Because Jake ran off as soon as we were let out of the Isolation Room. We were in there all afternoon, staring at the wall. I was hoping I’d see the chessboard squares and hear Granddad in my head, but the wall was blank and the only voice I could hear was Jake’s as he put his head around the side of the cubicle and said, ‘I was just wiping blood from my nose. Felix, I wasn’t going to hit you!’

Mrs Ewens told him to be quiet, that we were both in enough trouble as it was. That’s when James King said, ‘What were you fighting about? Who got to ride shotgun in your granddad’s pink car?’ He laughed when he said that and Jake told him to shut up. Mrs Ewens said we should all be quiet. Me and Jake have got to see Mr Hunt, the Head of Year, tomorrow.

As I turn the corner I look towards the petrol station. For a moment I think I see a flash of pink car, but it’s just a delivery truck with pictures of puppies and pink toilet roll on the side. Granddad still hasn’t forgiven me. Why would he come and pick me up when he doesn’t even want to see me?

I stare down at the pavement and don’t look up until I get home.

*

There’s a note from Mum on the kitchen table when I get in.

Felix. There’s a pizza in the freezer. Put oven on number 8 and cook for 15 minutes. Don’t forget to turn it off.

I’ll be home around 7.

Love Mum

PS We’ll sit down and talk soon ☺

I push the note away. It’s too late to talk now. She’s going to be so mad with me; the last thing she needs after finishing work is to come home and find out I’ve had a fight.

When the pizza is done I carry half of it up to my room. My duvet is all scrunched up like I left it when I rushed out this morning, my PS4 is humming where I left it on and there are little Post-it notes with some of the chess moves Granddad taught me stuck on the poster of my times tables.

I sit down on my bed and see Granddad’s chess rules on the back of my door:

Do not eat prior to a game . . . Never take the easiest path . . . Do not trust the clocks . . . Do not smile or stare at your opponent . . . Never storm off or let your opponent see you are upset . . . Trust me!

I turn and look over at Granddad’s house. Trust me. Granddad said trust is a two-way thing, but will he ever trust me again?

I stare at his sitting room window; remember cleaning the brass, scrubbing the patio, cutting the lawn.