I’m in Mr Jennings’s office with the door closed. My hands are sweating. I don’t like these teacher talks.

‘I understand this is a difficult time for you, Alice,’ he says. ‘But while you’re attending this school, you’re Ferndean’s responsibility. We really can’t have you missing school and not completing homework.’

I keep my eyes on the carpet.

‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ he says. ‘A session with our counsellor, maybe?’

I shake my head. Not more talking.

‘Then…’ He pauses. ‘How about we let you off doing homework for a week or so? You’re clearly struggling to keep up with it.’

Again I shake my head.

‘I’m trying to help you, Alice. Yours are special circumstances, and being exempt from doing homework might take the pressure off,’ says Mr Jennings.

‘Thank you, sir, but I’m fine,’ I say.

His ‘special circumstances’ idea makes me uncomfortable. No one used those words at my other school. No one treated me differently, and I didn’t want them to, either.

This time I meet Mr Jennings’s eye. ‘I’d rather do my homework just like everyone else, sir.’

‘Are you sure?’

I hesitate. There’s bound to be work set today, and I still have to catch up on the lessons I missed last Friday. But I hate being singled out because of Theo. It makes it harder to forget what’s happening, and sometimes I want to try.

‘Totally sure, sir.’

‘Very well. From now on we’ll expect your homework to be in on time. If it isn’t, I’ll be calling your grandmother again – and this time, I’ll invite her in for a chat.’

I get an image of Mr Jennings, Nell and me, all here in this room. It’s not nice. Not one bit.

*

By breaktime I’ve got English homework and more words to learn for French. There’s also a meeting about to start in our tutor room. Through the door I see bright green ‘SAVE DARKLING WOOD’ posters on the walls.

‘Come on,’ says Max, taking my elbow and trying to steer me past. ‘I’ll buy you a hot chocolate.’

He’s being sweet, I know, but what’s the point in hiding from Ella when I want to save Darkling Wood too? And though I’m beginning to think there might be fairies there, Ella’s protest feels more concrete. More real. I want to take part in it, if she’ll have me.

‘Thanks for the offer, but I’m going in,’ I say to Max. ‘Coming?’

‘I’d rather get a hot chocolate.’

As he leaves, I open the classroom door. Down at the front, Ella’s handing out little green badges saying ‘SAVE DARKLING WOOD’. It’s a genius idea. Trust her to think of badges.

‘Can I have one, please?’ I say, joining the group stood around her.

Ella stiffens. The other students move aside. A space forms around me.

‘What d’you want, Alice?’ Ella says.

‘I want to save the wood. Just like you do.’

Ella does a big weary sigh. ‘Why would you want that when it’s your grandmother, who you’re staying with, who’s cutting the trees down?’

It’s a fair point. Nell and I have spoken about the trees, and I’ve told her I don’t think they should come down. That’s all she knows, though. And it should stay that way until tomorrow. I can’t risk her grounding me again, or worse, sending me to Dad’s.

‘I know those woods now. I feel sort of connected,’ I say. ‘Every morning, I look out of my bedroom window and see them. And every night, I walk through them on my way home from school.’

‘You’ve only been there a week,’ Ella reminds me.

‘Yes, and it feels like forever.’

I look at the other students here. There’s got to be twenty of them at least, each wearing a bright green badge on their blazer.

‘Have any of you ever been to Darkling Wood?’ I ask.

They glance at each other. One girl wearing glasses raises her hand.

‘Do the rest of you even know where it is?’

More glances. Ella rolls her eyes. ‘What’s your point, Alice?’

‘My point is that most of you are protesting about a place you don’t even know. So what if I’ve only been here a week? At least I know what Darkling Wood looks like, what it smells like. It’s not just a wood, it’s an amazing place. It’s … magical!’

I must’ve got a bit carried away, because they’re all staring at me now. A couple of year 7s actually have their mouths open.

‘You’re right, I guess. It is kind of magical,’ says Ella, warily.

I nod. ‘A friend of mine really believes it is. She says if we destroy the wood then the fairies who live there will take revenge on us.’

A few people start sniggering. Now I have said too much. It’s stupid to think they’d believe in fairies: I mean, I’m only maybe coming round to the idea. But when I glance at Ella I see her face is lit up, and she takes me to one side, while the rest of the group starts chatting.

She says in a whisper, ‘My mum thinks there are fairies in Darkling Wood.’

‘Has she ever seen any?’

Ella shakes her head. ‘No. She believes they’re there, but says only people with a special gift can actually see fairies.’

My stomach does a swoop. Flo said something similar, didn’t she? Or at least she said the fairies had chosen me for a reason. Might this be the reason? It’s hard to think so – I don’t exactly feel like someone with a special gift.

Yet the thought stays with me. And as the room fills with more excited chatter, I feel my mood lifting. Ella’s group is organised and thorough. When she calls for quiet, they all listen like I bet they never do in class.

‘The work on Darkling Wood starts tomorrow. We, ladies and gents, need to be there to make a … well … let’s call it a nuisance of ourselves.’

‘That won’t be hard!’ someone chips in. Everyone laughs.

‘So, how about we meet tomorrow morning in Bexton village square, say eight fifteen a.m., sharp?’ Ella says. ‘Oh, and be prepared to get muddy.’

A girl with blonde hair says, ‘What about school?’

‘Skip school,’ says Ella.

People share nervous looks.

‘I mean it,’ Ella says again. ‘We all have to skip school.’

I don’t think they’d quite signed up for that.

‘Can’t we do the protest after school?’ someone says.

Ella sighs. ‘Look, what’s the point in doing a protest to an empty lane? We need to be there when the work starts. We need to get in the way.’

‘But I’ll never convince my mum to drop me in Bexton rather than here,’ says another girl.

A ripple goes through the group. People shake their heads. A few unpin their badges. More make their way to the door. As the room steadily empties, Ella frowns but stays calm.

‘I’ll be there tomorrow morning, with or without your support,’ she says to the last few students as they leave.

I’m the only person left. I’m not going anywhere.

‘Here,’ Ella says, passing me a badge.

I pin it on my blazer and smile. She smiles back.

‘Looks like it’s down to you and me,’ she says.

And the fairies, I think, because try as I might, I can’t forget their part in this.

Max is waiting for me outside the classroom. He hands me a cup of hot chocolate that’s still warm.

‘You star!’ I say. ‘Thanks so much!’

Max does a little bow. ‘Not at all.’

He grins in that way that makes his eyes twinkle. As if I’ve not got enough going on right now, I think I’m getting a crush on him.

*

After break it’s History. Straight away Mrs Copeland talks about last week’s homework, and how today’s lesson will be based on it.

‘So get your notes out, please,’ she says. ‘We’ll do this in register order.’

‘What homework?’ I say to Max. I picture Mr Jennings dialling Nell’s number and cover my face with my hands.

‘The homework set last Friday when you were ill,’ says Max.

‘I wasn’t ill,’ I say, moving my hands away. ‘I went to London to see my brother.’ I don’t mention the being sick part.

‘Oh. Okay. Well, we’ve all had to choose a person to base our project on.’

I stare at him in panic.

‘Hello? Anyone in there?’ says Max, waving at me. ‘A person who was alive in 1918? Who was affected by the war ending?’

I nod. I remember the project. ‘But what are we doing now in register order?’

‘We’ve got to talk for a minute on the person we’ve chosen and why.’

My mouth goes dry. ‘Oh.’

‘Campbell’ is near the top of the register, so I know I’m going to get called soon. What’s worse is the five students going before me all do brilliantly. One boy’s chosen his great-great-grandfather, another boy talks about a football player for the local 1918 team. Someone else does the old headteacher for this school. By the next two I’ve stopped listening properly. All I hear is how confident they sound and how many enthusiastic comments Mrs Copeland makes.

Then it’s my turn.

Mrs Copeland sees the confusion on my face. ‘It’s okay, Alice, I know you missed Friday’s lesson so you probably haven’t done this, have you?’

‘No, miss,’ I mutter.

‘Do you have anyone in mind for your project?’

‘No, miss.’

Everyone’s looking at me now.

‘That’s fine. Don’t worry,’ says Mrs Copeland.

‘I’ll catch up, miss,’ I say.

‘You don’t have to, Alice.’ She gives me a knowing look. That look says ‘exceptional circumstances’. She doesn’t know about my agreement with Mr Jennings, it’s obvious.

One of the back row boys says loudly, ‘That’s not fair, miss. On Friday you told us we’d get a detention if we didn’t do the homework.’

Mrs Copeland holds up her hand. ‘Alex, I think …’

‘Yeah, miss,’ says someone else. ‘That’s favouritism, that is.’

A murmur goes round the classroom. I’m feeling really uncomfortable now. ‘I’ll do it by next lesson, miss,’ I say.

The murmuring stops. Mrs Copeland moves on down the register. And my brain starts whirring because I’ve not got the foggiest idea who to base my project on, or where to even start.