Never sighed. “Omen, I hate sounding like a teacher, or a parent, or just a general adult, but if you don’t do it yourself you’ll never learn.”

“It’s maths, though,” said Omen. “I’m not going to need maths when I leave school.”

Never closed her book, and raised her eyes. “What are you going to be?”

“When I’m done with school? I don’t know.”

“Then how do you know you won’t need maths?”

“Because whatever I’m going to be, it won’t be a mathematician or an accountant or, y’know, someone who does a lot of sums. I know how to add and subtract and divide … that’s all I need to know. What else is there? What else is important? Is calculating the angle of something really going to be that necessary in my everyday life? Is it?”

“I’m not doing your work for you.”

Omen lowered his head to the desk. “But I hate it.”

“You remember back in First Year, when we became friends? You remember how that happened?”

“Of course. We started talking, and we just got along.”

“No, that’s not how it happened at all. I was chatty, amusing and effervescent and you barely said a word to anyone. I was incredibly popular – do you remember that? I had just made a stirring, inspiring speech about my own particular rules that I wanted people to follow regarding my gender-fluidity. I listed the pronouns I was prepared to accept and the times at which I was prepared to accept them. I let people know that everyone was different and that my rules might not be the same as their rules. I was interesting. I was engaging. From that moment on, I had my pick of friends. Do you remember all that? Do you?”

“I remember you talking …”

“But, even though I had my pick of friends, I’d watch you in class and think to myself, This Omen kid might be cool. You were always on time, you never took your eyes off the teacher, you always worked so hard … How did that guy become this guy?”

Omen didn’t say anything.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question,” said Never.

“It sounded like one.”

“What happened to you, Omen?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Never.”

“Is it a parent thing, or …?”

“I dunno. I mean … I don’t really examine why I do things.”

“Obviously.”

“But you know how they are. Mum only calls when she’s wondering why Auger isn’t answering his phone. Dad … well, Dad never calls. I … I suppose when I started here I thought I could become someone new. Like, someone they’d approve of.”

“And?”

Omen shrugged. “I realised I couldn’t do it. I tried working hard, but nothing changed. I wasn’t suddenly the smartest kid in the class. I was still me.”