“Oh no!” Realisation flooded across Hana’s face. “Fluffy’s not a rat, is he?”
The old man nodded and she clapped a hand over her mouth, heading back to the office at a run. The common room erupted into noisy chaos and boys crowded ten deep round the office door. Hana pushed her way through the tall bodies, desperate to see between the jumpers and rucksacks.
Larry Collins wore large gloves and dangled a dead rat from one of them. A Year 13 boy leaned down to give Hana the details. “The groundsman murdered Fluffy. He did it seconds before Mr Mannings arrived. It’s a bit mean; he knew he was on his way.”
“Why, Collins? Why?” a Year 13 shouted, impersonating Paul Mannings and laughing. The groundsman posed with the dead rat while boys snapped photos of him on their phones.
“Vermin!” he his
