Julius felt detached. His body spent a rainy afternoon in history and Mandarin classes, but his thoughts focused on his looming fate. He’d settled at his desk for afternoon registration, when an Ijaw kid called Nengimote came in late and slid a cardboard-backed envelope onto his desk.

‘Collins asked me to give you this,’ Nengimote said, a tremble in his voice hinting that Collins hadn’t asked nicely.

The form tutor was droning as usual. ‘… I am delighted to say that the tardiness record of this class has improved dramatically over the latest recorded period. As a result, I shall …’

Julius was conscious of the noise as he ripped the paper flap. He squeezed the envelope and tilted it towards the light to see inside. The envelope lining was streaked in dark, clotted blood. Duke’s blood-smeared motorbike licence slid out, followed by the tap of two bloody teeth on the desktop. One almost bounced to the floor. Julius felt sickened as he caught the tooth and dropped it back in the envelope, but the kid at the next table had seen.

At the bottom of the envelope was a lined page, torn from one of St Gilda’s custom-printed homework diaries. There were diary notes in Duke’s handwriting – History due, art club, uncle Lagos meeting – but the big black letters inside the fold were Collins’s childlike scrawl:

You did my nose.

So, I did your boyfriend.

Have a fun day!

Julius tilted his head, clenched his fists and drilled holes in the ceiling with his eyes. He imagined a hundred horrible deaths for Collins. He wondered where Duke was, and whether Collins – and the twins, who were surely involved – had done more than punch out teeth.

He stayed at the desk, glowering as classmates filed out, then stood up, trying to think where to get hold of a weapon. A fire extinguisher, a metal barbell from the school gym, a jar of acid from the science block … But Collins would be expecting his rage and could snap Julius in half.

What I really need is a gun. Tuck it in the back of my trousers, rip it out and blast a hole through his stupid face … Julius didn’t have the heart of a killer, but it was satisfying to imagine the scene.

He walked to the waiting Lexus on autopilot. The twins usually came home later, after sports practice or a video game session with Collins and their crew at the governor’s mansion. Gabe had arranged a playdate with two mates and Julius opened the door to find them wrestling on the back seats, amidst a pungent whiff of preadolescence.

‘Shut up and seat belts!’ the driver yelled into the back as Julius climbed in the front.