They followed Mr Quintius out towards the sport fields. Normal and Tiberius were the last and as they followed Podium and Wagget stepped out of the shadows and leant against the wall of the toilet block.
‘Keeping busy, you little underlings? How’s old Quinine these days?’ said Podium, with a little sneer etched on his lips as he spoke.
‘We’re going flying,’ said Tiberius.
‘Wooooo! Flap flap!’ said Podium, fluttering his fingers in the air. ‘Make sure you don’t crashland.’
‘Don’t you ever have any lessons?’ asked Normal.
‘Course we do, we just don’t always turn up. We have other things to do.’
‘What are you doing now?’
‘Making sure you little scraps are not skiving.’
‘Like you – you mean?’
Podium’s face suddenly shot down very close to Tiberius’s.
‘Careful,’ he hissed. ‘You’re messing with the big lads now.’
Wagget said nothing, but he scowled at Normal.
Tiberius frowned. ‘Have you cleaned your teeth lately?’ he asked Podium.
Podium straightened up and grinned. He snapped his fingers and muttered ‘Abington Piggots’. A battered black toothbrush appeared in his fingers, complete with a smear of bright green toothpaste on it. He grinned and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed on it like it was a lollipop.
‘Better get along little ones,’ he said, ‘you’ll miss your flapping lessons.’
‘You’re not supposed to do magic…’ Tiberius muttered as they started to walk away.
‘What was that?’ snapped Podium.
‘Nothing,’ said Normal. ‘Come on.’
He grabbed his friend and they hurried off after the others.
‘What is it with those two?’ said Tiberius.
‘Don’t worry. I want to learn to fly.’