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time. Boodle sensed some kind of urgency and got Arns in her sights. She started to pull ahead.
    I glanced up.
    Girls had all but exited the dining halls now and hung around in groups under the trees, or sat on the outside walls, just like the St Alban’s guys had done yesterday.You could see the best spot to sit straight away and, being one of the popular ones, Mona had prime seat. I glimpsed her laughing at something a friend was saying before I put more muscle into pedalling.
    The approach to the hall on Mason was a killer uphill and I’ve got no idea how I came abreast of Arns at the critical moment.
    He was on the pavement now, coming up to Mona. I made sure I was a little past him, just opposite Mona, before I yelled, ‘Hey, Arns! Thanks for helping me with the relativity stuff yesterday. You’re a science genius!’
    Arns raised his hand in acknowledgement as I braked elegantly and unleashed Boodle.
    It was too, too perfect.
    Boodle had already twisted round and she leapt towards Arns just as he loped past Mona. Girls scattered in every direction and Mona twisted to drop her legs over the other side of the wall as Arns thumped hard against it, his head sounding on the grey stone with a painful
thwack!
, two furry paws once again firmly on his chest.
    He pushed away from the wall with one hand, dazed, the other hand holding the back of his head, and Boodle’s paws raked down his chest.
    ‘Nyargh!’ yelled Arns as the shirt gave way, two huge rips showing off fabtastic – fab
tastic!
– pectorals to their best advantage.
    ‘Boodle!’ I called feebly. ‘Get back here now! You okay, Arnold?’
    Arns staggered, both hands on his head now, chest totally visible.
    Then, to my shame, Boodle jumped again, and ripped that precious Stones shirt from neckline to hem, scratching ribbons of blood across Arns’s torso.
    I got to him first, bike thrown down on the verge, and tried to haul Boodle off him, but no chance.
    ‘Bad dog!
’ I yelled when she refused to move.
    ‘Blood,’ whimpered Arns, and passed out.
    I stepped back and pulled the manky tennis ball from my pocket. How could Arns breathe with Pen’s hound on his chest? My fingers fumbled. Damn this tiny pocket! I pulled and swore till the ball came loose and then I bounced it once, twice, three times, on the pavement.
Pock, pock, pock
. At the first bounce Boodle was at my feet grovelling for a game of throw and fetch. I pulled back my arm and threw as hard as I could along the pavement.
    Boodle the Poodle was off.
    Mona, to her credit, had swung back over the wall and now reached out for Arnold’s forehead.
    ‘He’s very hot,’ she said.
    Duh
, I thought.
Like he hasn’t just sprinted up this cliff face of a hill
.
    ‘He certainly is,’ tittered a tall blonde specimen.
    ‘He needs medical attention,’ I said urgently.
    Mona turned to the blondie. ‘Hurry, Barbie!’ she said. ‘Call Nurse Wilton now!’ (BARBIE? Seriously?)
    Barbie The Useless But Incredibly Beautiful just stood there, but several others set off at a run, their perfectly highlighted hair flying out behind them like the locks in a salon shampoo ad.
    ‘Thanks,’ I said to Mona, who was now expertly checking for a pulse.
    ‘Your
dog
!’ she said.
    ‘She’s usually so good!’ I lied. ‘I can’t believe this happened!’ I looked down at Arns’s chest. The scratches were mainly welts, not deep at all, and only bleeding here and there. Impressive wounds for the moment, though.
    Boodle the Poodle came pelting back in a flurry of hair and slobber. She flopped down beside me, releasing a soggy tennis ball. A long string of drool leaked from her mouth on to Arns’s arm. She whined and plonked a massive paw on his head.
    Arns’s eyes flickered and he groaned.
    ‘Mona,’ he mumbled.
    ‘What did he say?’ asked Mona querulously. ‘Did he say
Mona
?’
    ‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘He said, “Hold her.” Come on, Boodle,’ I commanded, pulling on her collar. ‘Arns is going