The roar that Mr Carter had heard was the roar of 6B enjoying Ryan getting into the bin. By the time he opened the door, though, Caspar seemed to have forgotten Ryan was there, and had begun drawing a series of houses on the board, all of which had a sun that looked a bit like a big spider above them.

“Hey!” said Mr Carter.

Everyone looked round. Behind him, one or two pupils frowned at the sight of Miss Gerard stretched out on the corridor floor, snoring.

“Good morning, Mr Carter!” said the rest of them.

“Hello, my favourite form!” he said. “What’s going on? Oh! I see Caspar’s doing some brill teaching – good on you, Cas!”

“Thuuuuhhh horn on the bus goes—”

“Beep, beep, beep. It does. It so does.” His eyes scanned the classroom. They settled for a moment – or so it seemed to her – on Dionna. In fact, it seemed as if Mr Carter was smiling at her. She looked round in case she was mistaken and he’d meant the smile for someone behind her. Which was a bit silly, as I have already explained that she and Ryan sat at the back of the class.

Either way, when she looked back, Mr Carter was no longer smiling at her. He was looking around at the rest of the class.

“Now. We are missing someone, aren’t we? In Six B. Where is he? Where oh where is … Ryan Ward? It’s odd. It seems as if he’s vanished. As if he’s gone completely! Absolutely cannot be found in his normal place.”

“Here I am,” said Ryan Ward in a weary voice.

Mr Carter turned round, then laughed.

“Oh! That’s where you are. In the bin! What are you doing there?”

Ryan stared at him, a very You saw me as soon as you came in – why are we bothering to pretend otherwise? look on his face. “Well, Head Teacher …” His voice landed on those words heavily. “I think what happened was that even Caspar, a four-year-old, could see that I –” and here his stare at Mr Carter grew harder – “Ryan Ward, was – how can I put this? – trash. Yes. That’s the right word: trash. He looked at me, Ryan Ward, and thought about Ryan Ward’s behaviour, and clearly felt there was only one place for me – Ryan Ward.” He turned his fierce gaze to Caspar. “Isn’t that right, sir?”

Caspar seemed at a bit of a loss as to what to say. So he said, “Shh. Shh. Shh?”

“That’s what the mummies say, yes,” said Ryan.

“And,” said Mr Carter, who seemed a little shaken by Ryan’s speech, “I think it’s a good thing to say to you … Ryan. Perhaps shushing you is a good idea. Because, frankly, I think you … well, I think you may have some self-esteem issues.”

“Do you,” said Ryan. Not with a question mark.

“I do. Here,” said Mr Carter, extending a hand, “let me help you out of that.”

Ryan stared at him again. “No thanks. I can get myself out.”

And he did easily enough and walked back to his seat.

There was a tense silence following this exchange. But then Mr Carter seemed to recover his energy and beamed at the class.

“Right! That’s that sorted. Now, I know Caspar’s been doing a brilliant job with History, but it’s time for the next lesson: PE!”

Everyone in the class looked at each other. Mr Barrington – with some difficulty and what appeared to be quite a lot of pain – uncurled himself from the small chair and too-low table. It was a much slower and more awkward process than Ryan climbing from the bin. He stuck both legs out to the right and then pushed himself out, sliding completely to the ground, then kneeling, going “uggh” a lot, before heaving himself up and brushing himself down.

“Excuse me, Mr Carter,” he said, after breathing heavily for a bit. “You may have forgotten – we only do PE on a Wednesday afternoon.”

“Oh yes, I did forget. Hang on a minute, let me check my timetable.”

Mr Carter took out a piece of paper from his pocket. He looked at it for a moment, concentrating. Then he said, “Hmm. But this says …”

He turned it round to face Mr Barrington and the class. On it was written in block capitals, BUM OFF, BUMMINGTON!

Which got a very big laugh from the classroom.

“Oh,” said Mr Barrington.

“Everyone to the playground!” said Mr Carter.