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a door, ready to step out and catch him. He felt so scared and out of place that he wanted to turn back, to get out to the game he could hear being played in the distance. But he was driven on by thoughts of his sad mother. Makis Magriotis had come into the Infants’ School for something, and he was going to get it.

    Mrs Carew’s classroom was the last in the corridor, and the nearest to the Infant teachers’ staffroom. Makis wouldn’t have long to carry out his plan; morning play lasted fifteen minutes, and the teachers went out a few minutes earlier ready to line up the children; so he had to move fast. If someone came out of the door, he could ask for what he wanted. The trouble was, if the answer was ‘no’, he was stuck, because then they’d know what he was after.
    But the staffroom door stayed closed, and when he passed the first classroom, no one came out. He came to the second classroom door: and again nothing happened. He came to the third classroom door: and –
help!
– there was Mrs Young over at the far wall, pinning pictures of sailing boats to the display board.
Don’t look round, please!
He crouched beneath the glass in the door and hurried on towards Mrs Carew’s classroom, the last in the line. The door was open, and Mrs Carew didn’t come out.
    He could hear the teachers in the staffroom, talking and laughing. Now for it. Quickly, he slid into the classroom and ran to the tall stock cupboard over by the window, hoping that it wasn’t locked. Like a wardrobe, it had two doors, and as he tried the nearer door it opened.
Yes!
He swung it fully open to give himself cover and looked inside. And there they were, a neat stack of Red Spot books, and a neat stack of Blue Spot books – the first two in the series, the books he’d gone through before being moved on to Mrs Young’s class. Quickly he took one of each and pushed them up under his jumper, holding them there with one hand. Now to get—
    â€˜What’s all this?’
    It was Mrs Carew, at the classroom door! Makis was hidden for the moment – she wouldn’t see him straight away. But she could see the cupboard door was open when it shouldn’t be. He went cold; his throat tightened and he wanted to swallow, but he couldn’t – it would make too much noise. He was well and truly caught, like a lobster in a pot. Mrs Carew would see him with the books up his jumper, because he dared not move a muscle to put them back. No school books were allowed out of the school building.
    He held his breath and listened for her footsteps.
    â€˜I said, what’s going on?’
    It was then he realised she was still out in the corridor.
    â€˜Showing us all up, working through playtime? I brought you a cup of tea…’
    Makis squinted through the crack of the cupboard door. Mrs Young was there with Mrs Carew.
    â€˜If I didn’t get those pictures up, they’d be so disappointed. They were from yesterday afternoon,’ Mrs Young said.
    â€˜Drink your tea, Val. I’ll bring your class in.’
    â€˜You’re a friend.’
    More like an angel sent by Saint Gerasimus!
thought Makis. As he watched, the stolen books getting dangerously slippery in his hand, Mrs Carew went off towards the playground, and Mrs Young went back to her own classroom.
    That was close! But Makis was far from being through those double doors and back in the Juniors. The other teachers were coming out of the staffroom, and he still had to get past Mrs Young’s door.
    He stood there. He sweated. He’d got himself into a deep, deep, hole. If he got caught, no matter what punishment Mr Hersee gave him, no one would ever trust him again.
    Suddenly boldness paid off. Boldness and luck – the luck of seeing Mrs Carew’s milk crate of empty bottles over by the classroom door, and the boldness to pick up the crate and carry it along the corridor towards the Junior hall, where