"Keep watch."

"Why, what you doing?"

"Gonna make Bangers the Wanker pay for that."

"How ya gonna do that?"

"Stop asking so many fucking questions, ya shit. Just do ya job."

"Sorry Billy."

"You wanna be, ya arse."

Billy Almington. Billy and his friend Stan, who wasn't really a friend but wanted the authority that went with hanging around with the one who scared everyone, pupils and teachers alike.

Thomas heard the door to the toilets open and close, then heard Billy walking around. He seemed to be pacing.

"Fucking Bangers. Fucking blaming it all on me. Don't fucking blame me for nuthin'. No one blames me for nuthin'."

There was the sound of something hitting something else, then Billy swore.

"Bastard! Bastard bastard bastard!"

The door swung open.

"You ok Billy?"

"Fuck off Stan. I told you to keep watch."

"Sorry. I'll just..."

"Don't speak, just go."

The door closed and Billy resumed his pacing. Thomas, held his breath and could see the boy's shadow moving as he walked to and fro. Slowly, as quietly as he could, he picked up the vials and slipped them carefully back into his inside pocket.

Suddenly, Billy stopped moving and Thomas had to put his hand over his mouth, biting down, to prevent himself from making a sound. He leaned back, hoping that being just a few inches further away from the boy would increase his chance of not being discovered. He expected the door to be flung open, but it remained closed.

He heard crackling, which could only be coming from Billy's hands. He saw sparks bouncing across the floor, some coming under the door and into his cubicle. The tiny hairs on his arms lifted and his mouth went dry. He wished he could see what Billy was doing, but didn't dare risk looking. There'd be no doubt that he'd be seen, and then Billy could – or rather would – turn his attention to him.

Leaning back over the smashed toilet bowl was making Thomas's muscles strain. He was in an awkward position, but daren't move apart from a slight twist in an attempt to ease the pain. The twist didn't help. Instead, it caused a jolt of pain to run up his spine and across his ribs. He could stop the moan that escaped his mouth.

The sparks stopped, and Billy laughed quietly. He walked to the cubicle and stood just outside it. Thomas could see feet at the open bottom of the door. He looked around frantically, vainly hoping for another exit. He was being foolish. Toilets had one was in and one way out.

Unless...

He looked down at the remains of the toilet bowl. No. Even if he could have managed to fit into the hole and didn't mind swimming with faeces, it was blocked. Pieces of broken ceramic made that way out impassable.

The door began to shake and sparks skimmed across the floor again. The edges started to glow, the blue light echoing that of the small bottle in Thomas's pocket. The screws of the hinges started to unscrew, giving of a high pitched squeal of protest.

Thomas reached back into his jacket pockets, taking a hold of one of the vials. He didn't care which one. Maybe Billy was doing him a favour by forcing him to take action rather than over thinking and procrastinating.

Take it out! Drink it! Just get on with it!

He had to. Without looking which bottle he'd selected, keeping his eyes on the door, he pulled out the bottle. A quick glance told him it was the blue. He held it up to see how close its contents were to the glow of Billy's hands, and saw they were completely different. He didn't know why he had thought they were so similar.

Come one, kid! Stop dawdling!

He unscrewed the lid and lifted the bottle to his nose, drawing in a deep breath to see what it smelled like. The sea, he thought. It smells just like the sea. Or what he assumed the sea smelled like, anyway, having never been closer than an hour away. With his father being a Jacker, he didn't have the luxury of the man being able to fly him to any of the places he'd longed to visit but would now never have the chance.

The first screws fell to the floor in quick succession, making Thomas jump with each one.

The bottle was at his lips. He already felt sick at the thought.

He'd no longer be him. He didn't know who or what he would be, but it wouldn't be him. He was doing this to fit in. To stop bullies like Billy. To not be forced to take part on The Spot. To be the son his father deserved – or did until he'd made that call.

He opened his mouth and...

The outer door slammed open, the force of it hitting the wall being felt through the floor.

"Almington!"

"Bankers."

"Mr. Bancroft to you, you little shit."

"You can't call me that! I'll tell..."

"Tell who you want. Everyone knows what a shit you are. What are you doing in here? You're supposed to be at the Principal's office!

"I needed to piss. I'm allowed to do that, ain't I?"

Thomas was amazed. He would never dare to speak to a person in authority like that. He'd be too nervous or worried. Part of him envied the other boy's confidence. He wished he could stand up for himself like that. Another, larger, part was pleased he couldn't. He was fine with being respectful, though it was usually one sided.

"You're allowed to do what I tell you to do. Not what you feel like doing. And I told you to get your arse to the Principal." A brief pause. "What are you doing to that door?"

It was Billy's turn to pause and Thomas waited for him to tell Mr. Bancroft there was someone else in the toilets with them. How would he explain that? What could he possibly be doing in a cubicle that was home to a demolished toilet?

There was only one reason he could be, and the search for contraband would reveal his prize.

"Just practising, that's all."

"Practicing Sir!"

"You don't have to call me 'sir', Bangers, but I'm pleased you know your place."

There was a low muttering from the teacher, as if he were saying all the things he wished he could but knew he couldn't unless under cover of his breath.

"Out, now Almington. I'll take you to the Principal myself."

"What if I don't want to go?"

Thomas could see the familiar glow reflecting off the floor. Surely the idiot wouldn't use his powers on a teacher? Thomas knew it was a regular thing with others, and he'd witnessed it happening on many occasions throughout the school, but Billy's powers were stronger than many of his peers. He could do real damage.

Ah, but this was Mr. Bancroft. He wasn't called 'Bangers' just because of his name.

"I'll persuade you."

"Maybe I'll persu..."

Thomas didn't hear the rest of the word. There was a whoosh, like the air I haling sharply, and Mr. Bancroft was no longer at the door. He was, Thomas guessed, standing behind Billy. The glow faded then stopped.

"Get the fuck off me!" Billy shouted.

Mr. Bancroft didn't respond and, Thomas was sure, didn't do as he was asked. A sudden, ear pummelling explosive sound filled the room, folding in upon itself as it tried to remain contained in a room far too small for its expanse, making the fragments of toilet bowl shake and causing the final, still partially engaged screws to fall out of their holes. The door dropped and fell outwards.

Thomas's hands were at his ears, trying to stop them throbbing, as he stepped out. He dropped his hands and let out a massive sigh of relief.

The room was empty and a faint, fading swirl of smoke curled upwards from where Mr. Bancroft had disappeared along with Billy.