‘Looking for this piece of shit, mate?’ shouted Gavin. The others laughed and one of them, thick-set and with his blonde hair gelled up in a Mohican, kicked the back of the wheel as if for emphasis.

‘What’re you willing to do to get it back, eh?’ added Gavin, and in that moment, Paul wondered how they’d ever been friends. Gavin, who at eight years old had helped Paul up when he’d fallen off his bike. Gavin at six years old, who had given him his last Opal Fruit even though he never shared his Opal Fruits with anyone. Gavin at ten years old, who he’d played Scalextric with for hours, just so Paul could escape his dad. Where had that boy gone?

‘Give it back,’ Paul demanded, hoping he didn’t sound as scared as he felt.

‘Awww, poor baby, he’s lost his bikey-wikey,’ taunted Mohican. Paul stood his ground trying to anticipate Gavin’s next move.

‘Like I said, what’re you willing to do to get it back?’ reiterated Gavin. Paul thought of his dad and the beating he would get if he found out he’d lost his bike. The answer to Gavin’s question was, unfortunately, anything.

‘What do you want?’ asked Paul.

‘Now we’re talking. Because if you hadn’t entered into negotiation, we would have been forced to beat the crap out of you,’ Mohican declared.

Who the hell was he?

Mohican’s accent was different – it was stronger, rougher. In a split second of horror, he realised that Mohican was Danny Lewis, the boy everyone had been talking about over the last few weeks. Danny had joined from an inner-city school in Manchester and apparently, he’d been suspended for throwing a student down the stairs and then burning him with a cigarette. He’d managed to inflict eight burns before he got caught.

Paul felt the intertwined snakes of fear and anger slither through him.

‘To save you a beating and to get your bike back, how about you do our homework for the next month?’ suggested Gavin. He could have been suggesting a game of football, his tone was so relaxed.

‘What, all of you?’ asked Paul, incredulous.

‘Make it two months,’ interjected Mohican. ‘Or do you prefer having the shit kicked out of you?’

‘No, no, I’ll do the homework. As long as I get my bike back,’ added Paul desperately.

‘Yeah, yeah, don’t wet yourself,’ said Gavin. Paul could tell he was losing interest, but Mohican had a strange look in his eye.