''Get up princesses,'' boomed Mr Strong, the PE teacher, as he moved around the aisles of beds, shaking each boy awake in turn.
This was the life of Napoleon Bridger, or Mullet Fingers as he liked to be known.
Each day at the break of dawn, Mullet Fingers would be shaken awake and dragged out of bed by Mr Strong, while all his goody-two shoes classmates were already up and making their beds.
You see, the United Nations School for Boys, ''turning your mischievous sons into fine young lads'', was a school of discipline and hard work.
But Mullet Fingers didn't like either of those things, so he didn't really fit in there.
Every morning, after being dragged across the floor, he was forced to spend two and a-half hours in the boiling heat, training for sport and doing fitness.
Once they had finished making their beds, they all had to go for a two-mile run around the school.
Running was one of Mullet Fingers's talents, but because he didn't like the school, he wasn't willing to do anything good there.
He always had to resist the urge to speed ahead.
Even just thinking about it made his body ache with temptation.
He could feel the wind rushing past his body, but then his mind snapped back to reality to where he was having to pretend he was struggling.
The most annoying thing of all was that even though his classmates were nerds, they were also skilful athletes.
But on this particular morning, for some strange reason, they weren't rushing ahead, and they were all staying in one group.
They were even motivating the slow ones.
''Hmmm,'' grunted Mullet Fingers.
Maybe they had actually grown some heart.
''Hey baby,'' sneered their leader, Augustus.
''Would you like us to carry you?''
All the rest of the boys laughed.
With his face blushing red, he quickly banished the thought from his head.
Suddenly, out the corner of his eye, he saw something strange - there was a hole in the fence of the military-grade, enclosed school.
It was almost invisible to the naked eye, but Mullet Fingers managed to see it, based on pure luck.
The hole was no bigger than both of his fists joined together, times two, but the years of when his mother punished him with no food finally had a benefit; he might be able to make it through.
As he pretended to collapse in agony, his classmates paid no attention to him, just like he thought they would.
They carried on running.
Mullet Fingers waited until they were out of sight and then he got to work.
He quickly worked on shimmying his body through the hole, which was a struggle, but he got there.
Once he was out of the hole, he had a quick look at his surroundings and guessed that the gates to escape were about half a mile away.
If he moved quickly, he might just be able to make it to the gates before anybody found out that he was missing.
He had not gone very far when he reached the obstacle course that the school used.
Right in front of him stood the sinking mud pit.
He pondered what to do.
Then out of nowhere, the faint sound of alarm bells ringing jolted some sense into his mind.
If he ran across quickly, he might get to the end before the mud started to swallow him.
Before you could say ''run'', Mullet Fingers started to sprint across, and just as he got to the end, he fell flat on the dry grass.
The real problem was that his feet were still in the mud.
''Blast,'' he muttered to himself as he tried to force his shoes off his feet.
Just as his feet popped out of his shoes, he could hear the sound of footsteps approaching.
''I can see the boy,'' shouted one of the guards.
''Stop!'' commanded another.
Mullet Fingers sprinted as hard as he could because he could see the gates really close.
The guards were on his heels, though.
Just as he approached the gates, the guards lunged at him, but he slipped out of reach and they landed smack bang on the ground with a grunt.
Even after Mullet Fingers passed the gate, he didn't stop running until he reached the nearest petrol station.
The man at the counter said: ''Bit early for you, young man. What would you like?''
Mullet Fingers asked him politely if he could borrow the phone.
He dialled the numbers on the phone and waited for it to ring.
''Hello?'' came a voice from the other end.
''Beatrice, I need your help.''
• By Poppy Patching, Year 9, St Peter's College
