I lean back and rest my head against the wall. Some of the contestants are already making their way back into the hall. Soon it will all be over. I can just get on the minibus and in two hours I’ll be playing Forza in my bedroom.

‘Felix.’ Rebecca holds my arm like she knows I was drifting off. ‘You can do this,’ she urges. ‘All you have to do is believe in yourself.’

‘I know you’re trying to help, but it’s easier to say than do.’

‘I know, but you’ve practised so hard. You can’t give up now.’

The hooter sounds.

Rebecca looks at me for a long time like she’s finally run out of words.

I push myself away from the wall.

‘I better go,’ I whisper.

Rebecca walks with me towards the doors.

Inside some of the contestants are in their chairs; some are standing with their arms folded like they are thinking, others are walking up and down the rows. There are sixty-four of us here and there can only be one winner. What was I thinking? I heard what Rebecca said, but I can’t do this. I want to turn and run. If I don’t play I’ll never know if I would win or lose; that way I won’t disappoint anyone, including myself.

Leaving Rebecca behind, I head into the hall. The room buzzes with players’ and teachers’ voices. No one seems to notice that I’m here. They won’t miss me when I’m gone. All I’ve got to do is cross my name off the list and leave.

I walk over to the whiteboards.

‘I believe in you. I believe in you.’

I know, Granddad, I just wish I believed too.

A teacher wearing glasses is standing beside the whiteboards, his eyes watching me as I reach into my blazer pocket and shakily search for a pen. Nothing. I search deeper, but all I can feel is a piece of paper that must be a page of my notebook or a detention note.

The teacher steps forward.

‘You’d better find your seat,’ he whispers. ‘Or you’ll get disqualified.’

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I’m going to concede, I’m just looking for a . . .’ I pull the piece of paper out . . . ‘an envelope? What?’

I look at the light blue envelope in my hand. Then turn it over. On the front I recognize Granddad’s scrawly handwriting.

The tenth thing I’d like to teach Felix.

‘Young man, are you playing or not?’

I glance up. The clock says two p.m. All the contestants are sitting down at the tables, hands poised, ready to make their first moves. I look back at the envelope.

The tenth thing I’d like to teach Felix?

Granddad must have slipped it in my blazer last night. I slide my finger under the flap and pull out a piece of paper.

Felix,