Fry had half expected that starting secondary school would involve just being thrown in at the deep end on the first day, and was pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong. Even though he wasn't starting until September, the school started organising transition days right away.

Lenny, his 'School Brother', became a friend very quickly, even though the friendship mostly involved playing a lot of Fortnite and not a lot of talking about school. He hadn't met Lenny in person yet, though he had invited the boy over when he found out Lenny was still at school at Christmas. Lenny had declined the invitation, saying he had a whole day of gaming planned, but thanked Fry all the same.

Making friends with Lenny through a screen suited Fry just fine for now. He got the feeling Lenny felt the same way.

"I've got a day with the gits tomorrow." He told Lenny one evening, as they played Minecraft. The students referred to the Gifted and Talented program kids as the 'gits', and kids like Fry who would spend some time with the program were 'half-gits'. Lenny was a half-git too, but he was several years older.

Lenny didn't wish him good luck, because neither of them thought luck would have anything to do with it.

"Look for the R to Zs." he said.

"R to Zs?"

"Kids with surnames from R to Z. There's twenty five gits doing their Year 6 at school this year. When the rest of you start in Year 7, they divide the gits up and put six or seven in each class. Your last name is Sandhu so you'll be in Upper Third R, or UIIIR. The numbering system is a little weird round here."

"So I definitely won't be in Joram's class." Fry said. "Because his last name is Al-Bayati."

"Nope, he'll definitely be in UIIIA."

"Is the cutoff definitely R? George's last name is Runt."

"Not always, but it is this year, I've checked." Lenny said. "So George will be in your class. Is that good?"

"Don't know." Fry said. "I mean, I don't like her, but at least I know her."

"Eh, most people don't stick with their primary school mates anyway." Lenny said. "I had to come in for some practice days too before I started, it's a good way to get to know a few people. They're also looking to see whether they should put you in any more of the advanced classes."

"What other advanced classes could I be in?" Fry asked. "I mean, which ones do the gits do separately from the rest of us apart from maths?"

"English, science, ICT, sometimes the foreign languages but it depends how many they've got. If there's only a few people who are really advanced at a language they'll usually try and put you in one of the older classes instead. Apparently the timetable is a nightmare."

***

The next morning, Fry met Lenny at the school gate, in person for the first time. Lenny was very tall, even for fifteen, and grinned at Fry and Dad.

"Hi! I'll show you where you need to go." he said. "Hello Dr Sandhu, I can take Fry from here."

Dad gave them both a nod, and Fry followed Lenny, who was chattering excitedly about the Large Hadron Collider. As they made their way down a corridor which was now starting to look familiar, a formidable-looking teacher stopped them.

"Leonard Fortescue! Shirt untucked! Shoes unpolished! And hair a mess!"

Lenny frantically tucked his shirt in.

"See to it that you are presentable by your first class." the teacher said severely, striding on down the corridor.

"Who was that?" Fry whispered.

"Mr Stamford. He's the deputy head. Don't worry, the rest of the teachers are pretty cool, he's just the strict one." Lenny said, licking his hand and attempting to flatten down his hair. "He's been known to send students to the needlework room to iron their shirt."

"What does he teach?" Fry asked.

"Maths."

Fry relaxed. He was good at maths, so Mr Stamford would probably not be a problem.

"Fry!"

Fry looked around and saw two more boys his age coming down the corridor towards him, both of whom he recognised. One was Patrick Witherspoon, his arch nemesis. The other was Maurice, a very nervous boy he had met when they previously came for an educational needs assessment. Patrick looked triumphant to be there. Maurice looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him up and hide him until it was all over. After a brief introduction to Lenny, Lenny took the three of them out of the main building to a small side building with a little playground attached to it. Fry was surprised to see that it had swings.

"This is the yard." Lenny said. "It's meant to be for Year 6s and 7s, but they turn a blind eye to the rest of us going on the swings so long as we're not knobbing around." He went to a side door and tapped a code in. "And this is the Year 6 class, Lower Third A."

The noise was so loud when they entered the classroom that Fry clapped his hands over his ears, and Maurice flinched. However, almost immediately the kids quietened down; for a split second, they mistook tall Lenny for a teacher.

"Hey, these are new kids for next year." Lenny said. "Fry Sandhu, Maurice Russell and... I forgot his name."

"Patrick Witherspoon." Patrick said, slightly indignantly.

"And him. Who's your form captain?"

A red-haired boy puts his hand up.

"Ah, there you go." Lenny said, nodding to the three visitors. "That's Keith Teeth, he'll look after you. See you later!"

Keith Teeth grimaced, and came over.

"Hi. First things first, call me Ginger." he said. "Let's see if we can find the other R to Zs, and I'll introduce you, and then you can get to know the others later." Ginger took them around the classroom, picking out the kids with the appropriate surnames.

"That's Cassie Zawadzki." he pointed out the window to a girl arriving on a skateboard. "She's cool. Plays footie for Farmede Rovers. And the really tall guy coming out of the Boarders' Block is Tyson Ross."

"Is he really only our age? He's huge." Patrick tactfully observed.

"Really truly. His mum and dad are both in the armed forces, so he boards." Ginger said. "He doesn't say a lot, I think he has a lot on his mind."

He turned away from the window and came to a boy frantically scribbling down some homework.

"This is my best mate and co-founder of the 'Our Parents Gave Us Stupid Names' club, Branston Small, affectionately known as 'Pickle'."

Pickle raised a hand in greeting and continued scribbling with the other.

"Pickle has an unusual way of arranging his things." Ginger continued. "Do not move his things. He will not be able to find them."

"That's code for 'Pickle is the untidiest person you will ever meet'." Cassie chipped in, coming into the classroom.

"I'm going to defend myself from this onslaught of lies and slander right after I finish this geography which is due in in four minutes." Pickle said.

"Yeah, we'll come back to Pickle later." Ginger looked around for the next person on his list, and then pointed to a very neat, pretty Indian girl reading in the far corner.

"That's Sunita Sandhu. Oh hey, she's got the same last name as you." Ginger said to Fry. "Any relation?"

Fry looked over at the girl. "Not that I know of. We're not really in touch with my dad's family. But Sandhu is a really common Indian surname so probably not."

"Anyway, that's Sunita. She's very serious, but very sweet. Who's left? Oh yes." Ginger went over to a small boy and tapped him on the shoulder. He then started to sign as he spoke again.

"This is Oliver Warren. He's really good on the drums. He's also deaf, but he can lipread if you don't sign so please look at him when you talk to him."

"Hi." Oliver said, giving them a wave.

"I sign." Fry said, with the appropriate sign.

"Awesome." Oliver said. "You can help me teach the others."

"And last but not least, Bronwen." Ginger pointed to a girl just coming into the room. "Who is trying to set a record for the most school clubs you can be a member of at the same time."

"How many is that?" Patrick asked.

"At the moment, eight." Bronwen said. "But only because netball club trains three times a week. If Mum would let me get the bus I could get it up to ten by coming to a couple of before school clubs."

"Most people don't join as many as that, but the school encourages you to join at least one that isn't academic." Ginger said. "So it's worth checking out the list and seeing what you like. You can't join the 'Our Parents Gave Us Stupid Names Club' though, because none of you have stupid names."

"So who's the smartest?" Patrick blurted out.

Ginger blinked at him, as though confused. Pickle launched himself forward and slapped his completed Geography homework book on the front desk.

"Twenty eight seconds to spare!" Pickle declared.

"Mr Pickle." Ginger said. "Are there any smart people here?"

"Smart people?" Pickle said, seriously. "Oh no, I don't think we have any of those."

"None whatsoever, last I checked." Ginger said.

"Oh bum, did we have Geography homework?" Bronwen asked, looking at the pile of books on the desk and then turning her satchel upside down to look for her book.

Ginger patted Patrick gently on the shoulder. "In answer to your question, I have no idea. We don't really worry about that here. You don't need to either."

Fry managed not to laugh at Patrick's face.

***

He was relieved to find that the Year 6 teacher was not anything like as terrifying as Mr Stamford. At break time, Ginger took the three of them to the art block, to meet Miss Cartwright, who would be their class teacher in September. Miss Cartwright was young and jolly, and fun, and Fry liked her right away. She spoke to each of them alone in her office for a few minutes.

"You'll get to meet Mrs Carter, our SENCO, nearer the time when you start." She said to Fry. "And I'll make sure you get a gold pass."

"What's a gold pass?" Fry asked.

"It's a key card. We have a couple of doors that we reserve for people who need more space." Miss Cartwright explained. "You'll be able to get into the canteen and the assembly hall via the side doors rather than having to go in with a big crowd. You can skip the lunch queue with it too, just show the prefect on lunch duty. It tucks in the back of your student ID badge out of sight when you don't need it."

"Oh, that would be useful, thanks." Fry said.

"No problem. We'll try and make this as smooth as possible, okay?"

Dad was putting the cot up. Since there wasn't supposed to be another baby after Gil, he'd had to go out and buy another one, which meant a day of him faffing around with the instructions before, invariably, putting part A into hole B and then wondering why the whole thing fell over.

He was just starting to get flatpack rage when Fry came to the doorway.

"If I took someone's picture and drew on it without asking, would that be wrong?" Fry asked.

Dad looked up. "Yes, why?"

"I knew it." Fry said. "Michael took my first picture so I let him have it. He then tried to take my new picture so I held it up and tried to get him to ask rather than snatch, because Wilford didn't bother doing anything about it. Wilford then acted like I was wrong. But I wasn't wrong, was I? I get that he's only little and doesn't know better, but how will he learn better if nobody tells him? How will he learn to talk if nobody tries to communicate with him?"

Dad paused.

"Okay. You do have to share so you were right to give him the first page. You don't have to let him snatch something important, but it doesn't sound like this was a special drawing, so trying to make him ask was unfair. And you have to mind your own business when it comes to other people's parenting."

"But..."

"No buts, Fry. You're a big boy now, sometimes you have to let these things go. Besides, it's good that Michael actually tried to play with you, that's real progress."

Fry scowled.

"I know what it's like to be the kid who doesn't know the rules and upsets people and ends up with no friends." He said. "Why can't I help?"

"Because Wilford has made it very clear, as Coral pointed out, that they do not want our help or advice." Dad said, looking back at the cot.

"So I should let them do the wrong thing?"

"You don't know that it's the wrong thing. And if it is, sometimes you have to." Dad said. "Fry, you're going to go to secondary school soon. Lots of kids there will do what you believe is the wrong thing and there will be nothing you can do to stop that. You will have to let it go sometimes, especially when it's something small, like paper, and not go telling tales."

Fry's scowl turned into a glare.

"I don't like this amendment of the rules." he said.

"Hey. It's not easy." Dad said, suddenly more gentle. "How did you feel when Michael drew on your picture? You used to draw on the communal drawing wall at school, so you understand what a shared drawing project is."

Fry hesitated, trying to find an adjective.

"He was too close. He kept touching my hand. He was in my space. I nearly had a meltdown."

"So how could you and Michael draw together without either of you getting upset?" Dad asked.

After a moment, Fry had a brainwave.

"We could have bigger paper?"

"Right. Wilford didn't tell you off either, and you weren't innocent in this argument because most kids your age would be expected to be more lenient on a toddler. I understand why you got upset. And I'm proud that you didn't have a meltdown. But now you need to go and make this right."

"Why?" Fry asked. "I mean, I will, but why is it my responsibility?"

"Because the test of good behaviour is to behave well when other people don't." Guppy said. "And you want to be well-behaved, don't you?"

Fry turned to go, then looked back through the doorway.

"Dad?"

"Yes Fry?"

"You're doing that wrong. I'll come and fix it for you after."

"Thank you Fry."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"You know how Wilford isn't supposed to know how to make friends? Well I saw him on TV, and he has loads of friends."

"That might just be TV."

"Well I'm going to do some research."

"You do that." Guppy said. "But no dossiers like Autor used to do, people find it creepy. And no more giving Wilford parenting advice."

"Are you nervous?" Mum asks, as she drops Fry off at the gate. "Are you sure you don't want me to walk you to the hall?"

"No and yes." Fry says.

"It's okay to be nervous." Mum says. "You know we'll be proud of you however you do, and you know we'll make sure you get a good..."

"Look." Fry holds up a hand. "I'm not nervous. I'm not stressed. I'm going to go in and kick this exam's arse, and I'm going to enjoy it, just like I enjoyed preparing for it, not that anyone believed me."

Mum opens her mouth. Then closes it and nods.

"Well good luck."

"Oh I assure you, luck will have nothing to do with it." Fry says, picking up his bag and striding down into the school.

He's memorised the map he was given last time he came here and makes it easily to the exam hall. He gets a number to pin on his shirt. He's worn his school uniform, as the head advised them all to, to make it easier to find the others and also to make him feel in 'work mode'. However he notices that most of the other kids have come in civvies. Apart from one, who is in a suit and a tie.

Fry doesn't groan at the suited boy, but he does pause at the recognition. The other boy spots him and pauses in return. Neither is quite sure whether to wave, come over, or pretend they didn't see each other. In the end, the other boy comes over to Fry. Fry stands a bit straighter.

"Patrick Witherspoon. I thought you were staying at The Gates. Why are you here?"

"None of your business." Patrick says.

They lock eyes. If anyone can wind Fry up today, it's Patrick, who has been his lifelong rival since he was three years old. Patrick, whose mother insisted that he also be moved up a year after Fry was. Patrick who eventually left Fry's school for repeating racist language his mother used, and then got a scholarship at The Gates, where his parents felt he could make 'nice Upper Class friends'. Patrick who Fry still has to face every year at chess tournaments.

"I hope we both get in." Fry says.

"You do?" Patrick asks, looking surprised.

"Yes. What's the point in having an arch-nemesis I only get to see once a year?" Fry says.

"I thought I was your arch-nemesis." George says, coming up next to him. She puts her hands on her hips. "I'm kinda offended now."

"You're a rival, not my arch-nemesis." Fry says. "George, meet Patrick. He got expelled from our school before you came along. Patrick, this is George. She's Head Girl, she's formidable and should not be underestimated."

George appears rather pleased by this summery. Fry points to a boy across the room.

"And that's Tommy, he's our Head Boy."

"The one doing armpit farts?" Patrick asks.

"Yes, that's him." Fry says. "And the guy next to him is Joram. I think that's all of us trying to get in here from our school. Except Pixie, but I don't see her here."

At this point, the invigilator calls everyone into the exam hall. The first thing Fry notices, to his alarm, is that the piano has moved. His master plan to attract attention is ruined! Determined not to let it put him off, he sits down at his desk and tackles the papers as best he can.

They're all much harder than the Holby West papers. Around three quarters of the way through the first hour long paper, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tommy put his paper down and stare around the room.

"That was tough." Joram says, at the break.

"I agree." Fry says.

"I'm sure mine was fine." Tommy says, brightly. "I mean, the last page is meant to be really hard and they say it doesn't matter if you don't complete it, and the other five were fine."

"Tommy, there were eight pages." Fry says. "You need to go and tell them if your paper only had six."

Tommy shoots off. Joram shoots Fry a worried glance.

"He was at a big tennis match yesterday, and then stayed up all night doing the practice papers."

"But he's had a month to do those." Fry says.

"He said because last time he tried here he was well done he thought he'd be okay." Joram sighs. "I don't think I will pass either."

"But you're very smart." Fry says. "And you work hard."

"I think all the kids here are smart and work hard. I think they too have spoken English more than one year." Joram says.

"You've told them you only learned English a year ago, haven't you?" Fry asks.

Joram shakes his head.

"Why not? I mean, I know you don't like to tell people you're a refugee, but you should get more points." Fry says.

"No. I do not think it works that way." Joram says.

The invigilator calls them back through for the English paper. This is usually Fry's worst paper. But the comprehension isn't too bad, and he gets an opportunity when he gets to the sixth question:

'In the passage, Adrian describes himself as being 'an intellectual, but not very clever'. Give an example of someone you know, in real life, who has done something clever.'

'The cleverest person I know apart from me is Joram Al-Bayati. He was a straight A student back in Syria and when he came here just over a year ago he didn't speak any English. Now he's nearly top of our class. His candidate number is 381. He won't tell you he's from Syria because at his old school people called him a terraced.'

There. That should do it. He finishes the rest of the questions and turns the page over to tackle the story.

"Write a story called 'The Great Heist'."

Okay. Crime. He's got this one. He hesitates for a moment, then puts pen to paper.

'He was not the most subtle of criminals. He had a big pink moustache and he was very loud. Maybe that made it easier for him to do the crime, because people ran away from him and looked behind their newspapers and pretended that he was not there. That was his genius. His name was Milton Moustacheman.

He had his eye on the Golden Spanner, not because he needed money, but because he wanted to know more about it. But he didn't ask permission, he just strode in and took it, and that's theft..."

The invigilator warns them at the five minute mark. He writes hurriedly.

'And then the detective said 'You're nicked, sunbeam!'. And despite the fact that he had the Spanner in his hand, Milton said 'Why? What have I done?'. And it made you think that somehow, even though you could see the Spanner, he was innocent all along.'

At the lunch break, Tommy tells Fry that he managed to speak to someone about missing the page of his maths paper, and they reassured him that these things happen and not to worry.

"Oh, that's good." Fry says, digging into his fish and chips. Patrick, who doesn't seem to be talking to anyone from his own school, has come over to join them, and none of them have objected.

"Pixie never showed, then?" George comments. "Not hiding in the car, is she?"

"No." Tommy says, a little defensively. "She just decided she doesn't want to come here. I'll miss her if I get in."

"So when's everyone's interview for Holby West?" George asks. "Mine's on Monday. How about you, Fry?"

"I don't know yet." Fry says.

"Then you didn't get in." Patrick says, helpfully. "Because they're alphabetical, and mine is Tuesday."

There is an awkward silence. Then Fry gets up and leaves the table. Tommy punches Patrick on the arm.

"You're a piece of work! What did you tell him that for?!"

Patrick shrugs. "I'm his arch-nemesis. Duh."

Fry strides back up to the main part of the school, his mind all over the place. He'd been so sure he had got into West. He wonders if George asked on the off-chance that she could put him off. She probably needs that scholarship as much as he does if she wants to come here.

And then, suddenly, he spots it.

The piano.

It's in a side room, clearly having been wheeled out from the hall to make room for the exams. He glances at the door. Since it doesn't say private, he goes in and begins to play.

He is so engrossed that he doesn't notice another door in the room open, and a woman with short cropped hair step through. But he jumps to his feet when he finishes the piece and she quietly applauds.

"Sorry. I came in here to calm down." And it's true. Although he'd planned to jump on the piano when it was in the hall, and show off, and try and get that music scholarship for sure, this moment was entirely unplanned.

"Very sensible of you." the woman remarks.

"You are Dr Haycroft, the new headmistress of Oaking School, with over thirty years of teaching experience primarily in mathematics and a recent award for recognition of your achievements promoting women in STEM subjects." Fry blurts.

Dr Haycroft raises her eyebrow. "I am indeed. And you are?"

"Alexander Jefry Sandhu, but I like to be called Fry." Fry says.

"You've read our prospectus then, Fry?"

"I've memorised it, Dr Haycroft."

"All twenty four pages? What for?"

"I really want to come here." Fry says. "Last year your A level pass rate A to C was ninety six point two percent. It says on page twenty one. And I need to try and win a full scholarship because my father's vasectomy failed."

Dr Haycroft snorts, goes to a drawer and pulls out one of the prospectuses. She turns to page fourteen.

"What is on page fourteen?"

"Page fourteen. 'Sporting facilities. Oaking has sporting facilities for a wide range of activities. Our fully heated pool was renovated in 2014...'."

"Thank you, Fry, you can stop there." Dr Haycroft says. "Did you orchestrate this to stand out?"

"Oh no." Fry says. "I did have a plan to stand out, but it was thwarted."

"What a pity. Well, I shall await your exam results with interest and we shall chat again at your interview. "

"Oh, does that mean I'm definitely getting one? Thank you very much!" Fry says. "West don't want me."

"Whyever not?" Dr Haycroft asks.

"Well, I don't know yet." Fry says. "But lots of people don't want you when you're autistic, so you get used to it. They don't say so right out, they say 'hm' and 'well' and 'I don't think we can accommodate you' and things like that. It's not so bad when you're little, but the older you get the less endearing you are."

"Well Fry, no promises, but I can't imagine you've done badly enough not to get an interview if you've memorised our prospectus. And being autistic is no problem here, we have numerous autistic students." Dr Haycroft says. "Now off with you back to the hall, and no more stunts, planned or otherwise."

"Where's Fry?" Teddy asks Tommy, one lunchtime.

"Practicing piano in one of the music rooms." Tommy says, bashing his tennis ball against the wall.

"He's doing that a lot." Teddy says.

"He's trying to get a music scholarship at Oaking." Noah says. "Or he can't go, apparently."

"How come?" Teddy asks.

"Because his dad's special operation failed and he's going to have another brother or sister." Tommy says, with a little bit of a smirk.

"Special operation?" Noah asks.

"Yeah. Fry said it was called a... vast entity or something." Tommy says. "I guess it's a really big thing. It stops the man having seeds. Except Fry's Dad's seeds still got through."

"Seeds?" Noah asks.

"You know. MAN seeds." Teddy says.

Noah looks totally bewildered. Tommy pauses his tennis practice and attempts to explain.

"You know, how there are man seeds and woman seeds and when they get together they get stuck together and that makes a baby, unless the vast entity is in the way." Tommy says, trying to sound like an expert.

"But I thought babies came from Jesus." Noah says.

There is an awkward pause, while Tommy looks at Teddy for assistance. Teddy makes alarmed faces and offers no useful help.

"Right, Noah, you remember when we went to the zoo, and that giraffe was sitting on the back of the other giraffe?"

Noah nods.

"That's where babies come from." Tommy says. "Unless the giraffe has a vast entity. I mean it makes sense if you think about it, because otherwise things like pandas wouldn't be going extinct because Jesus could just send more."

Noah processes this for a moment.

"I think I understand." He says slowly.

"You do?" Teddy asks, incredulously. "I already knew where babies came from and I'm totally confused."

"We believe that God makes the world." Noah says. "I know you might not believe that. But we also believe that God can't do everything for you, you have to do some things yourself. So it makes sense that to make a baby you have to do something. But what is a vast entity?"

"Well... it's a big thing, innit?" Tommy says. "A giraffe probably gets an even bigger one." He adds.

"Thomas!" A man calls him from across the playground. Tommy picks up his racket.

"Got to go. My dad's taking me to extra tennis coaching this afternoon."

"What, now?" Noah asks. "Don't you and the others taking the entrance exams have a practice paper today?"

Tommy shrugs. "Dad thinks I should focus on trying to get a tennis scholarship. I'm much better at tests since Fry gave me all that coaching a few years ago. I nearly got on the talented program, remember, so this time round it should be easier."

He grins and runs off after his dad. Noah shoots an anxious glance at Teddy.

"I know they tell us not to stress, but I think he might be a bit overconfident." Noah says.

The two of them go into the school - having the privilege that Year 6 students are allowed to do this unsupervised at lunch time - to find Fry and make sure he's not stressing himself out. "Although Fry doesn't actually seem to get stressed about work." Teddy says. "Unless you make him stop."

They pause outside the music room. Someone is playing. Someone is playing really well. They peep at Fry through the window. They know better not to interrupt him until he finishes his song, then knock.

"Fry, that's amazing!" Teddy says.

"Thanks." Fry says. "I need at least four exemplary pieces to stand out at the audition."

"I thought it was three." Noah says.

"Yeah, but I'm going to try and play an extra one to get their attention." Fry says. "I really need that music scholarship."

"Oh yes." Noah says. "Congratulations on being about to be a big brother again. What's a vast entity?"

"I don't know. And keep it quiet, Coral and Brooke and Gil don't know about the baby yet." Fry says.

"Is your mum having another baby?" Jamal asks, overhearing as he walks past.

"Go away." Fry tells him.

"I'm gonna go ask Coral..." Jamal runs off.

After a minor scuffle, in which Jamal is sat on three on one until he submits, the Fifth Sandhu Kid remains reasonably under wraps.

On the last day of term, it was time to say goodbye to Ben, who was going back to America. Ben cried, which was ridiculous in Fry's opinion, given Ben had spent the entire year whining about how he acted out because he missed America. Jamal cried too, probably because he realised that siding with Ben was a bad idea now that Ben was leaving again.

They'd spent the previous day in Mrs Patel's classroom. Mrs Patel, the headmistress, took year six, and she had made clear that she meant business.

"You will be in the top class, the role models of the school." She said. "Most if not all of you will be taking exams for secondary school, so we will be doing plenty of practice. They are nothing to worry about, but I expect you all to do your very best."

At break, they get to talking about the future.

"What exams will you all be taking?" Tommy asks, idly tossing a tennis ball at the wall.

"West and Gates." Kasha says.

"The Gates is awful." Pixie says. "I couldn't get away from there fast enough."

"I know." Kasha says. "But my parents want me to try for it. I'm really hoping for West. Where are you trying, Pix?"

"I don't know yet." Pixie says. "I don't have to decide for a few months at least."

"Come and try for Oaking, with me and Fry." Tommy says.

"I'm not clever enough for Oaking." Pixie says.

"Course you are." Tommy says, loyally. "I'm trying to get sports scholarships so I'll be taking the exam for Oaking, West and Holby High and hoping I can get enough points. What about you, Teddy?"

"We're moving this summer." Teddy says. "It'll be a long drive here in the mornings but I'll be in the catchment area for a grammar and a really good comp, so I'll take the grammar exam. You should come and see our new house, it's epic."

Fry looks around at them all. For the first time, it really hits him that after next year, they will all be going their separate ways. Is it really only Tommy that's taking the Oaking exam with him?

"Noah, what are you taking?" he asks.

"I'm not taking any either." Noah says. "My parents are going back to Africa next year, and I'll be sent to boarding school." He doesn't look very happy about it.

"Oh." Fry says, flatly. He likes Tommy enough now, but he had rather hoped to be with some of his other friends.

___

"What do you mean you want to take all the exams?" Dad asks, when Fry gets home.

"Oaking, High, West and Gates." Fry says. "And the grammar and the good comp."

"We're not in the catchment area for the grammar or the good comp, Fry, I've checked." Mum says. "You'd need to get two buses. And you're not going to The Gates, it's very expensive and I'm not having you come home thinking you own the place."

"But Mum, what if I get a scholarship?"

"No. Final word." Mum says, giving Dad a look to dare him to say otherwise.

"Why do you want to take all the exams, Fry?" Dad asks.

Fry hesitates.

"Because I think I'm going to lose all my friends." he says. "And it took such a long time to make them."

Mum and Dad exchange another look, one he can't read.

"It would help if he got a scholarship." Dad says to Mum. "And he won't actually have to do any more work to take the exam for all four schools than he would for one school."

"He's not going to The Gates!" Mum says to Dad. "It'd be nothing but trouble and he'd more than likely have a fight with Patrick Witherspoon in the first week."

Mum has a point. Patrick is his arch-nemesis and it probably would be annoying having to deal with him every day.

"That's a point." He says. "Mum, can you Whatsapp the other parents and find out where all my other enemies are trying for please?"

"We're not having fish for tea tonight." Fry says, as he walks up the playground with his siblings.

"But it's Monday." Coral says. "We always have fish on Monday."

"Not any more." Fry says.

"Why?" Coral asks.

"Because I'm not a spoilt brat." Fry says. "Wilford says that if we have the same meals every day of the week because I find it easier that makes me a spoilt brat."

"What have those things got to do with each other?" Coral calls after him as he strides off.

"Stuff that, I like fish!" Brooke protests. "I want fish for tea!"

Gil chews his fingers worriedly, and shortly after goes off to his nursery class, where he gets all in a tizz when Miss Brimstone asks him what day it is. Quite unable to work out whether it is still Monday, because there isn't going to be fish, he has to watch Esme-Rose get the gold star he should have got for telling the teacher what day it is.

Coral decides to catch Fry at break time and tell him not to listen to Wilford, but it starts to pour with rain. Mr Irons declares a Wet Break, and they all have to stay in their classrooms.

Brooke, also confined to her classroom, takes the opportunity to draw a big fish, which she labels 'My tea' and then folds into an envelope to give to Mum later.

Fry stares gloomily out of the window, feeling very out of sorts. Wet Break isn't in his schedule, and everyone is always noisy and annoying when it happens. He gravitates over to the big Expression Board at the back of the classroom. Mr Mags had installed it, and said anyone could draw on the white space. It was one of the few things of his Ms Owlswick kept when she took over, though they'd had to replace the paper from time to time as it got full.

He settles in one corner and begins to draw sin cos tan triangles over and over with his black sharpie, which he's been saving for such an occasion. School black felt tips are never up to scratch. The repetition of the three equations makes him feel calmer, until someone nudges into him from behind, causing him to smudge one of the Hs.

"Watch it!" He complains, looking around.

"You watch it." Ben says, moving from the rocket he's drawing. "What's all that rubbish?"

"Maths." Fry says, trying to neaten up his triangle.

"But it's just letters in triangles." Ben says.

"Advanced maths." Fry says.

"Well it looks stupid." Ben says. But then he glares. "And look at all the room you've taken up! Where are Jamal and I going to put the top of our rocket?"

"Not my problem, I was here first." Fry says.

Ms Owlswick comes over to find out what the argument is about.

"Fry is allowed to express himself on the expression board." she says firmly. "And he used the space first, which is the rule. But it would be kind, Fry, if you would let Ben put a triangle of coloured paper over the top of a few of your triangles for the top of his rocket."

"But I was here first." Fry protests. "Why should I?"

At that moment, the bell goes for the next lesson. Ms Owlswick sighs.

"We'll have to resolve this later. And Fry, I don't want you using sharpie on the Expression Board, it's going to mark the pinboard underneath."

Fry sits back in his seat, feeling even more cross. Wet break, having to give up his triangles for Ben and Jamal's stupid rocket, and now he's got to use a different pen to complete his pattern.

Half an hour later, the fire alarm goes off. How the school could possibly be on fire in the middle of the pouring rain, Fry doesn't know, but the options are either stay in the building with the agonising noise and possibly catch fire, or go and get wet. Ms Owlswick, who had been pre-warned that Fry tends to scream and clutch his ears when the fire alarm goes off, is somewhat relieved when Fry decides to go out and get wet, and lets him get on with his advanced maths quietly for the rest of the morning.

By lunch time, Fry has calmed down somewhat and decided that maybe he will let Ben have his triangle on the rocket after all, as it will cover the smudged 'H'. But as he goes back to the classroom from the dining hall to let them know, Ms Owlswick takes him aside.

"Fry, I realise this has been a difficult morning, but I can't excuse vandalism." she says, angrily.

"What vandalism?" Fry asks.

Ms Owlswick pushes open the door of the single toilet and points to the sin cos tan triangles written on there with sharpie.

"You will spend lunch break scrubbing this off." she says firmly. "Running over it with whiteboard marker should get it off."

"It wasn't me." Fry says.

"Someone told me they saw you doing it." Ms Owlswick says.

"Who?" Fry asks, indignantly. "Was it Ben?"

"No, it wasn't Ben." Ms Owlswick gets him a cloth and a whiteboard marker and tells him to get cracking.

All the little kids come past and stare at him and giggle. Eventually, Ben wanders past with Jamal, the two of them looking very smug indeed.

"You set me up, didn't you?" Fry says to Ben.

"Not me." Ben says.

"Jamal then." Fry glares at him.

"Prove it." Jamal says, grinning. "Come on Ben, let's go draw our new rocket on that coloured paper Ms Owlswick is getting out."

By the time he's finished scrubbing, the rain has finally stopped. He goes to report to Ms Owlswick at the staff room.

"I was falsely accused." He says, handing her the cloth. "And I'm mortally offended that you didn't believe me."

"If you really didn't do it, then I'm sorry." Ms Owlswick says. "But it's difficult when it's one person's word against another, Fry." She sighs. "Can you take this pen back to the classroom, and this note to the office on your way outside please?"

Fry takes the note and leaves. Miss Havisham, who is sitting in the staff room as Ms Owlswick comes back, gives a sniff.

"He usually does tell the truth, you know."

"But who else would graffiti maths?" Ms Owlswick asks.

"Someone who wants to get under his skin." Miss Havisham says.

Fry stomps back to the classroom. He deposits the pen next to the board, and then his eye falls on the rocket pictures sitting on Ben and Jamal's desks. Impulsively, he takes the pictures, folds them, and goes to the office with the note from Ms Owlswick. He hands the note to the woman in the office.

"Can I use the shredder please?" he asks.

"Go ahead, love." the office lady says. "So long as you promise not to stick your fingers in."

It takes just a second to shred Ben and Jamal's pictures. But it's not as satisfying as he thought it would be. In fact, when he sees Ben and Jamal's faces at the end of break when they discover their pictures gone, a look of distress that even he can recognise, he feels distinctly uncomfortable.

"Bad day?" Mum asks him, when he's laying the table for dinner.

Fry nods. And then he sniffs.

"Is that fish?"

"Of course it's fish. It's Monday." Mum says.

"But I told you you don't have to do that for me." Fry says.

"I'm not doing it for you." Mum says. "You want to try doing food shopping every week, for six people, Coral being fussy and me being deathly allergic to nuts. And how many meals do you think I know how to cook anyway? So you're having fish. And you only need to set five places, your dad's on call."

Fry feels suddenly relieved. Gil comes to the table and cries with relief that it's Monday after all. Coral decides she does like fish today, and Brooke feels that the success is entirely down to her persuasive picture.

"Mum?" Fry asks quietly, as they clean up after dinner. "I did something today I don't think I should have. What should I do?"

"Depends what you did." Mum says.

"Someone did something mean to me, and I did something mean back." Fry says.

"Well Fry, we've talked about 'revenging' before." Mum says. "It tends to make you do things that you might regret later. Sooner or later, one of you needs to make peace. Was it Ben again?"

"Partly, yes." Fry says.

"Ben will be going back to America in just a few months." Mum says. "And then you'll never have to deal with him again. If you feel bad about what you did, say sorry to him." She closes the dishwasher. "Do you want me to have a word with Ms Owlswick?"

"No, I think I've got this." Fry says. "Thanks Mum. For the chat. And the fish."

"You're lucky a teacher didn't see you messing around." Fry stands on the step to retrieve Gil's shoe from the top of the bush.

"I weren't!" Gil says.

"You mean 'I wasn't'." Fry corrects.

The correction is lost on Gil. Fry helps him put his little shoe back on.

"I weren't messing. Big girl did..." Gil starts.

"Alexander Sandhu!"

Fry looks around, and goes over to where the headmistress is standing. Gil gives a little sigh and goes to sit on both his feet so that Tilly can't take his shoes again.

"Yes Mrs Patel?" Fry asks.

"Come with me, please." Mrs Patel says.

Fry follows her. He has an inkling what this is about: his little stunt a few weeks ago, where he got hold of a Year 8 level maths book from the bar, completed the entire thing, and presented it to his teacher. The alarmed look on her face was clear even to him. He'd rather enjoyed it. It would teach Ms Owlswick to let him get bored.

Mrs Patel doesn't look alarmed, as far as he can tell, but she's known him for long enough that she's probably not that surprised. Fry knows that Mr Irons and Miss Havisham tried to stop him pulling this particular stunt for years by distracting him in other directions. And it worked.

Sure enough, when he gets to the head's office, both Ms Owlswick and Mr Irons are seated there, waiting for him. He doesn't feel intimidated by so many adults, and sits down opposite the head teacher. Mrs Patel puts his complete maths notebook on the table in front of him.

"Firstly, Alexander, and this is important: the only copy of Book 8 in this school lives in my office. Is that the copy you used?"

"No, I bought my own." Fry says. "And I paid with my own money."

"Good." Mrs Patel says. "Secondly, have you got hold of Book 9?"

Fry hesitates. This had been his strategy for if the plan didn't work. But then he nods.

"Yes, and I already worked half way through it."

He wonders whether he's going to be told off. The teachers exchange a look, then Mrs Patel nods to Mr Irons, who continues where she left off.

"Fry, we understand your frustration. I know you've talked about how your rivals have all gone, now you're one of the oldest in the school and the others in your class who challenged you have left. I know it's been hard too having two new teachers in one year. But we need to know what you thought you would achieve here."

Fry looks down at the maths book.

"I don't know." he admits. "I was bored and I wanted to get your attention."

"Bearing in mind that the decision lies out of your hands..." Mrs Patel says, "Are you now so bored with primary school that you want to be in secondary school? Is that what you're saying?"

Fry thinks about this.

"I don't know." he admits again. "I'm just fed up of being stuck with morons like Ben hassling me, making things out of PVA glue and paper when I could be learning something."

Ms Owlswick goes red.

Mrs Patel puts a letter in front of him.

"Ms Owlswick has very kindly been making some enquiries for you. You have an invitation." she says. "It isn't an entrance exam, nor an offer of a place, so I don't want you getting your hopes up. The head of the Oaking Gifted and Talented program wants to meet you."

Fry looks up.

"I thought they wouldn't take me even if I pass the exam because I'm too young. And if I'm not strong enough on things other than maths."

"That is still their position." Mrs Patel says. "However, Oaking school has particular expertise in catering for children who do not fit well into academic years. They want you to visit for the day, look around the school, and take a developmental test. They will then give us some advice on how to challenge you."

"Like the sort of things I do with Max?" Fry asks. Max is his educational psychologist, but he doesn't see him very often.

"Yes, similar to that." Mrs Patel says. "Oaking will be measuring your academic skills mostly, but they will also be looking at how you cope in their environment. Ideally, we want to find a solution for you so that you can stay here for Year 6 next year, without being so bored that you feel you have to buy your own text books."

"Do my mum and dad know about this?" Fry asks.

"Yes, we have spoken to them. You should talk to them too." Mrs Patel says. "Everyone wants what's best for you, Fry. But we have to work out what that is."

After being shouted at for fifteen minutes by Ben's mother, Mrs Patel sends Ben and his mother to wait in the secretary's office, and calls in Fry.

As Fry enters, Coral comes in with him.

"We don't need you, thank you, Coral." Mrs Patel says.

"I'd like to stay please. Mum isn't here yet, so I'm his avocado." Coral says politely.

Mrs Patel just about keeps a straight face. "Advocate, I think you mean. That's fine. Fry, Ben and his mother have been in with some very serious allegations that you have been bullying Ben. I am going to ask you whether each thing they have accused you of is true, and then we will deal with the matter, all right?"

Fry nods.

"Did you punch Ben in the face on his first day?"

"Yes." Fry says, surprised that Mr Mags hasn't already reported that to her.

"Why?"

"Because he stuck a wet finger in my ear, and he scared me. I didn't mean to punch him, and I said sorry after. Mr Mags, I mean, Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald, said that was okay."

"Did you on the same day threaten to break Ben's arm?"

Fry has to think about this one. "No. I said it was lucky I didn't, when he startled me, but I meant it was lucky I didn't do it by accident."

"I see. The way you said that sounds like a threat. Did you glue Ben's desk shut?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he kept banging it to make me and Joram jump and Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald told me I should stand up for myself. I didn't think it would stick so well. I confessed but lots of the others took the blame with me."

"So you knew that was the wrong thing to do. Did you and your friends read Ben's diary?"

"No." Fry says. "Tommy looked in the desk to see what he was hiding, but we didn't read it."

"Would you have read it, if Ben hadn't caught you?"

"No. Well, I wouldn't, I don't know about the others."

"On that day, did you threaten to break Ben's teeth?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he called me lots of names in the toilet and wouldn't let me out and kept making the driers go off and it hurt."

"Did you mean it?"

"Yes. They were only baby teeth."

"I understand why you were upset." Mrs Patel says. "But you can't do that."

Fry nods.

"This afternoon, did you push Ben to the floor?"

"No. I took him down in a controlled way that I knew would not hurt him."

"Why did you do that?"

"He scared Joram with a loud bang and laughed at him. I think that's a horrible thing to do to a refugee. I took Ben down to scare him but not hurt him."

"But Fry, Joram hasn't told the other children he's a refugee, has he?" Mrs Patel asks. "So how could Ben have known that?"

Fry hesitates for a moment. Oh. Yes. Good point.

"It's still mean." he says.

"Yes, but it would be less mean if it was just a joke, than if it was meant to scare a victim of war, wouldn't it?" Mrs Patel says.

"I understand." Fry says, after a momentary glance at Coral.

"Did you make a hole in Ben's jumper."

"No." Fry says. "It already had a little hole. I didn't make it bigger."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Last question. Did Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald see you fight Ben this afternoon and not punish you?"

"Yes." Fry says.

"Thank you Fry." Mrs Patel says. "I will take it from here. You must not threaten, hurt, or 'take down' other children unless it is truly in self-defence; for example, someone is trying to hit you right now and you need to block them. If you had broken Ben's arm or his teeth I would have suspended you, even if it was provoked. You are a big boy now, Fry, and you must learn to use non-violent and non-destructive methods to solve conflict."

She sighs. "I do not think this situation is entirely your fault, though. Did Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald give you any guidance on how to stand up for yourself?"

"Not really." Fry says.

"Perhaps you can work on that with Mr Irons." Mrs Patel says. "Can you and Coral wait outside while I speak to Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald, please?"

Fry and Coral go out into the secretary's room and sit the opposite side to Ben and his mother. Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald shoots both culprits a glance before going inside.

"Magnus, this is the third complaint I've had today." Mrs Patel says. "The first being Bethany Sharpe being in here in floods of tears with her mum because you apparently allowed one of the other children to bribe their way to being class president. The second was Anna's mother complaining that you compared her daughter to the Phantom of the Opera."

"Objection: I said to Anna's mother that Anna shouldn't have to cover her scar because she wasn't the Phantom of the Opera, and I apologised when she took offence." Mr Mags says. "It was far less offensive than what her mother said about her losing the election because of the birthmark."

"Still not appropriate. And now it appears that there's been a lot of other things happening in your class that I wasn't made aware of."

"Let's be fair." Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald says. "Every kid in my class learned this week that bribery is a feeble way to win an election."

"You can't allow the children to beat each other up, emotionally or physically." Mrs Patel says. "This is a school, not Lord of the Flies. Ben's mother has made a serious allegation that Fry is persistently bullying Ben, and there is some degree of substance to that claim."

Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald snorts.

"Fry is no bully, and his behaviour is fine. His only issue in this matter is that he doesn't know how to stand up for himself. Ben on the other hand is a jealous, lying, bullying little snot who picks on vulnerable kids because it makes him feel like a big man."

Rather unfortunately for Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald, Ben's mother happens to be near enough to the door to be eavesdropping, and on hearing this speech, bursts into the office and starts screeching again.

"Look." Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald says after a minute of this. "I could have hauled Ben in weeks ago for all the rubbish he's put kids in this class through. It's not just Fry, he goes for other kids - a girl who's a bit overweight, a lad who doesn't speak much English, and a girl with a birthmark. Maybe I wanted to give him a chance to realise he was making a bad start for himself rather than labelling him a bully?"

"I think you just couldn't be bothered to intervene." Ben's mum retorts.

After a very tense half hour, Mrs Patel eventually calms Ben's mum down, calls the children back in, and suggests that Ben and Fry both shake hands and write one another a letter of apology. Both the boys, suspecting now that they have got their teacher into trouble, meekly comply. At this point, Mum catches up with Fry and Coral, and Mrs Patel decides to send them all home before Fran can turn lioness too.

She motions to Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald to stay behind, and once the parents have gone, closes the door.

"Magnus, I believe there is some method in your madness. I agree that sometimes the children need to learn to solve their own problems. However, I don't feel that you supervised their efforts to do so nearly enough on this occasion. That I could have worked with."

She turns to him. "But I will not have you calling the children names like that, let alone in earshot of the parents, and for that reason I am suspending you while I conduct a full enquiry. Since it's half term, that will give me time to establish the full facts."

"You'll have my resignation in writing by tomorrow morning." Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald says.

"That may not be necessary." Mrs Patel adds, hastily. "It will need to be brought before the governors but you are likely to get off with a written warning."

Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald shakes his head.

"Conduct your enquiry, take whatever action you need, but I'm still resigning." he says. "I make a better substitute than a long term class teacher. If your investigation leaves you satisfied I will be happy to come back to do supply work if you want me to."


***


A few days later, during half term, Mum calls Fry over to the living room with her and Dad. Mr Mags is on the laptop, skyping them.

"What's going on?" Fry asks, sitting between his parents.

"I want to tell you something important." Mr Mags says. "And I wanted your parents in on it so that I can make sure there's no misunderstanding. When you come back after half term, I will no longer be your teacher."

"Why?" Fry asks.

"Because I said some things in front of some of your classmates' parents that was inappropriate." Mr Mags says. "I wanted you to know that me leaving was in no way your fault because of the business with Ben. Not Ben's fault, either."

Fry has mixed feelings. He'd just started to get used to Mr Mags, and kind of felt that he was at least on his side, but it's been a difficult half term.

"Thank you for your teaching." he says, after a moment. "It's not going to be Mr Morton, is it?"

"No, I made sure of that when I discussed how long I would stay." Mr Mags says. "Or I would have carried on as a substitute for a few weeks. Your new teacher will be called Ms Owlswick."

"They found a replacement so quickly?" Dad asks.

"Ms Owlswick is a teaching student who was looking for a placement transfer." Mr Mags says. "I've met with her and she is very capable." He looks back at Fry. "Now listen, little dude, because I have one more bit of advice for you. I might not have advised you very well on how to stand up for yourself, you needed more help with that than I knew to give you, but I don't want you to stop standing up for yourself, all right? Mr Irons will help you learn now. Otherwise, you will be bullied all your life, and you do not deserve that."

Fry nods.

"Thanks sir."

And with that, they part ways. Fry looks at his parents.

"Are you disappointed with me?"

"No!" Mum says. "Fry, Mr Mags may have been your teacher only briefly but he does have a point. But it's okay to ask advice as to how to tackle these things, okay?"

"And it's definitely not my fault he's going?"

"No." Dad says. "Mr Mags had to be the adult here, and he didn't do that. It's not your fault, Fry."

Fry looks back at the blank screen. He wonders whether the rest of the class will be so sure about that.

When he glued Ben's desk lid with PVA glue, Fry hadn't expected the effect to be that dramatic. It was just PVA, after all, which isn't exactly the stickiest glue he's ever done revenging with.*

Later, on reflection, he would realise the reason the desk stuck so well was because he sealed all the tiny gaps. He is however rather surprised the next morning when not only can Ben not open the desk, but Mr Mags can't prise it open either.

This was not exactly what he had in mind.

Fry bites his lip slightly as the rest of his class laughs at Ben's predicament. He'd thought the desk would stick for maybe a minute, and with a bit of luck, not make quite such a bang if he started dropping the lid again. But after five minutes, Mr Mags still hasn't got it open.

"Right, you'll just have to borrow stuff this morning until we find some tools." Mr Mags says, eventually.

"You will be able to open it, won't you?" Ben asks, looking slightly more upset than Fry had hoped for. "It's got... stuff of mine."

"Oh yeah, don't worry." Mr Mags says. "Just borrow these for now and we'll stick the pages in later."

He walks to the front of the class and turns around.

"Stop laughing." he says, in a low voice.

Somehow, Mr Mags' low voice is way more scary than any yelling. Everyone is quiet at once.

"I like a practical joke as much as the next person, but when it interferes with someone's schoolwork, or causes someone to be upset, that's a joke gone too far." he says. "I believe that that perhaps wasn't the intention of the prankster. I'd like them to own up; if they can't do it in front of the class, they can come and see me at the end of the morning."

Fry swallows hard, and stands up.

"I did it."

Before Mr Mags can respond, Joram stands up, across the table from him.

"Sir, I did it."

"No, I did it." Teddy says, standing up next to Joram.

"I was in it too." Noah says, getting to his feet.

Fry stares at them in confusion. Did they come in afterwards and apply their own glue? Then Kasha, who wasn't even there yesterday because she had a cold, stands up and says she did it. Even Pixie, who is usually too shy to speak in front of the class, makes a confession. And then Tommy stands up.

"I glued the desk, and so did my wife!"

Mr Mags, who is having difficulty not dissolving into laughter, waves at everyone to sit down.

"Okay, okay, I think that's enough confessions. You can all stay in at break and sharpen the pencils in the pencil box." He glances at Fry. "And if there's no more of this sort of thing, we'll say no more about it."

At break time he goes to find the school handyman to get the desk open, leaving Fry and his friends sharpening the pencils.

"I don't understand." Fry says, when Mr Mags has gone. "Why did you all take the blame with me?"

"Because we're your friends." Teddy says. "Ben's been a jerk to you, and we're on your side."

"I did also not like the big bang." Joram says.

They watch with interest when the handyman comes back to unstick the desk, which doesn't take terribly wrong. Then Tommy gets up and peeps in the newly freed desk.

"Tommy, you can't go in someone's desk!" Kasha says.

"I just wanted to see what Ben was in such a paddy about." Tommy says, pulling out a big leatherbound book. "Ooh, a secret diary!"

"Put it back, Tom." Teddy says. Tommy rolls his eyes and puts it back without opening it, but unfortunately Ben comes into the classroom at that moment and sees him.

"What are you doing?" Ben demands.

"I didn't read it." Tommy says, hurriedly. Ben goes to his desk, snatches the diary, and heads back out of the classroom.

Fry, still feeling uncomfortable about the whole thing, goes to the bathroom before the start of class. Unfortunately, just as he's washing his hands, Ben comes out of another cubicle, still holding his book. The two boys stop in their tracks.

"I know it was just you, really." Ben says. "So does Mr Mags, just you're his little pet and he didn't punish you properly."

Fry dries his hands with a tissue. Ben puts his hands under the drier, which makes a loud noise. Fry stops and puts his hands over his ears. Ben, watching him, sticks his other hand under the other drier, so they're both on. Fry tries to leave, but Ben blocks his path.

"Do not mess with me." Fry says, suddenly, ferociously. "Or you will regret it, Ben. What's your stupid problem anyway?"

"What's my problem? I hate you!" Ben says. "You act like you're four years old. You're pathetic, and you're a tattle tale. Everyone laughs at you, and you deserve it! Even your 'friends' only back you up because they think you're retarded."

Fry just restrains himself from headbutting Ben.

"Don't use that word. You know, I miss Bradley. He was an asshole too, but at least he challenged me intellectually."

"Are you calling me retarded?" Ben asks, getting up in his face. "You're the one that's retarded."

"No, just Bradley was smarter than you." Fry says. "Now get out of my way or prepare for a visit from the tooth fairy tonight."

Ben, who has learned about Fry's level of combat training the hard way, gets out of his way, still clutching his book. Fry goes to stand at the fish tank to calm himself down. Little snot! At least he got the last word.

He knows Mr Mags will help him if he asks. But part of him knows that Mr Mags was right - he is always going to have quarrels with other kids and he is at some point going to have to learn to deal with it himself.

He doesn't notice Ben return to the class behind him with slightly red eyes. And if he had noticed, he wouldn't have known what to make of it.



[*Fry's reputation for sticking things together with superglue was well known at the school, to the extent that a memo had at one point been sent to all staff forbidding anyone to leave the stuff anywhere kids could reach it.]

The most important thing to do, when trapped on the roof of your school, is not to panic.

Fry digs into his inside pocket and consults his book of rules and guidelines, which do not cover this specific scenario. They suggest that in an emergency he calls Mum or Dad or 999. However, Fry at this moment in time would rather none of those people know that he's on the roof. It would be better to get off the roof.

He lies down flat and crawls over to the nearest edge. The school has a ground floor and a first floor, so it's too tall to just jump off, and he knows that. But maybe there's a fire escape or something. He looks around; but the fire escape is not something he can easily drop down onto either.

He gets out his phone. He wishes he'd actually asked some of his classmates for their number. They're all filing into the dining hall now for lunch break, and because he only left fifteen minutes before the end of the class, he suspects that people might assume he's gone straight to lunch.

And then he realises it's worse than that. Sometimes he takes his lunch and eats it in the kitchen on his own, because the dining hall is too noisy. So his friends might not notice he's gone right away.

Maybe he can climb back down the way he came up. He crawls back over to the miniature door he climbed out of, and tries the handle. But it doesn't turn. Hm. Maybe it's burglar-proof. Then he realises it's not a real door, so much as a vent, and you're probably not supposed to actually go through it.

He's starting to panic a little bit now. He wants his lunch, and it's colder up here than he expected.

***

It's not until the end of lunch break, when everyone returns to class, that Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald notices that Fry is missing. He frowns slightly, then begins to make some enquiries.

"Anyone seen Fry?"

Noah puts his hand up. "Mr Mags, I last saw him when he went to calm down at the end of the last lesson."

"All right, and he goes to the fish tank?" Mr Mags asks.

"Usually." Teddy says. "Or he goes to the bathroom and watches the tap run."

Ben sniggers from the table behind. Teddy and Noah shoot him a glare.

"It's not normal for Fry not to come back at the start of the next class." Kasha says. "Fry follows timetables very strictly."

"He'll have gone somewhere quiet." Tommy says.

"I didn't see him at lunch."

"I don't remember seeing him in the playground."

Mr Mags tells them to get out their reading books and read, then goes across the corridor to Mr Irons' room.

Back in the classroom, there is a lot of noise. Ben, Jamal and Zack are making sarcastic remarks about Fry's absence. Suddenly, Teddy stands up.

"SHAME ON YOU!" he yells at Ben's table. Everyone goes quiet. Teddy glares at the whole class. "Shame on all of you! Fry has been in this class since he was four years old, he's one of us. You all knew you were being too noisy, you knew it was upsetting him, and you all carried on! Even the new kids knew, and if they didn't, we should have stopped them."

"It wasn't a rule." Ben says.

Teddy goes over to the rules board and writes 'Don't be noisy' on it.

"Now it is. And now we have to find Fry. So you lot start looking in cupboards, and me and Noah'll go down the corridor."

Teddy goes off down the corridor with Noah, looking in cupboards. Joram gets up and follows them.

"Watch." Joram says, after a minute.

"Watch what?" Noah asks.

Joram points to his wrist.

"Oh yes!" Teddy says. "Fry wears a watch with a tracker on it."

***

In the other corridor, Mr Irons and Mr Mags have come to the same conclusion. Since Mr Irons has been Fry's special education teacher for a few years, Mum and Dad have installed the app that tracks Fry on his phone, in case of emergencies.

"It appears he's still in the building." Mr Irons says. "Unless he's taken the watch off."

"How accurate is this?" Mr Mags asks.

"In good GPS conditions, it'll track him to the nearest metre."

"So he's right here. Or on the floor above." Mr Mags says.

They look in the cupboards, then go up to the first floor and look there. No sign of him.

"What's this thing here?" Mr Mags asks, knocking on part of the wall that sticks out towards them.

"Vent." Mr Irons says. "There's no opening on this floor."

"Mr Magnesium-Fitzgerald!" Teddy comes running up. "We've found Fry."

"Oh well done, where is he?" Mr Mags asks.

"On the roof." Noah says. "We looked for him behind the school and he peeped over and waved."

"Noah, please go and get the head." Mr Irons says, as he and Mr Mags rush out back and climb up the fire escape. "Fry, do not move, we're coming to get you."

Fry peeps over.

"I didn't mean to get up here." He says.

"Don't worry about that." Mr Mags says, taking his shoes off and shimmying up the drainpipe.

"Magnus, wait for the fire brigade!" Mr Irons hisses. Then, on second thoughts, tries to climb up after him.

"Whoops, careful." Mr Mags says, reaching down from the top of the roof to help Mr Irons get on. "Why are you coming up?"

"I was worried you might startle him." Mr Irons says. "Are you okay, Fry?"

"I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?" Fry says, shivering.

Mr Irons takes off his jacket and puts it round him.

"I think we'll decide if you're in trouble when we're all safely on the ground." he says.

"Fry, why did you take off?" Mr Mags asks.

"Because you said I could leave the class at any time if I needed a time out." Fry says. "And I couldn't go to the fish tank so I looked for a quiet place, and then I climbed the ladder into the vent and I got stuck."

"Did you know it was wrong to climb into vents?" Mr Irons asks.

"I never heard a rule about it." Fry says.

"Okay. You must not climb into vents." Mr Irons says.

Mr Mags stares at him. "Isn't that sort of obvious?"

"No, Magnus, it's not obvious to him." Mr Irons says. "I know you like the kids to make their own rules in your class, but Fry needs more structure than that. And if the whole class votes to be noisy, he can't just accept that, any more than if the whole class voted to eat peanuts but one person had an allergy."

Mr Mags nods.

"Hey, I'm sorry man." he says to Fry. "I'll give your classmates more help with the rule-making, okay?" He smiles slightly. "Well, assuming I'm not fired."

"You might get fired?" Fry asks, watching as the fire engine comes up the road towards the school.

"Maybe. Hopefully not." Mr Mags says. "There's so much I want to teach you guys. But don't worry, man, I'm a substitute teacher by trade, even if I do get fired I'll be okay."

Fry looks at Mr Irons as Mr Mags gets up to direct the crane.

"He won't really get fired will he?"

"I don't think so." Mr Irons reassures him. "But you gave us a scare, so please tell him where you're going next time."