Ethan is standing and taking aim, but I’m prepared this time, and I’m already running across the hall. As he hurls the ball towards Owen, I manage to intercept it just in time, smacking it down with my outstretched hand. Maybe I can do sport after all! The ball goes crashing back into their table, sending food spattering over the entirety of the Hawthorn Elite. Tiffany screams as if she’s had actual pig’s blood thrown over her.

‘I’m gonna fucking kill you!’ Ethan says, slamming his fist down on the table, his face dripping with carbonara.

My fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and for some reason I pick fight.

‘Let’s go then!’ I say, standing my ground as Ethan thunders towards me.

‘Zach, what are you doing?’ Owen cries.

‘What I should have done a long time ago,’ I reply, clenching my fists. I’ve never thrown a punch in my life, but everyone knows that bullies always back down if you stand up to them. That is what everyone says, right? At least that’s what I’m banking on.

‘You little prick,’ Ethan says, grabbing me by the collar. Not much backing down going on here. I flinch and close my eyes.

‘Get off him,’ someone says, intercepting the blow. I open my eyes to see Cameron on his feet now too. ‘I am so sick of seeing you pushing people around. Every fucking day it’s the same. At least this time you had a taste of your own medicine.’

‘Sit down, Cameron,’ Ethan says. ‘This is none of your business.’

‘Isn’t it?’ he says, squaring up to Ethan. ‘You made it my business when you chose to pick on people I care about.’

‘What?’ Ethan says, releasing my collar and staring at me and Owen with genuine bafflement. ‘These two? That’s who you’re siding with? Over your own flesh and blood?’

‘Being my brother doesn’t give you a free pass to act like an asshole.’

The twins are face to face now, and a couple of people have taken out their phones to film the inevitable fight. Just when I think Ethan’s about to throw a punch, Miss Madzikanda strides into the room.

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!’ she says, immediately picking up on the tension and rushing over to separate the two brothers. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘He’s being a fucking prick, miss,’ Cameron says. ‘As always.’

‘Language,’ she says. ‘You’re not arguing about Huckleberry, are you?’

‘What?’ they both say in unison. It takes all my strength not to laugh.

‘Never mind,’ she says. ‘Ethan, you’re Hawthorn, Cameron, you’re Sycamore, so whatever dick-measuring contest you have going on here, you can take it to the playing field.’ She drops the box of bandanas down on to the table. ‘How about team captains?’