‘Who ate all the pies? Who ate all the pies? You fat bastard! You fat bastard! You ate all the pies.’ On the second round of the song, the rest of the class join in. On the third, I do too.

As the room regains some composure, Mr Clark clambers to his feet. His face is crimson and sweaty. He clutches his hip and seems unable to fully straighten his left leg. His eyes are damp and furious. But still he smiles at us, determined to prove he’s a good sport.

‘The old broken-chair gag,’ he says. ‘Should’ve seen that coming.’ He limps round the room, delivering high fives. ‘Fair play, boys.’

It feels like the door of a vault slamming in my face. For maybe ninety seconds, I was just another person in this room. But the knowledge of who I really am, of why I’m here, of what these people have done, of what I’m going to do to them is back. It consumes those last precious reverberations of laughter. It consumes that airiness in my head. It consumes everything.

‘So, as I was saying before I was so brutally interrupted,’ Mr Clark says, ‘the plan for this afternoon. It’s far too pleasant to be cooped up in here. So what I want you all to do is find yourself somewhere peaceful in the school grounds, by yourselves. I’d like you to take these last couple of hours we have to sit in the fresh air and finish up a revision plan that will help you achieve the results you deserve after all these years of hard work. Beats sitting in this little hotbox, I’m sure. I’ll be walking around if you need any help. At least, I’ll be walking around once the feeling returns to the bottom half of my body.’

There’s a flurry of handshakes and calls of ‘No hard feelings’ as everyone files past him, out of the Portakabin and on to the field.

‘It was nice to see you laughing,’ Mr Clark says to me as I stand, gripping the edge of my desk, watching them go.

With forty-three minutes until I’m due to leave for my piano lesson, everyone is heading out of the classroom. And I’m doing nothing to stop them.

I should be doing something to stop them.

Why am I not doing anything to stop them?

Checkmate

Two and a half weeks ago

‘I don’t think it’s broken,’ Sophia said, gently wrapping my hoodie round my fist.

The throbbing was starting to subside, the pain bearable as long as I didn’t look at the trail of blood splattered on the steel floor of the railway bridge. ‘Nice to put my first-aid training to use, though.’

‘We’re going to sort this,’ I said.

‘Are we now? And tell me, Ollie, how are we going to do that?’

‘I’ll work it out.’