That permission slip was your passport out of that place for an hour in the middle of the day. You had to keep it safe. Some people even paid Mrs Powell the librarian 25p to laminate theirs. Every time you wanted to leave the school grounds you had to flash it at one of the prefects guarding the gates. If they didn't like the look of you, they'd even make you prove you were you.

We used to bate them during the first and second years. After all, their primary duty wasn't to check permission slips, it was to stop us lot escaping. We used to shout abuse from afar and then run away. Of course, they couldn't leave their post to chase you. You just had to hope they didn't remember your face.

There were three gates. The main gate at the end of the school drive was always manned by two prefects at any one time. They worked in twenty minute shifts. The lunch break was three shifts long.

The gate behind the school was actually the gate to the teacher's car park. We weren't supposed to use it, before school, after school, or even in the fourth year and beyond. It didn't have any pavement. But it was still guarded. It was manned by one prefect, as was the side gate, the one on the road with our bus stop on.

It should have been impossible for us to get out. Instead, break-outs happened every lunchtime. Dean Henderson started the craze early in the third year.

We turned up at afternoon registration one day to find Dean's desk surrounded by a small crowd. Our form tutor Mr Walker was yet to arrive, so Owen and I went and had a look at what was on the table.

- It's a Mars bar, I said.

- Wow, said Owen. - Amazing.

Henderson gave us a pair of dirty looks.

- He says he got it from the newsagent, said Greg Bentley.

- I did, said Dean.

- What? You mean you stole it? Owen said.

There were a couple of snickers.

Dean hesitated. - Well, no, but I did leave school at lunch to go get it.

- How'd you get out? asked Owen.

- Like I'd tell you.

- He won't tell anyone, said Greg.

- You can get Mars bars in the cafeteria, I said.

- Yeah, that's what I said, said Mark.

Dean glowered. - But the point is I didn't.

- Says you, said Owen.

- Nobody saw me, did they?

Nobody was forthcoming.

- That doesn't prove anything, said Owen.

- Yeah, said Mark. - You could have had it in your bag for ages.

- Or bought it this morning.

Dean began to smile.

- I know what you're trying to do, he said. - And I can tell you, it ain't gonna work. I'm not telling you how I got out.

There were groans, and then Mr Walker showed up. The crowd dispersed and people returned to their seats.

- Do you believe him? I asked Owen on the way to English.

- 'Course, he said.

- So how d'you think he did it? Got past the prefects, I mean.

- I'm not so sure he did.

I frowned. - You think he found another way?

- With any luck we'll find out tomorrow, he said as we filed into Mr Slater's classroom.

- Why? What's happening tomorrow? I asked.

Owen grinned. - Well, if he's got away with it once he's bound to try again, isn't he?

We couldn't find Dean Henderson at lunch the next day.

- See? I told you he'd do it again, said Owen.

The day after that, we had maths just before lunch and Dean was in the same class as us. We'd been told to work in silence, so five minutes before the end of the lesson Owen slapped one of his infamous Post-it notes down on my exercise book. 'Get ready to skedaddle on the bell,' it said.

- 'Skedaddle'? I asked later.

He'd put three exclamation marks, too.

- Let's see where he goes, Owen said as we followed Dean Henderson out of the classroom.

We kept to a safe distance, hiding inside a crowd that was heading to the cafeteria. Dean walked right past the cafeteria. Owen and I lost our cover as the others went in. Dean kept going, through the science block, past the changing rooms, then out into the open air.

We followed him out, stopping briefly at the doors to make sure he wasn't standing outside. He wasn't. There weren't many people around. Dean had his head down and his hands in his pockets.

- Now where's he going? wondered Owen.

- Looks like he's heading toward the tennis court, I said.

- We're too close. Let him get further ahead.

Our class called it the tennis court because our class was better at tennis. Dean's class called it the basketball court because Dean's class was better at basketball. The lines for both were painted on the tarmac.

- He's going down Smoker's Alley, Owen said.

Smoker's Alley was the name for the gap between the tennis court and the school wall. Nobody we knew had ever gone there for a fag. In the first year it was the teachers themselves who had told us what it was called. They boasted of catching seventeen pupils smoking down there once. It was a school legend.

- Come on, said Owen.

We crept around the edge of the tennis court. Owen looked over his shoulder to make sure there was no one following us following Dean.

Then we entered Smoker's Alley.

- Erm, where is he? said Owen.

- He's gone, I said.

- Yeah, I can see that.

We could see down the entire length of Smoker's Alley. There was no sign of Dean Henderson.

- Maybe he reached the other end, I said.

- We weren't that far behind, said Owen.

Suddenly he boffed me in the arm and held a finger near his ear. I listened. There was a raspy click. It took a moment to place where and what it was.

- A lighter? I whispered.

He nodded. Then there was a second raspy click. It was right near us. It was on the other side of the wall.

Neither of us said anything. We stood in silence until we heard a distant little cough. We both knew whose.

- Gimme a bunk-up, said Owen.

- What's on the other side of this wall? I asked.

- Henderson's escape route. Come on.

I cupped my hands for his foot.

- Dean didn't have anyone to give him a bunk-up, I said.

Owen grabbed the top of the wall and tried pulling himself up. The wall was nearly eight feet high and we were just third years. His feet scrabbled against the red bricks, unable to get purchase.

- Gimme a push, Owen said.

I grabbed his feet and pushed. He got his leg up and over and soon he was sitting astride the wall, a leg dangling on each side.

- You kicked my wrist, I said.

Owen ignored me. My hands were covered in muck from his shoes.

- There's an alleyway back here, he told me. - It goes behind all the houses. Gimme your hand. I'll pull you up.

I sighed and reached up.

- Well, that explains how he got over on his own, said Owen.

We were both in the alleyway now. The school wall looked even taller from this side. Owen was crouching over a wooden box with a length of rope tied to it. He stood up with the rope. It was about ten feet long.

- He just stands on the edge of this box, climbs over the top and then pulls the box up after him with this rope. Simple.

Owen dropped the rope and wiped his hands on his thighs.

- Let's toss it back over the wall, he said.

- Wait. If we do that he'll know someone followed him, I said.

Owen grinned. - Yeah. Exactly.

Then he picked up the box and threw it over the school wall. It landed with a satisfying bump in Smoker's Alley and Owen gave an evil laugh.

We didn't get up to much that first time out.

- Got any money? Owen asked.

We spent most of the lunch-break avoiding the teachers on patrol.

- Not much, I said.

We saw Mr Reginald popping into the bakery.

- Enough for a McDonalds? asked Owen.

We almost bumped into Mr Cockthruster near the zebra crossing.

- Yeah. Just about, I said.

- Good, said Owen. - All this reckless disobedience puts a real belly on me.

There was a McDonalds in the nearby retail park. It was about ten minutes walk from the school. On the way we decided to split a bag of fries and a portion of McNuggets between us. We'd also get two straws for the Coke.

None of the patrolling teachers went as far as the retail park, though we saw plenty of fourth and fifth years en route. They looked at us as we passed the bus shelters under which they were smoking, but they didn't say anything.

Owen and I felt about nine feet tall.

There were more fourth and fifth years hanging around the retail park, and plenty in the McDonalds, too. Owen and I queued up for the supplies, and it was only when we were leaving again that we saw who else was in there.

- Well, look who it is, Owen said loudly. - Billy Nomates.

Dean Henderson's Big Mac froze halfway towards his open gob. He was sitting alone at a table made for two. He slowly looked round at us.

- What the fuck are you doing here? he said.

- Careful, Deano, said Owen in passing. - They'll chuck you out if you don't watch your mouth.

Henderson rose in his seat as we headed for the exit.

- How'd you get out? he called after us.

- Like we'd tell you, Owen called back.

We left the McDonalds laughing. Owen waited until there was a wall between us and Dean and then flipped him off. He didn't follow us out.

We ate as we walked. It was the best tasting McDonalds ever. Owen let me have more of the Coke and I let him have the ice in the bottom. The ice cubes still hadn't melted by the time we got back to the alleyway.

- You can't take that in with you, I said.

- I'm going to leave it on the other side of the wall, said Owen.

Once we were both over the wall, I found out what he meant. He retrieved Dean Henderson's wooden box, arranged it in the middle of Smoker's Alley, and then placed the cup carefully on top of it.

I laughed. - You're gonna get beat for sure.

- We'll see, he said.

There was still another ten minutes left of lunch. It wasn't long before we spotted Sam and Iain. They spotted us too. We walked towards each other.

- Remember, this is our secret, Owen said in a low voice before we reached them and they reached us.

- We're not going to tell them? I said.

- No. The less people who know the better.

I sighed. - Fine.

We didn't find out what happened to Dean Henderson until the next day. Neither of us had classes with him that afternoon. In the third year I had geography first thing on a Friday. Dean caught up with me when I was waiting outside Mr Glazer's room with Iain.

- You and your little friend, he said, punctuating his speech with pokes in the chest. - Next time I see you out at lunch you're dead. Both of you.

Then he stormed off to his own class.

It was an empty threat, as I learnt at break. Mr Ford the maths teacher had been fetching something from his car during registration time yesterday afternoon when he caught Dean trying to sneak in through the car park gate. He took Dean to Mr Wright, the deputy head, and Mr Wright invented the lunchtime detention, especially for Dean.

For the next two weeks, Henderson's lunchtimes would be supervised. He would spend the lunch break sitting on a chair outside Mr Wright's office. It was Owen who relayed the good news. We were safe for a fortnight.

But outside geography, Iain was suspicious.

- What was all that about? he asked.

- Oh, you know the Henman, I said. - Just look at him funny and he says he's going to kill you.

I laughed, awkwardly. Iain didn't.

- No, I heard what he said, said Iain. - 'Next time I see you out at lunch'; what's he mean by that?

I sighed. - Well -

And then I told him everything.

- When are you going out again? he asked excitedly when I'd finished. - Are you going today?

- I don't know, I told him.

- I want to come too next time.

I sighed again. - Owen said not to tell anyone.

- Yeah, and it's okay. I won't.

In history after break Owen showed me a tatty fiver.

- Today I'm buying, he said. - Meet me by the tennis court at the beginning of lunch.

I had technology without him before lunch, so we turned up separately. I didn't tell him I'd told Iain. I didn't think I'd need to. I didn't have technology with Iain either, so wouldn't get the chance to tell him we were going. I thought I was off the hook.

I got to Smoker's Alley before Owen, but I wasn't the first to arrive. To my surprise, Iain was already waiting, and Sam was with him, too.

I rounded on Iain angrily. - I thought I told you not to tell anyone.

- I didn't, he said.

- Owen told me, said Sam sheepishly.

And had told him about the day's excursion too, it turned out. And Sam had told Iain. And found Iain already knew, just not about today's break-out.

Owen himself appeared not long after. I glowered at him but if he noticed he pretended not to.

- Okay, he said. - This is it. This can go absolutely no further than the four of us.

We all swore to it.

Then we helped each other over the wall.

I'd only had to share my McNuggets with Owen the day before. Neither Sam nor Iain had brought any money. Owen bought a Quarterpounder with Cheese. It didn't stretch very far. Sam claimed he'd backwashed into the Coke. We let him have it after that, but Owen still wanted the ice.

- What if Henderson tells Mr Wright how he got out? I asked Owen on the way back.

Owen chuckled. - He won't.

I wasn't so sure.

That was Friday and over the weekend it started to rain. Autumn had arrived. It rained for most of the week. Not even the fourth and fifth years went out in it. Owen watched the rainwater trickle down the windows.

- You can go if you want, he told Sam and Iain on Monday, and then again on Tuesday.

On Wednesday they didn't ask.

It was raining when we arrived for school on Thursday, too. Owen looked out of the window in English with dismay. It had been almost a week since we last broke out, and Dean Henderson only had another seven days left in lunchtime detention.

But around mid-morning, it stopped raining. By the time we were walking to maths, the sun was even beginning to shine.

Smoker's Alley was a quagmire. Five days of rain had turned the normally muddy path into sludge. Owen and I picked our way through it.

- You can wipe your shoes first if you want a bunk-up from me, I told him.

But Owen was distracted by something he'd found at the base of the wall.

- Someone else has been here, he said.

Then he pointed. There were footprints in the mud. They stopped in front of the wall.

- Sam and Iain, I said. - You did tell them to go on their own if they wanted.

- Yeah, I suppose you're right.

Actually, I was only half right.

Owen and I climbed over the wall and when we got to McDonalds we did indeed find Sam and Iain.

And Tim and Ed.

- Oh, hi, you guys, Sam said when we went in.

Owen froze when he saw them.

Tim and Ed were in Sam's tutor group. The four of them were sitting at a table, sharing two bags of fries between them, but they had a Coke each. Both Sam and Iain gave us very guilty looks.

- It just kinda slipped out, Sam confessed when we were heading back again at the end of lunch.

Tim and Ed had gone off to try and buy cigarettes, or at least try and crib some off a fifth year.

- But they've promised to keep it a secret, Sam added. - It'll just be between the six of us.

- Do you think they will? I asked Owen once Sam was out of earshot.

Owen laughed, but it was the laugh of a condemned man denied a last cigarette because smoking kills.

Sure enough, when we went back to McDonalds again on the Friday, Iain and Sam sat at our table, whilst Tim and Ed sat with Tom Dodson and a guy named Yusuf. On Monday there were twice as many people again. On Wednesday there were people whose names we didn't even know.

By the time Dean Henderson got out of lunchtime detention at the end of that week, there wasn't room for any fourth or fifth years in McDonalds at lunch, because most of the third year had got there first.

When Dean came in, I seized up. I remembered what he'd said about killing us. He stood in the doorway and looked around, wide-eyed, at all these people he knew. He didn't move from the entrance until he spotted Owen and me.

- I don't know what your problem is, Owen told him. - You're the one who found the way out. You're a hero to everyone in here.

Henderson left us alone after that.

- I didn't think that'd work, said Owen.

I snorted. - Of course it did. You just gave him another reason to love himself.

And this is how it continued for much of the third year. For most people the novelty wore off after a month or so, but Owen and I went out at least once a week for a McDonalds, and we would always see someone else from our year.

It became established break-out etiquette that if you saw any teachers you warned everyone you ran into from our year. That way none of us would get caught, and get tempted to confess how we escaped. Owen fell out with Greg Bentley in a big way when Greg tricked us into almost getting caught by Mr Cockthruster. It had only been a joke, but Owen never saw the funny side.

Iain came with us on the odd occasion when he had any money, but Sam only came if someone else offered to pay for him. In April it was Owen's birthday, and I managed to convince them both to come, and pay not only for their own food, but chip in for Owen's too.

It was a warm day, the premature start of what would end up being a long, hot summer. As soon as we were out of range of the teachers we took off our blazers and slung them over our shoulders. We walked at a more casual pace than usual. It took us fifteen minutes to get there.

- Just think, said Owen. - In a few months we'll be able to do this without any of the hassle. And it won't be half as much fun.

- Happy birthday, we said.

Then we all bumped Cokes.

- Cheers, ma dears, said Owen.

We didn't rush the food for once. We took our time walking back, enjoying a smoke on the way. When we entered the alleyway, there was still another twenty minutes left of the lunch break.

Sam gave Iain a bunk-up. I bent down and interlocked my fingers. Owen already had his foot in my hands when Iain said:

- Oh, shit.

He had his arms over the top of the wall. He was looking down into Smoker's Alley.

- Indeed, Mister Wilkins, said a calm voice the rest of us recognised instantly.

It was Mr Wright, the deputy head and bane of Dean Henderson's school career. He was waiting for us on the other side of the wall.

- Who's with you? he asked.

- Uh, no one. It's just me, Iain said quickly.

- You're on your own?

- Yessir.

I heard a barely audible snort.

- Well, climb down, said Mr Wright. - I wouldn't want you to break your legs and miss out on all the lovely detention I have lined up for you. Mister Reginald will be with you very shortly.

Owen and Sam and I looked at each other. Sam was still holding Iain's legs. Owen's foot was still in my hands. It only took a second for us to realise what Mr Wright meant. We all started running at the same time.

Owen and I ran in the same direction. Sam went the other way. I tried not to make a noise, tried not to give away our presence, but I was panting just to keep up with Owen, who was fitter.

It suddenly occurred to me as we ran that Mr Reg could be coming from either direction. There was a good chance we were running straight into his clutches.

We burst out of the alleyway and stopped. We hadn't been out of this end before, the retail park being in the other direction, but we knew exactly where we were. The gate to the teachers' car park was only two hundred yards away.

I gasped for air, my hands on my knees. I heard the blood hissing through my ears.

- Keep going! Owen cried.

I looked up, knowing I couldn't run any further.

Mr Reginald was coming out of the car park.

I started running again.

We headed away from him, the other way down the road. Luckily for us there was a bend in it. I ran until my lungs burned and I was wheezing.

Owen ran further, then when he saw I'd stopped, walked back to me. He was breathless too. He sat down on the curb and dropped a long, thick glob of phlegm between the rungs of a storm drain.

We didn't speak until we'd got our breaths back.

- Do you think he saw us? I asked.

Owen shook his head.

- What about the others? Do you think they made it?

- I expect Sam did.

- And Iain?

Owen harked loudly and spat down the drain a second time. Then he wiped the spittle from around his mouth and stood up.

- We should be glad he covered for us, Owen said.

- So now what do we do?

Owen looked at his watch.

- I suppose taking the afternoon off is out of the question, I said.

Owen shook his head. - Yeah, because that won't look suspicious, us being there this morning but not this afternoon.

- Well, what time is it?

- There's another sixteen minutes left to the bell.

- Well, then, I said. - That's how long we've got to find another way in.

Neither of us spoke for perhaps twenty seconds.

- So, have any ideas? Owen asked me.

But I'd expected him to. Owen's wacky schemes had landed us in sticky situations ever since the first year, but Owen's ingenuity had always got us out of them again, too.

- Let's walk, he said.

We came around the corner in time to see Mr Reg marching Iain through the car park gate. Mr Reg stopped briefly to talk to the prefect on guard duty; to explain about Iain, perhaps, or to warn him to be vigilant for other escapees.

We wasted about five minutes sneaking through the back streets to the other side gate, and when that turned out to be just as unpromising a weakness point, sneaking back again.

We saw fourth and fifth years heading back to school. But they were always on their own, or in two's and three's, never in a group large enough for Owen and I to hide amongst and not be noticed by them or the prefects.

- Owen, this is hopeless, I said finally.

We were back where we began, standing on the corner watching the prefect at the gate to the teachers' car park. It didn't matter if he saw us too. From this distance we could be fourth years for all he knew.

- Let's just go in and face the consequences, I said.

Owen glared at me. - If you wanna go, go. But I am not getting two weeks detention on my birthday.

- Well, what other choice do we have?

Owen chewed his tongue for a moment.

- Got any money? he asked.

- What?

- I've got an idea. How much d'you have?

I sighed. - Owen, I was paying the guy in McDonalds with 5p's. I don't have any money.

Owen checked the pockets of his blazer. He found two ten-pence coins. He thought he had found a third but it just turned out to be a button that had come off the front of his blazer months ago.

- Well, then, he said. - We'll just have to steal it, won't it?

I stared. - Steal what?

Owen turned and started down the road.

- Owen, steal what? I called after him.

I eventually followed him, running to catch up.

- You know what they say about desperate times and desperate measures, he said.

But he still didn't tell me what he was going to steal.

We ended up outside the newsagent's.

- Don't worry, I'll do this, he said. - But I need you to distract the shop assistant.

- What are you gonna steal? I asked again.

- Make her turn round, Owen continued. - Ask for a box of chocolates from the shelf behind her.

- Owen, I can't afford a box of chocolates.

- Then just tell her you've changed your mind. I'll only take a second.

I sighed. - Owen, tell me what you're going to steal.

He blinked at me innocently.

- A football, he said.

- What? Why?

- Trust me. You'll see.

We went into the shop. There was a fifth year buying a pack of cigarettes as we entered, but after he left it was just Owen, the shop girl and me.

The plastic footballs were on the top rack next to the door. A hand-written sign said they only cost two quid. That made me feel a bit better about it. Owen hovered around the birthday cards as I went up to the counter.

- Uh, hi, I said. - It's my mum's birthday, uh, tomorrow that is, and, uh, hey, can you get down that box of Thornton's so I can have a look?

The girl looked at me a bit strangely, but she got off her perch and turned round to reach up for them.

In a flash, Owen grabbed a football from the rack and tossed it out the door.

The girl turned back round with the box of chocolates. I flipped it over and pretended to check the selection. Behind me I heard Owen shuffling through birthday cards.

- Actually, no, on second thoughts, they're a bit expensive, I said, handing the box back.

She took them with a look of disapproval.

- You must really love your mum, she said.

She showed me the price label. £3.69.

- S-sorry, I just changed my mind, I said.

Then I skedaddled out of the shop. Owen followed at a casual speed, smiling at the shop girl as he left.

The plastic football had bounced once on the pavement outside the shop and then rolled into the gutter. It had been stopped from rolling any further into the road by a parked car.

Owen picked it up, put it under his arm, then we headed back to school. We had about two minutes until the bell.

- Seeing as we've now not only broken school rules, but actually broken the law, Owen, would you mind telling me exactly what this plan of yours involves?

- Certainly, he said. - Next we just walk right through the school gates.

I didn't believe him.

But that's precisely what we did.

- Oi, you're not fourth years! said the prefect on the gate, blocking our way.

- No, we're third years, said Owen. - Our football went over the wall and we went to fetch it.

Owen held up the football.

- Who said you could do that? the prefect asked.

- Mrs Smith gave us permission.

- Oh, yeah? How come I didn't see you leave?

Owen faltered for a second. - You weren't on the gate when we left. It was someone else.

- I've been here for ages. Why'd you take so long?

- It was in someone's garden. They didn't want to give us our ball back. We had to plead with them.

- And promise it'd never happen again, I added.

The prefect looked at us warily.

- You can ask Mrs Smith, Owen said.

Which we both knew he wouldn't. Most staff-members treated sixth-formers like they were adults who deserved respect. The caretaker treated all pupils equally - like first years.

- Please, we're gonna be late, said Owen.

As if to echo his point, the end of lunch bell rang.

The prefect sighed. - Fine. Go.

- Thanks! we said.

And I was genuinely grateful.

- Be more careful in future, he called after us.

- Bite me, sucker, Owen said under his breath as we hurried off to afternoon registration.

We never found out who it was that tipped off Mr Wright about people using Smoker's Alley as an escape route. Owen suspected Dean Henderson for a long time, but Dean was just as pissed off as the rest of us that we could no longer break out at lunch. Just like the gates, there was a prefect on guard down Smoker's Alley from then on.

It took a couple of days for Iain to stop being mad at us. Not only had he got three weeks of lunchtime detention, but Mr Wright was also going to prevent him from leaving the school grounds in the fourth year, too. By the end of the third year, though, Mr Wright had clearly forgotten. Iain got sent home with a permission slip for his parents to sign, just like everyone else.

Owen and I bumped into Sam at the end of that day. We were surprised to hear he'd managed to get back in as well.

- So how'd you do it? I asked.

He shrugged. - Simple. I just waited until the bell went and the prefect left the gate unguarded, then I sneaked in and got a late slip instead of going to registration.

- Why didn't you think of that? I asked Owen as we were walking down the road to the bus stop a few minutes later.

Owen was dribbling his new football.

- Sam was lucky, that's all, he said. - He could've got caught. Just like Dean Henderson.

- But he wasn't, I said.

Owen didn't respond. I chuckled.

- What? Look, you should be thanking me. This is the most excitement you've had in your boring little life for as long as you can remember. Tell me I'm wrong.

I laughed. - Fuck you, man.

Owen grinned. - Anytime, anywhere.

A couple of days later I missed my bus so Owen's came first. Once it had left I popped into the newsagent's for a Mars bar. I saw the plastic footballs by the door. They were still two quid.

I left the coins under the shop girl's magazine as she put the money for my Mars bar in the till.

NOTES:
The longest of the stories so far at over 5000 words, though it was going to be some 2000 words shorter. When I originally uploaded it, the story ended with Owen saying "Cheers, ma dears" in McDonalds for his birthday. Whilst that was arguably AN ending, it changed the thrust of the story I envisaged to write, so that it was about the spread of the craze of 'breaking-out', rather than the characters who do it. The ending I'd initally envisaged is essentially what I've written in spirit (Owen and co having to break IN to the school), and the main reason I didn't do it first time round is simply because I couldn't think of a suitably ingenious Owen-esque way of having them do it that wasn't hopelessly contrived.