I had on my favourite Batman T-shirt, for good luck. I’d even changed my socks. I didn’t tell her that, either.

“So, favourite superhero …?” Freya said.

“Batman,” I said. “He’s the best ever.”

Freya raised an eyebrow.

“But he hasn’t got any super powers,” she said.

“Yeah, and that’s why he’s the best,” I said. “He’s more human than the others and he’s got a dark side, too. Who’s your favourite?”

“Jessica Jones.”

“But she’s Marvel …”

“Yep!” Freya said, as she grabbed a pick ’n’ mix bag. “She’s super strong, super clever, and she doesn’t take any rubbish from boys. She’s kick ass.”

“I’m more into D.C.,” I told her.

“One million quid says Jessica Jones would kick Batman’s ass.” She looked at me and smiled, and her eyes were all sparkly.

“Never!” I said. “Batman wouldn’t fight her anyway – cos she’s a girl.”

“But Batman’s too cool to be sexist,” Freya argued.

Was that true? I’d never thought about it.

“So if I kicked you,” Freya went on, “would you kick me back?”

“No.”

“What if I punched you?”

“I don’t fight,” I said. “Fighting makes things worse.”

“That explains Anu Patel,” Freya said with a nod. “It’s why you don’t stand up to her, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And she’s tougher than me.”

“But the harder they come, the harder they fall,” she half-sang.

“Huh?”

“It’s from an old song my mum loves,” Freya said. “You need your own Jessica Jones. To save you from Anu.”

I grinned at her.

“Is that you?” I asked. “With your super strength?”

“Nope,” Freya said, and her eyes looked even more sparkly. “With my super intelligence, wit and charm. Oh, and my phone.”

*

I was right – the film was rubbish, and Freya complained all the way home in her mum’s car.

“Boring, stupid, silly nonsense,” she moaned. “Nothing happened. Like, nothing at all. She was all into the boy, and the boy didn’t care and her parents were getting divorced and blah, blah, blah!”

Freya’s mum dropped me off and Freya waved as they left. I grinned back, but as I started to cross the road, I saw Jacob. He was trudging into the park, head down.

“Jacob!” I shouted, but he didn’t hear me.

I ran to catch him up, but when I did, he looked embarrassed.

“Get lost!” he said, and he rubbed his face with his sleeve like he’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

But he swore and stormed off.

“Jacob!” I called, and I ran after him. “I just want to help …”

This time, he stood there, blubbing, with his nose all snotty.

“It’s shit!” he wailed. “It’s all total shit!”

“What is?” I asked. “Has someone hurt you?”

“Forget it,” he raged. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

He was right, but I couldn’t just ignore him.

“I want to help,” I said, but it came out all wrong. Like I was begging.

Jacob looked right into my eyes. “Why?” he asked. “You’ve been on my case since I started at your school. Why?”