‘Yeah. Your dad took me home first but Tyler was… normal on the journey.’

Connor’s thumbs flew over the keypad of his phone. ‘I’ve told him we’re heading in.’

They had raced up the steps, passing Amber on the way. She glowered at Connor and he lowered his head, felt the heat on his cheeks.

‘Can’t wait to be out of this dump.’

‘You and me both.’

‘Boys!’ Mr Marshall’s voice boomed down the corridor. ‘You’re late for class. Don’t forget I’m watching you. Both of you.’

Connor had hurried towards his form room knowing that to be true. He felt Mr Marshall’s angry eyes on him even when he wasn’t at school. The way Mum felt she was always being watched by some random in a white car. Connor had thought she was batshit crazy but now he wondered whether it was true. Whether everyone is watching someone. Feeling shivers running down their spine. The hairs on the back of their neck standing on end.

Come to think of it, he’d been noticing a white car lately. Outside the graveyard. Crawling down the street as he walked with Ryan and Tyler. He tried to dismiss it. It’s only because Mum kept going on that he’s started to believe her. There are hundreds of white cars.

Thousands.

Nevertheless, he was on edge. Waiting for something to happen.

Something bad.

Where was Tyler?

The class had started by the time Connor took his seat. Dumped his pencil case on his desk. Into the wood was a fresh scratch, a deep groove. Words gouged out with a compass.

I KNOW.

It happened mid-afternoon, like something out of a film. Police marching into the classroom while the kids exchanged uneasy glances. A few years ago, uniformed officers would have been a source of excitement. Jokes. But there have been too many shootings at American schools. Too many terrorist attacks all over the world. His generation don’t have the innocence of those before. They don’t believe people are inherently good. They’ve grown up with Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, the worst of humanity streaked across their screens.

One of the policemen whispered to their teacher before addressing the class.

‘We’re going to be calling you in one by one to speak to you.’ The officer caught Connor’s eye. Connor’s hand had crept over the ‘I KNOW’ on his desk, his palm was hot as though the words burned into his skin, branding him.

When the police had left the room, Connor’s eyes began to sting. He blinked furiously. He would not cry.

For a minute, he allowed himself to forget that Mum was no longer the person he trusted most in the world. To forget that the last time he had relied on her to make everything better it had all fallen apart. Connor sent her a text from underneath his desk.