Johnny stared at it for some time, while the rain fell in the real world and the blue sky glittered on the sign.

It was pretty obvious that the building was going to take up more room than the site of the old boot factory.

The words above the picture said, 'An Exciting Development for United Amalagamated Consoli- dated Holdings: Forward to the Future!'

Johnny didn't feel very excited, but he did feel that 'Forward to the Future' was even dafter than 'If It's a Boot, It's a Blackbury'.

Before school next day he pinched the newspaper and tucked it out of sight behind William Sticker's grave.

He felt more daft than afraid. He wished he could talk to someone about it.

He didn't have anyone to talk to. But he did have three people to talk with.

There were various gangs and alliances in the school, such as the sporty group, and the bright kids, and the Computer Club Nerds.

And then there was Johnny, and Wobbler, and Bigmac, who said he was the last of the well hard skinheads but was actually a skinny kid with short hair and flat feet and asthma who had difficulty even walking in Doc Martens, and there was Yo- less, who was technically black.

But at least they listened, during break, on the bit of Avail between the school kitchens and the library. It was where they normally hung out — or at least, hung around.

'Ghosts,' said Yo-less, when he'd finished.

'No-oo,' said Johnny uncertainly. 'They don't like being called ghosts. It upsets them, for some reason. They're just ... dead. I suppose it's like not calling people handicapped or backward.'

'Politically incorrect,' said Yo-less. 'I read about that.'

'You mean they want to be called,' Wobbler paused for thought, 'post-senior citizens.'

'Breathily challenged,' said Yo-less.