oming along the corridor is a middle-aged female teacher carrying a briefcase and a pile of books. You realise this is your chance, and it’s the only one you’re going to get. You rush to the teacher’s side.
‘You’ve got too much to carry there,’ you say. ‘Let me help you.’
‘Why, what nice manners,’ she beams. ‘So unusual among young people these days. Thank you.’
You take the pile of books, and the two of you walk right past the caveman-student, who’s had to move aside to make room for you. ‘Why, thank you,’ you say to him, ‘what nice manners you have. So unusual among young people these days.’ He goes purple in the face and starts rumbling like a small active volcano. But you sweep on by without another look.
A minute later, as you deliver the teacher to her classroom, the bell rings and you go off to your own class. The morning passes in a blur and it’s not until the lunch bell that you have time to be worried about the Incredible Hulk. You leave the classroom cautiously, peering down the corridor before you step into it. The coast looks clear, so you head for your locker. A few kids look at you strangely: you remember the scene in the bathroom this morning and blush with embarrassment.
It’ll take you a long time to live that down.
You get to your locker and everything seems OK. The area is deserted.
You open the locker to put your books in and realise straight away that it’s not OK after all. There’s some kind of fire bomb in there, and as soon as you open the locker the whole thing bursts into flames. Yikes! This is really dangerous. You look around desperately.
At one end of the corridor there is a fire alarm button. At the other end there is a cleaner’s cupboard, which you think should contain a tap and some buckets. Which way are you going to go?