An Hour Early

Dexter got the time wrong. Bridge Street School started at nine, not eight, so he walked in an hour early.

The corridor was empty and quiet. He could hear his own shoes. One door was open, and the chairs were up on the desks. On the wall, someone had painted a big lion. Dexter walked past that lion every day. He never really looked at it.

Then he read the notices: a trip to the beach, a lost coat, football on Friday.

At nine the bell rang. Doors opened, feet came, voices came, and the corridor filled up.

Dexter knew the order of the day — bell, lesson, bell, break. He had just never been early enough to watch it start.