Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Casper crouched inside the lost and found basket in the corridor outside his classroom. The school timetable stated, very firmly, that he should be in Mr. Barge''s geography lesson, but his own timetable, which was at this second folded neatly into his palm, stated that he should be exactly where he was--surrounded by dirty blazers and smelly sports uniforms. Casper shifted his weight. Thirty minutes was a long time to be wedged inside a wicker basket, but it had become an important part of his Thursday afternoons. Because only by telling Mr. Barge that he had a piano lesson or a dentist appointment or an errand to run for the headmaster, and hiding in the lost and found instead, could Casper overhear the lesson and the homework instructions (thereby not falling behind in his studies or causing Mr. Barge to question his absences) while avoiding crossing paths with Candida and Leopold.
By and large, Little Wallops Boarding School was a friendly place--and with its wood-paneled dining room, enormous fireplaces, and stone gargoyles it was rather beautiful, too--but in every school there are rotten eggs, the sort of children who write complaint letters to Father Christmas and ask their parents for a pocket-money raise. Candida and Leopold were two such children, and while Casper had previously managed to avoid both of them because they were in different classes, this term Candida and Leopold''s geography teacher had been out sick, so Casper''s personal timetable had needed some considerable adjustments. Casper risked a peep over the top of the basket. Mr. Barge always left his classroom door open (apparently it made hurling pupils out of lessons far more straightforward), and though from where he crouched Casper couldn''t see Candida or Leopold, or any of his classmates for that matter, he had a clear view of his teacher, who was, at this moment, flinging exercise books toward his pupils. "Down the center, Ben--quick, catch! On the wing, Ruby--look sharp!" Mr. Barge, a middle-aged man the size and shape of a drawbridge, doubled up as a geography teacher and a rugby coach, and he often got the two confused. Another exercise book shot, like a rugby ball, across the room, and Mr.
Barge''s voice boomed through the door and out into the corridor. "Coming through, Oliver! You''ll have to jump for this one!" A short, sharp thump followed. Casper winced. He guessed Oliver had tried to jump for his book--and missed. Mr. Barge performed several lunges, which made his suit squeak at the seams, then he threw his class a toothy grin. "Hustle in, Year Six. Hustle in.
" There were a few nervous scrapes as the pupils pulled their chairs closer. "We''ve all seen the newspaper headlines these past few weeks: What the nation thought was a one-off hurricane in England at the beginning of March has now escalated into a worldwide weather crisis. The hurricanes across Europe are becoming more frequent--the United Kingdom has been ravaged by gale-force winds four times in the last week alone--and"--he paused--"more deadly." Casper shivered. He''d seen the news that morning. The hurricane on Monday had been confirmed as the worst yet. Thousands of people had lost their homes where it struck in London and hundreds of casualties had been reported. And all that had happened despite the warning sirens recently wired up inside buildings across the country--because the hurricanes came fast, faster often than the time it took the weather service to trigger the sirens when the winds looked like they were picking up.
The hurricanes had been coming every few days for the last month, and they had flattened Little Wallops'' cricket pavilion, ripped slates off the school roof, shattered windows, and left several high schoolers with broken limbs when the door to the sports hall had been wrenched off its hinges and launched across the gym. Corridors were lined with buckets catching leaks, and windows had been barred with planks of wood. But Little Wallops was still standing--just--and so far, there had been no fatalities. Everyone knew that could change, though; they were living each day on a knife-edge. An underground bunker was being dug to provide more shelter, but that would take time and even when it was ready, would the sirens give everyone enough warning to reach it? "And that''s not to mention what''s happening further afield," Mr. Barge went on. "Multiple tornados are rampaging across America, whirlwinds are tearing up Africa, and typhoons are smashing through Asia and Australia. Meteorologists agree that climate change could be a key factor behind the recent weather disruption--we know global warming has hit critical levels in the past year--but that still wouldn''t explain the haphazard pattern of these storms.
Hurricanes normally come in from the oceans and hit coastal regions, but these ones are striking up left, right, and center, defying any recognizable weather behavior, which is why it''s so hard to predict their nature. But our meteorologists are determined to get to the bottom of it all. And, as geographers, I feel that we should do the same, particularly since the school holidays this Easter have been postponed due to continued road and rail closures and we''ll all be staying here until the lockdown is over and it''s safe enough for your parents to collect you." Casper could hear a few of the pupils nearest the door sniffing back tears. They knew that leaving Little Wallops before the all clear for resumed travel would be foolish, and that arguing with a man the size and shape of a drawbridge would be pointless, but that didn''t stop them from missing their families. Casper felt suddenly relieved that he and his parents had been offered free accommodation in the school, as well as a scholarship place for Casper, because his parents both taught at Little Wallops--at least it meant they were all together now. Mr. Barge pretended not to notice all the sniffing; he found crying children deeply unsettling.
"Your extra homework task is to pick one of the disasters reported this week and produce a case file on it. Think what, where, when, who and--the biggest question-- why ? Climate change will come into it, of course, but are there other reasons for the strange behavior of these storms?" Mr. Barge rolled up his sleeves. "I''ll expect your reports on Monday, and I want you to tackle this homework in the same way the mighty Shane Hogarth of the Wallop Wanderers tackled six of his opponents at once in the Rugby Sevens Finals last year." He paused. "Really look your homework in the eye and give it what for." There was a confused sort of silence. Casper craned his neck a little farther out of the basket and saw his classmate Sophie raise a timid hand.
Sophie was the closest thing Casper had to a friend--they sat together at lunch and sometimes paired up for science projects--but Casper made sure conversations focused strictly on schoolwork. Because friendships, and all the complicated emotions and unpredictable feelings that came with them, had proved to be nothing other than disastrous for Casper in the past. When he first started at Little Wallops, back in Year One, he had tried to make friends, but even then Candida and Leopold had singled him out as being different. They had teased and taunted Casper and every time he had tried to make a friend they''d somehow ruined things--until, finally, Casper decided that he''d had enough. Making friends was painful and messy and frightening, and despite his parents'' best efforts to encourage him to try again, Casper decided it was just not worth the trouble. Life was a good deal simpler, and safer, without the trauma of tackling friendships. And so, little by little, Casper''s world had shrunk until the very idea of taking risks, trying new things or even momentarily veering off timetable made him feel quite queasy. Casper watched now as Sophie plucked up courage to ask her question.
"S-sir, I''m holding a cake sale in the gym on Sunday to raise money for those who have lost their homes because of the hurricanes and I still have to make a few more flyers. Please can I have an extension on the homework?" Mr. Barge flexed his biceps. ''Did the mighty Shane Hogarth ask for an extension when the Roaring Rovers were closing in at halftime?'' Sophie frowned. "Um, probably not, sir?" "Then you have my answer." At that, Mr. Barge muttered something about a class scrum to finish the day off, but thankfully for his pupils, the bell rang instead. Casper''s heart quickened.
He had a matter of seconds to scramble out of the lost and found basket, blend into the stream of pupils pouring out of their classrooms and rushing along the corridor, then leg it across the library to the door that led up to the turret he and his parents lived in. A tide of children advanced toward him and, clutching his timetable to his chest, Casper clambered out of the basket and joined the throng. He was small for his age, and slight, which helped with ducking, weaving, and scuttling by unnoticed. Down the corridor he sped, beneath the newly fitted sirens and past the buckets catching leaks--then, when everyone else peeled off toward their after-school clubs, Casper turned into the library. If he had been a different sort of child, he might have paused to dilly-dally between the shelves and leaf through the books, but Casper wasn''t one for detours. Especially when the librarian, Mrs. Whereabouts, was taking a coffee break in the staffroom, which meant there wouldn''t be adult supervision in the library should Candida and Leopold appear. Casper nipped between the f.