Around five in the evening, the entire assembly congregated inside the shamiana, heating up the place with bodies and anticipation. Western Music was about to begin. Kage was about to perform.

Button and I couldn’t stop laughing at the tittering girls who were acting like Bono was about to perform.

But when he came on (at last!), when he prowled down the stage steps and through the aisles, when the shamiana’s lights were all turned off save the pool of light trailing a few feet behind him, we could not deny his presence—the languid power of the dark shape outstripping the spotlight. When a thousand voices rose in hoarse unison, bellowing his name to forge some sort of connect with him, we found ourselves hooting right along.

The band behind him played him a fantastic accompaniment to no one’s notice.

First, he growled out ‘Fear of the Dark’, and every sweaty, bespectacled boy raised his own hands and screamed the words, till the giant tent reverberated with the attempts of so many to be some fraction of Kage. Then,

Now as you close your eyes / Know I’ll be thinking about you

‘Bed of Roses’. Jon Bon Jovi at his best. The sound of a thousand wet summer nights around the world.

St Jude’s won, of course. There might have been an uprising if they hadn’t.

It was past eight and Button’s parents had been calling on the emergency cell phone she was given when contingencies—like leaving the house after school—arose. Everyone was still busy cheering at the stage left ablaze and empty by Kage, unwilling to let the interlude end. We picked our way out of the shamiana and the school grounds, leaving behind the sounds of the crowd calling for an encore. It was quiet outside, and Button moved into a corner to return the call and complain about the insane traffi c holding us up.

Bored, I pulled out my new phone. I was fascinated by it. The screen had a colour display and enough inbuilt memory space to store up to ten of my favourite songs.

‘No, Mum, I’m telling you, it’s packed outside Jude’s. We’ve been stuck here for twenty minutes!’

Button seemed to be having trouble convincing her parents. We were just boiled if they happened to be out on the roads themselves.

Trying not to panic, I hit play on a calming song—Afraid that what I’ll say comes out somehow awry . . .

‘Great band.’

I jumped at the unexpected sound, then stifled an expletive as Kage stubbed his cigarette out. For a second, I just stared at the black loafer grinding the squashed bud on the black, cracked pavement.

Bending, he pulled another cigarette out from the rolled bottom of his trouser leg.

‘Smoke?’

I shook my head.