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  “Mr. Green will continue to keep you fit and active, and Ms. Lamb”—there was an audible groan across the room at the mention of Ms. Lamb’s name, but Sir Bentley pretended not to have heard it—“will be taking you for further work on your Ability. Professor Ingleby has been working on improving the experience in the think tanks for you, and he really has outdone himself.”

  Chris, remembering sitting in his think tank using his Ability during car chases around London and treasure hunts in medieval times, wondered how something so incredible could be improved.

  “Now,” continued Sir Bentley, “about the work for the government that you’ll be undertaking whilst continuing with your studies. In the past, Myers Holt pupils did not begin any work for us until their second term. However, in your case, our hand was forced with the matter of Dulcia Genever, which you all handled incredibly well, especially given that it was so early on in your training.”

  Chris pursed his lips. He wondered how Sir Bentley could say that, considering he had killed a boy.

  “You saved a lot of lives that night,” said Sir Bentley, and when Chris looked up, he saw that Sir Bentley was talking directly to him.

  “Yes, sir,” said Chris quietly.

  “This term, with the exception of a couple of loose ends that need to be tied up, we’ll go back to doing what Myers Holt pupils did so well back in the old days, and that’s helping the police to solve crimes.”

  “Yes!” said Rex.

  Sir Bentley gave a small chuckle. “Good to see you so enthusiastic, Rex. Now, to explain. You will not be helping us with anything that would involve you seeing any violence.”

  “Oh,” said Rex. Daisy, however, breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’ll explain more in our briefing which is on”—Sir Bentley walked behind the desk and opened up his planner—“Friday. We’ll talk more about that then.”

  Sir Bentley closed the planner and looked up. For a moment, there was silence.

  “I know that the end of last term was difficult,” said Sir Bentley finally. “I am torn between being glad that you were all there to save the lives of so many, myself included, and being horrified that we put you in the center of such distressing events. I think you all must be very affected, and that’s completely normal. I have therefore decided to bring a new member of staff on board. His name is Hugh Valedictoriat. He has worked as an army psychologist for many years and comes highly recommended. I have arranged for him to be here every day during the week. Your new timetables are in your bedrooms, and you’ll see that you’ve all been assigned slots with him. You can speak to him about anything on your mind in the strictest confidence. It’s completely up to you if you want to use these slots—it’s not a requirement—but I do urge you to at least meet him once and see how you get on. Yes?”

  They all nodded.

  “Excellent. And finally, I want to talk to you about the loose ends that I mentioned earlier. As you are all aware, Dulcia Genever was arrested on the night of the Antarctic Ball, thanks to all your good work. We have been unable to get any information from her whatsoever. Of course, we know now that she harbored considerable resentment for the events that took place back when she was a child and had decided to seek her revenge. I’m not going to excuse what happened all those years ago—I am still in disbelief that she survived that fall and went on to suffer so horribly—but, nevertheless, what she did was wrong, and she must be held accountable for the lives of the people she has destroyed. More of a concern, however, is the boy. We are guessing that it was her son and that the boy who didn’t make it was his twin brother.”

  Chris closed his eyes, and suddenly all he could see was the image of the dead boy at his feet. He shook himself to try to get rid of the picture in his mind, then sat up straight, doing his best to focus all his attention on what Sir Bentley was saying.

  “Whatever the brother who survived did,” continued Sir Bentley, “I am certain that it was on the orders of Dulcia Genever, and we need to find him—not because of the crimes he was trying to commit but because he is a young boy and we need to make sure he is being taken care of. We also need to know that Dulcia Genever was not working with anybody else, so that we can be absolutely certain this matter is settled once and for all. Tomorrow we are going to take one of you to use your Ability to read her mind to find out where the boy is and to ensure that this whole plan for revenge is over.”

  Sir Bentley turned to Chris. “Christopher, you have been through enough. I know last term was difficult for you, and we wouldn’t expect you to have anything more to do with this matter. The rest of you, I leave it up to you to volunteer yourselves if you think this is something you would be comfortable doing. Yes, Lexi?”

  “I was just wondering, what would you need us to do?”

  “Well, it should be fairly simple. We will be going to the prison where she is currently being held—it’s not far from here. She’s in a cell with a two-way mirror on one wall, so she’ll have no way of knowing who might be watching her. You’ll just have to do a quick runaround to a couple of places in her mind in order to find the information we would need, and that’s it. The whole process should take no longer than a few minutes, and then we’ll be done.”

  “Oh, that’s not too bad,” said Daisy.

  “Well, don’t make up your mind just yet. Have a think about it, and we can decide in the morning.”

  • • •

  Chris followed the others out of the classroom and up to the top of the hill in the Dome to wait out the fifteen minutes until the start of Mr. Green’s swimming lesson. He took a seat next to Philip and listened as the others chatted about putting themselves forward for the prison visit. Chris, however, did not join in. He thought he had been getting better at pushing out the bad memories, but right now all he could think of was the night of the ball—the fight with the boy, the moment he realized he had killed him, the brother crying, and the look he gave Chris before he carried his brother away—it was as if a horror film had turned on in his mind and he couldn’t find the switch to turn it off.

  By the time their break was over and they needed to get changed into their swimsuits for Mr. Green’s lesson, Chris had made a decision. He excused himself quietly and headed out of the Dome to Sir Bentley’s office, where he found the headmaster talking on the phone.

  “Come in. I’ll be just a moment,” whispered Sir Bentley, his hand over the mouthpiece.

  Chris took a seat and waited, tapping his knee. Finally, Sir Bentley put the phone down and clicked open the locks of the briefcase lying on his desk.

  “How can I help you, Christopher?” he asked as he began to gather up the papers around him.

  “I want to go with you to access Dulcia Genever’s mind tomorrow,” said Chris.

  Sir Bentley stopped and looked up at Chris. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I see. I was going to decide tomorrow morning.”

  “I know, sir, but I really want to go.”

  Sir Bentley shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what Chris was saying. “I would have thought you’d want nothing more to do with any of this.”

  Chris took a deep breath. He knew he was going to have to be completely honest if Sir Bentley was going to understand how important this was to him. Sir Bentley waited as Chris tried to work out how to say what he was thinking. In the end, he decided it was best just to come straight out with it.

  “I killed that boy’s brother.”

  Sir Bentley opened his mouth to speak, but Chris interrupted him. “I know you’re going to say that it was an accident, sir, but that doesn’t change anything—I was the one who did it, and it would make me feel better if I could help find him and make sure that he’s okay.”

  Sir Bentley considered this for a moment. “Christopher, you know that I admire your integrity very much. You have a sense of responsibility that is far beyond your twelve years. However”—Chris’s heart sank—“although there are many people who should feel guilty for the death of that boy,
myself included—and I’m not sure how to convince you of this—you are not one of them. You did what you had to do. You saved a lot of lives that night, and that, I believe, is enough.”

  “But, sir, I lost control. He didn’t need to die.”

  Sir Bentley frowned. “That, Christopher, is not your fault. Yes, your Ability is incredibly powerful, and controlling it takes a lot of training, but I put you in a difficult situation knowing that, and so the blame for what happened falls squarely on my shoulders, not yours.”

  Chris could see the opportunity slipping through his fingers. He wasn’t sure why this was as important as it was to him, but from the moment Sir Bentley had told them about the visit, Chris had known he was the one who had to do it. Before he could stop himself, his eyes began to fill with tears. “I need to do this, sir. Please let me go. I just want to know that the boy is found—it would make me feel better.”

  Sir Bentley looked at Chris for a moment and then sighed. “You do like to make things difficult for yourself, don’t you?”

  Chris wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and nodded.

  “Very well,” said Sir Bentley finally, “if you really feel that this is what you need to do, then you can go. However—and this is nonnegotiable—I need to know that you’ll meet with the psychologist when he arrives. I think he’ll do a better job of helping you to understand that you are not to blame. Is that fair?”

  “Yes,” said Chris, only because he didn’t feel he could say otherwise. He had never spoken to a psychologist before, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he knew he had no choice.

  “Good, when is your first appointment?”

  “Erm, I don’t know. I haven’t been to my room yet.”

  Sir Bentley slid a pile of papers on his desk over and rifled through them until he found what he was looking for.

  “Your first meeting is scheduled for tomorrow. Hmm . . . Let me see. . . .” Sir Bentley picked up the phone.

  “Allegra, could you call Hugh and find out what his schedule is for today—tell him I’d like him to meet with Christopher this afternoon if possible . . . Yes . . . Good. Thank you.” He hung up and turned to Chris. “I’m sure that will be fine. I’ll get somebody to let you know when he arrives. Have a chat with him, and if you decide to change your mind, I will get one of the others to come instead.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And, Christopher, I hope you remember that there is nothing wrong with saying you’d rather not do this—I know how stubborn you can be about doing the right thing.”

  Chris reddened, remembering his badly planned escape from Myers Holt to keep his promise to a shopkeeper.

  “Yes, sir,” he said.

  “Very well. Meet me here tomorrow morning at nine. If you wish to come, I’ll brief you on our way, and if you don’t, it won’t be any problem at all to take one of the others instead.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome, Christopher. I have to rush off to a meeting now, so will you let the others know?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you. Now off you go to your lesson, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  • • •

  Chris came out of the locker room, having quickly changed into his swimsuit, and ran over to the pool. There he found Mr. Green, the phys-ed teacher, wearing a red tracksuit and waving his arms around as he attempted to motivate Chris’s classmates in the water.

  “Suffer the pain of discipline or suffer the pain of regret! Clear your mind of ‘can’t’!” he shouted.

  He stopped and turned when he saw Christopher, and the others, seeing an opportunity, immediately came to a standstill. Before they had a chance to react, though, Mr. Green had swung his head round and caught them resting.

  “I did not tell you to stop! Get back to it: forty more laps to go! Fifty more for you, Rex! Go! Go!”

  “What? Why?” shouted Rex, bright red and looking like he was about to explode with anger.

  “Because I can see your feet on the floor. You will not stroll your way to peak fitness.”

  “I don’t want peak fitness. I want lunch.”

  “In that case, you’d best get moving.”

  Rex practically growled as he pulled his goggles back down over his eyes. He had only just begun his painfully slow doggy paddle when Sebastian swam up to his side and gave him a thumbs-up.

  “You are never a loser until you quit trying!” said Sebastian cheerfully.

  “Don’t you start,” said Rex. Sebastian shrugged and glided off into the clear blue water.

  Mr. Green tutted and turned to Chris. “Christopher, ten minutes and . . . thirty-five seconds late. Can you explain?”

  “I had a meeting with Sir Bentley.”

  Mr. Green considered this for a moment, then nodded and motioned for Chris to jump in.

  • • •

  “That man is a sadist,” mumbled Rex as they all walked back with damp hair toward the Map Room.

  “Aw, don’t be mean, Rex. I think he just wants us to get fit,” said Daisy.

  “No—he wants us all dead.” Rex suddenly remembered something and turned to Chris.

  “How did you manage to miss the beginning, anyway? You didn’t even get told off. You know what? I’m sick of you—always the teacher’s pet.”

  “Calm down, Rex,” said Lexi. “It’s not Chris’s fault that you’re so unfit.”

  Rex ignored Lexi. “So, what did you do? Slip him an apple?”

  “Back off, Rex,” said Chris. He opened the door of the Map Room and walked quickly over to the pool table, hoping to end the conversation.

  “I haven’t finished yet!” called Rex. “What were you doing?”

  Chris had wanted to bring up his conversation with Sir Bentley over lunch on his own terms, so that he could explain properly, but he could tell that Rex was in one of those moods. If Chris didn’t say something, Rex would just go on and on about it.

  “I went to see Sir Bentley.”

  Chris said this as casually as possible. He picked up a cue from the rack on the wall and was about to start shooting balls when he noticed nobody was talking. He looked up and saw that they were all staring at him.

  “Why?” asked Rex, his arms folded. It was a loaded question. Chris could tell by the dark tone in his voice that he knew exactly why.

  Chris sighed. He leaned the pool cue against the table and walked over to the group. “Look, I was going to tell you all at lunch. I . . . well . . . I went to ask if I could be the one to see Dulcia Genever tomorrow.”

  Lexi’s eyes narrowed. “And?” she asked.

  Chris hesitated. “He said yes.”

  Rex exploded. “What? Why didn’t you talk to us first? I wanted to do that!”

  “Myself also,” said Sebastian, who looked more disappointed than angry. Chris looked at Philip, Lexi, and Daisy, but not one of them looked him in the eye.

  “I’m really sorry,” said Chris. “I know you all wanted to go, but I just thought that it should be me—you know, because . . .”

  “What? Because you shouldn’t have killed that boy?” said Rex with a snarl.

  There was a sharp intake of breath from the others as Chris stared back at Rex. For a brief moment, Chris felt a surge of anger rise up inside him, and then, just like that, it was gone. Rex was only speaking the truth.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” said Chris quietly. He walked out, leaving the others standing in silence.

  • CHAPTER FOUR •

  Chris spent the mid-morning break in his bedroom to avoid the others. The only person who came to see him was Maura, who had noticed he was missing and brought him his snack. Chris was grateful that she didn’t ask any questions. He ate in silence, his mind replaying the conversation with Rex, and all he could think about was how stupid he had been—he should have spoken to the others first, but it just hadn’t occurred to him. He had spent his whole life making decisions on his own. He realized glumly that it was probably going to con
tinue that way—he had been back at school for only one day, and he had already managed to ruin the only true friendships he had ever had. Finally, knowing that he couldn’t hide away any longer, Chris made his way to the classroom, grateful to find that he was the first one there.

  He took a seat at his desk and waited. After a few minutes, he heard the voices of the others coming up the corridor, and he quickly looked down as they entered the room. When they saw Chris, they stopped. From the corner of his eye, Chris saw Philip whispering something to Rex before pushing him in Chris’s direction.

  Rex gave a nervous cough. “I’m, er, really . . .”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” said Chris, glancing up.

  Rex sighed with relief. “Good. I hate all that apology stuff. So, no hard feelings?”

  Chris shook his head.

  “It’s just, you should have talked to us first. We all know you’re a bit, you know, messed up after . . .”

  “Rex . . . stop talking,” warned Philip.

  “It’s okay, Philip,” said Chris. “He’s right. I should’ve checked with you all.”

  “We would have said yes,” said Daisy. Chris could hear the hurt in her voice, and he put his head in his hands.

  “That is sufficient,” said Sebastian, slapping Chris on the shoulder. “We can all proceed with our friendship, yes?”

  Chris gave a small smile and nodded, and Philip, looking relieved that the awkward situation was over, sat down next to him and started chatting about a robot he was designing that would be able to clean the windows of skyscrapers. Chris did his best to pay attention, but all he could think about was how he didn’t deserve such good friends. He was trying to work out a way to make it up to them when Ms. Lamb, their Mind Access teacher, walked in.

  Ms. Lamb was, if possible, even more hideous and angry looking than she had been the last time they had seen her before Christmas. Her leg was now fully healed from the rather unfortunate but, in hindsight, quite amusing, incident with a dog, and the bandages had been replaced with fluorescent-green tights that matched her new green-leather stiletto boots, tightly strapped to the knee with pink laces around her short, thick legs. Her much-too-small purple suit, made of a shiny material that Chris couldn’t identify, squeaked as she stomped around the room placing booklets on each desk. Chris took his seat and looked down as she approached him and placed the booklet on his table.