Vince bristles at the childish nickname, but keeps his mouth shut.

‘Vince?’

‘I’m sorry, Josh.’ Vince’s voice is barely above a growl.

Mr Walters raises his eyebrows at me.

‘’S OK,’ I mumble.

‘There you are, Vince, a nice, polite boy come to join our group. Perhaps it’ll rub off on you. Now, Josh. Page twenty-six in this one, just give it a read and try the quiz on the next page. Should be OK for starters.’

I look at the textbook he holds out to me. The front cover says ‘A Level’.

‘Should be appropriate for your intellect, I think?’ Mr Walters winks.

I open the book and make a start.

*

About half an hour later, as I’m working through the textbook, Mr Walters gets up from his desk, picking up his coffee mug.

‘I’ll be five minutes, ladies. No funny business.’

As soon as the door shuts, Vince is at my desk, leaning hard against it, his clenched teeth not far from mine. There’s a definite smell of tobacco on his breath, and under his close-cropped hairline, I see a vein throbbing.

‘Prick. I will cut you if you look at me again. Understand?’

I nod.

‘Vin, leave it. Just ’cause Walters battered you, don’t take it out on the new kid.’

Vince wheels round. The boy he’s looking at was in my geography class for just one term, years ago, but I don’t see him much now. His name is Alan. We used to sit on the same table. He would always complain that my coloured pencils were blunt and had broken leads, and once blamed me because I’d throw them across the table to him when he wanted to borrow them. He said I should take more care of my things. I was never sure if he was joking or not.

‘Fuck you.’ Vince grumbles back towards his seat, but not before knocking my textbook onto the floor.

I move to pick it up.

‘Sit still!’ Vince shouts, his pointing finger like a dart, inches from my nose. Brendon laughs. ‘Leave it there.’

Vince struts back to his seat as Alan comes over, bends down and picks up the textbook, dusting it off with a sleeve.

‘Thanks,’ I murmur.

Alan gives me the briefly raised chin of recognition. ‘What are you in for?’ He plants his elbows on the desk, leans on his hands.

‘Messed up a test.’

‘What a ball ache. You should be more like us. They don’t let us take tests anymore, right, lads?’

A murmur of agreement.

‘Thing is, Josh, they think we’re junk anyway. What’s the point of ruining the school’s place in the league tables for kids like us?’

Vince is carving something into the bench with a compass. He hears Alan’s comment and digs even harder.