Mr Springham’s eyes have narrowed and his gaze flicks suspiciously between me and Susan, as though he isn’t quite sure who to believe. I suppose he just can’t work out why Susan would voluntarily take the blame for something she had nothing at all to do with. He says nothing, though.

Eventually, Mrs Farroukh sighs and says, ‘There is no question that I will be writing to your parents this afternoon in the strongest terms. So-called dare or not, Malcolm, this is the sort of behaviour that we do not tolerate here at Marden Middle School. It goes without saying that you will both be withdrawn immediately from the COMMS project and, Susan, your roles as library monitor, orchestra captain and Green Team coordinator are suspended immediately …’

And so it goes on. Valerie the school counsellor gets another mention. Oh, whoopee.

Basically, though, I’ve got away with it.

I did pretty much the worst thing that’s ever been done in this school. It’s going to be talked about for years … and I’m being let off.

And all because of Susan Tenzin.

Of course, I wait until we’re out in the corridor before I smile at her. And it makes my stomach do a little flip when she smiles back.

Chapter 47

Susan is free to go to her music lesson.

I am kept in ‘supervised isolation’ until the end of school, which basically means doing my French homework while Miss Biggs, who I’ve never spoken to before, does some marking and – to judge from the snorts and giggles – catches up on Facebook or whatever.

I’m supposed to be learning the perfect tense.

J’ai dormi – I slept.

J’ai rêvé – I dreamed.

Je suis devenu fou – I went mad.

I feel for the bumps on my arm again – a sort of reassurance that I am not actually losing my mind. They’re not there any more, however closely I look. Did I imagine it all, just like I imagined I was in a dream?

‘Malcolm,’ says Miss Biggs, ‘is your homework written on your arm?’

I pull my sleeve down and look again at the stain on the fabric: a large, uneven smudge. The smell is still there: faint but distinctive.

I’m wondering about this, and letting my mind drift, when I’m startled by the end-of-day bell.

It’s 3.30. I’m free to go. The first thing I see when I turn my phone on is a text from Mam.

Just got an email from Mrs Farroukh. We’ll talk tonight.

Not even an ‘x’ at the end. That’s serious.

I’m walking past the library on the way out and Susan appears just as I am passing. She’s been waiting for me, I can tell. I don’t know what to say, apart from, ‘Hi.’