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JESSICA STUBBS BROUGHT IN A FOLDED NOTE at afternoon registration and I could tell by the way Miss Steadman looked up that the note was about me. She came over when it was quiet in maths and we were doing some difficult division.

“Mrs Brooks wants to see you before you go home. I think you know what it’s about.”

Mrs Brooks had a new pair of sunglasses perched on her head. She came down the corridor carrying a bin liner tied into a bundle. The air trapped inside made it into a puffy black balloon. She was walking with a lady from the office, saying, “If you could find the caretaker, let him know I need to see him. Straight away!”

Mrs Brooks came into her office, opened the window and left the bag by it. She huffed loudly, sat down hard in her chair, said, “Firstly, we need to talk about the fact that Miss Steadman tells me you’re not participating in lessons.”

Her new sunglasses had black lenses with white around the outside.

“Can you tell me what this is all about?”

There was a long silence.

“You know all this not talking is starting to become a bit of a problem.”

She waited. “What about that dog on the playing field? Is that something to do with you?” She linked her fingers and leaned across her desk.

“I mean to get to the bottom of this because that dog’s been into school again and left a nasty mess. Daisy Bouvier’s new shoes are ruined.”

She nodded towards the bin liner. She polished her sunglasses, sighed and waited, then said, “I think it’s about time we asked your dad to come in for a chat.”