The tables in the student centre had been cleared to one side. Jack counted about twenty Year 7s and 8s sitting in two half-circle rows of chairs facing the guest speaker from Upland City Council. Jack deliberately sat in the row behind Vivi and Sampson, so he could eavesdrop on them without drawing attention to himself.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to hear. Some accidental confession? Some careless hint confirming his suspicion that they’d become an oddly matched romantic couple overnight? (King Kong and the lady from King Kong, thought Jack.)

All that actually happened was that for the whole first ten minutes of the session, Jack kept having to lean from side to side to see past Sampson’s ox-like shoulders.

The other kids in the room were junior school’s best and brightest: the high achievers, the popular kids, the all-rounders, the online petition-makers and rally-marchers. For a moment Jack was reminded of the cast meetings for Bigwigs, when the contestants would all be crammed into a dingy production office and briefed on their workplace challenge for the week. An office like the one where Jack had been told the real reason he wouldn’t be making it any further in the finals.

‘We’re looking for someone with the maturity to represent their school in the community,’ the woman from the mayor’s office was saying, ‘but also someone who can learn from having the town’s top job for a week. If you think that person is you, I’d encourage you to find someone to nominate you and choose one of the essay topics listed on the application form. And I think that’s all I need to tell you, except to say: good luck!’

Jack and Vivi’s home room teacher, Mr Jacobs, led the assembled students in applause.

Vivi turn to Sampson. ‘Essay topics?’ Jack heard her say. She looked confused, as though she couldn’t work out whether to be annoyed or not. ‘They must have changed the rules. I guess it’s not just a popularity contest after all.’

Meanwhile, the junior school deputy head Ms Liaw had stepped off into one of the offices adjoining the student centre to fetch the next speaker. It hadn’t even occurred to Jack who it would be, but suddenly there she was: Natsumi ‘Nats’ Distagio.

There were murmurings of disapproval from some of the Year 7s and 8s. Jack half expected Vivi to turn around and make another joke about him marrying into the Distagio family. He almost wished she would. Any attention would be better than no attention at all.

Nats glanced quickly down at the index cards in her hand, cleared her throat, then straightened her back and lifted her chin. ‘Imagine being able to walk a week in someone else’s shoes. To see the big picture.’ She gazed earnestly at the assembled Year 7s and 8s. ‘Imagine being given the opportunity to bring people together. To make a difference. That’s what it felt like the week I was Mayor for a Week for a week. It’s an experience I’ll always remember – even in five years’ time when I’ve got my dream job as a prime-time TV presenter.’

More murmurings.

Nats moved to the next card, and glanced up again. ‘I can see many familiar faces here today –’

Jack felt a hot prickling sensation creep up his neck. It suddenly occurred to him: maybe Nats had watched Bigwigs. Maybe she recognised him from TV. Maybe she knew who he was.

‘– and I’m sure every one of you would be a great ambassador for the school. Of course, it’s not just what’s underneath that counts. The Mayor for a Week is the public face of Upland. For a week. That face is somewhere in this room. That face could be your face. For a week.’

Nats was moving on to her next card when Jack’s phone buzzed and beeped in his pocket.

Crap, he thought. He’d stupidly forgotten to switch it back to silent from before, when he’d been waiting for Vivi to text him back.

Worse, it wasn’t just a message. Someone was trying to call him.

He plunged his hand into his pocket to silence the phone – and frowned. He didn’t remember packing a hankie in his pocket. And also, why was it covered in hairs?

His eyes widened. Philo’s little homework project. Jack had jammed it into his pocket to hide it from Vivi and Sampson. It had been there ever since. A ticking time bomb of Philo Dawson’s pubes.

And he’d just put his hand right onto it.

Ms Liaw’s gaze swept around the student centre. ‘Whose phone is that?’

People started shifting in their chairs and craning their necks.

‘Turn it off now unless you want it confiscated.’

Jack’s phone was ringing properly now. Loudly. He reached further into his pocket, doing his best to avoid any contact with the merkin.

‘Come on,’ said Mr Jacobs. ‘Natsumi has taken time out from her classes to speak to you all. Show some respect.’

The kids in the audience started looking in Jack’s direction. Jack sat dead still, eyes straight ahead. He fumbled for the ringer toggle on the phone – and felt the adhesive kiss of double-sided tape against the back of his hand.

Goddamn it, thought Jack. He gave up trying to silence the phone. Instead he waggled his hand in his pocket, trying to shake Philo’s homemade pube wig free.

Ms Liaw craned her neck. ‘Jack? Is that your phone?’

The more Jack shook his hand, the tighter the merkin clung to it. ‘Er –’

‘Jack Sprigley,’ said Mr Jacobs. ‘You know better than this. Hand it over.’

Everyone in the student centre swung around to face him. Vivi and Sampson stared at him like he was crazy.

‘Jack!’ hissed Vivi. ‘Turn it off!’

The phone continued to ring. Jack couldn’t pull out his hand without revealing the merkin. One glimpse of the pube wig and everyone would a) know for sure that Jack had no pubes of his own, and b) think he was a total freaking weirdo. ‘Er –’

Mr Jacobs clicked his fingers. ‘Give it to me.’

He shook his hand in his pocket again, but the merkin was fully stuck to him. (Jack cursed Philo’s excellent workmanship – and then changed his mind and cursed the fact that Philo had given him a pube wig at all.)

‘What is going on in that pocket, Jack?’ said Ms Liaw, looking very concerned all of a sudden.

‘Nothing, miss,’ said Jack, trying to keep his voice level.

‘Then hurry up and give me the phone!’

‘Miss, he’s not getting his phone,’ someone said. ‘He’s inappropriately touching himself!’

‘What?’ cried Jack. ‘No! I –’

Jack saw Vivi pull away from him in horror. A look of disgust spread across Ms Liaw’s face. Mr Jacobs glanced from side to side, as if searching for a fire alarm to smash open. The woman from the council sat frozen, mouth agape. Nats took an involuntary step back and held her index cards up to her face.

Sampson leapt to his feet and held his hands out either side of him, like he was protecting the room from an escaped animal. ‘Stand back, everyone! Someone has obviously got a little bit excited.’ He looked scathingly at Jack. ‘And I do mean a little bit.’

‘No …’ Jack pleaded, his voice a hoarse, horrified whisper. He glanced at Vivi in desperation, nodding furiously towards the pocket his hand was still lodged in. ‘Sticky –’

‘Oh my god,’ said Vivi, covering her mouth.

At that point, the woman from the council actually stood up on her chair, as if a mouse had run into the room.

Jack shook his hand in his pocket again, a pained expression on his face. ‘Sticky –’

His brain sent his mouth an urgent memo to stop using the word ‘sticky’. But by then it was too late.

Far, far too late.