It would be nice if Audrey was all hot wind, but she’s not. She’s good. Her certainty about her art underscores my complete lack.

‘Remember to move beyond technique and fully explore your idea,’ says Ms Nouri.

I realise she could be speaking directly to me about my self-portrait. All I’ve got is the technique of using paint to hand-tint a photo, but no idea behind that.

The art-room door opens.

‘Ms Nouri, could I have a quick word?’

Ms Nouri excuses herself and stands in the corridor with Ms Baker, my Biology teacher. Almost immediately, the speculation starts, as if there has been a river of chatter flowing beneath the surface all this time. It’s painfully obvious that things are going on that we’re not being told about. Teachers keep getting called out of class, extra security guards roam the campus and serious men in suits walk the corridors.

‘I told you, it’s the dad.’

Sarah’s voice is crystal clear, even from the other end of the room—she’s obviously under the mistaken impression that her easel has created a floor-to-ceiling sound barrier.

‘My mum finds it hard to believe that he slept through the whole thing.’

I can’t tell who the other voice is, but it will be one of the Blondes. They only take Art because they think it’s an easy A, which shows they don’t know Ms Nouri very well.

‘Not the stepdad, he’s ancient. I mean Yin’s real father, the Chinese guy. Apparently he runs an importing business and spends a lot of time overseas. He could easily be involved in organised crime.’

‘I saw something on YouTube about the Triads once.’

‘Also, the custody battle for Yin when they divorced was nasty, so she could already be back in China being forced to marry some old man, and she’ll never be heard of again. They don’t have proper laws or protection over there.’

Over in the boarder section of the room, Jody says to Brooke, ‘My mum says there are way too many Asians at Balmoral these days. It wasn’t like that when she went here. My parents are thinking of sending me somewhere else. If they wanted me to be around this many Asians, we’d move to Bangkok or something.’

I lean around the edge of my easel to shoot a filthy look in Sarah’s direction for starting up the conversation. The Blondes have set up their easels in a semi-circle, right next to the radiator, with Natalia at the centre. Sarah has her phone angled above her head, ready for a pouting selfie.