Alfie was a very ordinary boy. And like any ordinary boy starting at a new school, he was a bit nervous as he walked from home that first morning of term. There didn't seem to be any other local children walking to school. But he saw other children being taken to school by their parents.
A large, black car with little flags on the sides of the bonnet swept past Alfie. The windows were so dark he couldn't see in, but
a smudge on the glass might just have been a girl's nose pressed hard against the window as she looked out. The smudge moved to keep track of Alfie as the car went by.
Further up the road, a helicopter passed over Alfie's head then swooped noisily down and headed in the direction of Thunder Raker Manor School. Alfie could see it hovering over the grounds. Ropes dropped down from the open side of the helicopter and several dark figures slid down them to the roof.
Alfie was just turning into the road that led to the school when he heard the rumble of an engine. It grew louder, and Alfie saw with surprise that a huge armoured tank was driving up the road towards him. Poking up from the turret was the top half of a man in army uniform wearing thick goggles. The man saluted Alfie as the tank went past, the whole road shaking under its weight. Behind the tank the tarmac was churned up by its tracks.
“It's the same every time term starts,” a voice said as the tank rumbled into the distance.
Alfie looked round and saw a little old lady standing by the gate of a small cottage set back from the road. Her white hair was tied up in a bun on the back of her head and she had smiling, friendly eyes.
“Noise and upset,” she said, shaking her head. “The council will have to resurface the road you know. Again.”
“Oh, dear,” Alfie said. He felt uncomfortable now the lady was talking to him. But he couldn't just walk away.
“Not to worry,” she said. “I don't mind the school too much. It's nice to hear the sound of children playing nearby.”
From the direction of the school came the dull
crump
of an explosion.
“Reminds me of when I was young,” she said.
Alfie thought he could hear machine gun fire now. “I'm Alfie,” he said loudly, over the noise.
“Mrs Prendergast,” the old lady said. “Haven't seen you go past before, have I?”
“I'm new, starting today.”
Mrs Prendergast nodded. “That'll be why then. Usually it's just those men in the black overalls and dark glasses hiding in the shrubbery and taking pictures of the school.” She sniffed. “I give them cups of tea, but they don't seem very pleased. Oh, well, nice to talk to you. I must put the kettle on.”
On his way to the school's big iron gates, Alfie was passed by several more large cars, an armoured personnel carrier and a girl in a pink helmet and goggles on roller skates.
The roller skates had jets of flame coming out of them and the girl shot past faster than the cars. She gave Alfie a wave as he jumped back out of the way. Then she wobbled and shot off even faster. The uniformed man dragged the gates open just in time for her to zoom through. Black smoke trailed after her.
Alfie emerged from the cloud of smoke to find himself at the gate. The guard looked down at him.
“I'm here for the start of school,” Alfie explained.
The guard was holding a clipboard and examined a piece of paper attached to it. “Name?” he demanded.
“Alfie.”
The guard's frown turned into a smile. “Alfieâwelcome to Thunder Raker.” He tucked the clipboard under his arm and shook the surprised Alfie by the hand. “I'm sure you'll be very happy here, but anything you needâanything at all⦔ He winked at Alfie. “Just ask. Any problems, come to me. Sergeant Custer.”
“Thank you.”
Alfie wondered where he was supposed to
go, but before he could summon the courage to ask, Sergeant Custer showed him the way to reception. “They'll be waiting for you,” he assured Alfie. “Oh, and if you happen to be speaking to You-Know-Who⦔ He winked again, and tapped his nose.
Alfie didn't know who You-Know-Who could be, and he felt confused and embarrassed.
“You
know
,” Sergeant Custer insisted. He leaned down and whispered a name in Alfie's ear.
“But that's my dad,” Alfie said in surprise.
Sergeant Custer looked surprised too. He straightened up quickly and saluted. “It's all right,” he told Alfie, looking round quickly to check they couldn't be overheard. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Alfie followed the drive up to the large, imposing house that was Thunder Raker Manor. The front door was standing open and an elderly man with a beaked nose introduced himself as Mr Trenchard the Head Teacher. He told Alfie he was very welcome, and that Alfie should spend his time at the school wisely. He should learn as much as he could, and then forget it all. For “security reasons”.
Alfie wasn't quite sure how it would help to forget everything he learned, but he didn't like to ask. At that moment a young woman arrived and introduced herself as his teacher, Miss Jones.
“Goodbye, Mr Trenchard,” Alfie said as he followed Miss Jones along to meet Class 3D.
“Goodbye, er, that boy,” Mr Trenchard called after him.
“He forgets everything,” Miss Jones told Alfie. “Makes a point of it.”
“Why?” Alfie asked.
“I don't think he can remember,” Miss Jones replied. She had to shout to be heard over the roaring of some kind of engine. The noise got louder as she opened the door to the classroom. “Now, come in and meet the rest of your class.”
The engine noise was even louder inside and the classroom was full of dark smoke.
“Beth!” Miss Jones shouted. “If it's you making that racket, then stop it now.”
With the door open, the smoke began to thin and clear. Alfie could see there were half a dozen children in the room, most of them sitting at their desks. The exception was the girl in the pink helmet whom Alfie had seen on his way to school. The flames at the back
of her roller skates faded and died as the jet engines coughed and spluttered to a halt. But she was still moving very fast, circling the desks. A fair-haired boy in a wheelchair reversed rapidly out of her way as she passed.
“Sorry, Missâno brakes!” the girl yelled as she shot by.
Miss Jones grabbed the girl's shoulders and was dragged along for several metres before they both skidded to a halt. The soles of the teacher's shoes were smoking, and there was a strong smell of burnt rubber.
“Thank you, Beth,” Miss Jones said. “Now if you will please put those skates in the stock cupboard and sit down, I'd like to introduce Alfie, who's joining Class 3D today.”
“Wicked,” shouted a boy with close-cut dark hair. “Can Alfie sit by me, Miss? Can he? Please?”
“We'll sort out where Alfie sits in a minute,” Miss Jones told the boy. She waited for Beth to sit down. Under her helmet, Alfie saw that Beth had brown hair that was cut into the same exact shape, so it looked like
she still had the helmet on.
“Right, then,” Miss Jones said, “I think we should all introduce ourselves.”
A smug-looking girl with dark hair and glasses cleared her throat and stood up. She looked at Alfie suspiciously. “I'm Chloe,” she said. “And my dad is just
so
important. He's a spy, but obviously I can't tell you his name or where he is. But I expect you know all about him anyway, he's just so famous.” She looked expectantly at Alfie.
“No, sorry,” he said.
Chloe went as pink as Beth's helmet and sat down. She glared at Alfie.
The boy with short dark hair laughed and Miss Jones pointed at him. “Jack.”
Jack stood up. “I'm Jack and my dad's far
more important than Chloe's. During the holidays we went to Russia because Dad has to go to meetings at the Kremlin with the President and other important people. I worked out how they could keep the streets clear of snow and ice, but Dad said it would cost too much.”
Next was the fair-haired boy in the wheelchair. One arm of the wheelchair opened and a clipboard with notes on it popped up on a metal rod. He read out loud from the notes. “I'm Sam. My mum works at the Hush-Hush Department inventing stuff for agents. She made my wheelchair because the NHS one didn't have a very good anti-missile protection system. And one of the wheels was wonky.”
Alfie tried his best not to look puzzled, because he didn't want to look stupid in front of his new class. But it seemed to him that this was the most peculiar bunch of children he had ever met.
Then Beth stood up. She had taken off the jet-skates and was now wearing a pair of ordinary looking trainers. “I'm Beth and I invent stuff. My dad's in the Government Inventing Taskforce.” She paused and sniffed. “That's GIT to you,” she said to Chloe, who scowled and looked away. “Anyway, I have my own laboratory and everything and I've designed tons of great stuff including a robot that can tie your shoelaces.”
“She brought it in for show and tell,” Sam said. “It tied her shoelaces together and she fell over.”
“That is not true,” Beth shouted. “Alice tripped me up.”
“Did not,” said the last of the girls. She was short and thin with long blonde hair.
“Never in a million years. And if I did, you deserved it. So there.” She caught Miss Jones's severe look and stood up. “Anyway, I'm Alice. My dad's a double-double agent.” She frowned and checked on her fingers. “Or it might be double-double-double. It gets very confusing.”
“Isn't that a triple-double?” the last of the boys asked.
“No,” Alice snapped back. “That's just stupid. How can you be so stupid, Harry? It might be a double-triple, but whoever heard of a triple-double?”
“You next, Harry,” Miss Jones said quickly.
Harry stood up. He was a large boyâtaller and broader than Alfie. “Harry,” he said. “I like PE best. And the assault course.” He
started to sit down again, then changed his mind and stopped halfway between standing and sitting. “Oh, and my dad's infiltrated SPUD. Again.”
There was a hushed silence.
“Really?” Sam said, impressed.
“You can't tell us that,” Jack hissed in a loud whisper.
“Yeah,” Chloe told him. “And
you
can't tell us your dad is head of the Secret Service, but you do.”
“Never!” Jack shot back.
“Like, all the time,” Alice said.
Miss Jones held her hands up for silence. “Alfie,” she said, “why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?”
Alfie was still trying to make sense of what
everyone else had said. “SPUD,” he said at last. “Isn't that a potato?”
“Heyâgood one!” Jack said. “Alfie thinks Harry's dad's a potato!”
“Don't be silly,” Sam said from his wheelchair. “Alfie thinks Harry's dad has
infiltrated
a potato.”
“With a knife and fork?” Beth suggested.
“Children!” Miss Jones shouted above the noise. “Pleaseâwe are welcoming a new member of Class 3D. Alfie was about to tell us about himself.”
“So what's your dad do, Alfie?” Chloe asked. “Bet he's not as important as
my
dad.”
Alfie looked at her. He looked at all the children, staring back at him expectantly. He felt nervous and alone and it was a struggle to
say anything at all. “Well, actually,” he said at last, “my dad's a postman.”
The class collapsed into laughter. Even Miss Jones was having trouble keeping a straight face. “I can see you have a great sense of humour, Alfie,” she said. “You'll fit in just fine with Class 3D.”
Miss Jones taught Alfie's class all the ordinary subjects that Alfie recognised and remembered from his previous school. Class 3D stayed in the same room with her for Maths and Literacy, for reading and for history topic work. But for other lessons they had other teachers, and went to those teachers' classrooms.
Alfie tagged along with the other three boys in his classâJack, Harry and Sam, whose wheelchair was motorised so no one
had to push it. “Mum fitted a turbo boost during the holidays,” Sam said quietly. “But don't tell Beth. I'm going to race her on her roller skates at afternoon break.”
“Why not do it now?” Harry asked.
“Better not. From top speed, it takes me a hundred metres to stop.”
“So what's this SPUD thing if it isn't a potato?” Alfie asked when the others had stopped talking.
“You really don't know?” Jack said.
“I really don't know,” Alfie admitted. “Sorry.”
“Actually no one knows who they are,” said Sam. “But we do know that SPUD stands for Secret Partners for Undertaking Destruction. They're the bad guys.”
“My dad⦔ Harry began slowly. Then he stopped. “Nothing,” he said quickly.
Jack slapped him on the shoulder. “It's all right, we know.”
“This is a very strange school,” Alfie said quietly.
Alice had come up behind them. “Isn't it?” she agreed. “It's great! So, your dad's a postman?”
“That's right.”
Alice shook her head in obvious admiration. “What a fantastic cover story. I mean, a secret identity and everything. Wicked!”
The next lesson was Codes. Alfie thought that might be about how to find books in the
school library, or maybe something to do with programming computers. He liked libraries and he liked computers. You could work quietly and on your own with both.
“It should be double Camouflage now,” Alice told him. “That's taught by Mr Trick.”
“I'm the absolute best at Camouflage,” Chloe said loudly. “But we haven't had it all year.”
“Why not?”
Chloe looked at Alfie like he was mad and he knew she was still annoyed at him from earlier. “No one can find Mr Trick.”
Codes was taught by Mr Cryption. He was a tall thin man who beckoned them all into the classroom with an extendable metal rod like a radio aerial that he waved and pointed.
Alfie sat at the same table as Jack. “Shouldn't we have books or paper or something?”
Jack shook his head. “No need. You wouldn't know what to do with them anyway.”
“Why not?”
But before Jack could answer, Mr Cryption started the lesson. “Xylophonics,” he announced in a loud voice.
“That's why,” Jack said. “None of us know what he's on about.”
Mr Cryption glared at Jack. “Fester block
garden tailor vision,” he warned. “Visible run dilemma phoenix fin passion on gold identity submarine.”
“Are all the lessons like that?” Alfie asked as they moved on to the next class. He was beginning to worry about the sort of homework he might get.
“Not all of them,” Beth assured him. “Mr Cryption is just strange.”
“That bit about the trombones was interesting,” Harry said.
They reached the next classroom to find a notice taped to the door. Alice read it out: “Class 3DâGo to Room 11F.” She sighed. “Not again!”
“Where's Room 11F?” Alfie asked.
“Miles away,” Sam told him. “Typical.”
“Why's the lesson been moved?”
“Because it's Tracking Skills,” Chloe said. She folded her arms and glared at Alfie. “Something else I'm good at. And I bet you're rubbish at it.”
“It's always moved,” Alice said before Alfie could respond. “Never where it's supposed to be.”
Room 11F had another notice on the door sending them to 17C, where they were directed again to the main school hall. But when Jack opened the door to the hall, there was another class in there already.
Alfie watched in amazement as a large man in a black cloak ran round the hall making aeroplane noises, his cloak spread
out behind him like wings as he ran. Children leaped out of his way. “
Dugger-dugger-dugger
,” went the man, making the sound of a machine gun.
Jack closed the door.
“Who was that?” Alfie asked.
“It's just the Chaplain, Reverend Smithers,” Alice said.
“What is he teaching, running about like that?”
“He used to be a fighter pilot,” Harry said. “He takes us for PE.”
“Was that PE?”
Chloe looked at Alfie like he was mad again. “That was Religious Studies,” she said.
They never did find where their Tracking Skills lesson was being held. It was supposed to be taught by Sir Waverly Compass, but no one had seen him since he set off for the kitchens to get a pint of milk for the Staff Room.