‘It’s school,’ I say. ‘How can I wake up when the whole point of it is that it’s boring?’

That is the lamest thing, but Troy laughs anyway. Our tutor, Mrs Dupont, is also the French teacher, so all she can talk about is the trip. This is her third year leading the French exchange and she’s raring to go. She isn’t French, but she’s married to a French guy and obviously knows how to speak it. She’s given us all laminated cards to carry with us in France. They say ‘Je suis perdu’ and have her mobile number on them. Lots of the guys say they’re going to keep that number.

Once, after a meeting about the trip, I hung around while Dad asked her all his supplementary questions. No, we won’t have to eat snails (I wanted to die). Yes, the coach driver is British, but he will remember to drive on the right. Then they moved on to chit-chat, and she told him she used to be a flight attendant, but had given up, partly because it was much harder work than you’d think, and also because air travel was bad for the environment.

Mrs Dupont, to be fair, looks like an air hostess. I can imagine her with her hair up and a lot of make-up on. I saw the way Dad was looking at her at that point and dragged him home. Dad was properly married to Mum back then! Mrs Dupont is married to the mysterious Monsieur Dupont! Jeez.

I shake my head. Stop getting distracted!

‘Joe?’ she says now, and I wonder how many times she’s said it.

‘Yep!’ I give her a huge fake smile. ‘How may I help you, Madame Dupont?’

She rolls her eyes.

‘Joe. You look jittery. Have you been on the caffeine?’

‘You know me, miss. Always with the Red Bull.’

‘Well, calm down and don’t worry. The French trip is always a fun experience.’

‘I’m not worried!’ Everyone laughs because it sounds like such a lie.

‘I stay with a family too, you know!’ she says. ‘I stay with the English teacher.’

‘Bet you crack open the wine, miss,’ says Troy.

I raise an imaginary glass to her. ‘Santé!’ I say. ‘Cheers to Madame Dupont boozing with her English teacher friend.’

I look round the room. Everyone’s holding up their imaginary glasses and toasting them.

‘Absolutely not.’ Mrs Dupont is laughing. ‘Or, if we do, it’s behind closed doors when we’re off duty.’

‘You’re never off duty, though, are you?’

‘Tell me about it, Joseph.’

The bell goes, and we scramble away to lessons.

‘Coming?’ says Troy. We’re standing outside the front of the school.