Your choice changes what happens next
The key that opens nothing
At nine forty on Friday, Ms Vale presented Mina Dey with a cardboard key. It was longer than Mina's forearm, painted gold, and bent at the point where somebody had tried to open a packet of biscuits. "The school is yours," said Ms Vale. Then she took her real keys from the table. "Except the kitchens, staff rooms, gates, electrical cupboards, attendance system and decisions about anybody's safety." Mina considered what remained. "The atmosphere?" "A surprising amount of corridor." Behind them, Joss Fen applauded as though a historic transfer of power had occurred.
Mina was sixteen, with medium-brown skin, a chin-length black bob and a yellow clip that she had already repositioned three times. Her teal overshirt had two pockets, both full of lists. Under it she wore a white T-shirt; below it, dark jeans and red canvas trainers. The Friday Exchange was a one-day student-run festival at Bramble Vale School, not a day without teachers. Staff supervised every open area. Students chose the activities, welcomed people and made the performances. Mina had helped plan it for six weeks. She had also written herself one three-minute speech. Nobody had asked to see that list.
The festival ran from ten until three. A twelve-minute closing show was pencilled in for two forty, followed by clearing up. The cardboard key conferred no power to change the final bell or the buses. Ms Vale, in her cobalt cardigan, tucked a radio into Mina's hand and checked that she knew which adult to call. "Enjoy some of it," she added. Mina nodded with the confidence of somebody who had scheduled enjoyment between two other tasks. The head of the cardboard key promptly fell off.