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Chapter 1

Hot Cocoa and Jeremy Paxman

Larry stormed into his Aunt and Uncle's bedroom, a face full of thunder. Clasped in his hand was a wad of white papers, ink still wet from the Computer's printer.

"Why did you stop me from reading this?" he demanded to his astonished and scared Aunt and Uncle who had been enjoying their nightly cup of hot cocoa before bedtime and had been just watching the end of University Challenge before they switched the light off, Monday nights were always their late nights. They didn't put the lights out until 8:30, if they could keep their eyes open long enough. His Aunt secretly thought that Jeremy Paxman was a bit of a dish, so did his Uncle. Larry stared a menacing grimace as the couple's faces drained of colour, and beads of cold, frightened sweat dripped down their foreheads. "Well?" he repeated, impatiently.

There was nothing particularly astounding about Larry. He looked and sounded just like any other 15-year-old boy. He had dead bad grammar, and dark brown hair that was spiked up on his head using enough hair gel to grease an indoor ski slope. Yet still there was something out of the ordinary about Larry, something extra- ordinary about the way he stood in the doorway, grubby baggy skater pants and sweaty Slipknot t- shirt on back, and an indignant fire smouldering in his chestnut brown eyes.

"Disciplinary College! What the hell am I going to do there!"? His Uncle Ferdinand cowered beneath his duvet, murmuring apologies mixed in with begs for mercy. Larry's Aunt Gertrude was braver, she managed to stammer out

"Now dear, we both know that you've been having some"– she paused for just a second as she searched for the right word "some problems with school recently"- In fact Larry's 'problems' were mainly the fact that he hadn't been to school for the last 5 months because of 'personal' troubles.

"It's not my fault," Larry argued, "the teachers hate me"- At that moment Uncle Ferdinand ventured up an interruption

"Well you did threaten them"-

"Not with a proper weapon"-

"With a gun"-

"Not a loaded one"-

"It had a bullet in it"

"Oh yea, like one bullet could hurt them that much, I'm not even that good an aim, I doubt if I would have even hit them"-

"You were pressing the gun against your teachers skull, whilst shouting, 'come any closer and I'll shoot'"-

"Yea well it's not like I hurt anyone"-

"You shot the hamster"-

"Well only because the police intervened, and anyway, it's not like I killed it, the vet said that it died of shock"-

"Yes well you'd be pretty shocked too if you had been shot by a bullet a third of the size of you!"-

"But I had a good reason-"

"The teacher told you that 4+6 isn't 46"-

"Well why are you bringing this up now anyway, it was ages ago, I was only seven! I mean what seven year old hasn't threatened their teacher with a gun…..five times in the same year!" Uncle Ferdinand just raised his eyebrows and sunk back down into his duvet again.

"God! You are soooo unfair!" With that he stormed off back to his room leaving his Aunty and Uncle to watch the end of University Challenge in silence.

In his room Larry sat, alone, with nothing but a computer screen for company. One by one tears started to roll down his face as he read the message on his screen. Because of his argument with his Aunt and Uncle someone had out bidden him on e- bay and had won the signed drum- skins he had always dreamed of. He flipped onto his Aunt and Uncles email from "Pigspots disciplinary college for the gifted and talented yet bone idle".

"Stupid relatives!" he muttered as he read the message, which, in fear of their own lives, they had tried to keep hidden from Larry. He had been accepted and would leave first thing in the morning. He pushed himself away from the computer desk and slide across the room on his swivel chair and across the sea of dirty underwear that was about an inch thick on his bedroom floor. He switched on his CD player up to full volume and moshed, for perhaps the last time in that house, or ever again. For what Larry had failed to notice was the address from which the message had been sent, or should I say the lack of address as there was none, just a space where it should be.

To Be Continued

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