Thursday dawns and I’m still alive. I hide the note in my study, in a psychology textbook. No chance of anyone finding it there. Thursday means games, rather than the Game, unfortunately, and even worse, it means swimming. Umfraville has a wonderful outdoor pool. At least, it would be wonderful if the school was on an island somewhere hot, but as we’re in the middle of the Irish Sea, it’s a frigid nightmare. Ezra decided we needed an Olympic-size pool, just in case we ever got ourselves an Olympic swimmer. The water’s heated, so on any given day between the months of April and October, we can find ourselves being ushered into the wet. What they forget, of course, is that the air is not heated. The pool is high on the cliffs, the perfect place for maximum exposure to the cruel wind. Ezra didn’t think too hard about that when he told the pool people where he wanted it built. It’s probably the world’s coldest infinity pool, as one side blends in perfectly with the sea below.
