aching like a silent siren, a warning from reality. Then it starts to reassemble, I had not been in bed a few moments ago, as I had thought in that embryonic foetal newly-hatched moment of awakening. I had taken a short trip – only a couple of steps really – toward the bathroom. I had peed for a moment and then, when standing, and then – then a curious cough arose in my throat and then – then I had felt nausea rising, a wave increasing its amplitude and then – then I had felt it. All the blood draining from my head, rushing down and then – then sweet blissful unconsciousness. I did not recollect any moment at all of the collapse that must have occurred. I had not felt the strike of my head on the bedpost, or it could have been the door handle, or it could have been the pointed corner of the cold metal radiator – yes, that bastard radiator, it has never liked me! I knew not – only by detection and elimination – how I had ended up laying prostrate on the floor, deceived by the encroaching subconscious that I had been asleep instead.

A blackout then, a fainting fit, a moment of purest loss that had concluded in pain and uncertainty. I rest for a moment on the edge of my quilted bed and try – try desperately to remember, but the memory will not come.

**The River of Fear**

Danny pushed his submissive thoughts to the back of his mind and tried to think constructively. Inspecting the cave there seemed to be little that could possibly help them traverse the quick-sand quick-earth. How far was it to the other side? He estimated about fifty feet. Could he hold his breath that long? It all depended on how fast he went.

'How are you at digging?'

'Danny, now's not the time to discuss my gardening skills.'

'Yes it is. Look, that grass, moss, earth is going to pull us under, there's nothing we can do about it. But if we can hold our breath and dig through it we can make it to other side.'

Amanita laughed.

'I'm glad you can see the funny side,' Danny said miserably.

'Go on then.' Amanita said, almost daring him.

Danny took the deepest breath of his life, brushed away the remaining drops of water that clung to his school shirt and stepped onto the grass. Straight away it started to suck him under. It felt like being pulled, gently and effortlessly into dark death. He remembered what he had to do and started moving his hands in and out, like breast-stroke, his hands arched like tiny diggers, earth flying furiously. He was fighting it. He was moving across. But still he felt himself sink further down. How much further? How deep was this pit of moss, this vat of earth? Soon, he began to tire and felt his lungs fill with carbon dioxide, desperate for air. A surge of adrenaline hurtled through his veins, into his limbs, giving him an shot of speed. He dug upwards as fast as he could. In a couple of minutes his nostrils hit the damp dripping cave air, which felt as fresh on his skin as glorious as it did in his lungs. He gulped heavily and looked around, treading earth to keep him afloat in the sea of dirt. He was a couple of metres from the oak door. He flung himself forward and rested his filthy hand on the solitary stone step. With great lethargy he pulled himself up.

He looked back across the field and it appeared undisturbed. Amanita was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't see her on the other side to call to her. Then he heard something muffled coming from just in front of him. It dawned on him. She was in there too; she must have dived in after him.

He fell to his knees and began digging with his hands into the mossy soil. Amanita's hands were stretching up, clasping claggy mud. He grabbed hold of them and with an almighty effort pulled her up from the sodden sludge. She spluttered soil on his shirt and coughed into his arms. Now, almost as black as him, she cried, still spraying and spitting mud everywhere.

'There's...a...it's dead...' her voice faded into sobs. Danny grabbed her chin with his hands and pulled her up so she was looking directly at him.

'What? What's dead?' he said, barely disguising the concern in his voice. Amanita gulped a huge breath and started again.

'There's a dead body in there. I dug straight into it! It's...it's..a man. A dead man!'

Danny was stunned. Amanita sat on the step and continued weeping. Who was it? Another dead body? There was something grotesque happening in Amberleigh, and the castle and the school, and now him and Amanita were at the centre of it. As the realisation of the dark terror dawned, there were no words to describe how utterly miserable they both felt. A brooding sense of danger which Danny had felt on walking down the spiral staircase had now enveloped his soul as they rested in a cavern of tumultuous fear.

With no choice but to proceed through another oak door, the dread of anticipation settled in their squirming stomachs. The door bore a similar engraving on the iron handle as the first one, only the two squiggly lines were directed vertically not horizontally. They found themselves in another chamber, yet still transformed from the last. A blaze of light greeted their eyes, almost blinding them as their pupils contracted. As their vision adjusted to the new cave they saw the source of the brightness. They stood in a long narrow tunnel-like cavern. Between them and the next oak door stood seven hoops out of which blazing fire raged, the flames scorching both the ceiling and the blackened stone floor. Tongues of flames occasionally licked the opposite walls. There was no safe way through. It looked like a gauntlet of death.

'When will this ever end?' screamed Danny into the empty, flickering cave. Amanita merely shrugged her shoulders and sighed. Without warning she ran the full length of the room, the flames brushing her as she passed, but miraculously not catching her clothes alight. Danny gasped with shock.

'How did you do that?' he called.

'Just didn't think things could get much worse,' she shouted. 'We're both wet and damp with mud anyway. There's very little chance you'll catch fire. Come on. Just run.'

Danny looked uncertain. Of all the challenges they had faced thus far, this looked the most dangerous. He stared into the flames; they were at once bright and beautiful with life, extinguishing everything outside of them. The dark blackness in the centre of each flame reminded him of the darkness of the cavern in which they now stood. Fire. It was a mysterious, flagrant element. Sudden and immediate, raging and burning with immutable fury. Like anger. Like his anger. Like the anger within him that year. Anger at the way life had jostled him and shifted him and pushed him around. Fuck the flames, he thought. Fuck them all. They would not own him, they would not define him, they would not father him. He was master of his own destiny.

Danny took a breath and ran as fast as he could down the room. As he neared the end a huge burst of fire cut across him. He tried to slow to avoid it but he was running too fast, and blitzed straight through the oncoming white heat.

As he emerged from the other side he felt his face sticky and wet. He reached his hand up to scratch his cheek, and found his flesh rough and scarred. Amanita's hands flew to her mouth.

'Oh Danny!' she cried.

His face half obscured by red and black burns, the other half untouched, Danny sighed with relief he was still alive. Piercing heat seeped into his face and mouth, and pain shot through his cheek. Amanita's worried looks was the worst torture though. Compared with her expression of horror, Danny didn't feel the same concern for himself.

'Come on. Let's get out of here,' he said, still tentatively feeling the new terrain on his face the fire had created. They opened the oak door, which proved to be their last. It flew open with the strength and abandon of a wild wind. The sight facing Danny and Amanita as the door opened forced them unvoluntarily to their knees.

*

Back to back against each other, gagged and bound with pieces of rope and chicken wire sat Professor Fuzzair and Tim. They looked sleepy, as if they had been drugged. Tim raised his head at Danny and Amanita's entrance, and managed to blink a couple of times. Fuzzair remained still, his eyes shut. They sat on a bank the other side of a river. A section slightly further along, it was the same green toxic stream Danny and Amanita had jumped over earlier, at the start of their perilous journey. Stuck crudely into the black stone walls were several flaming torches, each roughly six foot from the other, lighting up the current in all its ghastly glory. To one side of the river a small wooden dingy was tied to a wooden post sticking out of the black rock.

This was not all though.

On their fronts both Fuzzair and Tim wore packs of what looked like hard green plasticine from which protruded bottles of thick viscous red fluid, turned upside down. Wires fed into each bottle and each massive slab of green plastic. Danny knew in an instant they had both been wired to bombs. Bombs that could explode any second.

The river looked jumpable but Amanita was having trouble rising from the cold stone floor. She sobbed, her eyes pouring forward with human rain. Danny looked at the situation and thought quickly. How long did Tim and Fuzzair have before... How were they captured like this? What would happen if they didn't try to rescue them? The bombs would probably explode and they'd be killed anyway. What would happen if they did try to rescue them? Who had tied them up and were they still in the proximity? What if he fell in the toxic green river? With these questions running through his mind like wild fire, he glanced at Amanita again who looked sunk, her hair falling forward over her face in muddy blonde straggles. Reckless, he decided to chance it. He had come this far. Why not even further? With a couple of steps run up Danny leapt into the air, hoping and praying to fate, if not God.

The rushing air streamed passed his face as he arced through the air. This time, his jump was inch perfect.

He landed clumsily on one foot and one knee, grazing it against a loose stone. As he rushed forward to untie Tim what felt like a cold steel ring pressed into the back of his head and he heard an hysterical scream from the opposite river bank.

'Up. Now,' spoke a stern bass voice behind him, a voice that sounded familiar but that Danny couldn't quite place. He stood up and slowly turned round. Facing him, anger flashing in his red eyes, and pointing a pistol directly at his chest, stood Chief Inspector Pemberton.

'Inspector, you have to help us. Tim and Professor Fuzzair are tied to bombs! Look! See for yourself if you don't believe me?!'

Danny turned around to gain Amanita's reassurance from across the river but to his unpleasant surprise he found she was no longer where she had fallen. She was gone.

Pemberton ignored Danny, but grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the cavern wall. Danny fell back against the hard wet stone, scraping the skin from his back, and crumpled to the ground still conscious but withering under considerable pain.

'What?' he half-mumbled, half-whispered, but Pemberton didn't hear him. He was already reaching into a large sack and removing a long piece of rope and some masking tape. Danny could hardly believe his eyes, and he coughed and spluttered blood into the puddle in front of him.

'Give me a hand Ron!' shouted Pemberton to the empty air. And then slowly, as if in some slow-motion horror movie, Constable Tyburn emerged from the darkness, twirling a long thin piece of chicken wire menacingly in his hands. He looked completely different than he had earlier in school. His hair was rougher, and he was unkempt. Dirty marks covered his face and his bare hairy arms.

Ron reached for Danny's shirt to pull him up. Danny had enough energy left to kick Ron in the shins. He screamed and fell backwards, nearly into the green river below, but recovered his balance at the last minute.

'Watch it there Ron. We don't want you falling in. You know what's in there,' and Pemberton smiled evilly at Danny.

'Right you are Eddie,' muttered Ron, obediently.

It was no use, he couldn't fight any more. Ron tied Danny to the other two and plastered a piece of masking tape across his mouth. At first he thought he couldn't breathe as the tape was so thick it covered his nose. With an almighty blow of his nose the top of the tape came unstuck and Danny breathed in the pungent cold cavernous air. He blinked twice at Tim, who blinked back, in the same helpless situation as Danny.

Some time elapsed. Danny could feel his eyelids falling heavy over his eyes. He knew he mustn't fall asleep. He must remain conscious whatever happened. But it was so dark and he was tired and his knee ached, and his cheek was starting to hurt and he wanted to go home. Home. That place where he was all alone, where no bad things happened, where he had spent the start of the year mulling over what would happen between him and Janna Chisely. Would he ever see Janna again? Home, where he lived with his father and his sister. Home, where he was looked after, fed, washed and most importantly of all, loved. It seemed so far away now. The eyelids fell and he could feel himself drifting off, off into the deepest darkest sleep.

He felt a sharp nudge in the ribs and opened his eyes. Tim was blinking furiously at him and moving his eyes to signal Danny to look behind. There was a man standing in the shadows. He wasn't moving. Danny couldn't make out who it was, but the silhouette looked familiar. It wasn't tall enough to be Pemberton or stocky enough to be Tyburn. It looked as though the man was just watching them, the cold air emitting from his mouth every time he breathed. And then the man started to walk forward slowly. The dim light from the cracks in the cavern ceiling revealed enough of the man's face to send shivers of recognition coursing through Danny. The blood drained from Danny's face like a flood of spirit leaking out of him. Stepping forward with a strange demonic look in his dark eyes was Professor Flambeau.

Flambeau stepped closer to Danny and ripped off the tape covering his mouth. Danny gasped for breath and felt the rush of sweet oxygen flow through his wheezing lungs once more. Flambeau stepped back against the wall making only his silhouette visible. He remained silent for a moment. Danny didn't know what to say: every time a viable question presented itself, a new more pressing one replaced it, but he couldn't bring himself to frame the shock he felt into words.

'So...you found this place all by yourself did you little boy?' sneered Flambeau, languidly.

'No. And I'm not a little boy,' Danny returned, defiantly.

'Of course not, of course not.' Flambeau continued. 'I didn't think you could find it all by yourself,' he added cuttingly.

Flambeau paused, and Danny began panicking. If Flambeau was behind all this, if Flambeau (he could barely bring himself to think about it), if Flambeau was responsible for the murders of Planks, Ethelraed and Woodbridge then he surely wouldn't think twice about killing a couple of his students. A dense claustrophobia tightened in his chest, his throat became heavy and thick, as though several cobwebs were hanging from the roof of his mouth and spiraling down, deep into his belly.

'I always knew you'd get here. Eventually. I'm not stupid you know. It was down to me in the end. I had to choose someone to find me. You should be grateful I chose you.'

Flambeau spoke casually, as though he were simply having a chat with an acquaintance.

'What nonsense are you spouting, you freak?' screamed Danny. From the corner of his eyes, Tim's eyebrow raised but Flambeau didn't seem remotely perturbed by the outburst.

'Of course, you must question me. It is your role. I know your role very well, Danny boy, very well indeed. Now if you will excuse me I have some business to attend to. I am afraid you will not see the light of day again; only as much as the cracks in the ceiling will allow,' at this point Flambeau looked up and considered for a moment. 'Hmm...not a great deal by the looks of it. Goodbye, _Plunket's_ students.'

Flambeau began to walk away and dread gripped Danny's heart. What could he do? He was the only one with the ability to speak. As the image of an old Maya Angelou book he had read popped into his mind he began shouting at the receding Flambeau.

'Where are you going you washed-up old codger? Going to get someone to do your dirty work for you?' Danny's voice was desperate.

'That's exactly where I'm going', called back Flambeau, not bothering to turn his head. Danny screamed louder.

'You owe us a fucking explanation you murdering bastard!' His voice rang out in the darkness, like a million different high-pitched bells, echoing round the cavern like a tennis ball bouncing from wall to wall.

Flambeau stopped, and turned. He began walking back. With a tremor of fear rising in his chest Danny started to wish he had not been so brave. Flambeau halted in front of Danny. Smiling politely, Flambeau trod on Danny's toes, who let out a yelp of pain.

'That's for swearing. I teach all my students civilised language and I do not accept cursing in my school.'

Flambeau pressed hard on Danny's crumpled feet. As tears ran from his eyess and welled up in his corrugated face and badly burnt cheek, he forbid himself to call out in pain again. He would not give Flambeau the satisfaction.

'You have questions?' Flambeau uttered, wearing a countenance of total loathing.

Danny thought fast.

'I have lots of questions. First of all, why are you doing this? Why do you want to kill Fuzzair? Why kill Tim?'

Tim shuddered as Danny asked this last question.

'You expect me to answer you?' Flambeau sneered, scratching away something from the side of his mouth. His voice rang out confidently, not like the nervy tremulous one he used in assemblies, which Danny now recognised was a carefully disguised act.

Danny remained silent. He knew to answer Flambeau would only give him the satisfaction of denying him. This silent tussle continued as Danny and Flambeau glared at each other with similar expressions of hatred in their eyes. Flambeau crouched down to Danny and whispered in his ear.

'I could tell you all those things, little boy. I could tell you everything. I could...but what would be the point? Soon you're all going to be at the bottom of this toxic river! What a certain saint, born in the seventeenth century nicknamed the river of fear! Ha ha. No-one will be able to find you!' He laughed, loud and freely. Danny decided to take a chance.

So, they are an item then. I have seen them holding hands as they dance across the playground. As they walk into the sunset of a windy Amberleigh evening. As they cuddle against the icy blasts from the ocean plateau. They have been conspicuous ever since Ethelraed died. From the rear, her swaying straight blondes and his sprightly brown tufts. From the side her slim and slender nubileness, his gangly athletic limbs. From the front, they only have eyes for each other. From the front, they kiss and allow each other access to everything. So, he was taken – the only one I would have considered for the taking.

**Chardelia Falls**

'That's right, you old freak. We don't want to hear your stupid stories. You know why? Because they're meaningless. They're worthless, just like the scum in front of me. I would rather die not knowing what evil secrets you have hidden away.'

Danny panted. He was short of breath, and tired. Flambeau turned to walk away and then without warning suddenly sped back, running at Danny in a blur of motion. He kicked him in the knee, the one still bleeding from his graze. A shooting fire rippled pain through Danny.

'You are a precious little sod, Danny _Canterbury_. Maybe I should share a little information with you – it will comfort you in your watery grave to know you had the chance to stop me and couldn't quite manage it. I have to kill Fuzzair because he found out. He found out about Appalachian.'

Danny's brows furrowed in confusion.

'Who?' he asked, incredulous.

'Professor Appalachian. He was going to be your headmaster this year. I was persuaded to take early retirement at the end of last year by the school board and the Parents and Teacher's Society, but in the end I decided that it wasn't really the best thing for my students, for St Oliver Plunket's, or indeed for me.

A dangerous feral look crossed Flambeau's face as his features twisted in a tormented expression.

'I, shall we say, intercepted him before the school year even began. Of course someone needed to show him round the school, show him to the classrooms, to his study – my study. Sadly he became ill when I accidentally clubbed him round the head. He was unconscious but unfortunately not dead. So I shot him in the face. I knew I would have to hide him somewhere where no-one would find him, ever. If anyone knew he had arrived here questions would be asked. Fortunately no-one else knew, apart from Ron and Eddie of course, my corrupt friends on the police force. You've heard of the Appalachian mountains of course, or you would have done if Ethelraed had been a decent Geography teacher? Well now he rests in a mountain of earth all his own. Quite fitting really.'

Danny was bursting with fear, but he knew the importance of continuing to talk to Flambeau. To play for time.

'What about Woodbridge and Ethelraed? Were you responsible for them too?' Danny asked, fearing the answer.

Flambeau paused looking at him carefully.

'Of course,' he said casually, as if he were giving one of his history lectures, 'Woodbridge met with an accident one weekend. He fell off his roof while mending his television aerial. Poor soul, he never even knew it was broken.'

Danny lurched forward, but it was no good. The ropes were tied good.

'Ethelraed? Well I can't claim personal responsibility for that one. But do rest assured Danny boy, they were both necessary. They both stuck their gossipy noses into business that wasn't theirs, they both could have gone to the police with what they had seen, so I thought it best to...shall we say, dispose of them. As you know well, they weren't very good teachers anyway.'

Danny gasped, but resolved to continue talking, to buy more time.

'There's no way you'll be able to stay headmaster after this year anyway. So it doesn't matter that you killed Woodbridge, Ethelraed and this Professor Appalachian – it was all to no avail, you fool.'

'I'm afraid you're the fool Danny Canterbury. You really think that my ultimate aim is to remain headmaster of this school. I am sorry, but my ambitions stretch a little further than that. Once I have retrieved the ring, I will be glad to leave this school in a blaze of glory, quite a big blaze actually; tomorrow there will be nothing left of St Oliver Plunket's. My chemical bombs are already strategically placed around the school,' he continued casually, 'made thanks to the genius of your school friend Charlie Shackleton, who didn't really know why I wanted him to work on some obscure chemical formula for me. The fool!'

Ring? Bombs? Charlie? Danny's thoughts raced. Could it possibly be...could he possibly mean the ring? He wanted to interrupt but like the river below Flambeau was in full flow.

'Can you cast your tiny mind back to the beginning of the year? When you saw me emerge out of the toilets? I was afraid then you might have caught me. So after that we only tested our explosions after school and in the ocean.'

Danny remembered the toilet explosion, the flames he had seen in the ocean at the first meeting for the _Oracle_. It was all fitting into terrible place. The culmination of all the odd things that had happened this year was here and now, and he was caught up in the catastrophic middle. Fear and adrenaline continued to flood his veins.

'Yes, I should be receiving the ring soon, very soon indeed. I believe Ella will be bringing her along shortly,' Flambeau continued, slightly madly.

It was too surreal and baffling for Danny. Ella? Ella Amur? Who was she bringing? What on earth was going on? And where was Amanita? Why hadn't she brought any help yet? Time was running out. Even worse, Tim had dropped off to sleep next to him. He didn't seem conscious at all. With fear and sweat rising through his juddering body Danny braced himself to address Flambeau again.

'So you're going to kill everybody?' Danny asked, incredulous.

'Oh you shouldn't fear death, Master _Canterbury_. It happens to us all.' Flambeau tendered, without any hint of levity.

'What about my other questions? Why is Tim here?' Danny asked angrily, the nerves jangling secretly in his stomach.

'How on earth was I going to bring you here Danny, other than to kidnap your best friend?'

'Why do you want me here?' Danny demanded.

'Aha. I would like to say you will know one day, but unfortunately your days are numbered, Danny _Canterbury_. Numbered at zero, in fact.'

Danny didn't like the way Flambeau said his full name. It was like he used his surname was a taunt, like he were a sarcastic infant rather than a grown man. Something prickled on the back of his neck every time he said it. He blurted another question out for more time. Where was Amanita?

'What's this ring you're on about?'

Flambeau had turned around to look down the river bank. Some people were approaching. At last, Danny thought, Amanita had brought some teachers. It was all going to end soon. A wave of relief passed through him but worryingly Flambeau did not look at all alarmed. In fact he smiled, and opened his arms to welcome the visitors.

As they drew closer, Danny saw it was Ron and Eddie. Behind them, walking calmly in her school uniform, and grinning visibly in the dank gloom was Ella Amur. She led a blindfolded and tied up girl, her craven amber hair tied in a violet hair-clip which resembled waves.

Walking nervously behind several pink and white flowers sprang from her hair, their stems tied to her hair clip. A demure vision of beguiling charm, Danny recognized her painfully immediately. Chardelia Foss.

'At last,' Flambeau cried. 'Now it will fall into my hands. It's about time this was mine. I have worked and waited so long for this ring. His very own. The ring he wore when he was martyred. The ruby ring of Oliver Plunket. Come here Chardelia!'

Ella pushed Chardelia forward. At the same time she glanced at her school mates Tim and Danny and her teacher Fuzzair tied to the bombs at the edge of the river bank. Her eyebrows raised. Instead of rushing forward to release them, Ella smiled maliciously. Danny's eyes narrowed and he could not resist the impulse to scream at her.

'You bitch!'

Flambeau turned round to face Danny. He trod again on his toes as Ella turned to Danny, impaling a callous, righteous look through him.

'What's the matter Danny? Wishing for your poor ex to come and save you? I'm afraid she won't be able to do that today. You're probably wishing you were nicer to her now, aren't you? Well, she'll have more time to hang around with her old friends now, won't she? Her _real_ friends, once you hit the water.'

'You leave Janna out of this you freaky cow!' Danny screamed, matching the hatred in Ella's eyes with his own.

'Danny, I've warned you against bad language in my school,' Flambeau said calmly, pulling his cloak around him more tightly.

'Not...going...to...be...your...school...for...much...longer' gasped Danny, hurting from the pain of his knee, face and crumpled toes.

Flambeau looked at him, an expression of faint amusement crossing his darkened features.

'Of course, I forgot you and Ella are such good school pals. It's wonderful to see such fine school spirit. Such an elegant writer too, don't you think Danny? I particularly liked the article she wrote for me in the last edition of the _Oracle_. Something to go down in history – the last piece published before Plunket's was destroyed, and the students within it! But first, I will have my ring. I deserve this and I have waited too long for it. It's mine, I want it.'

Danny interrupted.

'What are you going to do with a useless old ring?'

'Please stop interrupting me Danny – you're spoiling my moment.' Flambeau said quietly.

Something inside Danny remained pleased he had finally rattled Flambeau. He continued.

'It's just a worthless old ring. No-one will miss it really. You're just an old fool, after something nobody wants.'

Flambeau changed his tone.

'That's where you're wrong, Danny boy. It isn't worthless? Not to me, nor to the people I will be working with in the future. That ring is estimated to be worth many thousands of pounds. Do you know how many bombs that will buy my...associates in the future?'

Everyone's mouth's dropped, including Tim's and Fuzzair's who had just awoken. The only person who didn't react to Flambeau's evil pronouncement was Chardelia Foss, who stood patiently behind Ella Amur, tapping her foot against the cold stone floor, with a calmness no-one else seemed to share.

'Ella – if you could.'

Ella Amur ripped the tape from Chardelia's mouth and pulled off her blindfold. Instantly, her green eyes squeezed to adjust to the dark and she shook her head to release some of the dust out of her flowing mane of honeygold hair, into which several flowers were entwined.

'Chardelia – come here please.' Flambeau said.

'Yes sir.'

She walked forward, Ron and Eddie parting in the middle. It instantly reminded Danny of the time Chardelia had come to check on the netball team, and Tim and Danny had instinctively parted to let her through. Unstoppable elegance.

Flambeau surveyed her like an equal, looking her up and down. He didn't speak, and neither did Chardelia. Danny could feel the tension rising. The drip drip sounds of the cavern grew louder, and seemed almost deafening in this newly taut silence.

'Why don't you just take it off the bitch?' shouted Ella.

'I can't Ella. We don't know what tricks Miss Foss has up her sleeve.' Flambeau said tentatively.

Chardelia spoke again.

'That's right sir. You don't.'

Quick as a flash, Flambeau's head whipped back to Chardelia. He now seemed almost nervous to Danny, like he had been in the first assembly of the year.

'Can I have it please?' he asked, his voice wavering, not removing his gaze from Chardelia.

'If you are referring to St Oliver Plunket's ring, I am afraid I cannot do that right now. Please release my friends and my mathematics teacher first,' Chardelia said politely but firmly.

Flambeau looked disappointed.

'I'm afraid I can't do that either Chardelia,' he said.

'No ring then,' Chardelia tendered. She sat down on the cold stone floor and crossed her legs. 'I might as well make myself comfortable if we're going to be here until you make a decision, Olivio.'

It was the first time Danny had heard anyone use Professor Flambeau's first name.

Flambeau looked hesitant, as if torn between doing something he wanted to do very badly and something he knew he must do, but couldn't make up his mind. Some minutes elapsed, and Tim blinked furiously to catch Danny's attention.

'I'll make it simple for you, Olivio. Let them go and take me as your prisoner. That way you'll have some leverage for your escape. And I'll give you the ring.'

Danny shouted 'No!! Don't Chardelia! He's not worth it!'

To his great surprise and dejection Chardelia ignored him and continued talking to her headmaster. Danny was sure she couldn't have the ring, he was sure that the ring they spoke of, the ruby ring, rested under his mattress, safe at home, after he had discovered it buried on Amberleigh beach. He also guessed what would happen to Chardelia once Flambeau realized she didn't have any more of the ring than he did.

'Professor Flambeau – you know what you must do,' Chardelia said softly.

Reluctantly, Flambeau began untying Fuzzair and instructed Ron to help him while Eddie stood over them all, holding a pistol in his right hand. Soon they were all free. Danny, Tim and Fuzzair. Danny pulled the tape off Fuzzair's and Tim's mouths.

'Go,' said Flambeau, loudly.

Danny looked hard into Chardelia's jade eyes. Fuzzair was already pulling him and Tim away, but Danny resisted. He wanted to kiss Chardelia. He wanted to tell her what she meant to him, although he barely knew himself. He wanted to thank her, tell her that soon they'd all be out of this. That it wasn't necessary for her to think she should take the punishment for his foolish mistakes, to tell her that he would keep her, he would be with her, he would love her. That he hadn't known what love was until it was too late. He hoped she understood all of this from his long, lingering look, because all he said was 'Goodbye.'

She blinked and said nothing, but the small smile on her face that he could perceive, gone in the same instant it appeared, lit his heart with a feeling he finally knew was love.

Tim pulled him out by the arm, Fuzzair leading the way.

'We can get out this way. Flambeau brought us down this way,' Tim said.

With one turn of his head, Danny looked back at the scene, as Flambeau began tying up Chardelia Foss. Tears started rolling down his cheeks, welling up again inside his burning searing scars. He didn't want to let her go. He could see Eddie fingering his gun anxiously, but soon Tim had pushed Danny behind a rock and they were climbing deep wooden steps, and he could see Chardelia no more.

Slowly the damp cavernous air receded and was replaced with the dusty ordinary odour of St Oliver Plunket's. They climbed up a wooden staircase, until they hit a wooden trapdoor. Fuzzair pushed it open and they all climbed out into a large study. In the middle sat a large mahogany desk, on which stood a number of trays filled with papers. On the walls were paintings of animals – beavers, ferrets, eagles, sharks, lions, tigers, all set against the same background – that of Amberleigh castle. Danny wondered who would keep such paintings, and then realised who the study belonged to. It was Professor Flambeau's. This was the headmaster's office.

Fuzzair hauled Tim up off the floor and dusted himself down.

'We don't have much time.' He hit the fire alarm on the nearest wall, and a loud half siren, half bell-ringing sound rang out, almost deafening them.

'Amanita! She's probably still down there, Professor!'

'What!' screamed Tim, his eyes widening with fear, hysterical concern in his voice.

'She came down with me, but I got caught. She managed to get away. I don't know where she is though – she could be still down there. She could still be in danger.'

Fuzzair stood stock still, thinking, as a glint of blonde hair floated past the door.

'This is like a mathematics problem,' he began to say, scratching his head.

'Look no offense sir or anything, but this is nothing like a maths problem! We have to find her and quick!'

Danny rushed from the study, Tim hot on his heels. A few students loitered in the reception area but Danny was too much in a rush to notice the elegant blonde-headed girl creep back into Flambeau's study. Danny and Tim darted into the school corridor, and again it was full of students making their way out of the school gates and into the playground. Danny knew where they were all headed. Fourlawns was the eventual school assembly point for fires and emergencies. He pushed past several students, Dr Ravana, Dr Cleaver and Professor Slattery and kept on running to the other side of the school. Finally out of breath, panting and gasping for air, they reached the door behind Spiral Two. The door was open, and hanging out of it unconscious, looking weary and dirty, lay Amanita.

Danny crouched down and put his hand on her forehead. It was warm. He rocked her shoulder, trying to rouse her but nothing happened. Tim crouched down and put his hand on her face, wet from tears, caked with mud. Her eyes flickered open and she moved her head up, before exclaiming.

'Ouch. My head.' She rubbed it with her hand and Danny and Tim smiled, glad to see their friend awake and alive.

'Amanita – we have to get out. Flambeau's going to blow the school up!'

A million questions and answers seemed to float through Danny's exhausted mind, but he clung to one thought throughout all – Chardelia was still down there. He might never see her again. Suddenly a wild impulse seized him. He began climbing down the steps again, into the cavern.

'Danny are you mad!' screamed Amanita. 'You'll die!'

Danny turned to face Amanita.

'Amanita – we're all going to die one day, why not today?'

He descended back into the cavern, not caring whether Tim and Amanita decided to follow or escape the castle. Once several feet down he could hear the trickling of water again, and smell the familiar stench of plastic and chemical explosives, wafts of nitroglycerine filling his nostrils. He knew that Tim and Amanita were following behind - he could hear them bickering.

He rushed down the steps and reached the plateau that overlooked the explosive green river. From his vantage point he could see Chardelia in the distance. She knelt on the river bank, facing the water. Her hands tied behind her back, the flowers in her hair fluttered in the gentle cave breeze. Flambeau was nowhere to be seen, and Ron and Eddie had gone too, but Ella stood guard over Chardelia, with a pistol in her right hand pointed at the back of Chardelia's head. Danny gulped. It was as if Ella was waiting for something. Danny looked down the river and saw the boat had disappeared. Immediately he knew that things were not good. Danny knew he had to act.

'Ella. Let her go! The police are coming. You'll be arrested!' Danny shouted. Ella looked up, pointing her gun at Danny she fired a shot straight at him. As soon as Danny saw the barrel of the gun he dived for the stone floor. He heard the shot ricochet off the stone walls and hit the green river below. As soon as the bullet struck the water a small explosion and three flames licked up out of the water, rising to a few feet before subsiding again. Danny knew he wasn't going to be able to reason with her. She started shouting up at him.

'Come to save your precious little school pal? No chance Danny, I'm afraid. She won't be having any more parties. Soon none of us will be here anymore. At least I did my part. Poor Ethelraed – his lessons were shit. Thankfully we don't have to tolerate him any more – thanks to me, that is.'

Danny kept his head low. Ella was only trying to bait him so she could have the pleasure of killing him too. He was right. Another shot rang out and bounced off the rock in front of him. Danny looked around and found a rock, heavy but capable of being thrown a decent distance.

'Yes I killed him Danny...' Ella shouted. 'Just like I'm going to kill you. Got something a little more powerful than a netball today.'

Danny looked up again, hoping to throw the rock at Ella and incapacitate her, but to his horror he looked up and watched helplessly as a beautiful tall, blonde girl walked towards Ella on the river ledge from the opposite direction. It was Janna. She must have overheard them and creeped in from the cavern entrance in Flambeau's study, and chased down to see what was going on.

Ella saw the fleeting concern in Danny's eyes and turned around immediately just as Janna was about to strike her. Ella pulled the gun on Janna at the last minute and Janna gasped in wide-eyed shock, frozen and rooted to the spot. Something sharp in Danny's chest seemed to pierce his heart, and silently scream, 'No!' Ella motioned with the gun for Janna to kneel next to Chardelia. With her gun still in hand, Ella tied Janna up.

'As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, yes I killed him Danny...and I would have got your little girlfriend here too if it hadn't been for - ' But Ella never got to complete her sentence, as Chardelia had swivelled around on her bare knees and knocked Ella off her feet. Her pistol went flying. Danny looked up and saw the two girls tussling – it looked horrendous. They were on the cold stone floor, rolling around pulling out hair, kicking each other everywhere. Ella was winning. She slapped Chardelia across the face and spat at her. Chardelia tried to loosen her hands from the rope but as she did Ella reached across for the gun that had slipped from her grip, and she drew back. Holding it with both hands, Ella pointed the gun at Chardelia.

Chardelia relented and shrank back from Ella towards the water.

Ella stopped shouting, breathing heavier and heavier, looking from Chardelia to Janna, back to Chardelia. Then Janna spoke.

'Why Ella? Why are you doing this? It can't be worth it, can it, to terrorise and threaten your friends, your own classmates?'

Tears streamed down her face as she spoke, smudging her pink mascara. He thought he could see a tear forming in Ella's eye as Janna continued to plead with her, but when Ella turned to face Danny, her expression was as stony as the rocks beneath her, and a hard look of harsh determination had set it. She shouted again, her terrible cracked voice echoing around for all to hear.

'So Danny, I am going to let you have the last word. Which one of these beauties should I let go?'

Danny gulped. Before he had comprehended her question, the swollen tears rushed down his face like a shower of grey rain. He crouched behind his rock contemplating his next move. He had to get her to give herself up. There was no hope of either Chardelia or Janna overpowering Ella now. They were restrained and staring down the barrel of a freshly fired gun. Danny knew it worked. Ella was not firing blanks.

Ella shouted again.

'So? Which one Danny?'

A noise, a terrible echo rang out. Just like the word 'trigger' – a releasing lever that had just been pulled, the sound propelled Danny's blood to flow like a river of fear within him at the firing of another gun shot. Automatically, instinctively and without looking or thinking about anything at all, Danny screamed out.

'JANNA!'

He looked up to see Ella still standing over Janna and Chardelia. In the split-second in which he peered over his rock, he saw Chardelia lean over to whisper something into Janna's ear. Ella had fired into the cavern ceiling, but her next words to Danny were as equally chilling as his scream.

'Very well Danny Canterbury.'

As soon as Danny knew what Ella was going to do it was too late. He screamed again but no words came out as mercilessly, Ella fired one shot into Chardelia's chest. Danny could only watch with horror as painfully slowly, and hitting the rocks on the way down, blood pouring from her open mouth, Chardelia's wounded body fell, limp and helpless, and seeping blood, into the toxic green river below. Janna passed out.

Amanita and Tim arrived behind Danny and surveyed the scene before them. Amanita covered her mouth with her hand and Tim embraced her, shielding her from view. From where Danny crouched, Ella seemed shocked and had started shaking. She raised the gun upwards to her temple. He shouted out.

'Noooo!!!!!'

But again it was too late. Ella had fired the last shot into her head and she tumbled forwards, eventually laying still on the wet black rock in front of her. As the blood poured out of her nose, Danny could tell she was dead.

Danny couldn't tell when the tears had started falling from his eyes, or when he had begun to make that strange wailing noise that Amanita told him about later. He only knew how beautiful he thought Chardelia looked, even in death.

As the hair clip in Chardelia's buttermilk hair melted in the toxic water, the flowers from Chardelia's hair began to separate and drift on the surface. They floated beside her body in fluid garlands. Nettles from the river walls separated and flowed fluently behind her. Daisies and purple carnations swam to her face which appeared the epitome of peace. The willows at the bottom of the river swayed from side to side. As if part of a silent yet melodious song, the current started pulling Chardelia's body out of the dark cavern, away from Danny, out to the waiting sea.

That night I dreamt fitfully of the lost possibility. It was his birthday and I had brought a present along with preparing a room for the event. Janna was there, but it felt as if there were some vagueness between the pair, an interim sensation, a vacancy that could be filled by an interloper like myself. I wore an emerald dress cut abruptly at the hem and pushed my modest cleavage out. In my hair violet ribbons fell and fluttered. When I present my gift – a coffee table book of frozen landscapes and bleak horizons he opens it delightfully before arising and walking to my seat a couple of paces away. Silently, and all the more sublime because of this, he had leant in to kiss me on the lips, a moment long desired. As the pink skin of his mouth welded tentatively with mine I understood the reward was golden, but the nature of it cursory: the briefest of touches to acknowledge thanks, a hint at my burgeoning sexuality, but a curtailment as dismissive as a watery quenching of fire. We would be friends only, the kiss told. This was too much. To be tantalising close to an apotheosis, if not taken now, would never reoccur. I reached my arm around his shoulders, placing my fingers amongst his hair at the nape of his neck, and pushed. His moist lips met mine fully and as the tips of our tongues touched I realised how much I loved him, how desperate was my desire, how bittersweet was the poison that would take him from me.

The eyes spring open and the dream dies, but the moistness, the memory of that sensation, of the way our bodies curved towards the other before the shimmering moment of unity, the kindness that came from humans transferring food into each others' mouths as a way of caring, it all burnt into my memory along with the others, kindled there like logs for a fire that would burn one day if only in my imagination.

**The Amberleigh Cascades**

Danny ran through school, in to Flambeau's study and back down the cavern to rescue Janna. Tears molded to his wet face, he untied her and brought her up to the front of the school, where they met Amanita and Tim. They made their way out of school, half-rushing in case the possibility of bombs remained real. Danny didn't see how it could be. Flambeau had fled and the only person who was around to set any off was Ella who, like Chardelia, was no longer alive. The cognizance filtered his plodding thoughts like a malignancy.

They reached the deserted playground and rushed to Watershoot to row their way to Fourlawns, where the entire school had gathered. However one person was still patrolling the area, checking the school, stopwatch in hand. The small white haired figure of Dunstan Blackbuck approached them, shocked at the ragged state of all three, especially Danny.

'Where have you three been? There's been a fire drill. Why aren't you on Fourlawns with the others? Why...'

Dunstan was about to continue his questions, but he observed in Danny's eyes a misery that required no words of explanation. He merely opened his arms and pointed to the last boat, waiting to take them across to the verdant isle.

As the three of them rowed across they saw several hundred students lining the edges of the island. He made out a grouping of teachers at the front, clambering down the rocks, waiting to help them tie the boat to the jetty on Fourlawns. The first was Wonder, followed by Fuzzair, Pry and Alessandro. A group of fourth-year students watched the arriving boat. Saffelia Forrest, Olive Spritser, Cedric Claw, Sonia Fox and Edmund Cloves all wore expressions of terror and fear. They descended to help the teachers. Danny felt his heart lift. At that moment he struggled to remember anything as soothing as his school friends coming to help the trio from the wooden dingy in the glassy July sunshine.

Alessandro gently carved a path between Saffelia, Olive, Cedric, Sonia and Edmund who surrounded Tim and Amanita.

'Danny, I would like to have a word with you if I may?'

'Sir,' began Danny in a panic, 'she's dead, she's gone. Both...'

Alessandro placed a warm hand on Danny's shoulder. His voice faded as the growing sound of police sirens rang out around the bay. There were noises on the water too. Danny directed his gaze to the sea and saw two police boats patrolling the headland.

'What's going on sir?' Danny asked.

Alessandro hesitated before he spoke, looking Danny up and down, as if sizing him up for something.

'They're retrieving Chardelia's body, Danny. Please, I would be enormously grateful to you if you would walk with me this way a while.'

The pair – teacher and student, counsellor and patient – began walking the edge of the island. Students stared at Danny. Alessandro adjusted his position so he walked on the inside, partly concealing Danny from the mass of people.

'Danny, both Detective Tyburn and Inspector Pemberton are dead. Their bodies were found with gun wounds on the rocks below Watershoot. We have reason to believe, that is us – a group of concerned adults within the school – have reason to believe they were accomplices of the perpetrator of this atrocity.'

'And where _is_ Flambeau?!' Danny said shocked, anger beginning to boil.

Alessandro hesitated, before looking into the brown pools of Danny's eyes. Was he ready? Had he mastered his anger? Alessandro picked up a pebble from the rocky outcrop they had reached and threw it into the ocean. It made a small splash but sent innumerable ripples emanating outwards. There were few students here. Tufty heaths grew around the cliff edges and wild flowers, lilies, roses and crocuses grew here among nettles and rushes. An overwhelming atmosphere of peace settled on this part of the isle.

'I'm afraid Professor Flambeau is no longer at St Oliver Plunket's. We have reason...' Alessandro paused, looking at his feet.

'What! What is it?'

'We have reason to believe he...he has escaped!'

It felt like being punched in the stomach. Danny fell to his knees, tears falling forth from tired, aching eyes. It had all been for nothing. Chardelia was dead and it was all for naught. The criminal – Flambeau had evaded capture.

'Danny. I have to tell you something. We think there was a plot to destroy the school. We couldn't tell anyone for fear of spreading panic. The school might have been closed and we would have never collected the evidence to prosecute. He was the headmaster. He held all the cards. But we _were_ concerned about the student's safety. The moss that surrounds the school and grows within the caverns and caves underneath St Oliver Plunket's a specially designed organic anti-explosive material, designed to suppress and thwart any potential blast. That explosion in the Honeybee Room could have been much, _much_ worse than it was. I don't want you to think we were doing this blindly. But we needed proof. We still do. Danny we need your help. Dunstan is about to...,' said Alessandro simply.

'You knew?' Danny said, unable to take it in. 'You knew?!'

'Yes Danny. I'm afraid to say we did,' Alessandro said, sadness shadowing his voice.

It was too much. All his life Danny's recalcitrant faith had been stored in adults. In teachers and parents who were the designated protectors. It was a shock to learn they were as weak as him, as futile as him, as impotent and blind and flawed and unable to protect him any more than he could himself.

'Go away. Leave me alone,' Danny said.

'You mustn't be like that. We still need your help,' Alessandro repeated. 'We need yours and your friends' help with Chardelia's funeral.'

Danny turned to look at him.

'I loved Chardelia,' Danny said simply, eyes full of tears. 'Forty thousand petals could fall on her grave but they will not bring her back.

Alessandro sensed it was not the time, and sensitively retreated. He left Danny alone with the pale pastel flowers as he continued to gaze out at the empty, vast ocean.

*

The fiery amber sun glowed undiminished on the small seaside town of Amberleigh. A young boy of fifteen walked among the cobbles, avoiding the gossiping pedestrians as they collided in the town centre. Blinded by brightness, was it just Danny who felt a biting wind of indifference?

He wandered aimlessly in and out of shops, drifting into Dreamland Discs and O'Donnells, dawdling past Slick Nicks as all the fashionistas having their nails done turned to stare and point, past The Dropshot tennis club where tall poplars swayed gently. These childhood haunts absorbed the new poignancy time had lent them, and now emitted bittersweet sadness. Would he remember what they meant to him before it happened? Would they forever be marked with the tragic episode from his teenage years? Could the innocence and effervescence of burgeoning adolescence be preserved?

Danny retreated to a bench and watched the passers-by, unperturbed in their routine shopping rush and bustle. Life steamed ahead regardless. Nothing stops. Nothing changes really. Streams of individual thought supplied the rivers of action in people's lives, not a collective consciousness. Chardelia Foss was far from their thoughts, just another write-up in the _Amberleigh Post_. Sometimes he felt only he could remember her because of the intimacy of her last moments, known only to him. How she was when she bravely ignored his pleas to not give herself up, to sacrifice herself. The expression on her face when Ella...when Ella... He could not complete the awful thought; it slipped to the back of his mind, somewhere he hoped would be locked away, never to be opened again.

It was weary sitting and watching the dense flow of life float past him, monotonous and interminable, like a broken tree branch pulled by an unceasing and deceptive current. A seagull flew overhead and came to rest on his bench, poking around for scraps of bread on the floor, before eyeing Danny's sandwich poking out of his bag.

He was still on his lunch break, but had walked in to town to get away from school, to escape the endless questions. It wasn't that he resented his friends and his teachers; they were only expressing compassion and sorrow in the way they knew best. Danny just knew the only thing that made sense to him was to create empty space for himself, to process the tragedy on his own.

Time ticked on, but Danny didn't wish to return to Plunket's for afternoon lessons. Chukchi was taking them for poetry – the last lesson on a Friday afternoon. But there were no words to articulate the terror Chardelia Foss must have felt, sitting on that river ledge, praying for someone to save her. No words could compensate or even come close to touching the well of vacancy and void Danny felt. Words were ultimately useless.

So instead, he walked in the opposite direction, to the other side of Amberleigh. Away from his school, away from his home, he began to take the path that led a cliffside route to Amberleigh Cascades, the waterfall known to locals but hidden to tourists. There was a well-trodden path that led along rushes and long grass, over sand dunes, but he took a left and walked inland for a while eventually reaching a pile of rocks that looked dark and black but tellingly wet. He turned left again and walked along a precarious ledge leading towards a beautiful and calm river. The river Amber. A few steps further he could hear the trickle, growing louder and louder, until at last he turned another corner following the river and the full majesty of the cascades was revealed to him. A couple of locals stood at the top of the waterfall, sitting and relaxing while they ate lunch. Down here though, where Danny was, there was no one. Just him and the river. He took a seat on a smoothish rock and allowed the flood of his thoughts to overrun him.

It felt like a haunting. When he was a child he had seen those ghost films; those cartoons that made the concept seem humorous. He had heard the ghost stories, the myths, the strange happenings, and the scientific reasons. He had seen the television documentaries, the occasional media frenzy or indulgence into unexplained phenomena. There was even a book on phasmophobia he had read after picking it out of Bookshelf. None of these experiences matched up to what now coursed through the alleys and gates of his cerebral membranes and his soul, making him feel all at once, half-dead and too alive. The skin tingled, the hairs stood on end, the prickling sensation down his back wouldn't disappear. The both fleeting and yet somehow everlasting thoughts of Chardelia's final gaze came marching back into his mind like an army, leaving heavy footprints.

His eyes were heavy. The nights of torrid sleep told their story on his tired features. Each morning he washed his face with water, throwing it over himself with such abandon – soaking his shirt in the process – in the hope it would wash away the guilt, the fear, the stickiness into which he had been plunged. It was this reflection that made him get up from his wet rock seat, which had become uncomfortable, and climb down the steep rock face to try to touch the peaceful whistle of the River Amber, flowing shallow over pebbles and stone, washing them clean.

It felt good to be climbing down, doing something energetic, although a couple of times he nearly slipped and fell. Each time his survival instinct kicked in and he put out a hand or a leg or an elbow or his jagged stained knee to halt gravity's grip. Finally, he reached the bottom. He watched the people at the top of the waterfall turn and point at him but Danny didn't care. He was only concerned about one thing. Coupling himself to Chardelia. It hadn't worked in life. Perhaps?

The oncoming rush was growing louder. It would be a welcome oblivion. To feel the rushing power of natural water overcome his body, hopefully knock him off his feet, and erase the guilt from his life.

He reached the cascades and stared up at them. This close, their role as a peaceful backdrop to landscape metres away, vanished. Their awesome power sounded as immense as thunder. The water must have been crashing into the bottom at more than a hundred miles an hour. It was falling so fast it foamed in a blur of white mass against the black rocks. It seemed to Danny a thousand angels were coming to life as they rushed to the floor, each with their hands and arms outstretched before disappearing into the ether, only to be replaced by a thousand more. A mad acceleration of the cycle of life.

There were shouts from above. Someone called out.

'Hey there mate. I wouldn't get any closer if I were you.'

Danny smiled ruefully to himself. How close had he been to Chardelia when it had happened? Not close enough he told himself, and he took another step to the dangerous pool of water now encroaching on his already wet trainers.

He felt the light spray kiss his face, and it felt at once blissful and tragic. The hint of danger promised by his proximity to the waterfall struck his spirit, and a new sensation flowed through his body, making him feel stronger and more alive. He stepped back and again watched the water fall. It steamed down, endless, unstoppable, neverending. Who could halt nature in its irretrievable tracks? Who could stop what had been proceeding for millions of years and would continue for longer, bubbles of life popping in and out of existence as brief as a water droplet's progress to the rocks? Danny's moment of fear had been a split-second in a universe of unimpeded grace. The uselessness and pathetic splendour of Danny's pointless life washed over him in waves.

It was enough to occupy his thoughts on the lonely walk back to Plunket's.

*

He was late for Chukchi's lesson although when he interrupted a quiet class, Chukchi didn't admonish him. She merely motioned for him to take the empty seat beside Amanita who moved her open book of poems across so he could read it too. He beamed at her and a faint smile broke on Amanita's lips.

They were reading Christina Rosetti's _The Convent Threshold_. Dr Chukchi had written five questions on the blackboard about the poem. The last one caught Danny's eye. Casting his eye over the poem, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

What do you think is the reason for Rosetti's focus on dreams? Please cite examples from the text when constructing your response.

Danny read the poem again, but particularly the lines that mentioned dreaming sequences. For him, they were daggers striking his heart like lightning.

For all night long I dreamed of you

I woke and prayed against my will

Then slept to dream of you again

The words were just small blotches of ink, spiky instances of type on cream parchment. Yet still a sensation of impassioned awe overcame him, and Danny struggled to stop the tears flowing. He picked up his pen and began writing in his exercise book. With every word a new memory of Chardelia jumped into his mind, like slides in an endless and almost torturous picture show. He moved his fountain pen softly over the cheap lined paper, allowing the ink to spill onto the page in curling, hard shapes. Shapes with the ability to wound.

He looked up at the next question. When he glanced back down he saw he had written five pages already. The bell rang out. As students trooped out of class gleefully for the weekend, Danny walked to Chukchi's desk and rested his exercise book on top of the tottering pile.

Tim and Amanita waited for him in the playground. The trio had agreed to go for a drink after the events of the week, and to celebrate their achievements with the _Oracle_ that year. They walked in almost silence to the cafe at the back of O'Donnell's. Danny ordered a lemonade. Tim tried to order a beer but was swiftly declined. They sat sipping their drinks, hoping that another would break the awful silence, now breeding like a disease at their table.

'Chardelia woudn't have wanted us to be sad?' Tim offered hopefully. Nobody said anything, and Tim's half-question hung pregnant in the sugary air. Danny cleared his throat and spoke quietly.

'We don't know that. Nobody really knew what Chardelia would have wanted. We didn't know her that well at all, did we?' Again the silence took over their table. There was nothing to say to Danny's response.

The group at the next table were also remarkably quiet. It seemed to Danny the whole world should be mourning, but to have their own particular misery shared by complete strangers seemed odd. He turned his head and saw Saffelia, Hazel, Mary and Florence all sipping cups of tea. Their usual giggles had disappeared, and the frothy smiles that ordinarily adorned their youthful faces had vanished. Deep lines and worried frowns told on their expressions and blemished any lingering jollity. Danny had never seen the girls like that before. It was a reminder to Danny of the sense of loss he already felt, but something restless in his heart was settled from their shared suffering. It was not him alone. He had to remember that, and never forget it.

They drank their drinks, paid the bill and walked home for contemplative weekends.

*

At Monday morning break time the second and third years sped up and down the school corridor, giggling and playfully teasing one another as per usual. The fifth years were absent, having completed their GCSE examinations and officially departed Plunket's. To Danny the school seemed remarkably empty without them. The authority, the maturity that was always one year out of reach had disappeared. Soon their year would advance to the top of the school. Soon they would all have the chance to become house captains, prefects and even vote for a new head boy and head girl. It all seemed so silly now. The head girl Danny would have voted for had departed. It felt a horrible emptiness, a great cavity open inside him. With only a week left of school, Danny thought that while the other years may have hope of celebrating the oncoming six weeks of summer holiday, his time would be filled with grief.

As he walked alone into assembly, a slender girl with long brown hair and an inextinguishable twinkle in her eye ran up to him. She seemed out of breath. Danny looked down at her. Feelings of almost filial love ran through him. His eyes came to a stop at the large bulge in her stomach, the baby she was carrying inside of her.

'Hi Anjalie. How are you?' Danny said, in a subdued but friendly voice.

'Fine,' Anjalie replied. 'Danny I wanted to speak to you before assembly starts.' Danny looked her over. People were starting to pile into the assembly hall and take their seats.

'Can't it wait?' he asked, eager to hear what would be said by Flambeau's replacement, whoever that might be.

'No, I'm afraid it can't.' The twinkle had vanished from her eye, and a serious gaze fixed his face. Danny's heart sank. He didn't want to hear it. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him off to the nearby music rooms, leading him into a separate practice room, the same one Amanita had told them all about the _Oracle_ at the start of the year. Anjalie closed the door behind her.

'Danny. I don't really know how to tell you this,' she began.

'Why don't you just come out and say it?' Danny said, irritable he was probably missing what he had waited a week to hear; although the deep foreboding inside told him he must hear Anjalie out. Looking at her feet she muttered nervously.

'Okay...there's been a mistake at the hospital. Gabriel...I mean Squish, he isn't the father of my child.'

She slowly looked up into Danny's wide eyes, which absorbed the news she was silently telling him.

They hurried into St Basil's in time to get the last two seats, and timed it just as Professor Alessandro stepped up to the lectern. Dunstan Blackbuck, Professor Pry and Professor Wonder stood immediately behind, with the rest of the school staff. Alessandro moved the lectern aside so the students could see the whole of him. He opened his palms and bowed his head. He spoke gravely, with acquired authority.

'Ladies and gentlemen. Please. We will now have one minute's silence for Chardelia Foss and Ella Amur.'

Danny could hardly believe his ears. Why was Ella mentioned in the same breath? She was a murderer! He bowed his head respectfully and tried hard to think of Chardelia in her happier moments, checking the netball team list, dancing at her party, telling him she liked him...

Bryn Straw sat at the piano. He began a familiar two-note trill to indicate the minute's silence was over. Alessandro opened his mouth to speak again.

'We will now hear Bryn Straw's new song, which he has dedicated to Chardelia Foss, who co-wrote it with him.'

Bryn burst into _The Water Moves_.

It was all Danny could do to halt the tears from falling. Across the aisle from him, Amanita and Saffelia hugged each other. Tim looked pale, and drummed his fingers nervously on his leg. Finishing his singing, Bryn brought the song to its melodramatic close. Alessandro stepped forward again and opened his arms to the students.

'Some of you, indeed many of you may be wondering why I am standing before you today. I'm sure the school gossip vines have not failed to disseminate news of the terrible tragedy that beset this school in the past days. It was a deeply sorrowful incident, and we lost some of our best students at the hands of a heinous, murderous reign of terror. Ladies and gentlemen, that reign of terror is now finished. The deaths will cease. Professor Flambeau is gone and we, that is the teachers and the Parents and Teacher's Society are confident this episode is now over. Professor Flambeau is still at large, it is true, but he will not be returning here.'

Alessandro paused, and took a couple of steps forward.

'He will not be returning here. I can guarantee you that. Life at this school will continue as normal for the rest of the year, what little is left. On Wednesday we will hold Chardelia's funeral at St Martha's chapel, of which all fourth years are welcome to attend, should they so wish. There will be no lessons in the afternoon to allow those who wish to come.'

Alessandro's tone lightened.

'We will also host the final of the house music competition on Friday, as per usual. A new replacement for Professor Flambeau will be in place when you return to your classes in September. At that point some of you will enter your final year at St Oliver Plunket's. I sincerely hope it will be a pleasant, peaceful and studious year for all. Thank you.'

Alessandro stepped back, breathing heavily as the students filed out of St Basil's. Danny's legs felt like lead weights. His lunch hour was next and then he had double English in the afternoon. He wanted to stay in the hall a bit longer though. Some placid voice inside whispered for him to remain still, like an undisturbed lake of water surrounded on all sides by tall protective mountains. Saffelia and Tim approached Danny. Saffelia held Tim's hand, whose head was bowed.

'Hey mate. How was your weekend?'

Danny smiled at Saffelia. She was unfailingly honest, a virtue Danny valued above all others.

'It was okay considering,' he managed to say.

'Of course, of course. We've got a bit of a question to ask you actually Danny.'

Saffelia nudged Tim in the elbow, who was still humming the tune to Bryn's melody.

'Yes, that's right mate. Do you fancy coming away with us this summer? We're going camping for a week in the Snowfall Grove.'

Tim hesitated to see if he could read the reaction in Danny's eyes, before adding, 'Amanita's coming too.'

Danny raised his eyebrows and Tim could see he was thinking about it.

'When are you going?'

At the top of the castle, that was the location of their secret meetings. Only they weren't secret any more. The opening of the Oracle press room to all contributors was tempting – a chance to involve myself in something outside of my current pickles, and an opportunity to become something more than a temporary corridor glance to him. A chance to see him too – to spend more time and perhaps become a permanent fixture in his life, like those inseparable two companions who had been with him almost from birth. But no, it would probably fail. It would not work. Rumours he had impregnated Anjalie are surfacing and even if it isn't true, I saw them walk off together at the end of that first day. What did Pry say to him when she held him back at the end of the lesson that day? I would have given all the freckles on my nose to know. There were things that happened across school I know nothing about, and would dearly love to, yet there are things I know no-one else does too. Maybe this was the trade-off in life – one thing for another – I should settle for this. No-one can have it all.

**P.A.T.S.**

Their last English lesson of the year had arrived. Pry clutched a bunch of end of year exam results in her hands as she patrolled up and down the aisles, occasionally issuing warning glances at various students. Coming to a halt at the front of the class she stood on tiptoes, her signature move. She bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet, as was her custom when she felt playful.

'Class, I am sure you are waiting expectantly for your end of year results.' Pry paused, staring at the class over her spectacles.

'You will no doubt have been spending every night sleeplessly awaiting this moment,' she uttered, a wry smile crossing her lips. She began handing back the exam papers, each scribbled on with a red circle and a mark. Walking across the class silently, gasps of joy or sullen faces erupting were the result of her distributions. Danny looked up and saw Pry stood before him, her face inscrutable. She reached into her pile of papers and pulled one sheaf out looking at it hard, before offering it to him. Slowly Danny reached out his hand and grasped the paper with his hand, however Pry did not let go. She turned to look at him closely, and opened her mouth to speak. At this distance Danny could see her sapphire-gel eyes twinkling.

'I have high hopes for your success in the future, Master Canterbury.'

She let go and Danny took the paper, scrutinising it carefully. At the top was the singular word 'Exceptional' with a red circle containing the letter 'A'. A wave of warm feeling rushed through Danny and the tension within his shoulders and his back disappeared. He sat back and breathed a long, relaxing, relieving breath. He looked across at Amanita, who was also smiling.

*

Ashen clouds churned beyond the stained classroom pane and threatened disappointment. Danny sat in French. As a special treat for their last lesson of the year Dr Cleaver had brought in French board games for them to play, along with traditional french food – croissants, pain au chocolat and orange juice, or 'jus' as Cleaver insisted they call it. Tim lounged at his desk munching half-heartedly on a croissant. Something was wrong.

Danny strolled over and sat next to him.

'Alright mate. How's it hanging?'

Tim didn't even look up, replying in a monotone.

'I'm not sure I can even be bothered coming back to school next year. I think I've lost the taste for it,' he said, gulping half his croissant down in one.

Danny picked up a playing piece from one of the board games. It was a carved little wooden man, with a hat in one hand and a cane in the other. He twiddled it absent-mindedly in his fingers, considering Tim's mood.

'What's brought this on?' Danny said, knowing the answer as soon as he asked. Familiar cold dread flowed in Danny as Tim began his answer.

'Chardelia Foss. You were right. None of us really knew her at all. None of us took the time. We condemned her to her isolation of one, after that whole Duocorn cult business. I mean, why were we holding that against her? It was years ago. We should have made more efforts to include her in our gang. Yet she was always...omnipresent. She was always there, if you know what I mean. She always seemed better than the rest of us, and she was willing to die to for us. I feel like crap when I think of the person I've been compared to her.'

Tim's monologue filtered through a cracked voice. He was afraid of looking in Danny's teary eyes. A volcano of melancholy erupted inside Danny and overflowed with a lava of self-indulgence. No-one seemed able to snap him from his solipsistic trance. On one hand he was empty, Janna had been drained from his life, school was nearly finishing, the terror and danger had disappeared. Yet he was full. Brimming over with remorse and regret. The ones we loved we never even knew at all, Danny thought. That lack of knowledge forged a gully of unsaid love which sloshed and splashed and gushed in his veins. They pass with the turning of a head, the flick of a finger, the splash of a drop of water into a vast and unknowable ocean. It seemed arbitrary. Random. Possibly, maybe she had loved him? What opportunity had he been given to return that love? Had he done everything he could have done? Had he justified the gift of life that she bestowed to him with her worthy dying act? Was he at last discovering that the human spirit inside him, was in truth, flawed and deeply feeble?

Amanita appeared at his table. She wore a couple of mauve and lilac flowers in her hair. Tim reached over and hugged her, as Danny looked out the window. The drawing in of a claustrophobic grey cloud made him contemplate Chardelia's funeral and, as if in answer to that silent reflection, the rain began to pound on the closed glass.

*

The red and white checked tablecloth billowed before Danny as his sister laid it across the thick oak table. Polly wordlessly collected the knives and forks as his father prodded the golden skin with metal prongs. William cut into the bird, releasing the baked moisture and the lovely warm smell of roast chicken around the kitchen-cum-dining room.

William handed plates of steaming food around to them both. It smelt glorious. Aromas of sweet carrots and sugary parsnips mixed with the crispness of sticky roasts and beefy gravy. A soft ballad echoed from the radio in the kitchen.

William Canterbury was a stout and burly man, with a broad mind and a kindly nature. He poured gravy thickly on Polly's plate. Danny held his hand over his plate when William offered him the same. They began eating, the radio still playing a mixture of pop hits and easy melodies, dominating their weekly feast.

After dinner Polly cleared away the plates and brought a large metal tin to the table which contained a golden brown apple pie. The smell of cinnamon filled their small dining room. William cleared his throat and addressed Danny.

'So it's tomorrow then son?'

Danny swallowed his last mouthful of chicken uncomfortably and nodded. He stared straight ahead, not wanting to speak lest he burst into tears and invited further interrogations from his father, however gentle they were. His distress must have been visible as William rested his hand on Danny's arm.

'It may help you to talk about it, you know son. What is it about this girl that has affected you so much?'

Danny turned to face his father, eyes full of tears. He was about to speak when Polly began signing rapidly. William turned to Polly and signed back.

'Your sister tells me to leave you alone.' A slight benevolent chuckle crossed William's features.

'She well advises you then,' Danny uttered in the Shakespearean voice he often used at home. He carved out some apple pie and dropped it on his saucer before submerging it with cream.

Polly was reading a book whilst eating her pie. Danny signed to ask her what it was. She upturned the book to let Danny see the cover. It read: _Dreams and Reality: A Pathway through the Nightmare_ by Izumo Kari. Danny signed again, asking Polly if it was any good. She signed back, nodding and smiling at the same time. It made sense of all the weird thoughts that preoccupied her during the day following an especially strong dream, she told him. Did she ever write her dreams down, Danny asked. She replied no, but she often told her friends about them and then they used to stick in the memory more rigidly. She told Danny she frequently had a dream that she was a pop singer winning a television talent show, and on waking she would be filled with gnawing disappointment because her fantasy was too far from her real life – no deaf-mute could win a singing competition. Something twanged like a false chord inside Danny. He realised how lucky he was, the things he had taken for granted were dreams to others. His dreams of Janna Chisely, of Chardelia Foss, of Robin Vernal tormented him regularly. These girls, for one reason or another, had disappeared from his life. But was the reality ever like the dream and vice versa? Perhaps there is a quality in dreams inseparable from fantastic desire. Perhaps we can never attain our dreams because it is in the nature of human desire to fail and to seek that which is beyond them. The incredible flaw of man, Danny thought.

The family meal had been a comfort in the emotional hurricane of the last few days, but Danny was not ready to talk. Not yet anyway. William sighed, resting his elbows on the table. It wobbled and the cream jug fell, spilling its contents on the tablecloth. Polly laughed, amused at her father's clumsiness. The laughter grew like a contagious ripple of hysteria. Soon they were all laughing, drowning out the song playing on the radio and the heavy sound of pounding rain on the roof of Dunkinley.

*

St Martha's chapel was packed when Danny arrived, running down the short path leading away from Amberleigh castle and into the church out of the pouring rain. Someday he would learn to be on time. The chapel was surprisingly big inside and was filled with the earthy dusty smell churches contain. The damp smell of the congregation, lifting their coats off and resting sodden umbrellas on the floor made the smell thicker. Behind the altar laid into the window frames shone a magnificent multi-coloured stained glass façade. It had been designed by former Plunket's students. Danny always thought of the painting of the Last Judgement in the Sistine Chapel in Rome whenever he saw it. He had not been to Rome, but he had heard stories about it from his father. A single white wooden box stood in the centre of the aisle on a plinth. It seemed to glow with white light in the middle of the damp church, illuminating it for the mourners.

Danny's eyes roamed the chapel, searching for Tim and Amanita. At the front Chardelia's teachers – Pry, Wonder, Alessandro – stood with sombre expressions but there were also two men who Danny did not recognize. One seemed young, a few years older than Danny perhaps. He wore a stricken expression of grief on his handsome face and beneath blonde tufts of hair, traces of wispy gold hovered above his ears. The other man was older. Even from his seated position he looked imposingly tall. White hair poked from beneath his hat, which Danny was surprised he had not removed.

Tim and Amanita were halfway up the church, in a packed row with Coco Romeo, Bryn Straw, Rosetti and Emily Duocorn, and Janna Chisely. A constriction rose inside Danny, and then fell. Edmund Cloves and Sonia Fox sat in a half-empty row towards the back, and he decided to join them. Genuflecting as he entered the pew, he nodded briefly to the pair. Edmund wore a dark blue jumper and black trousers, and all of Sonia's usual colour had vanished to be replaced by a white blouse with black neckerchief. A man wearing vestments below a dog collar appeared at the pulpit and the simmering conversation in the pews dissipated.

The priest opened his arms to the congregation, his warm smile radiating out to everyone.

'Welcome to you all on this sad day and thank you for coming. We are here to pay our last respects to Chardelia Foss. Before we begin, I would like to invite Louis Foss, Chardelia's brother to say a few words.'

The priest walked from the pulpit and welcomed to the altar the young man with the stricken face Danny had seen at the front. He leaned forward with a stoop when he walked and Danny realised it must be a Foss family trait.

At first it looked as if he was not going to be able to speak. Etched on his roman features was a profound expression of pain. He bowed his head in silent prayer, then raised it again and leaned in the microphone to speak. Danny saw his eyes first. Two piercing hazel-green eyes that possessed an unearthly compassion, like a friendly alien from another planet. He recognized those eyes. Chardelia's eyes.

When he spoke the congregation jolted awake to Louis' crisp confidence, his voice a revelation of tremelo amid enduring grief.

'Chardelia Foss was my younger sister. Of course, I need not tell you that I loved her deeply, more than words can say. My words anyway. I have been lucky enough in the past few days to speak to some of her teachers and school friends and found she was a well-loved and respected friend and student. It is no surprise to me to see so many of you here today. My sister was a magical human being. To say I will miss her immensely barely does justice to the dark font of feelings I know will stay with me to my own dying day.'

Danny thought he heard something catch in Louis' throat, and wondered if he might stop, but that thought vanished as Louis continued as confidently and as seriously as before.

'Chardelia died with no stain upon her character, with no blemish on her countenance. When the toxic waters closed in around her and attempted to pollute her body, her soul and remarkable spirit remained unpolluted. It always will. I would ask those school friends who were with her when she died to carry the following message with them, wherever they go in their future lives: Chardelia loved you; she died for you.'

Danny gulped. It was too much. An overwhelming flood of feeling rose up and floored him like a fissure in the back of his skull. As the blood drained from his head he began to feel the familiar sensation of incapacitation, and fell to his knees. Sonia bent down to check he was okay. He slumped forward, his head resting on the back of the pew in front. Louis Foss continued his address, portentous words Danny had heard before, resounding across this cold chapel and echoing for eternity in his head.

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand

The words were angry daggers, piercing every memory and thought he had ever conceived of Chardelia. Then there was blackness. When Sonia and Edmund pulled Danny, the pall-bearers were already leading the coffin out of the chapel. They led the way into the graveyard, with the mass of black-dressed mourners and congregation following tearfully and resolutely on.

Dark clouds gathered overhead. A reawakened Danny saw tinges of burnished mauve and pewter pink line the clouds. When they moved closer together, brief flashes of lightning illuminated the scene in front of them. Thick slops of rain dripped in irregular sloshes, before beginning to pour steadily. The weather was like a plane starting to drift down the runway before accelerating, hurtling too fast for the surrounding air to keep up.

A dozen or so umbrellas rose from the mass of huddled people surrounding the grave. A temporary protective cover for the living. Not that the rain could harm or even touch poor Chardelia now. Danny stood on the edge of the group, while Louis Foss stood at the rim of the grave as the white coffin was slowly lowered into the wet earth.

'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,' said the priest.

Danny wiped away a tear that rolled down his still scarred cheek. From the gap between the heads before him he saw fully the tall man with the hat. He was older than most of the teachers. His lined face told of weariness and experience, years from a bygone era, a different generation. For his advanced age, surely he had not expected to attend a funeral for someone as young as Chardelia. As the coffin finally rested on the mud at the bottom of the hole, the older man stepped forward. He removed his hat, and Danny saw it was decorated with a single violet, the stem piercing the rim. The man glanced at it briefly before tossing it into the dark hole below.

'A flower that will surely wilt for a flower that surely never will. Chardelia, my best friend, my delight, my soul, my daughter.'

He looked up at the remaining mourners with a confused look in his eye. As his senses returned the confusion vanished and the man drew himself up and began speaking to them, in a rich contrabass voice, even deeper than his son's.

'Friends, my name is Albany Foss and I am Chardelia's father. I thank you all for coming on this the saddest of days. Chardelia would surely have been delighted with your presence. You are all welcome to our house for a drink and a bite to eat after the burial is concluded. Please, please do come.'

Other mourners stepped forward to pay their last respects and sprinkle holy water on the coffin. Emily Duocorn, Amanita, Pry, Wonder, Saffelia, Alessandro, before finally Danny stepped forward, dipping his cold and already wet hand into the dish of cool holy water. He threw his hand forward as the tiny droplets fell into the hole and onto the pristine white coffin underneath. A fleeting image passed through his mind, not that of Chardelia Foss, but of Robin Vernal. The ghost who had appeared to him earlier in the year. Had he imagined it? Would he forever be haunted by Chardelia too? A warm feeling, like submersion into a warm bath ran through him and he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, but when he turned no one was standing near enough to touch him. Albany and Louis Foss smiled gently, their gaze conjoined on him. Danny reached into his pocket and touched the slip of paper he had left there since the Spring. He pulled it out and looked at it. The writing from it had vanished. It was an empty piece of lilac-coloured paper.

Danny held out his hand with the piece of paper to Albany who considered him for a moment before taking the slip from him. He rested his left hand on Danny's shoulder and took his right hand in his.

'Danny Canterbury I believe?'

Danny nodded.

'Would you be kind enough to walk with me for a moment?'

*

At the wake Danny couldn't wait to catch up with Amanita and Tim. He was in a frenzy of excitement after what Albany had told him; his first thought had been to share it with his closest friends.

In the daylight Chardelia's house was just as dominating in the maple tree-lined avenue in which she lived, although a little less sparkling under pewter rain clouds. Danny ran up the drive with the energy of a little boy who had discovered a fabulous new game to play. Amanita and Tim sat on the porch chatting to Anjalie and Squish. Something akin to fear and anxiety leapt in Danny's stomach at the sight of Anjalie. He motioned with his head that he wanted a private word and Amanita and Tim politely excused themselves. Danny caught Anjalie's glare as she turned her head, burning with curiosity at what he could not share with her.

'Right,' Danny said, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. 'You have to listen to me. It's all part of a big conspiracy, a big plan.'

His words tumbled out like snowflakes falling from a leaden sky, like rain from a hidden cloud.

'Chardelia was in on it, so is her father Albany, so is her brother Louis. They work for a government agency. All of them. An anti-terrorist agency.'

'Slow down, slow down,' Amanita said excitedly, thinking it was the right thing to say but secretly wishing Danny would hurry up and tell them. Mentally she was attempting to store all this new information, while the possibility of issuing another edition of the _Oracle_ during the summer break was sprouting in her mind like a well-tended seed.

'Flambeau had been under their radar for months, but they couldn't prove anything. They brought Chardelia into their plan, and used her as a plant in the school. And waited.'

The pair looked at Danny, stunned. Tim however was not too stunned to finish eating his sausage and cheese sandwich while he listened to the news.

'But...but...how...could...we're only kids! They put us in that danger?!' Tim shouted. Amanita rested her hand on his shoulder.

'They probably couldn't do anything else, Timothy' she said softly, the use of his full name making his head turn. 'They had to do what they could to catch him.'

'But they didn't catch him did they?' Tim continued, picking up momentum. 'He's still out there, waiting to strike again. It could be us next that is floating face up in that toxic river of...of...fear!'

Danny looked at him. He felt and knew at once was Tim was feeling, but something new had entered his conscience now, something had relieved the weight of guilt from his mind. He was not to blame. There was comfort, small albeit, that Chardelia had some knowledge about a destiny Danny was never intended to own.

'He'll never come back to our school,' Danny said softly.

'How do you know?' Amanita and Tim both said in unison.

Danny looked at them carefully. He had told them this much, but he had now hit a wall. He knew he could not tell them anymore. The secret lodged somewhere in his heart, his throat. He could not say the words.

But he did.

'Because there will be secret service agents guarding the school. There already are. We just...' Danny faltered momentarily, 'we just don't know who they are. If Flambeau comes within fifty feet of the school they'll shoot him dead, just like Ella shot poor Chardelia.'

Amanita's eyelids lifted slightly.

'But what about Ella? How did she fit in?'

'She was bribed by Flambeau. She was offered a bribe, thousands of pounds from the sale of Oliver Plunket's ring. She didn't have any morals, her family needed the money, I hear. She went along with it, but as soon as she killed...well you saw what happened. Obviously, she was not the same as Flambeau.'

'How do you know all this?' Tim asked, although the answer presented itself to Tim as soon as the words left his lips.

'Alessandro. He knows it all. He's been passing it on to Albany and Louis. There's a big ring of agents. You know PATS...

'Yeah – it's the Parent's and Teacher's Society' exclaimed Tim, struggling to understand what relevance this had.

'No – that's what they'd like you to think it stood for, so no-one really got scared. It actually stands for Plunket's Anti-Terrorist Squad, but only those who are members know this. To the rest of us it's just an innocent after school teacher-parental body.

'And guess who the chair of PATS is?'

Tim and Amanita looked at Danny, confusion and weariness reigning in their eyes.

'Dunstan Blackbuck!' Danny announced proudly. 'He's been watching us three all year. He's a senior source for the secret service.'

Amanita rested against the white wooden strut holding up the porch. She closed her eyes as a drop of rainwater fell from the sloping veranda roof onto her newly dyed strawberry-blonde hair.

'This is too much,' she said, whilst Tim munched on an apple. 'We could have had a bumper issue of the _Oracle_ out to cover this, but now it's too late.'

Danny and Tim rolled their eyes. The rain had ceased and behind a distant black cloud a strong white light was appearing, lighting up the white of the porch and the Foss house. It was plenty to take in, Danny silently conceded, but it was better than thinking Chardelia was an unprotected, unknowing, vulnerable victim. It was better than thinking Chardelia had died to save him, though undoubtedly she had. But not just him. She had been given a job to do – a job no child or teenager should ever be asked to do, but she had done it. An exalted girl, dying in the course of a sublime and terrible duty.

One thing makes me glad – when he loped down the hill with Anjalie he looked happy. Little Danny Canterbury growing up. I remember him from my first class in little school – a quiet shy boy afraid to speak up in class while all the dullards and idiots had their ponderous prank-filled speeches planned. He always ran around the playground like a madman, like someone possessed, as if once the flight of his imagination took hold he became a different person entirely – a person consumed by a love so weighty, expressing it might be to fatally damage it.

**Wide Blue Sky**

The wake wore on. Professor Pry approached the trio smiling sweetly, yet Tim's legs still shook.

'Come now Mr Gaunt, not still scared of your meek old literature teacher now are you?' she said slowly.

Tim looked at her, his eyes bulging out of their sockets with fear, and wordlessly nodded. They all laughed. The stereo came on and played quietly a song Danny had heard before but didn't identify until he heard four immortal lines.

A pair of roaming doves

In the glare of the morning sun

They cannot hold on to love

They know their race is run

At the sound of words being sung soft sensations rose up in him. Something containing both joy and sadness, both disaster and triumph, both love and pain. The something felt inimitably like life. As he drifted into his musical daydream, tapping his foot slowly in time to the music only he was paying attention to, he did not see a young, small girl with long dark hair collected into a pony tail, and a large bump in her stomach, stroll up to him, tears forming in her wide brown eyes.

'Danny...' a small voice called to him through the music. 'Danny...what about my baby?'

He heard the tears in her quavering voice. It grew even softer, tugging at invisible strings on his heart. 'Please, please Danny...will you love my baby...will you love your own baby?'

Briefly irked that his enjoyment of the song had been interrupted. Danny slowly turned to Anjalie and looked into her fearful eyes.

'Of course I will.'

He embraced her and as he pulled her closer to him he felt her soft breasts and stomach press in on him, and something like love rushed through him. Flawed, unplanned, imperfect love. Love of a kind so unstoppably true, natural, so sudden and so overwhelming one had no choice but to obey. He had lost his virginity to this girl, he was going to have a baby with this girl, but most of all this girl was nowhere near perfect, putting the unattainable perfection of both Chardelia and Janna distinctly into the shade. She wasn't perfect, but as he had painfully learned this year, perfection was an illusion devised to taunt us. There was more beauty in flawed humanity; there was more beauty in imperfection than there was ever dreamt of in perfection's philosophy.

*

He could hear them practising down the corridor. Gentle currents of music floating softly on dust-filtrated air. Music that entered into his ears without grand announcement, without declaration; music that pervaded his existence, creating an oftentimes desperate soundtrack to his life. He tapped his fingers gently, in time to the distant beats. The classroom was empty. Fuzzair had disappeared to hold one of his last-minute house meetings. He was going to rally singers and musicians together in time for the house music competition that rounded off the year, as it did every year.

Danny couldn't hear the words to the songs, only soft indiscernible murmurings. Some graceful, sweet sounding voice, high yet eloquently tuneful drifted into his classroom. He looked around at the empty desks. So this was it. The end of the year had come. The chalk sat silent on the table, the duster next to the blackboard. A lonely quadratic equation still remained on the board and Danny had a desperate urge to rub it off the board, making it clean, but then something old-fashioned and romantic rose up in him and he couldn't quite summon up the will to make those few steps to the board to rub the temporal whiteness away.

A loud group of girls rushed past the open classroom door, no doubt on their way to the final assembly of the year, due to happen in ten minutes time. They clucked and giggled with glee, and Danny remembered what it was like. First years about to end their time of being the lowest year in the school. About to enter the ranks of non-sprogdom. Amanita and Tim were probably already present in St Basil's. He should probably make his move now and wander down with the rest. But yet, he sat staring up at the board, wishing that the horrible distant cloying feeling of finality would leave him.

He wandered down the corridor aimlessly. As he reached Wonder's classroom, the sprightly Professor popped his head into the corridor and addressed Danny.

'A quick word, Danny?'

Wonder's classroom was empty, and Wonder's desk was still full. Piles of exercise books, no doubt waiting to be marked sat neatly in the corner of his desk.

'Now Danny, I can't let this leave this room,' Wonder said, picking up the exercise book that rested on the top of the pile, 'but I think you are entitled to read this.'

He silently passed the exercise book to Danny, that same mysterious, enigmatic smile adorning his face as always, and returned to his marking. Danny took the book to a desk. It was Chardelia Foss' book. He opened it at page one and was struck by a strange, unexpected and personal opening.

Dear Danny,

If you are reading this from me beyond the grave, please, please do not fear for me. I hope I have met my death with grace and fearlessness, but I am human, and we all make mistakes. It was my destiny, it is all of our destinies, and it will come for all of us, whether we like it or not.

I need to tell you something, and I hope you will bear with me. We recently had one of Professor Wonder's lessons about the seven stages of physical love. I nearly came close to admitting to you how I have come to feel over the past few weeks. Our subsequent encounters have become more intimate yet always pure, and I hope we have become closer friends. I am glad of this friendship. I think you are a remarkable soul, and I have loved you for longer than you know. I could never have appeared on your radar for a number of reasons, not least because I had a special role at St Oliver Plunket's, a role not without pain. You have had a remarkable year, no doubt. You have achieved your heart's desire. You have entered into a relationship with your childhood infatuation, Janna Chisely. Congratulations. How was it? I hope it satisfied you. Watching from the sidelines, I have known the special kind of heartache that can be only mine, I have come to love you incredibly. I have watched you all the time, and I know that as the year has gone on you have gradually come to notice me. When we met on the stairs the other day I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my boyfriend, but I was....well I don't think it would have been a good idea, as it probably wouldn't have been for very long. I wanted to taste for one moment what love would feel like, what it would be to be desired and return another's love in full.

Oh Danny, don't accuse me of being fickle or being too quiet! It has always been you, but please understand my position, not just as an antidote to the pain and suffering that was spreading in St Oliver Plunket's this year, but as a girl, as a woman. It is not within our remits to be the chasers, to be the pursuers. We are meant to be the pursued, and if there is one thing I have learnt this year it is that you were never, ever going to pursue me.

Yours forever,

Chardelia Foss

*

St Basil's hall was packed like Danny had never seen it packed before. Students sat on the stage, on the floor and in the doorways. The window-doors along one side of St Basil's had been opened and more students lounged outside on chairs. Afraid the assembly had already begun, Danny looked for Tim and Amanita who had saved him a seat in a row near the front. He plonked himself between them both.

Along one side of the hall a makeshift stage had been erected, and below a metal frame hung brightly coloured lights and electrical equipment. Microphones stood, statuesque and purposeful in the centre of the stage. Sunlight poured in through open windows and doors, lighting up the audience, yet the black curtain drapes lent the stage mystery. As the gentle rumble of chatter died down in the hall, Pry walked in followed by Alessandro, Wonder and the rest of the teachers, including one Danny hadn't seen before. Wonder and Pry went to sit down but Alessandro approached the microphone at the front of the stage.

'Students, ladies and gentlemen! We are here at the end of another school year. Another eventful school year. You have all worked hard no doubt and I am sure you fully deserve the summer break that will be yours at the end of today. Before we reach that happy time we have some unfinished business to attend to. The end of year certificates are ready to be distributed, the house music competition is waiting to be settled and I am sure you all want to show your appreciation for your teachers' hard work this year in teaching you all?'

A groan echoed through St Basil's and rose like a wave all the way to the back and into the playground.

'But first I would like to introduce you to someone.'

The unknown teacher stood up and walked to the front of the stage.

'Our new headmaster for next year has kindly agreed to join us and judge the house music competition. Students, may I introduce Professor Appalachian.'

A tall broad man with brown curly hair, and a thickset but kindly expression took the microphone from Alessandro.

Danny, Tim and Amanita 's jaws dropped in shock.

'Well hello to you all! I'm quite sure you've no idea who I am, and why should you? You're probably all looking forward to your summer holidays, but I want to say a few words about student safety.'

'Ladies and gentlemen, terrorism is the new threat in the twenty-first century. This great school was targeted this year by a group of terrorists, calling themselves The River of Fear. But I want to assure you all that no river of fear will run through this school. Sadly, this terrorist group infiltrated the school and managed to recruit its headmaster, Professor Flambeau. But as long as I am headmaster of this school, Flambeau will NOT return!'

'So I want to make you all a simple promise for next year: you will be safe at St Oliver Plunket's school. As you will all come to know, there is nowhere on earth where I feel more at home than within these four walls.'

Danny and Tim exchanged confused looks. Appalachian continued.

'Without further ado, I am pleased to make the first announcement for the next school year. As you will all know, our top year have just left the school after taking their GCSE examinations, and have made way for our new top year, who I am sure will set just as strong an example to you all.

'However we are now left without a head boy and head girl. So I am very pleased to be able to announce the names of these people for the next school year. The head boy and girl will represent the school at functions and events and will be expected to show a good example to the rest of school. Equally the whole school – teachers included – are expected to show respect to the head boy and girl. They have been chosen by their peers, and to be selected by one's peers is one of the most pleasing and important accomplishents you will receive.

'And so, I am pleased to announce the new head boy is...

The body of students leant forward in Appalachian's manipulated anticipation. He held his breath for what seemed to be a whole minute.

'...Richard Athurston! Richard if you could come up to the front please.'

Richard strolled up the front with casual confidence. Something about his demeanour told Danny maybe this wasn't the greatest surprise to Richey. His father was, after all, on PATS. He looked around and caught a staggered and shocked look on Sloppy Fox's face. Danny smiled.

Richey stood next to Appalachian, grinning from ear to ear.

'And now, to our head girl. Some votes for this were cast some time ago...'

Danny watched the expression on Appalachian's face change from one of delighted confidence to saddened vulnerability, with consummate skill and no small acting ability.

'I am afraid some people's choice of head girl is now no longer with us. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like us all to spend a minutes' silence remembering, and honouring the true heroine of Amberleigh, the girl who saved St Plunket's school – Chardelia Foss!'

The minute crept past interminably. Danny shuffled his feet, twitched and looked around at everyone. Nobody said a word. He could hear the distant traffic on the road, the general hum and tenor of life continuing at its usual pace. The minute grew to an end and Appalachian continued.

'So, students, we have picked another head girl. A girl who is strong, reliable and I am sure will lead this school in her inimitable and competent manner, and with good humour. Ladies and genetlemen, the new head girl is...Amanita Walmer!'

Danny's and Tim's head swivelled round so fast it hurt. Amanita's mouth fell open for a second time. Clearly she had no iota of warning about the announcement. Overwhelmed by shock she stumbled to her feet and staggered to the front, turning to look at Tim and Danny. She didn't dare to grin but a glowing twinkle shined in her wide eyes. She stood next to Richey and waited for Professor Appalachian to continue.

'I am sure you're all eager to hear the house music competition, but we now have a few end of year certificates to give out, and if I could ask my new colleague Professor Pry to come up to the front and read out the names of the successful few. Professor?'

Pry rose elegantly and glided to the front of the stage, adjusting the microphone to her height, and inviting Richey and Amanita to sit down on two chairs that had just been pulled up for them by Professor Wonder. She paused before speaking, surveying the students with her impressive glare.

'I will call the name of the person first and the subject for which you have been awarded special merit. When you hear your name called please come up to the front and our new headmaster will pass you your certificate.

'Shackleton, Charlie – Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics.'

Charlie stood up, beaming, and walked to the front in his strange waddling walk to accept his certificate.

'Oconee, Mary – Home Economics.'

Mary stood up, her red cheeks either a result of extreme blushing, or extreme blusher, Danny couldn't decide either way.

'Gaunt, Timothy – Religious Studies.'

Tim looked shocked and sprung to his feet with a wild questioning look thrown in the direction of firstly Amanita, then Danny, then Professor Wonder who merely smiled and nodded. He stood up and went forward to accept his certificate.

'Forrest, Saffelia – Craft, Design and Technology and Geography'

Looking as radiant as ever, with her choppy blonde hair and her wide pink smile, Saffelia got to her feet brightly and walked excitedly to the front to receive her award from Appalachian. Pry continued reading her list and Danny listened closely for his name but now she was reading names out from the years below. He feared he had missed his chance. She was now reading from the very bottom of the piece of paper, and then she finished and folded it up putting it into her pocket, before turning to speak to them again.

'Students, there is one last school award we wish to make. For outstanding contribution to English, Poetry and for taking a lead role in the school newspaper the _Oracle_ – including a refined and subtle review of our school play – we are very pleased to give a certificate of special merit to Danny Canterbury!'

Danny rose with glee, a wild spark in his eye. His heart hammered like mad as he approached the front. The whole school watched him, but he took each step slowly, almost gingerly as he made his way toward Appalachian to receive his certificate. When he reached the stage he gratefully accepted the certificate from Appalachian, before asking him a question quietly in his ear.

'Sir, Flambeau told me he had killed you, before he...before he...'

Appalachian looked down on him with remorse and regret in his eyes.

'My twin brother, my dear boy. Unfortunately I could not make it to Plunket's at the start of the year. So my brother undertook to be my, shall I say, understudy, in my absence. Nobody regrets more than me what happened to him. I miss him more than ever. His sacrifice will live with me forever.'

A niggling thought in Danny's mind subsided, and after he reflected on what Professor Appalachian had told him, strangely, he thought he might even find it easier to cope with each new day.

*

The house music competition was a huge success. With all that had happened it had been decided that representatives from _The Times_ would stay away this year and return at the end of next year, when hopefully Plunkets was experiencing a less sensitive time. Danny was relieved. The last thing he wanted was his every move and word recorded for posterity, especially when he was prone to faint or burst into tears at any moment. Dahl won the competition with a beautiful rendition of _Glimmer Blaze_ , beating Jenner's version of _Scorched Moon_ narrowly. Before the harmonic trio of Emily and Rosetti Duocorn and Janna Chisely were invited back to the stage for an encore of their winning song, Appalachian took to the microphone one last time.

'Students. I am new to this school and it has been a difficult year, no doubt about it. Next year could be even more difficult, but I know if we all support each other whatever happens all of us at St Oliver Plunket's will remain as strong as ever. Thank you. Have a very happy summer break!'

The words filled Danny's ears. Images of rainwater and swimming pools shimmering in the light of the moon converged in his exhausted mind. He would soon be drifting to sleep with no thought but to the endless, interminable summer break stretching ahead of him like a never-ending piece of string.

At the end of the competition, those who had won and who had been awarded special merit certificates were invited to the front for a school photograph. As he stood there with the other students who had received awards, a scruffy-haired photographer popped up out of nowhere to take a picture of the special achievers. Danny quickly rushed to the front, standing next to and putting his arms around Tim and Amanita.

The photograph shows the three friends grinning widely. Only if you look closer can you see in their eyes a faint trace of the disturbances their penultimate year at school brought them. Whether the horrors of terrorism, death and murder had weakened them, or whether it was the tumultuous emotions that accompany a typical ride through early adolescence is harder to distinguish. But they smile all the same.

*

Danny arrived at the Dropshot tennis club early on Saturday morning. The sun shone brightly on the four courts. No one else had arrived yet. He walked into the clubhouse and picked up a black bucket filled with tennis balls, some new, some old. Bouncing a few balls off the frame of his racket Danny walked to the bottom court where a training wall had been set up to practice against. Launching a few forehand drives into the wall before testing his volleys, he relaxed and let go of all the tension resting in his shoulders, all the thoughts of school, and death, and murder. Here was his refuge, here was his confidence, his place of solace. Eventually a red estate pulled up in the car park. Danny recognized Patricia Chisely in the driver's seat, and sure enough Janna walked out to find Danny was the only player. Hesitating before proceeding, she walked to the bottom court to join him. Danny played a few slow, gentle shots across the court inviting her to come to the net, but she declined. She remained rooted to the baseline.

Her blonde hair swayed in the mild breeze. A million thoughts passed through Danny's mind. Here she was, his one-time desire, now his ex, _his_ Janna Chisely.

When they had knocked up for half an hour, Janna wordlessly signalled she was going to get a drink. Danny sat down on the nearby green bench on which a seagull also sat. The seagull remained still, mildly interested by this new intruder. The bench was decorated with the names of past club members – McTavish, McFarlane, Shardon. Janna walked up to the bench and sat down beside him.

'Can we talk?' she said, softly.

'What's the point?' Danny said.

'I think we need to talk,' Janna said, nearly with tears in her eyes.

'I don't,' Danny parried, before adding, 'I'm single now.'

Janna's tear-filled eyes looked up at his big brown ones, for some sign of warmth or love.

'Why can't we be together? I want us to be together again. Why can't we be together?'

Danny felt a slight pang in his chest, but tried not to show it.

'Can we just play tennis?' he turned to her and looked her in the eye. In a much calmer and delicate voice he said, 'I'm single now Janna.'

It was a red rag to a kicking bull. The seagull noticed a scrap of bread on the floor and hopped down to peck at it, rather unsuccessfully Danny thought.

'Single! Why single? Why not with me? Why not with me? What have I ever done to you? What have I ever done to deserve this? Surely being with me is better than being single?' She was making no attempt now to stop the tears flood her mascara stained face. 'What's so great about being single?' she blurted out.

Danny didn't respond, so Janna continued, unable to stop the cynicism and bitterness creeping into her high-pitched squeal.

'It's just typical of you! You being a man! Cedric was the same! Unable to show any emotion, because you have none! No feelings whatsover! Men are all the same, they care only for themselves and have no feelings at all for others, for their supposed loved ones, for their lovers...The truth is women have a much greater capacity to feel love and hurt and loss than men ever will!' she announced loudly, her voice coming through strong amongst the wails and sobs.

'You can reject me, but you can't deny me this!'

Danny picked up his racket and placed it in its protective sleeve, preparing to leave. The wind rose up into the tall poplars at the back of the courts and Danny thought he could smell the rain coming. Janna looked up at him expectantly as he stood. Danny kicked the ground with his old trainers, and looked around at the empty tennis courts, now lifeless and desolate in a creeping deathly way.

He wanted to say so much, but in the same instant this desire emerged, the thought it would be useless to make any kind of speech presented itself. Words were nothing. Reticence was everything. How dare she say he didn't feel! How dare she say he had no emotions! How dare she criticise him for not showing feelings!

A brilliant shaft of sunlight was liberated from the cloud above and it burned down upon this floppy-haired boy of fifteen like a spotlight. Danny realised he now understood the great tension. It was a dawning of inner light. Never again would he forget what he learned today. Did Janna know the pain he felt at losing Chardelia, at having to live with the fact his voice was the trigger for her death? Did Janna have any idea of the widening ocean of pain that spilt in his stomach every time he breathed? Did Janna fully understand the uselessness of language to express such severe, potent, violent, profound, vigorous, fervid, vehement and ardent anguish that consumed him every time he heard Chardelia's name? It was a sin for her to say he didn't feel – feeling was now the whole course of his whole life. If she thought he didn't feel it was because she had never ever experienced emotion as devastating as this, and she could never know emotion incapable of being expressed by such primitive tools as words. Danny had started to believe the truth was the reverse: women are unable to feel with anything like the same depth, or breadth, or intensity as men. If they could, why did they continue to use such desperately shallow tools such as words and tears to express it? They are just playing at it, he reflected. Their inability to learn or use reticence seemed to him a signal of a remarkable inner emptiness.

He looked her straight in the eyes again and gave her the only words he could. The words he knew she needed desperately but couldn't bear to hear.

'Single is what I want. Single is what I crave.'

He began walking out of the club, but a few paces from the gates, he turned and added in a soft, consoling voice,

'I'm sorry I have to leave you behind.'

As Janna sat alone on the bench, the seagull took a momentary nod to the heavens, before taking flight, magnificently spreading its wings as it flew smoothly into the wide blue sky.

I lay a decorative cloth bookmark on the page in the Ladybird Book of Water. I treasure it the most of all my books. The description is poetic but it is the image that captures my soul. Those rippling concentric circles like a bedsheet folding and undulating towards a mysterious centre of gravity, those curving hills and swooping valleys and I know that – if for a moment – I were to touch the surface it would absolve me completely. Absolve me of my hand, or my head, and cover it neatly without fuss or argument. That placid lake of coolness didn't mind if I drop my toe in first or my crown. It didn't mind if I twirl my finger in zig zag or in a line or in a circle. It would resettle in the end, reform to its original state. Any obstacle was no obstacle to its evasive and elusive perfection. Any intrusion however violent was met with quiet acceptance. It was a sublime riposte, a response to nature with nature. If you harm me I will surround you. If you plunge into me I will displace. If you empty me I will seek another home. If you heat me I will escape to the sky. If you cool me I will become impermeable. You cannot do to me anything which nature has not already thought of or pre-determined in some fashion. You may drink me, and I may stay with you a while, or I may leave you just as quickly as I arrived. My fate may be a pool or a puddle, a sea or a soup, a raincloud or a river, a lake or a long bath. I am water. If you let me, I will carry you everywhere.

**Author's note**

Thank you for downloading and reading _Chardelia Foss and the River of Fear_ , and I hope you enjoyed it.

Chardelia was born in my imagination many years ago from a variety of sources: literary, real and imagined, including Shakespeare's Cordelia and Ophelia, and the children's tale Cinderella.

I'd love to hear what you thought of the novel, so please leave a review or get in touch with me through my website. I read all reviews, good or bad, and take into account comments for future writing.

For more information on the inspiration behind Chardelia, and for bonus content not available anywhere else, visit my website at https://dominicjericho.wordpress.com. You can also receive a free eBook when you sign up for The DJ Fiction Newsletter.

Dominic Jericho

P.S. Don't forget to read the next volume in The Danny Canterbury Tales: Saffelia Forrest and the Snowfall Grove

Saffelia Forrest  
and the Snowfall Grove  
The Danny Canterbury Tales: Book II

"The snow dropped on the Orb like a huge blanket of love and we rolled around in it like it was a lake of white chocolate and then cuddled up for warmth. That was when it happened, when she did it. It tasted nice, like softness. Softer than snow, warmer than heaven."

When four school friends go camping in the Snowfall Grove they unwittingly uncover the hidden secrets of their new teachers. But as their final year at Plunket's comes to a close, will they reveal the biggest secret of all – the one hiding in their midst.

Saffelia Forrest and the Snowfall Grove is the second novel in Dominic Jericho's coming-of-age series. It explores issues of friendship and misplaced authority amid the bliss of Romantic poetry.

SHORTER WORKS BY DOMINIC JERICHO

The Chardelia Diaries

The Saffelia Diaries

Songs from the Rainbow Girl

