I sit for half an hour until my head stops hurting. I hear the door creak and voices. Le Temps and Millennia. The voices go away. I take out my phone and check in case there are more messages. Nothing. I’m not sure my TwentyTwenty’s working in 2048. Season has a coughing fit. Then there’s a strange gurgling noise. She’s being sick. I’m scared she’s going to choke but I can’t speak or move. She swears and I’m shocked but I don’t say anything. Adults sometimes swear if they hit their hands with a hammer. Then it’s permissible. I’m not sure you’re allowed to swear because you’re vomiting. Maybe Season was poisoned by her own beanburgers!

Then I hear slow footsteps coming into the room and Millennia’s voice.

‘Mrs S, what in the name of Time are you doing?’

Season mumbles something I can’t quite hear but it sounds like she’s shuffling around on the sofa.

‘Oh my word!’ says Millennia. ‘We need to get this place cleaned up. We don’t want one of the Leapers to—’

‘If you really cared about the Leaplings, you’d close the centre.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You didn’t inform Intercalary International. Or the local schools. It looks like a cover-up. Do you really think they’d have put pupils at risk? How many more need to go missing? You let Le Temps talk you into . . .’ Season can’t find the right word.

‘Enough! Leapers who break rules put THEMSELVES at risk. The schools are at liberty to leave if they cannot trust their pupils. This is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. See me in my office at 10:30!’

And I hear Millennia’s footsteps leaving the room.

I’m scared to breathe in case Season hears me and thinks I hid here on purpose. I no longer feel scared and sad. My mouth is a capital O with shock. Season didn’t want us to come here. Season wanted to keep us safe. Season is good. But Millennia and Le Temps, they wanted us to face danger. Millennia and Le Temps are BAD. It must have something to do with SOS L. It must.

Mrs C Eckler finds me at 9 a.m. Season has gone back to the kitchen. I hear other voices in the room: Ama, Big Ben, GMT. The Mind Full workshop must have started and I’m supposed to be in their group.

‘Elle,’ she says. ‘It’s Mrs Eckler. Are you there?’

I don’t answer. I hope by not answering she’ll know to leave me alone. But she doesn’t give up. I can tell by her voice she’s much closer than before when she speaks again. Her words come out faster than usual and a bit out of breath, like she’s been running.