"Why don't you go instead of me then?" I snapped.

"I would if I could," he deadpanned.

"It'll be fun," Harkat assured me. "Strange at first, but give it time and you'll fit in. And don't feel inferior: these kids will know… a lot more about the school curriculum than you, but you are… a man of the world and know things that they will… never learn, no matter how old they live to be."

"You are a Prince," Mr. Crepsley agreed, "far superior to any there."

Their efforts didn't really help, but I was glad they were supporting me instead of mocking me.

With breakfast out of the way, I made a few ham sandwiches, packed them in my bag along with a small jar of pickled onions and a bottle of orange juice, and then it was time to leave.

"Do you want me to walk you to school?" Mr. Crepsley asked innocently. "There are many dangerous roads to cross. Or perhaps you could ask a lollypop lady to hold your hand and—"

"Stuff it," I grunted, and bolted out the door with my bag full of books.

Mahler's was a large, modern school, the buildings arranged in a square around an open-air, cement recreational area. The main doors were open when I arrived, so I entered and went looking for the headmaster's room. The halls and rooms were clearly signposted, and I found Mr. Olivers' room within a couple of minutes, but there was no sign of the headmaster. Half an hour passed — no Mr. Chivers. I wondered if Mr. Blaws had forgotten to tell the headmaster of my early arrival, but then I recalled the little man with the huge briefcase, and knew he wasn't the sort who forgot things like that. Maybe Mr. Chivers thought he was supposed to meet me by the main doors or the staffroom. I decided to check.