She doesn’t seem bothered. She turns to Jonah. ‘You should’ve seen his face! Scared as anything he was – of a tiny little dog!’ Jonah snorts.

I say, ‘How would you know what my face was like? You’d already run away. Oh sorry, I mean made a tactical retreat!’

Jonah Burdon laughs at that. ‘He’s right, Kez – he’s got you there! Nice one, Bell! Top banter. Har har!’ He holds up his hand and I high-five him without much enthusiasm.

Kez doesn’t like that at all. Her eyes narrow. ‘Are you callin’ me a liar?’

I just don’t understand, I think. How can someone be a friend one minute and so horrible the next? (This is probably why Kez Becker doesn’t have many friends. It’s got nothing to do with her dad’s job with dead bodies, and everything to do with being two-faced.)

‘What about this?’ I say, taking my phone out and showing her the screen. ‘You broke it! Look at this crack!’

Jonah Burdon sucks his teeth and tuts. ‘Ooh, brilliant counterattack there by the young Bell!’ he says, like he’s commentating on the football. It’s all just sport to him.

‘Don’t be daft,’ says Kez. ‘That was there before!’

‘No, it wasn’t!’ I can hear my voice getting louder and higher, and feel my face turning red. Jonah Burdon keeps up his commentary as people turn their heads. ‘It’s turning controversial! Becker denies the allegation! What next?’

‘Shut up, Jonah,’ says Kez without looking away from me. ‘It was definitely cracked. I saw it as soon as you lent it to me.’

‘I didn’t lend it to you and it wasn’t cracked!’ I’m shouting now, and as I wave the phone nearer to her face to prove my point, my arm catches the beaker of water on her tray, knocking it all over her plate and splashing her front. She leaps back out of her seat, bumping into little Poppy Hindmarch and making her drop her tray with a loud crash. This in turn makes everybody look round and cheer and, before I can think about it, Kez and I are tussling, treading in Poppy’s gravy. Everyone’s jeering and then …

The deputy head’s standing between us.

Seconds later, he’s marching us out of the dining hall to Mrs Farroukh’s office, accompanied by the laughter of the whole school. I see Susan out of the corner of my eye. She’s just standing at the edge of it all, her serene half-smile in place as if nothing is of any importance at all – or everything is completely important. You can’t tell. Her eyes follow us, and I’m a bit freaked out by it all.

Looks like I’m in trouble already.