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to go into hospital. That meant we had the house almost to ourselves – and the things we got up to!’
    ‘Could I have another glass of water?’ said a quiet voice, nervously.
    Millie looked again at the third member of Ruskin’s party. Ribblestrop uniform, same as the rest. But this child was smaller, thinner, and altogether weirder. He had a tuft of pale hair on
the top of his head and slightly protruding teeth. His eyes were huge and his little pink hands clung to the table top. He had the look of a foetus, born very prematurely and dressed up in clothes
that would never fit. His grey shirt collar didn’t touch his neck, and he didn’t appear to have any shoulders.
    ‘Who’s the alien?’ said Millie.
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘You’ve brought a pet. What’s its name?’
    Ruskin closed his eyes. ‘This is my little brother, Millie. His name’s Oli.’
    ‘No way,’ said Millie. ‘It must have been a Christmas present.’
    ‘Actually, Millie, you’re wrong and you’re rude,’ said Ruskin. ‘And I had forgotten how hurtful you can be. Oli’s nine and he’s got a GCSE in maths
already, so don’t insult him.’
    ‘Mmm, hello,’ said Oli, breathlessly.
    ‘Wow,’ said Millie. ‘I love the voice.’
    ‘I’ve told Oli all about you, Millie,’ said Ruskin. ‘I don’t think I mentioned your insensitive side, though. We may not look the same, but we’re alike in
many ways, or that’s what our parents say. So if you think you’re going to pick on Oli, you’ll be dealing with me and Sam first.’
    ‘Oh no,’ said Sam.
    The others looked up. Sam hadn’t joined them at the table. He was at the window, nose against the glass. The first blue light had appeared, closely followed by another. There were distant
sirens too. Floodlights were going up on stands, reflecting broken glass: a couple of men from the garage were directing traffic, and both crashed vehicles were still full of grown-ups. Sam watched
as the first couple of stretchers emerged from an ambulance.
    Ruskin got up and went to his friend. ‘Don’t worry, Sam, they always use stretchers these days. I think it’s for training – it doesn’t mean anyone’s badly
hurt.’
    ‘Dad has only just got well,’ said Sam. ‘They’ve just taken the cast off!’
    ‘Psst,’ said Millie. Oli snapped his eyes up to hers; they had been wandering crazily over to the windows, then to his hands. ‘Oli Ruskin.’
    ‘Hello,’ said Oli.
    ‘Did your brother tell you about the new system we have this term?’
    Oli’s eyes fluttered. ‘Mmm,’ he said. ‘He told me some stuff.’
    ‘It’s a bit like the old days, at all those posh public schools. New boys are assigned to the more senior pupils, like me and Sanchez. They have to run errands. Shoe-cleaning,
toast-making, that kind of thing.’
    Oli groped for a word.
    ‘How old are you again?’ said Millie.
    ‘Nine,’ said Oli. ‘And a half.’
    ‘Look. I don’t want you getting bullied. If you play your cards right, I’ll see you get put with me.’
    Oli’s eyes filled with tears, but whether they were from fear or gratitude wasn’t clear.
    ‘Why are you coming to Ribblestrop?’ said Millie. ‘Didn’t your brother warn you what happens?’
    ‘Mmm, well. I was . . . Mmm.’
    Millie tried to put on a kinder face. She sat a little lower in her chair and tried to meet the boy’s troubled eyes.
    ‘You see, my primary school was a bit useless,’ said Oli. ‘I was really just repeating work, treading water really, which was hardly challenging. So they put me up to the next
class but it wasn’t any better – it had rather a worksheet methodology and I wanted something more project-orientated, something more stretching. I did a trial day at the big
school, you know – the local boys’ comprehensive. I—’
    ‘Didn’t you like it?’
    ‘Mmm, all the boys. They were really quite rough and they were just doing things I’d done at home. I had a tutor, you see.’
    ‘Did they