I look down at my book and follow the words as Laura reads slowly. We are all behind in our work but for different reasons. Michael gets stuck on words with silent letters like the C in muscle and scent. Ross can read okay in his head but stutters when he reads out aloud, and Laura gets stuck on words with three or more syllables, which makes her sound like a broken-down robot, like she does now . . .

‘Tran . . . Tran . . . Tran . . .’ She looks up from her book.

‘Break it down into parts.’ Mrs Hudson leans over and places her finger on Laura’s book. ‘Tran . . .’

‘Tran . . . Tran . . . Tran-sit-on. Transiton!’ Laura smiles.

I glance at Ross and Michael, but their heads are down, looking at their books. They used to laugh at each other’s mistakes and sometimes they are funny, like when Ross reads ‘limp noodles’ instead of ‘lymph nodes’, but now they just keep reading, staying serious, like they really want to get better at it. And so do I, it’s just that I can’t sit still long enough to do it.

‘Transition,’ says Laura.

‘Do you watch Transformers?’

‘What?’ Mrs Hudson looks at me, startled. ‘Felix, where did that come from?’

‘No idea.’ I shrug. ‘But do you watch them – Transformers? You know, the robots that turn into cars and machines.’

‘We all know what they are.’ Mrs Hudson looks around the table. ‘But, Felix, we all need to concentrate on this.’

‘It’s good.’ I lift up my fists and bring them together. ‘They all smash into each other like this and—’

‘Felix!’ snaps Mrs Hudson. ‘We need to concentrate.’

‘Sorry.’ I sit back in my seat. ‘I was only saying.’

Mrs Hudson takes a deep breath, then says, ‘Well done, Laura, now, Michael, you take over from there.’

Michael starts reading, but he immediately gets stuck.

‘Invis . . . Invis . . .’

‘Keep trying,’ says Mrs Hudson.

‘Invisible,’ says Michael, reading on.

I try to follow the words, but it’s hard when Optimus Prime, Bumblebee and Megatron are now smashing into each other inside my head. There’s metal grating, grinding, sparks flying everywhere. Optimus Prime turns into a sports car, Megatron into a massive truck, Bumblebee into a helicopter, and they chase each other along streets between giant cranes and skyscrapers. Crash! Bang! Smash! Shards of glass fly through the air between the helicopter’s rotor blades. Optimus Prime changes into a—

‘Felix?’

‘Tank,’ I say, without thinking.

‘What?’ Mrs Hudson narrows her brow. Michael, Ross and Laura are looking at me like I just walked off an alien spacecraft.

‘Oh! Nothing.’

Mrs Hudson shakes her head. ‘Felix, it’s a pity you can’t use your imagination in your writing.’ She looks at me for a long time, like the longer she looks, the more chance her words will go into my head. I shrug and look at the ground. It’s pointless worrying about something that can’t happen.