‘Is everything okay? Anything else you need help with?’

I try not to get busted staring at the noticeboard. Mr Scrutton is not too bad as far as teachers go.

‘Everything’s fine!’ I sound so fake he must be able to tell. Under Yin’s photo it says ‘Shellfish—anaphylaxis. Moderate asthma—ventolin.’

I’d forgotten about Yin’s allergies until now. I remember the time Yin accidentally ate a dipping sauce with minute amounts of fish sauce in it and her eyes and mouth swelled up instantly and Chunjuan had to stab her in the thigh with an epipen. What if Doctor Calm doesn’t know about her allergy? What if she told him and he didn’t take her seriously?

‘It’s been a stressful year for everyone.’

‘Uh huh.’ My eyes want to return to the noticeboard. Drop it, I tell myself sternly.

I thank Scrutton and get away from the staffroom, the petitions heavy in my hands. I wonder if Yin had her epipen and ventolin with her when she was taken. What if the reason she hasn’t been returned like the others is because there was an accident?

Drop. It. Natalia. This time I rap myself three times on the head with my knuckles, as if I can make each word sink in.

I walk slowly across the foyer, sunk in thought.

Two maintenance men in blue overalls carry a large orange-and-green balloon arrangement across the space, the balloons skimming the low ceiling.

I know where Mrs Christie’s office is, everyone does, so when the receptionists aren’t looking, I scuttle down the short corridor to her lair and put the petitions right in front of her door, where she can’t miss them. Because I’m clever, I also take a photo of them, so she can’t say afterwards that she never saw them.

I send the photo to Chloe with the message: We need to talk about tonight.

She doesn’t reply but when I go to get my books for fifth period she’s waiting in front of my locker.

‘So you are at school today!’ I remark. I must say that I’ve seen her look better but I guess that’s what happens when Balmoral tries to crush your dreams.

‘Ally showed me the petition.’

‘I didn’t count for sure, but I’m thinking we might have over four hundred signatures. At least.’

‘It’s nice that you’re trying to do something for me…’ she starts.

‘No no no no—’ I jump in, ‘Not trying, I am doing something for you. And there’s more, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I have a spectacular protest planned for the cocktail evening tonight.’

‘Natalia,’ she says.

‘We’re going to stick it to the man, or the woman I suppose, in this case. Christie needs to know that we won’t bow to her fascist—’

‘Natalia. Look at me.’