You absolutely despised him and the feeling was mutual. Both of you were always at each other’s throats, taunting the other. Yet here you were, sitting next to him on the school excursion bus on the way to a museum. Why? Because the teacher had paired you up with him.

You thought it couldn’t get any worse than that but no, you were wrong. As you gazed out of the window, you felt something heavy yet soft land on your shoulder. Scaramouche’s head. He had drifted off into a deep slumber.