It was the same kid, sitting perfectly still, unlike all the other little wrigglers from the Infants’ School. “Tape hold out?” he asked. She nodded and put her hand to touch the corner of her glasses, where he’d mended the broken hinge on the way to school that morning. He never knew what told him that there was something still badly wrong. “In your seats!” yelled the driver. He dropped into the place beside her, though Ted and Paul were keeping one for him on the back bench. “What’s up then?” he said. She didn’t answer. “Trouble at school?” She shook her head. “At home?” She nodded. It was like one of those stupid guessing games, and just like that, he had one of those flashes when you know before you’ve even asked the question.
