‘I’m not sure,’ she replies. ‘I think we had eight wins, seven losses and three draws, so we won’t win. The teachers are working it out now.’ She nods towards a table in the corner where a group of teachers are gathered with clipboards and pens. I blow out my cheeks. I want to know if we’ve won, but I want to see Granddad too. I search through the crowds but I still can’t see him. He’s taken so long to get down that he must have gone to the toilet.

Jake pats me on the back, tells me well done for the twentieth time. Behind us I hear Rich and Chris working out how many points we have – Chris says he and Rebecca both got two and a half, Leah got one and Tom didn’t get any. Then Rich says he got three and a half, and ‘he’ – meaning me – got four. He works out that we’ve got thirteen and a half points, that we might not win, but we’ve got a chance.

The group of teachers nod at each other, then part.

‘Here’s the result,’ says Rebecca, tugging my arm

One of the teachers picks up a bell and rings it. I look around the hall. All the groups of pupils have gone quiet and are standing with their teachers. My group does the same, except we stand with Rich because for some reason Mr Keytes isn’t here.

‘Okay,’ says the teacher who rang the bell. ‘First of all, I want to thank you all for coming and making this a wonderful tournament.’

I take a deep breath and look at Jake and Rebecca. I’ve won all my games, but it would be brilliant if we won the tournament.

‘In third place,’ says the teacher, ‘with twelve points is . . . drum roll?’

All the groups stay quiet, like they’re too nervous to rap their hands on the tables or stamp their feet.

‘Come on, drum roll, everybody,’ says the teacher. The hall rumbles with people tapping the tables and stamping their feet. ‘Fairfield High!’

A group of boys and girls in grey blazers turn and smile, patting each other on the shoulders. Some look happy they came third, some look disappointed they didn’t win.

‘We got thirteen and a half,’ Rich whispers. ‘We beat that! We’re either first or second.’

‘And so, the runners-up,’ says the teacher. ‘This was a very close thing. Very close indeed.’ Rebecca nudges me. Chris and Leah look at each other. Rich has got his fist clenched. Jake’s so wide-eyed he looks like he’s going to explode.

I glance behind me for Granddad. If I’ve won I want him here, but the only person I see is Mr Keytes standing by the door with a serious look on his face like he’s just found out we’ve been disqualified.

‘And the runners-up are . . .’