"Hey! Room twelve!"
The penguin stopped mid-stride, and turned to look back at the teacher. It was Mr Menzies, the sports master, as always clad in his tracksuit, whistle around his neck and ridiculous wispy moustache threatening to break out on his upper lip.
The penguin raised a flipper to indicate an adjoining corridor, choosing to believe that Menzies was lost again rather than take direction from him.
"Off you go then!" called Menzies, who turned and walked back the way he had come.
Idiot, thought the child inside the animal suit. Couldn't find your arse with a map.
With a glance around to make sure nobody was in sight, the penguin shrugged its shoulders and waddled off down the corridor... towards room twelve.