“Suppose it is.”

Auger sighed. “You’re really not going to tell me, are you? OK, that’s fine. We’re allowed to keep secrets. But if you won’t tell me what’s going on now, then will you at least tell me if you need my help later on? Can you do that?”

“Of course,” said Omen.

Auger nodded, and stood. “That’s all I need to hear. Catch you later, dude.”

He walked to the door.

“Hey, Auger? Did Mum and Dad … did they ask how I was?”

Auger hesitated just a moment too long before turning. “Of course,” he said. “They told me to pass on their love. Said to get better soon.”

“Right,” said Omen. “Thanks.”

The nurse dismissed him and Omen went back to his classes. Axelia Lukt passed him in the corridor and gave him a smile, and his heart turned into a million butterflies in his chest.

“Hey,” Filament said, walking up. “I heard what happened with Jenan. Are you OK?”

“I am, yeah,” Omen replied. “I’m fine.”

“He should be arrested, not just expelled. You could have been brain-damaged. You might still be brain-damaged. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“You’re not holding up any fingers.”

Filament sagged. “Oh, you poor thing.”

Omen had to laugh, which raised the corners of Filament’s mouth.

“But Jenan didn’t give me the concussion,” Omen said. “That was my fault. I hit my head.”

Filament frowned. “I heard he hit your head.”

“Naw, he just choked me.”

“The story going around the school is that he put you in the infirmary. Just to let you know, that story is getting you a lot of sympathy from the girls.”

“It is? Really?”

“And it is the good kind of sympathy, not the other kind.”

“Wow.”

“I mean, not the kind you usually get.”

“Yeah.”

“The pitying kind.”

“I got that, thanks.”

Filament laughed. “I am joking. My apologies. My English is not so good.”

“Your English is perfect and you know it.”

“Ah, maybe. So what do you think about the Arcanum’s Scholars running away? I think it is hilarious. I can imagine them each packing some sandwiches into a little spotted handkerchief and tying it on to the end of a stick, like in the old cartoons. Then they walk off into the woods where no grown-ups will ever bother them again, ever.”

“I wish they were that harmless.”

“Did you hear? One of them fell from a balcony. I tried to help but I don’t think I did any good. It didn’t matter. Mr Peccant saved whoever it was.”

“I’m sure they’re grateful to you for trying,” Omen said. “If they could thank you, I’m sure they would.”

Filament shrugged. “Would I want any thanks from them? Probably not. They are a bunch of … what is it? The word? About the crying babies?”

“Crybabies?”