“Supervised by whom?”

“Miss Ether.”

“And do you usually have a study class supervised by Miss Ether on a Tuesday?”

Omen swallowed. “No, sir.”

“Who usually supervises your Tuesday study class?”

“Uh … you do, sir.”

“And did it not strike you as odd, Mr Darkly, that I was not supervising this study class? Did it not occur to you that, maybe, you had got your timetable ‘mixed up’? Or did you think that I had suddenly become younger, and a woman?”

“No, sir.”

“None of that struck you as odd?”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean … I didn’t think, sir.”

Peccant leaned down. “There we have it. The crux of the problem. You didn’t think. That’s how you operate, after all, is it not? That’s how you work your way through life.”

Omen swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir,” said Peccant, mocking his voice. “So polite. So benign. I find it hard to believe you share even the flimsiest strand of DNA with your brother. Even when he’s caught breaking the rules, at least he does it with gusto. There’s no gusto with you, is there?”

“No, sir.”

Peccant took another moment to glare at him, then straightened up. “You have detention tomorrow. Be there on time or you get double.”

Peccant strode away and Omen stood with shoulders slumped.

“He hates you.”

Omen looked up as Filament Sclavi strolled over, hands in his pockets and an amused smile on his face.

“I have seen him take a dislike to people before,” Filament said, “but that was … what is the word, for the thing? That was malicious. It was as if he were gaining personal satisfaction from it.”

Omen didn’t know what to say, so he just said, “Yeah.”

“You are Omen, yes? Auger’s brother? My name is Filament. How is it going?”

“Going fine,” said Omen without thinking. “Well, I mean, apart from the detention I just got.”

“That does suck, yes,” Filament said. He was only a Fourth Year, but he looked older, about eighteen. He was tall and strong and handsome, like an Italian version of Omen’s brother. The only other thing Omen knew about him was that he was a member of the Eternity Institute, a self-help organisation that had posters up all over the school. “Do you play any sports, Omen?”

“Me?” Omen asked, even though it was obvious that it was him Filament was talking to. “No, I don’t. Never really understood it.”

“You have, um, never understood any sport in particular, or just sports in general?”

“In general,” said Omen. “Could never wrap my head around the, y’know, the point.”

Filament grinned. “So, if I suggested that maybe you try to join the rugby team, you would have no interest?”

Omen frowned. “I’d get squashed.”

Filament laughed. “You would not get squashed.”

“I would, though. Those guys are all huge.”