The next day we had to get back into our normal routine: school, work, washing, that kind of thing. It’s not easy trying to pay attention at school at the best of times but when you have a troll back home doing who-knows-what it’s even harder.For his part Johan did deliver the jumper. It was there, on our back doorstep, as good as new when we came down in the morning. Johan was nowhere to be seen though. The trapdoor was shut and we decided he must be asleep in there. It was a mystery how he had restored that jumper but Dad was happy enough just to be able to deliver it next door and win some neighbour-points with Mr Peaflummock.

Having only just moved to the area I was still settling in at school. It’s hard being the new kid at school, especially mid way through a year. I missed my old school. The teachers at the new one were okay, considering they were teachers. I got told off in maths for staring out of the window. I’d seen a purple carrier bag flutter past in the wind and I got scared Johan had followed me or starting sprouting tiny trolls because we had fed him.

Lunch and break times are always the hardest at a new school. That’s when everyone gets into their little groups. There’s the science kids, the footballers, the dancers, the card swappers and the FOTS. I call them that because they are Full Of ThemSelves. Every school has them. They’re the ones who just sit around, pointing and laughing at the rest of us because they think they are so much better than us. They act as if this makes them special. I think it just makes them irritating and because they are so full of themselves it makes them selfish. They have no time for anyone else except to make fun of them. The weird thing is that they, themselves are petrified of what people will say about them. About the worse thing for a FOT is to be excluded by the other FOTS. As you’d expect me being the new kid made me a bit of a target to start with.

Every school has FOTS

To make it worse, without realising, I sat on my own at lunch. I was thinking about the troll and what to do about it and hadn’t realised I’d sat on an empty table. A girl came over at one point. At first I reckoned she was either there to make some joke at my expense or because she had no friends of her own. I was wrong on both counts. She did have friends and she didn’t seem to be making fun of me.

“You’re Martin aren’t you?” she said.

“Yep.” I said “New kid and all that.” I glanced over at a table of FOTS who were gesturing towards me and giggling.

“Don’t worry, ” she smiled, “they’re not as important as they think they are. Don’t let them get to you.”

“What makes you think they’re getting to me?” I asked.

“Well,” she said sitting down, “you look a bit bothered. I just guessed it was that lot.”

I shook my head. “Nah, I have more important things to worry about than a bunch of FOTS”

“FOTS?”

“Full Of ThemSelves”

She laughed and looked over at them. “I like that. I’ll remember it. So if not them, what’s bothering you?”

“Oh not much.” I lied. Had my concerns about Johan been that obvious?

She raised one eyebrow as if she didn’t believe me.

“Okay, but to be honest it’s not worth mentioning and you wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

“Oh? You know me that well already do you?” she said folding her arms in mock–anger.

“No, I just know how unbelievable it sounds.” I smiled, “Look I know you’re trying to be friendly and it’s nice of you but really there’s not much you can do in this case.”

“You’ll never know unless you tell me.” she said, still smiling. She had this weird look on her face as if she already knew what I was worried about.

“I really don’t think you can help.” I said wishing she would just go away but partly beginning to wonder why she was so insistent.

“Try me?” she said. “You’d be surprised how resourceful me and my friends can be.”

“Friends?” I said, “I only ever see you with that one kid over there.”

“I do have other friends, not at school,” She said “and to be honest even one is more than you have right now.”

For some reason I felt like I could trust her but Dad had ordered us not to tell anyone about the troll and I happened to agree with him. Still it didn’t look like she was going to give up so I tried to figure out what I could say without giving the game away.

“I’m just doing an outside project, kind of a research thing and I’m stuck for information.” I said.

“Have you tried Wikipedia?” she asked. I looked at her and she worked out how silly that suggestion was. “Sorry, what are you stuck on.”

I said the first thing that sounded plausible. “I’m trying to find out about trolls for a game I’m helping develop.”

“An online game?”

“Not exactly. More a sort of role–playing game.” I was making it up as I went along now.

“So we’re not talking about annoying twerps on Facebook then?”

“No, I’m talking about the other type of troll.”

“The ones that hide under bridges and eat goats?”

“Or not as the case may be.” I smiled. “I’ve found out quite a bit but I can’t find anything about what they eat or how often.”

“Apart from goats that is?” she smiled.

“Well I’m trying to find out a little more than one fairy tale says.” I shrugged.

“Why did you think I’d find that hard to believe?” she asked.

I was stuck for a response “Well it just seems a bit daft for me to be so distracted by something so silly.” I said, hoping she’d buy it.

She laughed, “You should meet some of my friends. They could write a book on being distracted by stupid things! So what can I do to help?”

“You’re serious?” I asked.

“Of course I am. What can I do?”

“Well,” I said sitting back, “for a start can you and your resourceful friends find out what trolls are supposed to eat, how often and what happens when they do?”

“We can try.” she said as the bell went, stopping her from saying any more. As we cleared the tables I thanked her and then got off to class.

She and her friend were in my group for science, maths and technology so we chatted over a few things like what I knew about trolls already – which was not much as Dad and Angie had done all the research. They asked a lot of questions about the game I was doing this for, particularly what I imagined trolls looked like. I think I managed to give good enough answers without sounding like I had a real troll back at home.

Given the chaos of moving, being miles from my old mates, the troll in my garden and that my Dad was relegating my modelling to the back of his shed, this day hadn’t turned out too bad after all. I went home with a bit of spring in my step.

I arrived home still in a good mood but as soon as I opened the door I had the stuffing knocked right out of me.

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