Raggy Maggie. Barry Hutchison

      The gym was the single biggest room in the school. Once a week it doubled as an assembly hall, where we all sat freezing to death and listening to someone drone on about Jesus. It was in sports mode now – the multi-purpose goals had been put up, and the smell of fresh sweat hung heavy in the air.

      Over near the middle of the hall, a cream leather football rocked gently from side to side, before gradually coming to rest.

      ‘Where is everyone?’ asked Billy. His voice carried across the empty hall like a foghorn.

      There should have been a class in here. There had been a class in here. I’d heard them. An uneasiness gripped me, but I said nothing. Instead I hurried across the hall to where the emergency exit led out on to the playing field and pushed down on the metal bar.

      Thunk. The handle bent all the way down, but the doors remained stuck fast. I pulled the bar up and forced it down again. The result was the same.

      ‘It’s locked,’ Billy groaned. ‘You idiot. This was your idea.’

      ‘It’s a fire door, it doesn’t lock,’ I hissed, but there was no arguing with the fact the thing wouldn’t budge.

      Giving up, I turned and studied the hall. It was a draughty cavern, with high ceilings and a wooden floor that must once have shone with polish, but which now looked scuffed and tired.

      There were two exits – the one we’d come through and the one that was stopping us leaving. If we went back out the way we’d entered we would run right into Mrs Milton. If we stayed where we were, she’d run right into us.

      ‘We’re trapped,’ Billy gasped, taking the words right out of my mouth.

      ‘We have to hide,’ I decided. There was a deep alcove at the back of the hall where the sports equipment and assembly chairs were stacked when not in use. It was a blindingly obvious hiding place, but it was the only one we had.

      From out in the corridor the shnick-shnick-shnick of scissors sliced through the silence. ‘She’s coming,’ I whispered, scurrying across to the alcove. ‘Hurry up.’

      ‘We could rush her,’ Billy suggested. ‘We could knock her out. The two of us.’

      ‘We could,’ I admitted, squeezing myself between two towers of stacked wooden chairs. ‘But we could also get stabbed in the face.’

      ‘Chicken,’ Billy sneered, but he quickly wedged himself into the recess and squatted down beside me.

      It was dark there in the alcove – the sloped roof above us blocking out almost all of the light from the hall’s high windows. To begin with the only sound was our own unsteady breathing, until a low creak told us the door to the gym hall had been pushed open.

      She was singing as she skipped into the hall, letting the door clatter shut behind her. It was below her breath, and too quiet for me to make out the words, but she was definitely whispering some tune or other in that childishly high voice. It set my teeth on edge, like fingernails down a blackboard.

      Her voice grew louder as she drew closer to our hiding place. I felt Billy tense up beside me, and realised I was doing the same: rising on to my toes, getting ready to move.

      Through the gaps in the chairs I saw her. I bit down on my lip to stop myself crying out in shock. She was just a few feet away, standing right outside the alcove, bent at the waist, peering in.

      The song she was singing trailed away into silence as she stared into the darkness. For a moment I was sure she was looking directly at me, and then, in an instant, she straightened up and skipped away.

      We held our breath in the gloom, listening as her singing restarted; listening as her feet squeaked on the wooden floor; listening as the door gave another creak and a clatter.

      For a few long moments neither of us moved, hardly daring to believe she had gone. It was Billy who eventually broke the silence.

      ‘I think I just crapped my pants.’

      It was the last thing I ever expected to hear him say, and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing – probably with relief more than anything. My eyes were getting used to the dim light, and I could see that he too was grinning.

      ‘Oh, was that you?’ I sniffed. ‘I thought it might have been me.’

      ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said, and we both stood up. He edged away, making room for me to pass. ‘You first.’

      ‘Chicken,’ I scoffed, pushing through the gap in the chairs and out into the hall. ‘I can’t believe she didn’t see—’

      ‘Peek-a-boo,’ chorused a voice to my left. I spun to find Mrs Milton standing there, just beyond the alcove. Her empty eyes were locked on mine. ‘I see you.’

      I tried to shout, to scream, but she didn’t give me the chance. Her arms jerked suddenly upwards, and from the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a hockey stick. A bomb went off against the side of my head, and an explosion of pain shook my skull.

      Somewhere far, far away a child giggled. The world lurched, and I found myself tumbling down