Chapters (44)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Dedication
- 4.52 a.m.
- 5.11 a.m.
- 6.29 a.m.
- 7.19 a.m.
- Showcase
- 7.55 a.m.
- 8.24 a.m.
- 8.44 a.m.
- Sophia
- 10.14 a.m.
- Together, Alone
- 11.38 a.m.
- Extracurricular Activities
- 12 p.m.
- This is Me
- 12.42 p.m.
- The Past’s Future
- The Bluesman’s Hat
- 12.57 p.m.
- The Backlash
- A Walk in the Small Hours
- 1.13 p.m.
- The Debris
- 1.35 p.m.
- Checkmate
- 1.57 p.m.
- The Normal
- Nerves
- 2.16 p.m.
- Ollie Morcombe’s Little Stunt
- 2.29 p.m.
- 2.39 p.m.
- 2.48 p.m.
- 2.59 p.m.
- 3.04 p.m.
- 3.11 p.m.
- 3.17 p.m.
- Order
- And Home
- Acknowledgements
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
Mr Clark exhales and shakes his head. ‘Two terms,’ he says, forcing himself to be calm. ‘For two terms, we’ve been studying this. How are you intending to pass the contemporary-issue paper when you can’t tell me the first thing about extremism? It’s the subject of the exam, for God’s sake, Ollie. And it isn’t even a difficult topic.’
I nod, but nothing helpful pops into my mind. I’ve sat through the lessons. I must know this stuff. I just can’t find where it is in my head. And it’s not just his general studies lessons – it’s all of them.
I open my pad and make a show of preparing to take some notes. Mr Clark’s eyes drill into me for a few seconds longer before he breaks away and grins at the rest of the class. ‘Now, who out of you lot has had a chance to get stuck into the pre-release material for the exam?’
Most of the room raise their hands.
‘Ollie?’ he says. ‘Taken a look yet? Got even the faintest idea what I’m chatting about?’
I stare blankly straight ahead as everyone else rustles in their bags.
He shakes his head, returning to his desk and rifling through his papers until he finds another copy. I jerk backwards as he thrusts it under my nose.
‘Do try and hold on to this one,’ he says.
He returns his attention to the room. ‘Those of you who’ve bothered to read the pre-release will know that your exam next week will consist in part of writing an essay about Derek Heaton and his motives. Any idea who Derek Heaton is, Ollie? Or rather who he was? You watch the news?’
I mime a look of concentration, as if scanning my memory. I haven’t watched the news for months. I don’t watch telly at all any more.
‘Google the name later. Get reading,’ he tells me.
I write the name down. It’s enough encouragement for Mr Clark to go and invade somebody else’s space, to engulf someone else in his coffee breath.
Most of the class contribute to the brainstorming that follows. It appears this was a major news story at the start of the year. I listen to their discussion, jot down the occasional word, pretend that this information will be useful to me.