It was noon. Adam Garretty was in the canteen with Thomas Billings and Sean Sampson, all of whom were swallowing a tepid school meal before the examination began. None of them bothered to revise for exams, and this had been no exception. The three of them were sitting at a table, jerking occasionally whenever a smaller pupil passed to see how easily scared they were. This was one of Sampson's favourite games, because it required no effort on his behalf, and the responses they got varied infinitely.
A fat Year Seven boy with curly hair stumbled sideways and dropped his food on the floor when Adam crept behind him and bellowed in his ear, which caused the trio of boys to laugh hysterically as the eleven-year-old scampered away. There was never any doubting it; Sampson was the leader and Adam and Tom were his cronies. They had another couple of friends, Adrian Masters and Colin Nately, and the five of them made life hell for everybody who deserved it, plus a number who didn't, but looked too cocky.
Sampson leaned back, and readjusting his blue school jumper, took a sip of water. An extremely tall boy with an athletic physique and green-grey eyes, he would be quite handsome, were he not a total thug. He used to box and play both tennis and rugby, but after a number of fights, he was banned from all school teams. He didn't care at all what people thought of him. Being aggressive gave him a rush of adrenaline, and being in charge gave him an extra boost of it. He was addicted to the rush: a true adrenaline junkie.
People sometimes said that Sean Sampson didn't have friends, he had subordinates. This was certainly true for Tom Billings, and Adam, too. Even they called him by his second name, like an unspoken formality.
Tom was one of Sean's minions, there was no doubt about that. They used to be on the tennis team together, until Sampson was forced to quit. If it were not for the bad influence from his friend, he could have gone far, but his worthy demeanour was utterly ruined by the company he kept.
"D'you reckon Colin and Adrian are going to be here today?" Adam asked casually, only to receive a clip around the head from Sampson. Those two never liked each other, Tom thought as he looked at his two companions. They were only ever together beause he, himself, was always with them both.
"Of course not," Sampson growled. "Are they ever here?" He looked over at the other boy with contempt and dark humour. Adam did not fit into Sampson's clique. The boy was square-faced with messy blonde hair which curled loosely at the top, already receeding slightly. He wore round-framed spectacles that did not suit the rest of his face. That boy had no value. He was nothing, a nobody, a person who complied with his peers out of obligation. Sampson, smart and resourceful, saw his comrade's weaknesses, and knew that he could discard Adam at any time, should he ever need to do so.
There was a whistle from the other side of the room. Harry Smith had spotted Melissa Williams leaving the queue with her plate full of food, and beckoned her over to where he and Ben Portwood were sitting. She scurried over to be with her boyfriend, and said a hurried 'hi' to Benjamin, whom she secretly hated. Melissa was one of the few people who did hate Ben, though; he was quite sensible and approachable. The two boys had been asking each other questions in preparation for the text that afternoon; they were last-minute crammers, and proud of it.
"How's the revision going?" Melissa asked her companions.
"Not bad, not great," Ben said truthfully.
"I still can't get my head round geometry," Harry whined pathetically.
"What's the problem with it?" asked his girlfriend.
"Everything," Melissa's boyfriend continued. "I'm probably going to fail this exam. It'd serve me right I guess"
"Oh, come on, lemme see what there is"
And with that, Melissa stuffed some potatoes into her mouth and helped Harry with his work. Whilst she was pointing out how a formula involving internal angles to him, Harry reflected how lucky he was to be going out with Melissa. Indeed, she was possibly the best thing that had happened to him since his mother lost her job ten years ago. His father had abandoned his girlfriend when he discovered she was pregnant. Once her son had been born, Harry's mother had been forced to downsize her home and move to a smaller house in a poorer area of the city. Two weeks before his sixth birthday, his mother was made redundant; she had been one of the first casulties of the failing economy, though it was not recognised as a problem at the time. Hungry and poor, she had been forced to try whatever she could to earn money to feed her son, as her benefits were inadequate due to an administrative error. Approximately eighteen months later, his mother, an attractive woman in her late twenties, had found a lucrative source of income: one that could not be taxed by the government. Though at the time he did not understand exactly what his mother was doing, he knew it was not a good thing. Even now, he felt uncomfortable with the physical aspects of his relationship with Melissa, and in spite of her obvious beauty, he strongly wanted to wait for intimacy. Melissa herself didn't mind; she knew about his home situation, and respected his wishes.
Ben felt isolated somwhat from their conversation. He was best friends with Harry, inseperable since they started at White Hill, and had nothing against Melissa, but a combination of Harry and Melissa's relationship and their current conversation made Ben feel a bit ostracised. Fortunately for him, though, another friend of his, a ginger-haired boy called James had entered the room, wearing his waterproof coat, and his bag over his shoulder. Apparently, he had just arrived.
"Hey Benjy," he said to his friend, adding another, "hey," to the other couple, sat down by Ben and said, "have you seen over by the door"
"No," replied his friend, deciding not to turn unless it was really worthwhile. "What's over by the door?"
"Soldiers."
Ben looked confused, as did Melissa and Harry, who had both looked at James when he had said this. The three of them whizzed round to the door, and, sure enough, there were two soldiers stationed there, one either side of the double doors, like sentries. Both were in identical khaki uniforms, and both men had similar glowers. The four students of 11D who were looking at the soldiers couldn't tell whether they were holding weapons; other students in the hall were forming a crowd around the pair, and it was impossible to distinguish.
Melissa looked positively alarmed.
"Why are they here"
"Dunno," James shrugged. "I guess I could ask them"
"Maybe they're here to give a talk to one of the classes or year groups or something," Harry hypothesised, his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.
Ben was watching the table commandeered by the staff. Mr Davey was there, his back to the soldiers. He was flanked by the Headmistress, Mrs Watkins, and an elderly art teacher called Mr Fletcher. The three of them seemed serenely unaware of the military presence in the room; at any rate, there were not paying the men any attention. The same could not be said for a few of the other teachers. Mr Quinn, an English teacher who was also a form tutor of another of the Year 11 classes, was muttering to a young, new teacher known as Mr Sharpe. Both teachers had their eyes fixed raptly on the soldiers; apparently, neither of them knew what was going on, as well. Mr Sharpe's suddenly noticed he was being looked at, and made eye contact with Ben at the other table, who averted his eyes immediately, feeling slightly ill-at-ease.
"Jim," he asked his friend, "can you go and find out why they are here"
"Sure thing"
The red-haired boy stood up, leaving his coat and bag at the table with his classmates. Deciding quickly what he was going to say, he walked quickly towards the guards. James was only dimly aware of the tables around him. He was only dimly aware of the pupils walking around with assorted trays of food. He was completely unaware of Sean Sampson's leg, which swung out from nowhere and took his foot from underneath him. Yelling slightly, he sprawled forward across the shiny floor, landing his face expertly in the pile of food the Year Seven pupil with curly hair had lost in an earlier attack.
There was a ripple of laughter in the room at James' misfortune; as he sat up, he glared malevolantly at Sampson, his face three shades of red. This look of fury was soon replaced with one of pain, as he winced and clutched his ankle. Seemingly it had been strained when he fell down. He sat up and massaged his foot, knowing that minor injuries don't get treated at the school any more, due to there being too many of them. With everyone's attention diverted, nobody noticed the one soldier muttering a message into his walkie-talkie, watching the fallen student with unblinking eyes.
"Too easy," Sampson said, looking down at James with pitiless eyes. "You ought to be more careful"
Though Ben, Harry and Melissa felt they should do something to help James, they knew better than to cross Sampson when he was doing what he was at that time: having fun. Instead, they headed over to the exam room, and waited outside with a smattering of their classmates, hoping for the best.