‘Help yourself,’ she whispers, as a man with white hair in the shape of a candle flame walks in and perches on the edge of the table at the front of the class, pink socks winking between trousers and shoes.

‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

She smiles, as yellow exercise books are handed out from the box at the front of the class. The teacher looks at me with a frown.

‘You must be Stella.’

‘Yes.’

‘Welcome,’ he says, as the rest of the class stills to listen. His voice is round and shiny as a new conker. ‘I’m Mr Goodenough.’ A shiver of energy rushes through the room. He walks over to Zara and me, a yellow book in his hand. ‘Here you go.’ His eyes glint as he stares at me, handing over the exercise book before striding back to the board at the front of the class. ‘Division!’ he says, picking up a pen.

Zara copies a complicated sequence of numbers and symbols into her book with great care and a number of different pens, so I follow her lead.

The cafeteria is even busier than the rest of the school and full of noise. There’s a lot of laughter, and talk, and charging about with trays and bags and coats. I sit with Zara at a table beneath the window, and she gets out a plastic box with lots of different compartments. There are grapes, small wedges of flatbread called barbari, a little pot of yogurt-and-cucumber dip, a packet of very thin crackers, called crisps, and a wrapped chocolate biscuit.

I get out my pear and my old bit of sausage, feeling a bit embarrassed. Zara looks over and purses her lips.

‘Do you live in Winterspell Forest?’ she asks.

‘No,’ I whisper. ‘My house is quite close by, but not actually in the forest.’

She looks like she’s going to say more, but then Yanny careers into the cafeteria and swooshes through all the other kids to land with a clatter and a grin at our table.

‘How’s day one going?’ he asks, sliding into the chair opposite us. He pulls a battered tin out of his bag and opens it. Tiny golden pastries nestle in waxed paper along with a shiny red apple and a wedge of dark, sticky-looking cake.

‘Yanny has the most ridiculous lunches.’ Zara sighs. ‘But he is very good at sharing.’ She gestures to her own box, and Yanny takes some of the crackers, shoving his tin towards us.

‘Help yourself,’ he says with a smile. There’s a pull in the air when he does it, which makes the world darken for just a second. My chest aches. And then it’s gone, and the buzz of the cafeteria returns.

But it was there for a moment; I’m sure I didn’t imagine it. Magic. Forest magic, dark and alluring. How can that be? He’s human. Isn’t he? I stare at him, and he stares back, and Zara reaches over and takes one of the pastries, putting it whole in her mouth.