Daniel was not happy. He was in detention again. For some unknown reason his form tutor had obviously taken a disliking to him and whenever he could, for whatever reason he could think of, he would give him a serious bollocking. This time he had been sat next to pupils who were talking while he diligently focused on his work. And of course, Mr Banks immediately took the opportunity to put the blame on him. Daniel was sick of this. He had no idea what he was supposed to have done wrong, but his teacher definitely had it in for him.

"Daniel!" Shouted Mr Banks. "Stop sulking and carry on writing out your lines. You won't want me to make you write out another page would you?"

"No sir" Daniel replied.

What was this guys problem? he wondered.

Daniel had just started senior school a month ago. Mr Banks had disliked him from day one. Daniel remembered this strange moment when Mr Banks first read his name when calling the register. "Daniel Oliver" he called out and as he read the Surname his face transformed into a vengeful grimace. Something was very wrong and Daniel had a mystery to solve.

What made things worse was that Mr Banks was also a P.E teacher. But , of course, when it came to Daniel, he was more like a drill sergeant. It was P.E. tomorrow morning and Daniel was dreading it.

"I've finished writing my lines, sir. Can I go?"

"You'll go when I say you can go! Just for your cheek, you can write out another page of lines. This time you will write: 'I can go home when I'm told I can go home.' Now get on with it and stay quiet!"

Daniel finally arrived home two hours late. His father was sat on a brown leather sofa watching football on Sky Sports. Without taking his eyes off the game he said "Another detention, Daniel!? What's going on with you? And don't keep making up excuses that your teacher has got it in for you. I'm sure he's more professional than that!"

"Dad, seriously, I'm telling you there's something weird going on. I haven't stepped out of line once since starting at Thomas Alleynes. I want to do well at school. You know I want to join the police when I grow up. I need to be on my best behaviour. It's important to me. There's definitely something suspicious going on with that Mr Banks!"

Mr Oliver finally tore his gaze away from the television and stared at his son. His face had gone pale.

"Did you say Mr Banks?"

"Yes dad. Are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost! Do you know Mr Banks?"

Mr Oliver stood up and slowly moved towards his study, went inside and collapsed into his computer chair at his desk.

"Dad?"

"Not now, son!"

Daniel left his father alone and slumped onto the sofa. Something very strange was happening. Whatever problem Mr Banks had with him it was obviously to do with his father. Daniel felt both angry and deeply curious. It was completely unfair that he should be punished for something he's father must have done in the past. And what had his father done? Whatever it was he certainly didn't want to talk about it. Daniel had never seen his father look like that before. What the hell was going on?!

The studs of Daniels football boots clacked against the tarmac of the cycle track. It was the next day in P.E. and sweat soaked through his top. Daniel excelled at cross-country runs but it certainly wasn't his favourite thing to do. His friend Jack ran alongside him. He was wheezing heavily. "Use your inhaler, Jack."

Jack nodded and pulled his inhaler out from the waistband of his shorts. He put it in his mouth and took a puff, shook the inhaler and took another.

"Any better?" Daniel asked.

Jack returned the inhaler to his waistband and breathed out the words: "Not much."

"There's a short cut up here, Jack." Daniel pointed the way through a gap in a hedge. "Go on. I'll catch up with you. I want to pick up the pace anyway."

Jack smiled at his friend. "Show off!...