His dad was talking to him across the roof of the Aston Martin, hissing in that way he did when he wanted to yell but he knew there would be people watching. Those kids by the tree. Other eyes through the windows of the building. A great big, ugly, old thing, looking like something from one of those stupid period dramas his stepmother loved to watch on TV. One look at it and he could tell his dad had been suckered. Again.

‘I mean it, Ben. This is your last chance. Three schools in three years. Do you think anyone else is going to want to take you if you get kicked out of a fourth? You’ll be stuck in some inner-city comprehensive, and believe me, you wouldn’t last a single morning in a place like that.’

Ben wasn’t so sure. He had a feeling an inner-city comprehensive would suit him just fine.

‘Now wait here while I go and tell them we’ve arrived. Don’t move a muscle, do you understand me?’ His dad turned, hesitated, turned back again. He leaned in close to the car, dropping his voice and raising a finger. ‘Do not. Fuck. This. Up.’

Ben glared at his dad’s back, silently daring himself to raise two fingers. A hand fell on his shoulder. He gave a start in spite of himself, and turned. It was the girl from the tree, the boys now standing either side of her, the taller of the two with his arm around her. The girl was dark-haired, pale-eyed, gorgeous. The boy Ben took to be her boyfriend was dark-haired, too. The other was blond, and an inch or so shorter than Ben.

The girl extended her hand. ‘It’s Ben, isn’t it? We heard you were arriving today.’

Ben felt his eyes narrow. ‘You did?’ His hand had moved of its own accord, and the girl’s fingers closed around his. Her skin was soft, but surprisingly cold, and she held on to Ben’s hand long enough that he began to feel slightly uncomfortable, particularly with the girl’s boyfriend staring at him so intently.

‘Callum here overheard the headmaster talking to your new head of house,’ the girl explained, gesturing minutely to the boy with his arm around her waist. ‘Apparently, the headmaster described you as a troublemaker.’ The girl’s eyes sparkled mischievously, and she uttered the word with obvious relish.

Ben didn’t know whether to be offended or proud.

‘I’m Melissa, by the way,’ the girl went on, before Ben could decide. ‘This is Callum, as I said, and that’s Lance.’

‘Cool car,’ said Lance, the blond one, as he eyed the Aston.

Ben shrugged, affecting nonchalance. ‘I’d rather have had the money when the old man dies.’