"That's right," said Yoless, who'd read a bit about psychology as well.

"My Bran went mental," said Bigmac. "She- ow!"

"Sorry," said Yoless. "I wasn't looking where I put my foot but, fair's fair, you weren't either."

"It's just dreams," said Johnny. "It's nothing mad."

Although, he had to admit, it was dreams during the day, too. Dreams so real that they filled his eyes and ears.

The planes ...

The bombs ...

And the fossil fly. Why that? There'd be these nightmares, and in the middle of it, there'd be the fly. It was a tiny one, in a piece of amber. He'd saved up for it and done a science project on it. But it wasn't even scary-looking. It was just a fly from millions of years ago. Why was that in a nightmare?

Huh. School teachers? Why couldn't they be like they were supposed to be and just chuck things at you if you weren't paying attention? Instead they all seemed to have been worrying about him and sending notes home and getting him to see a specialist, although the specialist wasn't too bad and at least it got him out of Maths.

One of the notes had said he was "disturbed". Well, who wasn't disturbed? He hadn't shown it to his mum. Things were bad enough as it was.

"You getting on all right at your grandad's?" said Yoless.

"It's not too bad. Grandad does the housework most of the time anyway. He's good at fried bread. And Surprise. Surprise."

"What's that?"

"You know that stall on the market that sells tins that've got the labels off?"

"Yes?"

"Well, he buys loads of those. And you've got to eat them once they're opened."

"Yuk."

"Oh, pineapple and meatballs isn't too bad."