I did not even think of security cameras when I made my oh-so-clever plan to get back my book—stolen all those decades ago by the boy I thought was my friend.

Who would? Who would think that a school, of all places, would have cameras placed on the gates, in corridors and stairwells?

On the way to the science block for “double biology,” I looked up at the walls that may have held cameras overlooking the playground, or “the scene of the crime.”

There were none, and I relaxed a little—enough to pay attention in class, at least. Of all the lessons, biology was my favorite. In most of the other subjects, I was quite far ahead of the other students, and the main effort I made was not to be too clever, or to contradict the teachers when they made idiotic statements like “Shakespeare’s audiences found these jokes hilarious.” Well, not that I remember. Mam and I liked plays, but William Shakespeare’s jokes often fell flat. For years, women were not allowed to act in plays (I cannot remember why—probably another king’s order), so the women’s parts were played by young (and not so young) men. That was often very funny, but not, I think, as Mr. Shakespeare intended.

I had not studied modern sciences very much at all, however.

Anyway, it was biology with Mrs. Murphy, and I was paying attention because I have decided that I want to be a doctor when I am older. That is, really older.

There was a knock on the classroom door, and Mrs. Farrow, from the administration office, came in. This, it would appear, was very significant, to judge from the looks exchanged among my classmates.

She looked at me and said, “Alfie Monk. Would you come with me, please?” There was a low murmured “Oooh” from the rest of the class.

In the Head’s office was Mr. Landreth, Sangeeta (whom I had not seen for a few days), and a police officer.

This was going to require a cool head.