"But this isn't THAT big -- if you got up the guts, you could wrench yourself free..." He wandered off, leaving Tabitha wondering what was coming next...and cursing herself for falling into his verbal trap.In a couple of minutes, Dumbjohn returned, carrying a handful of wide, galvanized roofing washers, used to hold down tar paper. "These will do the job," he announced tossing them up and catching them. He then proceeded to dribble alcohol on them.Tabitha watched, wondering how he was going to. Squinting as their eyes adjusted to the bright light reflecting off the windows of the adjacent buildings, Miss Driscoll and Molly noticed the pupils beginning to move towards them. They made towards the centre of the playground, where a small patch of grass stood as an island of greenery in a sea of drab, cracked tarmac that was long overdue relaying.The grass, where pupils would often while away their breaktimes reading magazines and gossiping, lay empty. The teacher pulled Molly into its. More

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