‘Go, Harper,’ someone called from his table. The boy ducked and weaved to the line, he’d made up three places. He dodged fake punches and faked punches back, he was told off for mucking around. He was the fastest boy, he thought he might be the fastest boy ever seen, he made up two more places. He was being cheered at his table. He smiled as he ducked in and out, he’d made up two more places. The supervising sixth former sent him to the back of the line, to the cheering and jostling from the rest of the boys. It was a distinction, being sent to the back of the line for being too fast. He was smiling and pushing back. A fifth former from his table came and took him back to the front of the line, then another fifth former did the same to his second former, until a teacher stood up and supervised the line.

‘Slow down,’ he snapped at Harper. The boy was pushed backwards and forwards and a couple of boys ruffled his hair. He couldn’t remember being so happy.

At the table while they ate their dinner, the sixth former asked why Darnley had hit him.

‘I don’t remember him hitting me,’ the boy said. The boys stopped eating and turned to him.

‘You didn’t see him hit you?’

‘No.’

‘But he knocked you out,’ a fourth former said.

The boy shook his head. ‘I don’t remember him hitting me.’

‘But you had to go sick bay.’

‘Did Four Stars take your clothes off for you?’

The boy replied sharply, ‘No way.’ Everybody laughed, the boy smiled.

‘Platmore said he saw Darnley hit you,’ the sixth former said. There was silence.

‘Yes,’ the boy answered.

‘Was Platmore in the corridor before you fainted?’

‘No,’ the boy said.

The boys turned their attention to the sixth former.

‘Did you tell any teachers you don’t remember Darnley hitting you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who?’

‘Mr Abbott.’

The sixth former talked quietly to the fifth former, who left the table. The third formers, the boy’s enemies, had said nothing to him the whole meal. Lock pretended to punch him in the stomach, the boy turned and did the same thing to Lock and the sixth former told him off, giving him another week’s table duty. This was greeted with a cheer. They had been the first table with all their meals.

After dinner the boy ran to the sixth form common room, one hand in his pocket holding the bullet. A few boys attempted to chase him but he outran them. He pushed his back to the wall, in his spot, panting. He watched boys file through, a few faked a punch to his stomach to which he made exaggerated ducking moves which were greeted with pushing and laughing. Binder came through with his gang.

‘Show me how Darnley hit you,’ Binder ordered.

‘No.’