Tom Carpenter, with his long legs and wide shoulders and his easy way of joking around with people and making them laugh. Mr Fucking Popularity. Tom sat two rows in front of Gary in their English class, sat right in between Sarah Harding and Emma Timpson – the two most popular girls in the year – and just a couple of weeks ago he’d seen Tom laughing with Emma as she giggled and ran her fingers through his curly fucking hair. Gary had seen that and he’d remembered the way Emma had rolled her eyes at him in the corridor when she’d seen him giving the wanker sign to Matt and James as they walked past, and in that moment he’d wanted nothing more than to strangle Tom.

Because it wasn’t fucking fair, was it? Gary was tall and he was just as good at football and running as Tom was, but girls like Emma Timpson rolled their eyes at him and they giggled when Tom did nothing more than glance in their direction.

‘Fucking bitches.’ Gary spat the words out into the drizzle. Saying them felt good. ‘Fucking sluts.’

He suddenly remembered something his dad had told him one night, years ago now. Gary must have been about eight at the time. It was late at night but Gary was still wide awake in his bed, because he was listening to the sounds of his mum and dad arguing in the other room. This wasn’t uncommon, but it always kept him awake and even though he didn’t really want to listen to it he couldn’t help himself.

Shouts. Screaming. Crying sometimes, too. The sound of his mum sobbing through the walls of the house as his dad berated her.

That time had been worse than the other times. He couldn’t remember what they’d been shouting at each other, but he remembered it had gone on for a long time and that he’d heard a crashing sound from the other room that made him sit up straight in his bed, eyes wide with fear as he strained his ears and wondered if he should see what was wrong or go and get help. But that was stupid, wasn’t it? Who would he go and get help from? Your parents were the ones you were meant to go to when you were scared. Who did you go to when it was them you were scared about?

Eight-year-old Gary had sat there in the dark, his bladder suddenly feeling very full, clutching his Winnie-the-Pooh teddy bear tightly to his chest and straining his ears for a sound from his parents’ room. He thought he could hear sobbing, but couldn’t be sure. He thought about getting up and leaving his room, but he was too scared. He sat still in the dark and held his breath.