The engine noise was even louder inside and the classroom was full of dark smoke.
“Beth!” Miss Jones shouted. “If it’s you making that racket, then stop it now.”
With the door open, the smoke began to thin and clear. Alfie could see there were half a dozen children in the room, most of them sitting at their desks. The exception was the girl in the pink helmet whom Alfie had seen on his way to school. The flames at the back of her roller skates faded and died as the jet engines coughed and spluttered to a halt. But she was still moving very fast, circling the desks. A fair-haired boy in a wheelchair reversed rapidly out of her way as she passed.
“Sorry, Miss—no brakes!” the girl yelled as she shot by.
Miss Jones grabbed the girl’s shoulders and was dragged along for several metres before they both skidded to a halt. The soles of the teacher’s shoes were smoking, and there was a strong smell of burnt rubber.
“Thank you, Beth,” Miss Jones said. “Now if you will please put those skates in the stock cupboard and sit down, I’d like to introduce Alfie, who’s joining Class 3D today.”
“Wicked,” shouted a boy with close-cut dark hair. “Can Alfie sit by me, Miss? Can he? Please?”
“We’ll sort out where Alfie sits in a minute,” Miss Jones told the boy. She waited for Beth to sit down. Under her helmet, Alfie saw that Beth had brown hair that was cut into the same exact shape, so it looked like she still had the helmet on.
“Right, then,” Miss Jones said, “I think we should all introduce ourselves.”
A smug-looking girl with dark hair and glasses cleared her throat and stood up. She looked at Alfie suspiciously. “I’m Chloe,” she said. “And my dad is just so important. He’s a spy, but obviously I can’t tell you his name or where he is. But I expect you know all about him anyway, he’s just so famous.” She looked expectantly at Alfie.
“No, sorry,” he said.
Chloe went as pink as Beth’s helmet and sat down. She glared at Alfie.
The boy with short dark hair laughed and Miss Jones pointed at him. “Jack.”
Jack stood up. “I’m Jack and my dad’s far more important than Chloe’s. During the holidays we went to Russia because Dad has to go to meetings at the Kremlin with the President and other important people. I worked out how they could keep the streets clear of snow and ice, but Dad said it would cost too much.”
Next was the fair-haired boy in the wheelchair. One arm of the wheelchair opened and a clipboard with notes on it popped up on a metal rod. He read out loud from the notes. “I’m Sam. My mum works at the Hush-Hush Department inventing stuff for agents. She made my wheelchair because the NHS one didn’t have a very good anti-missile protection system. And one of the wheels was wonky.”
Alfie tried his best not to look puzzled, because he didn’t want to look stupid in front of his new class. But it seemed to him that this was the most peculiar bunch of children he had ever met.
Then Beth stood up. She had taken off the jet-skates and was now wearing a pair of ordinary looking trainers. “I’m Beth and I invent stuff. My dad’s in the Government Inventing Taskforce.” She paused and sniffed. “That’s GIT to you,” she said to Chloe, who scowled and looked away. “Anyway, I have my own laboratory and everything and I’ve designed tons of great stuff including a robot that can tie your shoelaces.”
“She brought it in for show and tell,” Sam said. “It tied her shoelaces together and she fell over.”
“That is not true,” Beth shouted. “Alice tripped me up.”
“Did not,” said the last of the girls. She was short and thin with long blonde hair. “Never in a million years. And if I did, you deserved it. So there.” She caught Miss Jones’s severe look and stood up. “Anyway, I’m Alice. My dad’s a double-double agent.” She frowned and checked on her fingers. “Or it might be double-double-double. It gets very confusing.”
“Isn’t that a triple-double?” the last of the boys asked.
“No,” Alice snapped back. “That’s just stupid. How can you be so stupid, Harry? It might be a double-triple, but whoever heard of a triple-double?”
“You next, Harry,” Miss Jones said quickly.
Harry stood up. He was a large boy—taller and broader than Alfie. “Harry,” he said. “I like PE best. And the assault course.” He started to sit down again, then changed his mind and stopped halfway between standing and sitting. “Oh, and my dad’s infiltrated SPUD. Again.”
There was a hushed silence.
“Really?” Sam said, impressed.
“You can’t tell us that,” Jack hissed in a loud whisper.
“Yeah,” Chloe told him. “And you can’t tell us your dad is head of the Secret Service, but you do.”
“Never!” Jack shot back.
“Like, all the time,” Alice said.
Miss Jones held her hands up for silence. “Alfie,” she said, “why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”
Alfie was still trying to make sense of what everyone else had said. “SPUD,” he said at last. “Isn’t that a potato?”
“Hey—good one!” Jack said. “Alfie thinks Harry’s dad’s a potato!”
“Don’t be silly,” Sam said from his wheelchair. “Alfie thinks Harry’s dad has infiltrated a potato.”
“With a knife and fork?” Beth suggested.
“Children!” Miss Jones shouted above the noise. “Please—we are welcoming a new member of Class 3D. Alfie was about to tell us about himself.”
“So what’s your dad do, Alfie?” Chloe asked. “Bet he’s not as important as my dad.”
Alfie looked at her. He looked at all the children, staring back at him expectantly. He felt nervous and alone and it was a struggle to say anything at all. “Well, actually,” he said at last, “my dad’s a postman.”
The class collapsed into laughter. Even Miss Jones was having trouble keeping a straight face. “I can see you have a great sense of humour, Alfie,” she said. “You’ll fit in just fine with Class 3D.”