I’d even cut the cabbage again if it meant I could hear Granddad’s voice. I try to imagine it now.

‘Pick up the stick.’

‘Measure sixty centimetres.’

‘Pull the string.’

‘Put the stick back in.’

I imagine the sun burning down on my head.

‘This is a1. This is h8. This is b1. This is g8.’

‘This is . . . This is . . .’

Granddad, I miss you.

I wipe my eyes on my sleeve.

My phone buzzes on the table. I pick it up.

Hey, Felix, are you okay?

We’re not supposed to talk.

This is text. Ha!

Are you still mad at me, Felix?

Are you?

I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?

Felix, I’ll see you tomorrow?

I glance up out of the window, see Jake at his bedroom window with his binoculars trained on me. I wish I hadn’t hit him. You shouldn’t hit your best friend. But I wish he’d never got me to play his stupid game.

I blow out my cheeks and try to breathe calmly, but the square feels like it’s closing in on me, getting smaller and smaller until it’s crushing my ribs. I want to go out in the tree. I want to watch annoying German quiz shows on TV. I want to sit in a dark room and play chess. I’d even eat sausages.

Felix, you going to reply?

I wipe my tears again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot something moving. I stand up and look out of the window. Granddad’s standing at his front door, staring across the square.

I wave to him.

He looks down, lets Samson in, then closes the door.

Loser!

‘We’re considering a suspension.’ That was Mr Hunt.

‘Suspension?!’ That was my mum. ‘But he’s been much better lately – you must have noticed.’

‘Yes.’ That was Mr Hunt nodding.

‘That’s right, blame it on my Jake. As always.’ That was Jake’s dad. ‘It was just two kids pushing each other. You want to see what I had in the army. They were real fights.’

‘Dad, it’s okay.’ That was Jake, glancing across Mr Hunt’s office at me.

‘Felix, have you got anything to say?’ That was Mr Hunt again.

‘Not really.’ That was me looking at Jake, then looking down at my shoes.

‘Well, the school can’t be seen to tolerate violence,’ said Mr Hunt, ‘but given they were . . . are best friends, let’s just say they don’t come in tomorrow, to give them both time to think and maybe calm down.’

‘Ridiculous!’ Slam! That was Jake’s dad walking out.

*

‘I just don’t get it,’ Mum said in the car on the way home. ‘Jake. Jake! You had a fight with Jake. Why would you do that with your best friend?’