Bowers didn’t like being wrong, so he grunted and jangled the keys again. ‘Then you have abused the trust VP Presley put in you, which is worse. Smirnov, you need to focus less on outside interests, and engage fully with your education.’

Harry thought of a million answers he’d like to give, but rolling his eyes was the most dissent he dared show. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Phone,’ Bowers snapped. ‘Collect it from the front office at the end of the day. And I’ll be seeing you in the hall at zero-eight-thirty Saturday for detention.’

‘Aww, come on,’ Harry begged, feeling like his head would burst from stress. ‘Besides, I’m busy Saturday.’

‘If you bring a parental note, the detention can be deferred until the following Saturday.’

Kirsten’s gonna love hearing that I got Saturday detention. And she’s no fan of Charlie, so she won’t write a note so she can visit …

‘Ugh!’ Harry groaned, convinced that school was a waste of his valuable time. To make it worse, Bowers clearly enjoyed busting a kid he didn’t like.

‘Your attitude stinks, Smirnov,’ Bowers said, then raised his voice significantly. ‘Now march to class, double quick!’

30 DEVELOPMENT KITCHEN B

Ken gave Charlie permission to go out after the meeting, and she rode a 119 bus for half an hour, then made a short walk to an aluminium-clad industrial unit with four zebra-striped trucks out front and a sign bearing the giant punkish logo of the Radical Cake Collective.

It wasn’t exactly the little bakery where everyone mucks in that Mango had described the night before. After making her don a hairnet and polythene shoe covers, an assistant led Charlie through an oppressively hot space, passing lines of giant ovens, waist-height mixers and a packaging area where brightly coloured cakes were iced by hand and slid into boxes that matched the zebra-striped vans out front.

Mango’s office was up a set of metal stairs, painted pastel pink. Awards and photos were hung along the hallway wall and while Charlie didn’t like the idea of working somewhere so hot, she felt super emotional when she stepped into Mango’s office and accepted a hug.

‘You are so awesome,’ Charlie sniffled as she stretched over Mango’s pregnant belly. ‘You barely know me, but you really put your neck out.’

Mango shrugged as if she hadn’t done much. ‘I had a battle with Ken Kleinberg,’ Mango said. ‘But his daughter’s getting married in the spring, so I offered him a six-hundred-dollar wedding cake, and here you are.’

‘Really?’ Charlie said, outraged. ‘There I was thinking Ken had done the decent thing.’

‘Have a squat,’ Mango said. ‘Would you like tea and cake?’