Chapters (75)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Title Page
- Intoroduction
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EITHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- CLIMATE EMERGENCY
- Copyright
A few weeks after that first time, when I’d caught up with the rest of the class again and didn’t need any extra sessions after school, Mr Walters had asked me if ‘He’ was good at science at school. Somehow, I’d heard him pronounce that capital ‘H’. I’d stared back, blankly. Mr Walter’s carried on – did I get my abilities from my mother’s side of the family as well as His? I’d shrugged and said I didn’t know. Then went straight home in the middle of the day and cried.
I told Mum about it.
The next day, I’d got a note telling me to go to Miss Amber’s office at the end of school. Mum was there with Mrs Clarke, Miss Amber and Mr Walters. I froze when I saw them through the little, grilled window in the door, wanting to melt into a puddle and be mopped up before they saw me. I was too late.
But when Mrs Clarke opened the door to me, she seemed to be laughing. So did Miss Amber, and Mr Walters. And Mum.
‘Hi, love.’ Mum’s voice sounded puffed up, full of air, the way it did just before she started to cry.
Mrs Clarke showed me to a comfy seat between her and Mum. Mr Walters sat opposite, on Miss Amber’s office chair. Miss Amber stood leaning on the windowsill. It wasn’t a very big office. Mum took something out of her bag and held it on her lap.
‘Josh, I’d like to apologise,’ began Mr Walters. ‘I’m sorry that I keep mentioning your father. I know that you don’t like it, that it makes you uncomfortable. And I wanted to let you know that I didn’t want to upset you in any way, or bring up any bad memories.’ He sat leaning forward with his clasped hands between his knees, looking concerned.
‘Mr Walters was at school with your dad,’ Mum said next, definitely on the verge of tears now. She passed me what she was holding – a rolled-up piece of paper. I unrolled it. It was an old picture of Dad’s class at school. I remember him showing it to me once, years ago. We had laughed at the haircuts.
Mr Walters leaned over, pointing to a boy in the top row with short, dark hair and big-rimmed glasses. ‘That’s me,’ he said. ‘I was in your dad’s year, but we weren’t in the same classes. We weren’t close, and we didn’t keep in touch after school. When I heard about … what happened…’ He trailed off.