I haven’t long to think about it, though, because prom night is about to get under way. The huge wooden doors open and the teachers step out. They line up, looking only marginally less bored than we do as Mr Harrington gives some grand speech about preserving tradition. He drones on and on about tonight being a night to connect with the many who’ve walked through these doors before us. It’s not a sentiment I disagree with, but after he’s said the same thing eighty-six times it definitely starts to wear on me.

‘And on the subject of traditions,’ he says, after speaking for a full ten minutes, ‘some of them are best left in the past. I know the leaver’s prank has been a long-standing institution here at Oakbrook. I know some of your parents might even have been involved when they were students. But such behaviour is tantamount to bullying, and what might have been winked at in the past is no longer acceptable today. So this is your reminder that there is to be no prank this year.’

‘You all look wonderful in your prom outfits,’ Miss Madzikanda says, cutting in. ‘So let’s keep it that way. I know you think the staff are entirely oblivious to what goes on in this school, but we’ve got eyes and ears in places you’ve never dreamed of. So let me assure you when I say that nobody is going into the lake this evening, and I mean nobody. Got it?’

‘What about skinny-dipping, miss?’ asks Josh.

‘There’s nothing I’d rather see less than your bare backside,’ she says.

‘You don’t have to look!’

‘Well, I’m sure your classmates don’t want to see it either.’

‘I’m not so sure about that.’ He grins. ‘Half of them have already seen it.’

Madzikanda squeezes the bridge of her nose. ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.’

‘I meant in the showers, miss. I’ll have you know I’m still a virgin.’ He shoots me a wink, as if him not being a virgin is our little secret.

Madzikanda groans. ‘I truly do not need to know anything about your sex lives.’ She claps her hands together to change the subject. ‘And on that note I think that’s enough speeches, don’t you?’

There’s a sigh of relief from all of us. Mr Harrington tries to indicate he’s not finished, but she mercifully cuts him off by throwing open the giant doors.

‘Welcome to the masquerade!’

‘That’s my line,’ Harrington grumbles as she shoos him away, the crowd surging forward excitedly. Half a dozen smartly dressed waiters hold out trays of sparkling drinks as we enter. They’re non-alcoholic, of course. The school can’t sanction underage drinking, but the staff will turn a blind eye. They know every student fully intends to ‘secretly’ get drunk.

‘Who lit all these?’ Chase says as we walk through the corridor. The lights have been dimmed, and hundreds of tiny candles are nestled in gaps between the old bricks. ‘Like, seriously, this must have taken forever. I feel like I’m in a movie or something!’