The striped tent stood right in his way.
He hadn't meant to go near it. But the teachers were in the front rows, by the water, and the tent was pitched between him and them.
Up close, he could read the flag in the lantern light. It showed a pair of gold scales, the kind you weigh things on, stitched on purple.
He knew it. He had walked under it every day for a week. It was on a brass plate above the cafeteria doors, with a line of fancy writing underneath.
This hall is the gift of the Inkos family.
'What in the blue moon is THAT doing here?'
Six reds stood round the tent in a ring, facing outwards. Somebody had told these ones exactly what to look for, and he wasn't going to try them.
Inside, a shadow moved across the canvas. A plate clinked.
"...call this chicken? It's cold. I'm not eating cold chicken in a field. Tch."
Alex stopped dead.
He knew that noise. A week ago he had pushed that noise face first into a barrel of mashed potato.
