They looked at each other over the cubicle and laughed. ‘Jesus, he hasn’t worked it out yet,’ Nate said.

‘That little whore from the newsagent’s,’ Joey said. ‘The one my brother’s fucked.’

Nate grinned at me. ‘He looks unwell, doesn’t he, bruv?’ He pulled out his phone and waved it above my head. ‘Wanna see a pic, Morcombe? I’ve got nudes. She’s proper filth.’

I stared up at him. My voice was no more than a whisper. ‘Fuck off.’

He lurched downwards so the tip of the knife was just centimetres from my cheek. ‘Don’t talk to me like that! How many times do I have to tell you?’

‘Everyone’s had a go on that slut, Morcombe,’ Joey said. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘Might call her up tonight,’ Nate said to his brother. ‘Let it beg me to go round and throw one up it.’

‘Fuck off!’ I screamed. I screamed it over and over, my arms and legs flailing against the wooden box that surrounded me. I was exploding. For a second, it was like I was with Joey and Nate, looking down on me, watching myself go crazy, as blood from my fists smeared on to the walls, as the chain from the cistern swung like a wrecking ball, splitting my eyebrow open.

Perhaps the lock gave way; maybe my crashing limbs released it. The door flew open. I escaped the cubicle as if powered by an enormous spring. I sprinted through the corridor between the stalls, turning on the spot as I reached the urinals. The floor was wet; my shoes had no purchase. I slipped, my hip slamming on to the tiled floor as I sprawled on my side. Three or four kids broke off from pissing to point and laugh as I scrabbled to right myself.

‘Fuck off!’ one mimicked as I found my footing. He squealed the phrase again and again at me.

I checked over my shoulder. Joey and Nate had gone. Ducked down inside the cubicles or waiting for me outside? It didn’t matter. I snorted a lungful of oxygen, powered away from the spot as if leaving the blocks for the hundred metres, and burst through the double doors into the open air. I never looked back, just kept my head low, my shoulders high, and cut through the middle of the playground.

I didn’t stop when I reached the gates. I didn’t stop when I climbed the railway bridge. I didn’t stop when I got to the park.

Only once I was alone, at the pond, did I slow down. I collapsed on the bench. Kenny’s bench. I boiled with sweat and took a full ten minutes to get my breath.

I had no intention of going back to school for the afternoon. There was only one thing I needed to do. I needed to talk to Sophia.

A Walk in the Small Hours