But Jay Thomas wasn’t in bed. The thirteen-year-old had woken on a plastic chair in a school hall that reeked of burgers and hot dogs. There were chairs set out in rows, but bums in less than a quarter of them. A grumpy dinner lady squirted pink cleaning fluid on a metal serving counter at the side of the room, while a banner hung over the stage up front:

Camden Schools Contemporary Music

Competition 2014

Debris pelted the floor the instant Jay moved: puffed wheat snacks, speckled with cheesy orange flavouring. Crumbs fell off his clothes when he stood and another half bag had been crushed up and sprinkled in his spiky brown hair.

Jay played lead guitar in a group named Brontobyte. His three band mates cracked up as he flicked orange dust out of his hair, then bent over to de-crumb a Ramones T-shirt and ripped black jeans.

‘You guys are so immature.’

But Jay didn’t really mind. These guys had been his mates since forever and he’d have joined the fun if one of them had dozed off.

‘Sweet dreams?’ Brontobyte’s chubby-cheeked vocalist, Salman, asked.

Jay yawned and picked orange gunk out of his earhole as he replied. ‘I barely slept last night. Kai had his Xbox on until about one, and when I finally got to sleep the little knob head climbed up to my bunk and farted in my face.’

Salman took pity, but Tristan and Alfie both laughed.

Tristan was Brontobyte’s drummer, and a big lad who fancied himself a bit of a stud. Tristan’s younger brother Alfie wouldn’t turn twelve for another three months. He was Brontobyte’s bass player and the band’s most talented musician, but the other three gave him a hard time because his voice was unbroken and there were no signs of puberty kicking in.

‘I can’t believe Jay gets owned by his younger brother,’ Tristan snorted.

‘Kai’s the hardest kid in my year,’ Alfie agreed. ‘But Jay’s, like, Mr Twig Arms, or something.’

Jay tutted and sounded stressed. ‘Can we please change the subject?’

Tristan ignored the request. ‘How many kids has your mum got now anyway, Jay?’ he asked. ‘It’s about forty-seven, isn’t it?’

Salman and Alfie laughed, but stifled their grins when they saw Jay looking upset.

‘Tristan, cut it out,’ Salman said.

‘We all take the piss out of each other,’ Tristan said. ‘Jay’s acting like a baby.’

‘No, Tristan, you never know when to stop,’ Salman said angrily.

Alfie tried to break the tension. ‘I’m going for a drink,’ he said. ‘Anyone else want one?’

‘Scotch on the rocks,’ Salman said.

Jay sounded more cheerful as he joined the joke. ‘Bottle of Bud and some heroin.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Alfie said, before heading off towards a table with jugs of orange squash and platters of cheapo biscuits.