Peter only had enough time to register the logout sequence before real sleep caught up with him. The night’s events had taken their toll on his body and his mind, dropping him into a dreamless slumber that not even his alarm could rouse him from in the morning. It wasn’t until his mother came in and roughly shook him awake. “Move it, sleepyhead. It’s Friday. You’ve got school and I’ve got a meeting.’

Peter cracked one eye. “Yrwzt?”

“If you want a ride to school, get up now.” His mother ripped back the covers and balled them up. “It’s time you changed the sheets too, hop to it.” The ball was dropped on his stomach as Peter struggled to gather his wits. “And open a window, it smells in here.”

Staring after his mother’s retreating back, shaking is head to clear the cobwebs, Peter tried to reconstruct the events of the previous evening. Did I really walk away from Pham? He rolled out of bed, spilling the rolled up covers across the floor. The sheets tangled around his feet and he flung out his wings to steady himself. Wait, wings? Arms? What did that raven do to me? What did I do to myself?

“I don’t hear you moving, mister!” echoed down the hall. “Or you can take the bus!”

“I’m moving, I’m moving!” he called.

The bedroom door opposite opened and his dad’s head poked out. “Inside voice, champ. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Sorry Dad,” Peter ducked his head in apology.

“It’s fine. Have a good day at school,” the head withdrew leaving Peter to clean up and get dressed.

The ride to school was both better and worse. On the upside, Peter didn’t have to deal with the machine messing with him. On the downside, the atmosphere was positively arctic in the car. Peter tried turning on the radio to break the silence, it was immediately turned off. He wound down the window, it wound back up before it had dropped even a quarter of the way. He tried engaging his mother in conversation, but she answered in monosyllables at best.

The last corner before the school she heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry Peter. It’s not you, it’s… work. There’s something I need to take care of, but I really don’t want to. I know I shouldn't take it out on you and I’m sorry.” She put her hand on Peter’s knee as she pulled into the drop off bay. “It’s a stressful time at work, and you may be a turd sometimes but you didn’t deserve that.”

Peter stared at the hand. Emotions roiled in his chest, seeking escape. “I’m sorry Mum. I’m trying to be better. What can I do to help?”

His mother sighed again and put her hand back on the steering wheel. “Not much, I’m afraid. Just pay attention to your studies and behave yourself at school. Can you do that for me?” She gave an entirely unconvincing smile. “No more fighting, and do your best on your exams next week. That’s all I ask.”

BLinking fast to hold back tears that had suddenly formed, Peter jumped out of the car. “Sure, Mum. I promise,” his throat tightened around the words. He knew he had zero chance of passing his exams. He could barely recall even being in class that semester, let alone what had been taught. Not to mention he still had no idea what Billy had in mind for him. “See you tonight.”

The car peeled away, taking all hope with it. Peter slunk into the school under a cloud of depression and anxiety. I’ve got one day. One day to find out what I need to know and one weekend to learn it. I am so screwed.

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As he was dropping his bag into his locker before heading to homeroom, something wafted to the ground when the locker door swung open. Oh what fresh hell is this? he mused dejectedly. It was a folded piece of paper with Lunchtime. Bike shed. Tell no-one scrawled on it in the messiest handwriting Peter had ever seen. Paper? Who uses paper anymore? Peter turned the sheet this way and that, as though rotating it enough times would force it to give up its secrets.

Whatever, he scrunched the sheet up and stuffed it in a pocket, I’ve got enough to worry about. He headed off to homeroom to start what he fully expected to be the longest day of his life.

True to his fears, Peter’s first three periods were a blighted hellscape, presided over by the obelisks Ignorance, Anxiety and Regret. Engraved on these metaphorical sentinels were the phrases “When did we cover this?”, “Why can’t I remember this?” and “Oh how screwed am I?” He spent the entire time madly trying to create a list of the topics he was going to need to cram over the next two days.

His mind was whirling as he stumbled down the covered walkway clutching his tablet to his chest on his way to the library to spend his lunch time collating his notes and attempting to sort them into some semblance of order. His path took him past a shadowy nook between two garden beds, not even realising his mistake until a hand landed on either shoulder.

“You weren’t -”

“- Planning on ignoring -”

“- Mr Tomlinson’s invitation -”

“- were you?”

Peter’s bowels nearly voided themselves without his conscious intervention. “Woodsies!” The tablet clattered to the ground.

“Us,” they intoned in unison. “Come along.”

With his escort parting the seas of students like Charlton Heston at his finest, Peter was firmly and not obviously maliciously guided to the traditional surveillance blindspot behind the bike sheds. After Pham’s admission of hacking the power node during his previous visit he suspected it was less serendipity and more intent that this should be the case. The director of said probable intent lounged against the metal wall of the shed with a vape stick in his mouth, puffing a large cloud of sickly sweet vapour.

Taking one last huge lungful and deliberately exhaling it in Peter’s direction, Billy thrust his head through the cloud, getting right up in Peter’s face. “You’se wasn’t tryin’ ter hide from me, was yer?”

Peter could only stare, shaking.

Billy slapped Peter across the face. “Ah axed you’se a question.”

Blinking, Peter raised a hand to where his cheek was already reddening. “N-no Billy. I j-just f-forgot.”

“Well, don’t f-f-f-forget again,” Billy raised his meaty palm again, making Peter flinch. Billy smiled viciously. “Good. Now. Ah gots a job for yer. Iss exams next week. You’se is a nerdy swot ain’tcha?” Billy lunged forward. “Ah said AIN’TCHA?”

Peter collapsed into a ball, covering his face with his arms. “Yes Billy.”

“Thought so. Ah ain’t gots time fer school crap, so guess what you’se gonna do?” Billy crossed his arms as he loomed over Peter, wreathed in the vape cloud like a demon in a cloud brimstone smoke. “You’se gonna do the tests fer me. Ain’tcha?”

Peter peeked out from behind his arms. “How do I do that? It’s impossible.”

“Ah gots me a geek, don’t I? She’s gonna swap the names on the tests. All Ah need is a ringer. A nerdy swot as gonna get perfect scores. Sound like anyone you’se know?” Billy lifted an oversize boot and prodded Peter, who rolled onto his back in the dust.

“B-b-but B-b-billy. I-I-I-” Peter stammered.

“BUT NUFFINK!” Billy screamed, slamming his boot down on Peter’s chest. “You’se gonna get me a pass or Ah’m gonna mush yer inter the dust! Now git!” Billy kicked Peter in the ribs, the leg, the arm. Anything in reach until Peter managed to scramble away to the sound of mocking laughter.