Harriet’s smile disappears. “Arthur, it’s terrible. She’s dropped her cupcakes!”

“I still think we should help tidy up,” says Nisha. I’ve known Nisha since primary school, and right now I can tell she’s worried.

Harriet glances at her phone. “We haven’t got time. If we miss the bus, we miss the film. Fish understands.” Then she walks past me and one by one the others follow. “Bye, Arthur,” she calls over her shoulder. “Have a good half-term!”

I find Rose on her hands and knees in the geography corridor. Her cupcakes are everywhere: mashed into the floor, squished into lockers, and even smeared across a noticeboard.

“What happened?” I say. “It looks like they exploded!”

Rose shakes her head. She looks totally miserable. “Some Year Elevens went past and the tin got knocked out of my hands. Then the cupcakes got chucked around.”

I start to scoop up broken bits of cake, dropping them in the bin. “The others should have helped you pick them up,” I say.

Rose shrugs. “They didn’t have time. They’ve got a bus to catch.”

Still, I think, they should have helped, but I don’t say this out loud because Rose looks like she’s about to cry, and if there’s one thing Rose hates doing it’s crying. So instead I grab more handfuls of cake, trying to get the job done as quickly as possible.

Soon we’re walking out of school and I’m eating an almost complete cupcake that I found resting on a radiator. “This one tastes great, Rose.”

She gives me a quick smile. “Thanks, Arthur.”

I crunch down on one of the silver balls. “How come Harriet calls you Fish?”

She rolls her eyes. “Because our surname’s Trout, you idiot.”

“Oh yeah! So can I call you Fish?”

“No,” she says, giving me a shove.

When we bundle into Mum’s car we’re out of breath and laughing. We raced for the front seat and Rose won, of course. “About time,” says Mum. “Did your friends like their cupcakes, Rose?”

There’s this moment of silence where I know Rose doesn’t want to go into the whole incident, so I say, “I had one. It tasted amazing.”

Then Adele comes on the radio, distracting Mum.

As we drive out of town toward the coast, Mum sings along to the radio and Rose rests her head on the window. I lick icing off my fingers, and I try to ignore the scarecrow I’ve just spotted standing all alone in the middle of a field.

Chapter 3

“Right, lecture time,” says Mum as we turn into Grandad’s driveway. “Brush your teeth at least once a day, eat fruit or vegetables twice a day, and, Rose, don’t live on your phone.”