It's a secret he and his mum have managed to keep hidden from the rest of us for over ten years now. Unless you know what it is, he'll seem like just another schoolboy. He likes computers, playing sports and eating burgers, but he hates school, going shopping with his mum and having to eat his vegetables. In many respects, Charlie Kemp is a normal ten-year-old. However, he has something few ten-year-olds have.

Charlie Kemp has a tail.

"But mum-"

"You are not a freak," she said. "You're just special!"

"But-"

"But what?" she snapped. "Don't be difficult, Charlie!"

Charlie screwed up his face and looked away.

She always said that when she was losing an argument.

They had this particular argument at least once a week. Usually it would come up during breakfast or dinner, or at other times when they had nothing else to talk about. Today, however, it came up on the way to school. They were standing at the crossing opposite the school gates waiting for the lights to change.

This was not a normal school day, however. In fact, it was Charlie's first morning in a new school and he had been fretting about it all weekend. He had all the usual worries and more besides. The idea that he'd be the centre of attention simply for being the new boy filled him with dread.

That, in particular, was what bothered Charlie the most. It would be a daunting prospect for just about anyone, but Charlie had extra reason to worry. Right now, that extra reason was tucked down his left trouser leg where no one could see it. Most of the time even he was able to forget it was there.

But not today...

"Here we go," said his mum, clasping his wrist.

The traffic lights had turned red and the cars were coming to a stop. She walked out into the road, pulling Charlie behind her. She gave an ppreciative wave to the drivers in passing and then they stepped up onto the opposite curb together.

Charlie gulped loudly.

They were now standing in the gloomy shadow of the mighty school gates. After one look inside, Charlie wanted to go home. Raucous children were tearing around the playground to the delight of their parents and the despair of their teachers. Nobody seemed to have any control. It was total chaos.

Then one of the teachers blew a shrill whistle. It sent a chill sliding down Charlie's spine and shooting up his tail. On the other side of the gates, the children froze where they stood. A moment later, the whistle was blown once more and the children started to move again.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" asked Mrs Kemp in a soft voice.

Charlie watched as the children all swarmed together and began forming themselves into untidy lines beside their teachers. He grunted and shook his head.

"I'll be fine," he said quietly.

"Good!" she cried, ruffling the hair on the back of his head.

She had actually believed him. He was a better liar than he had thought.

"I'll see you later," she said, pulling him closer for a peck on the cheek.

Charlie just nodded and she gave him a gentle push through the gates. Charlie wouldn't move for a while, but after more coaxing from behind, he took a brave step forward and didn't look back.

Then that piercing whistle was blown again and he looked up anxiously.

Order had finally been restored and the first class was being herded through the door. They were the youngest children and there was another group waiting behind to follow them in. The rest were dotted around the playground, waiting for their turn impatiently.

The school itself was a drab, grey building, surrounded by wet, black tarmac. Behind it, the sky was dull and overcast, and black rain clouds tumbled along the horizon. As he walked toward it, Charlie thought he was stepping right into an old black and white movie.

He looked out across the sea of strange faces, but he recognised only one. That was Miss Broom's. She was a small, mousy lady with long brown hair that flapped about her shoulders. She wore thick glasses that made her eyes look huge and she had come to the house last week to meet him.

When she finally spotted him, she waved and strode over.

Charlie turned once to wave to his mum, then gulped and waited nervously.

"Hello, Charlie!" she cried in a voice as shrill as her whistle.

Charlie just smiled.

"No need to be nervous," she said. "We don't bite."

Charlie just nodded.

"Come with me," she told him. "You'll be fine."

She snaked a heavy arm around his shoulders and led him off to the end of her line. There, she introduced him to two little girls, both of them called Katie, and then scuttled away to hold the door open for her class.

The two Katies stood in front of Charlie, giving him curious looks. He smiled back at them, but then they spun round and started giggling. Charlie shuffled uneasily on the spot and looked back toward the gate. He longed for his mum, but she was no longer there.

Finally it was time for Miss Broom to lead her class into school. Charlie trudged along behind and was last into the classroom. There, he slumped into the first seat he came across and after registration he followed his new classmates to assembly.

As the whole school came together, people began to notice the stranger in their midst. Some were standing and pointing and whispering where they thought Charlie couldn't see them. He did his best to pretend he couldn't and sat listening to the headmaster's story instead.

At the end of the assembly, the headmaster paused.

"We have a new boy with us today," he said softly. "His name is Charlie Kemp and he is in Miss Broom's class. I hope you'll all make him feel very welcome. Stand up, Charlie."

Charlie obeyed. Several hundred heads turned in his direction. He gulped.

He was relieved to get back to the classroom, though he spent the first lesson feeling increasingly lost. The class was three chapters into a new book and Charlie found it impossible to follow. At one point Miss Broom came over, but then she got distracted by noisy boys in the back row and never came back.

Come break time, the novelty was beginning to wear off and people were losing interest in the new boy fast. Charlie shuffled around the playground moodily, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. He could walk right past people and they wouldn't even see him. He had become the invisible boy.

Just as he was beginning to believe that this was for the best, someone suddenly lurched out in front of him. Charlie glanced up nervously, but the tall, thin boy with spiky blond hair was smiling and offering a handshake.

"Hi," said the boy in a chirpy voice. "I'm Des."

"Hi," said Charlie, shaking his hand. "I'm Charlie."

"Yeah," Des grinned. "I know. We're in the same class."

"Oh." Charlie just nodded.

"Hey, are you into footie?"

"Yeah," said Charlie with oodles of enthusiasm. "I love it!"

"Great!" chirped Des. "Wanna join our game?"

Charlie's eyes lit up. "Sure!"

Des led him out onto the playing field. The mud was soft underfoot, but it wasn't wet. It had been raining earlier that morning, but now the sun was peeping out from behind the clouds and had dried up all the rain.

Des spent a few moments naming all the other boys. There was Pete, and Roger, and Dave, and Tom, and Sam, and Eric, and Charlie was never going to remember any of their names anyway. He just smiled and shook their hands politely.

Then it was straight into the game and Charlie was chuffed when Des picked him for his team and made him goalie. In fact, he was surprised no one challenged him for the position. As he ran down the length of the pitch, smiling to himself, Charlie began to think that perhaps today wasn't going to be such a disaster after all.

Of course, what he didn't know then was just how good a footie player Des really was. He just thought it mighty fine luck that Des didn't lose touch of the ball once in the entire first half. However, after a few minutes more, Charlie began to feel more and more like a spectator and less and less like a player.

Des and Roger, the striker for the other team, were tackling each other in the midfield and nobody else was getting a look in.

"Go, Des!" cried Sam.

"Get in there, Roger!" yelled Eric.

The two of them were on opposing teams, yet they stood together at the halfway point, watching Des and Roger struggle for the ball. Charlie felt like joining them, if only to get a better look. It wasn't as if he was needed back here, after all.

Break was almost over before the stalemate was broken. It looked to be heading for a nil-nil tie and Charlie was ready to give up and fetch his bag. But then suddenly something surprising happened.

Des lost control of the ball.

Before Charlie even knew what was going on, Roger was sprinting down the pitch with the ball ahead of him and everyone else chasing behind. Charlie's heart began to thump inside his chest. Roger was aiming straight for the net and only Charlie stood in his way.

"Charlie!" The cry went up from his team-mates.

Nobody could catch Roger now. It was all down to Charlie. As the school bell rang, Charlie left the goal-mouth behind. He wanted to tackle Roger before he got the chance to shoot. Except that when Charlie started running for him, Roger did just that.

"Noooo!" That was from Des.

Without even stopping to aim, Roger had given the ball an almighty kick. He whooped, sure of his victory. Des shrieked, sure of it too. The ball was hurtling toward Charlie, but it wasn't in the net yet.

Closer... and closer... and closer... and he leapt!

He launched into the air, arching his back, stretching his neck.

He closed his eyes.

"Oomph!"

The ball hit him hard in the forehead and bounded away.

It hurt, but Charlie soon forgot all about that. When he opened his eyes again he was back on the ground and Des was charging around the pitch waving his arms in the air and cheering like it was his moment of glory. Roger was simply dumbstruck.

"Charlie! Charlie! Charlie!" The team chanted his name.

Des finally came running up with the rest of the team close behind. They bounced around their new hero, revelling in their apparent victory. After that sensational header, everyone pretty much forgot that not a single goal had been scored. Des's team were the winners.

Charlie lapped it all up with a big grin. He was man-of-the-match.

"Come on, you lot!"

That loud voice brought their celebrations to a quick conclusion. They all turned and saw Miss Broom standing at the edge of the field, where grass met tarmac. She was standing with her hands on her hips looking stern.

They all groaned in unison.

"Hey, mate, get the ball," said Des to Charlie as the others began the lazy slog back to school.

"Sure," said Charlie.

He was happy to do it, though in all the excitement he hadn't actually seen where the ball had gone. It wasn't in the back of the net and that was all that mattered. As he looked around, he saw that it had rolled off the edge of the field. It had stopped near to a girl who was sitting on the grass reading a book.

"Hey!" Charlie called. "Pass the ball!"

She did not appear to hear.

He called once more but she continued to ignore him. With a loud sigh, he cut across to where she was sitting. Then she suddenly seemed to notice him and started to reach for the ball after all. But at that moment, Des rocketed up from behind and seized it first.

"Shoo!" he barked at the girl.

Then he took Charlie roughly by the arm and pulled him away.

"That was a close one," he sighed.

"W-what do you mean?" wondered Charlie.

He peered back over his shoulder. The little girl was trotting after them.

Des nudged him in the back with his elbow.

"Gotta watch that one, mate," he said in a low, menacing voice. "That's Witch Girl. She's a witch. Turn you into a toad as soon as look at you, she will."

Charlie gulped. He dared to give her another look, fearing the worst but wanting to see it anyway. Alas, there was not a cauldron or flying broomstick in sight. There was just a pretty little girl with glasses and pigtails scowling at him.

"Where's your PE kit?" asked Des.

They had stopped to collect their things from the edge of the playing field.

Charlie's heart sank. "My... what?" he gulped again.

Charlie had never done PE or sports before. With his problem it was really quite impossible. At his last school his mum had dreamt up a suitable ailment that was neither visible nor fatal, but would excuse him from PE.

She had found a nice, sympathetic doctor to sign a medical certificate, but in the chaos of moving house and changing schools, Charlie couldn't quite remember whether she had got round to sorting it all out.

"Your PE kit," said Des in a daft voice, as if talking to a baby.

"Oh, that," Charlie chuckled, his voice shaky. "I didn't know I'd need it."

Des just shrugged. "Don't worry. Mr Clayton has plenty of spare stuff."

"Oh," said Charlie. "Great."

Then he traipsed after Des in silence, wishing that the other boy would slow down and not be in such a great hurry to get there. He had excuses to dream up and his mind was a complete blank.

When they reached the changing room door, Des pushed through and held it open until Charlie was there to catch it. As he let it bang shut, Charlie got quite a fright, for sitting behind was a giant of a man with wild, staring eyes and twitching eyebrows. He was cradling a clipboard and chewing a pen.

"Why are you always late, Des?" he boomed.

Des rolled his eyes and walked straight on past.

"Get a move on in future," the man added. "And you... I don't know you."

He was talking to Charlie now.

"I-I'm Charlie Kemp," Charlie stuttered.

Mr Clayton looked down his register. He was right near the bottom before he finally said, "Ah, yes, here you are. New boy, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Charlie quickly.

"Uh-huh," nodded Mr Clayton. "Go and get changed."

Charlie looked round. Des had cleared them some room among all the discarded school uniforms lying across the benches. Most of the other boys were already changed, after all, and were sitting ready, eager to get going. Then Charlie remembered.

"I don't have any kit," he said meekly.

Mr Clayton looked up. His eyebrows began to twitch again.

"But I can't do PE," Charlie added. "I've got a medical problem."

The room fell silent. Apart from a few mutterers at the back, everyone was now sitting down and watching the scene unfold. Des had stopped removing his tie and was paying close attention.

"Oh?" said Mr Clayton. "Do you have a letter?"

Charlie gulped. "No," he said slowly. "But my mum should have phoned."

"Hmm," said Mr Clayton, taking a moment to think. "I should check..."

Charlie let out a quiet sigh of relief. He took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his palms on the backs of his legs. Then he licked his dry lips. Everything was going to be okay.

"He's not ill..."

Charlie knew that voice. He recognised it instantly.

"Did you say something, Des?" Mr Clayton asked.

Charlie spun round to look at Des. Des looked back suspiciously.

"Yeah," said Des. "He can't be ill. He was playing footie with us at break."

Charlie's head began to swim. His palms grew sticky with sweat once more.

"Is that so?" said Mr Clayton slowly.

Charlie gulped.

"Well, Charlie," he asked. "Is it true?"

There was nothing he could say. He just nodded, head bowed.

Mr Clayton snapped his register shut.

"Alright you lot," he said, rising to his feet. "Go and join the girls on the field. I'll be along in just a minute."

The entire changing room leapt up in a mad dash for the door. Charlie stood beside Mr Clayton anxiously as the others poured past. Des was the last to leave. As he passed, he gave Charlie the funniest of looks. Charlie looked away. He couldn't face Des right now.

Once Des was gone and they were alone, Mr Clayton said, "Follow me."

He took Charlie into a smelly storeroom full of grubby footballs and mangled tennis rackets. In the corner was a battered old cupboard full of spare kit. Mr Clayton started fishing through, pulling things out at random and holding them up to Charlie, checking if they would fit.

"You'll have to get someone to wash these," he said.

Charlie just nodded.

Mr Clayton quickly found a pair of shorts and some odd trainers, but had no such luck with PE vests. They were all far too small. However, there were crumpled old t-shirts tucked away at the back, and he pulled out the smallest of these.

Mr Clayton let out a couple of chuckles as he held it up against Charlie. It was long enough to cover his bottom and the short sleeves would easily reach his elbows. Charlie reckoned two boys his size could fit inside and still have room to spare.

"Sorry about that," said Mr Clayton softly. "Best I can do, I'm afraid."

Charlie shrugged.

"Okay, go and get changed," Mr Clayton told him.

Charlie took the kit from him and went back to the bench. Mr Clayton picked up his clipboard again and slipped a whistle between his lips. Then he pulled open the door and disappeared through it. Moments later, Charlie heard the whistle being blown and Mr Clayton barking instructions to the others.

So now Charlie was alone. For a moment he just stood there flustered. He knew he couldn't hide out here until the end of the lesson. Someone would notice he was missing and he suspected it would be Des again.

He had no choice. He took out his tail.

For a further second or two he just stood there staring at it, as he often did, wishing it to vanish. It didn't. Long and thin, it tapered to a point, with shiny black fur along its entire length. His mum was always telling him how handsome it was.

Charlie always snorted when she said so. He found it repulsive.

After a couple of depressive sighs, he unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them. He slipped into the shorts Mr Clayton had provided, but no matter how much he coiled, twisted, curled and twirled he could not hide that tail. There was just no way he could do it.

He stood idle for a few ticks more before he had a sudden flash of inspiration. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as he fought to remove it. He shook it free of his arms and pulled the baggy t-shirt over his head. Then he took his tail in his hands and fed it up inside.

It was hidden perfectly!

He broke out into a broad grin. This might just work, he realised. He tucked the t-shirt into his shorts, kicked off his shoes and pulled on the trainers. Then he hid his watch within his shoe and hurried out onto the field.

"Josh... with Emma... Jenny... with Des..."

Mr Clayton was walking amongst the children, splitting them into teams. There were going to be two teams; one led by Des and one led by a girl named Emma. Charlie ended up on Emma's team, much to his chagrin. She gave all the best positions to her friends.

They were playing a game of Rounders and Emma's team was fielding first. Emma rallied the troops and sent them to their places. Charlie ended up right out on the field, as far from the action as possible. The only person beyond him was a plump little girl called Susan. Emma didn't like her.

"Play ball!" called Mr Clayton once everyone was ready.

And so the game began.

It went well for Emma's team, who got ahead and kept ahead, but only just. It would take just one single winning strike from Des to win it for his team and now he was up to bat. He stepped into position and swung the bat gently a few times. Charlie just continued to twiddle his thumbs as he had for the rest of the game.

Emma was doing the bowling. She pitched the ball to Des and he gave it one almighty crack. The ball flew up and up and people had to shield their eyes from the sun to see it. As soon as Des had hit that ball and started running, Charlie knew exactly where it was headed.

That ball was coming straight for him.

"Charlie!" someone yelled.

Des was tearing around the field, going from base to base. He'd just passed second base and was well on his way to third. If he got to fourth, his team would win, and Charlie wasn't about to let that happen. He got ready to jump, his hands cupped and outstretched.

Then, when the time was right, he pounced...

The ball flew right into his hands.

"Out!" Mr Clayton announced.

Des finally reached fourth base a few seconds too late. He glared at Charlie and then threw his bat down angrily. He'd thrown it so hard, however, that it bounced back up and whacked him in the knee. His team laughed. Emma's team cheered.

Now, as Charlie had leapt up, that baggy t-shirt he was wearing had caught the wind and ballooned out like a parachute. At first, Charlie didn't notice. He was too busy listening to the cheers. The first he knew of it was when Susan began a frightful wailing behind him and everyone turned to look, Charlie included.

The moment he turned, the laughing and cheering instantly ceased. There was utter silence. It was seeing Susan pointing right at him that made Charlie suddenly realise. He didn't even have to look. He could feel it. There, dangling between his legs, was his tail.

Charlie turned to face the others slowly. They were all just staring.

Then he dropped the ball and started running. No one came after him.