But Tiffany is too quick and dodges at the very last second, leaving Josh and Owen in the firing line. They take most of what’s left over to the face, but not all of it.

Something else is hit too.

The yearbook.

Still out on its table, the antique volume now sits in a huge puddle of red liquid, sodden and dripping. It’s ruined.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ I say, realizing what I’ve done.

‘What the hell is all this?’ a voice booms from behind me.

I turn and see Mr Harrington rushing towards me. That’s when I realize the bucket is still in my hand, everyone around me covered in the red sticky mixture. Chase looks devastated. Josh and Owen are dripping on the flagstones. And Tiffany’s face is a mask of triumph.

‘What’s going on?’ Miss Madzikanda says, following closely behind Harrington. She looks down at the bucket in my hand. ‘Zach, what happened here?’

‘She happened!’ I say, pointing at Tiffany.

‘Me?’ she says, effortlessly turning on her wounded princess act.

‘Don’t try to pin this on Tiffany,’ Mr Harrington says. ‘I saw you with my own eyes! I caught you red-handed! Literally red-handed!’ I look down to see that my hands are, in fact, stained red. ‘And after I explicitly forbade this stupid prank. Consider yourself expelled!’

‘Hang on a minute, Alan,’ Madzikanda protests.

‘Save it, Joyce,’ he says, glaring at her.

‘You know what?’ I say. ‘Fuck you. Fuck this school. Fuck everything.’

‘Zach, wait,’ Miss Madzikanda says as I turn away. ‘Let’s talk.’

‘About what?’

‘About … Huckleberry.’

I spin back to face her. ‘My friend’s been assaulted, I’m getting expelled and you want to talk about a statue of a dog?’ I say. ‘What exactly are you on?’

‘Zach, I think I might know what’s happening here …’

‘I’ll tell you what’s happening!’ I say. ‘What’s happening is that Hawthorn have ruined everything, like they always do. They’re spoiled and privileged and get a free pass to do whatever the hell they want!’

I throw the bucket to the ground with a clatter, sending a final splash of fake pig’s blood up Harrington’s trousers.

‘Get out,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘Get out before I throw you out.’

‘Gladly,’ I say, striding off in the other direction.

I hear Madzikanda calling after me – still waffling on about something to do with Huckleberry – but I ignore her. I know she’s usually on the right side with these things, but I’m beyond saving. Even she can’t help me now.

I storm out of the front doors, thinking about what kind of punishment they’re going to concoct for me. Expulsion won’t be enough – they’ll refuse to let me graduate, blacklist me from every university, destroy any chance I might have of a future.