April was secretly glad to be going back to school after three days at home. As angry as she always was, April was a social beast. She thrived on interacting with others. These interactions may not have been much fun for the people she interacted with, but they energised her. She did not enjoy being stuck in a big empty house. Ingrid was stoic and silent and moved so quietly about the place it was hard to tell if she was ever there. And Dad had gone into hiding. Of course, he was already in hiding from the Kolektiv, but now he was in hiding from Ingrid as well. He would find reasons to spend every waking hour at some obscure place in his garden or shed to avoid any possibility of bumping into his intimidating fiancée. So April had spent the three days at home with nothing but Pumpkin and her secret stash of romance novels for company.

She was almost excited to return to school. She never would have admitted it, but she had been mentally rehearsing some really good zingers to put Matilda Voss-Nevers in her place. She enjoyed verbally crushing Kieran too. Really, arguing with anyone would be a pleasant change to sitting in a big calm house in the middle of a beautiful, peaceful garden. That was April’s idea of a nightmare.

And yet, April’s first day back did not go well. By mid-morning she was running late for her science class, and for something that wasn’t even her fault, technically.

She’d been kept behind in music because Pumpkin had eaten Mr Boyle’s sheet music. Mr Boyle was the music teacher, so he was a deeply unhappy man. Ninety-nine per cent of the students had no interest in studying any form of music, and the one per cent who were interested had no musical talent. It would have broken his heart if he hadn’t been able to find escape in the beauty of music himself. As it was, while his class played on keyboards plugged into headsets so no one would have to hear their dreadful noise, Mr Boyle enjoyed playing his favourite concertos on the piano. Or he had until he’d popped into his office to make a quick cup of tea and found Pumpkin ingesting Rachmaninoff’s Third.

Mr Boyle was a softly spoken and, normally, soft-hearted man. He had two small dogs himself and he doted on them like children. But when he entered his office to see dog mouth-shaped tears in his sheet music, he snapped. He screamed at Pumpkin, who barked right back. Then he screamed at April, who yelled right back. Then he just screamed as Pumpkin sank his razor-sharp little teeth into his shins, causing incredible agony for such a deceptively small dog.

So when April arrived at her science class she was in a bad mood. She had been forced to put a muzzle on Pumpkin. The school had ordered one especially in Pumpkin’s size after several requests from staff. The whole thing made April so angry, it would have been prudent to muzzle her as well. She also had a bright blue note in her pocket saying she must report to the guidance counsellor immediately at the start of recess. It is always a mistake for a teacher to take a student to task during the recess or lunch break. Tempers never cool when you reason logically with a person, but they do cool if you let them eat a sandwich.

April was soon in an even worse mood when she discovered that there was only one seat left in the classroom, and that seat was next to Tom.

‘Ugh, you,’ said April, dumping her bag and flopping into the chair.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Tom, turning to the sound of her voice.

April rolled her eyes. ‘Sitting next to the biggest pain in the neck in the whole class.’

‘Really?’ said Tom snidely. ‘That’s impressive. That you can sit next to yourself.’

‘Oh puh-lease,’ said April, slumping down further on the seat. ‘That’s not even an insult. It’s a half-baked play on words. If you want to insult me, you have to say something insulting. Like “you’re ugly” or “you smell bad”.’

‘I can’t tell if you’re ugly,’ said Tom. ‘Although if your personality effects the appearance of your face, you must look like a baboon’s butt.’

‘That’s better,’ said April with begrudging admiration. ‘A little overly wordy for my taste, but that was a genuine insult.’

‘I’m not surprised you’re a connoisseur of insults,’ said Tom, getting into the swing of it. ‘You must get them all the time.’

‘I’ll pay that one too,’ said April, nodding with respect. ‘You’re warming up now.’

‘It’s no wonder your mum left,’ said Tom. ‘She probably couldn’t take being around you anymore.’

Unfortunately, Tom was vision-impaired, so he did not get the key signals that he had gone too far. Much too far.

The first outward indication was subtle. April froze and her face went completely blank. But internally she was falling apart. She felt icy cold and her stomach dropped. ‘She probably couldn’t take being around you anymore’. As a statement it made complete sense. April was unpleasant and her mother had left. It was true. It was true! IT WAS TRUE! The words screamed in April’s mind. A lump welled up in her throat. But she was April Peski. She didn’t cry. When her emotions welled up, she let them out. And that’s what she did now. She exploded into action. She leapt off her stool and launched herself at Tom.

‘Good morning, 8G,’ said Ms Quinn, their science teacher, as she stepped into the room. Then she too fell silent as she witnessed April Peski, the most sullen and difficult child she had ever had to teach, flying horizontally at Tom, the boy she and the rest of the staff had been extensively lectured to about how they must facilitate his transition to classroom learning. There was a split second of silence before the room erupted. There were shouts of dismay and furious abuse, barks from the crazy little dog and the slam and clatter of furniture as it was smashed out of the way.

It took three seconds for Ms Quinn, Kieran, Animesh and Fin to grab April and pull her off Tom. Then another five seconds for Neil to bravely wrestle Pumpkin away from Ms Quinn’s left calf. In those eight seconds Tom’s shirt had been torn, April had a bloody nose and Ms Quinn’s leg now had teeth marks on it. Three beakers had been smashed and two stools were broken beyond repair.

‘Right,’ said Ms Quinn, panting and trying not to cry from the pain in her leg (she wasn’t as naturally good at this as April). ‘Mr Lang’s office. Now!’