‘When trouble knows where you live …’ Valerie the school counsellor had said. It has just come knocking in the unmistakable shape of Kez Becker.

‘Did you get anythin’, Bell?’ she says, shoving aside a Year Five and squeezing herself into the space next to me left by Susan. Behind her is Jonah Burdon and they are both smiling smugly. ‘Last night? I had to make a tactical retreat, you understand.’

I look at Kez, making my face as blank as possible, and give a half-hearted shrug.

‘No. I don’t understand.’

She doesn’t seem bothered. She turns to Jonah. ‘You should’ve seen his face! Scared as anything he was – of a tiny little dog!’ Jonah snorts.

I say, ‘How would you know what my face was like? You’d already run away. Oh sorry, I mean made a tactical retreat!’

Jonah Burdon laughs at that. ‘He’s right, Kez – he’s got you there! Nice one, Bell! Top banter. Har har!’ He holds up his hand and I high-five him without much enthusiasm.

Kez doesn’t like that at all. Her eyes narrow. ‘Are you callin’ me a liar?’

I just don’t understand, I think. How can someone be a friend one minute and so horrible the next? (This is probably why Kez Becker doesn’t have many friends. It’s got nothing to do with her dad’s job with dead bodies, and everything to do with being two-faced.)

‘What about this?’ I say, taking my phone out and showing her the screen. ‘You broke it! Look at this crack!’

Jonah Burdon sucks his teeth and tuts. ‘Ooh, brilliant counterattack there by the young Bell!’ he says, like he’s commentating on the football. It’s all just sport to him.

‘Don’t be daft,’ says Kez. ‘That was there before!’

‘No, it wasn’t!’ I can hear my voice getting louder and higher, and feel my face turning red. Jonah Burdon keeps up his commentary as people turn their heads. ‘It’s turning controversial! Becker denies the allegation! What next?’

‘Shut up, Jonah,’ says Kez without looking away from me. ‘It was definitely cracked. I saw it as soon as you lent it to me.’

‘I didn’t lend it to you and it wasn’t cracked!’ I’m shouting now, and as I wave the phone nearer to her face to prove my point, my arm catches the beaker of water on her tray, knocking it all over her plate and splashing her front. She leaps back out of her seat, bumping into little Poppy Hindmarch and making her drop her tray with a loud crash. This in turn makes everybody look round and cheer and, before I can think about it, Kez and I are tussling, treading in Poppy’s gravy. Everyone’s jeering and then …

The deputy head’s standing between us.

Seconds later, he’s marching us out of the dining hall to Mrs Farroukh’s office, accompanied by the laughter of the whole school. I see Susan out of the corner of my eye. She’s just standing at the edge of it all, her serene half-smile in place as if nothing is of any importance at all – or everything is completely important. You can’t tell. Her eyes follow us, and I’m a bit freaked out by it all.

Looks like I’m in trouble already.

Mrs Farroukh has a copy of my ‘Conduct Contract’ on the desk in front of her, signed by me at the end of last term after I had accidentally smashed the glass of the school trophy cabinet on prize day. Long story. Not my fault. (Well, not all my fault.) Anyway …

‘I’m very disappointed, Malcolm,’ Mrs Farroukh says. ‘I so wanted you to start off this term well. We need to channel your more impulsive energies, but it’s far too soon in the school year to start making negative assumptions …’

She’s been going on like this for a while now and I’m sort of tuning out, but hang on …

She doesn’t want to make negative assumptions. I think that means I’m going to get let off. I think that means she’s not going to punish me.

‘… I have had some rather disconcerting news, however, Malcolm.’

This does not sound good. I straighten up and prepare my innocent face.

She is looking out of her window at the rugby pitch, with her wide back to me. ‘I received a telephone call this morning from someone who lives in Tynemouth who believes one of our students here at Marden Middle may have been trespassing in her backyard, and in doing so caused an injury to a dog that has required veterinary treatment. Do you know what trespassing is, Malcolm?’

‘No, miss.’ I have composed my face to add ‘puzzled’ to ‘innocent’, while trying to keep ‘relieved’ at bay because I know that trespassing – whatever it might be – is probably not as bad as robbery or burglary or animal cruelty …

‘Trespassing, Malcolm, is being on or in someone’s property without their permission.’ She turns round and looks at me closely. I don’t move. I don’t think I even blink.

Blink, Malky, otherwise you look defiant and therefore guilty.

I blink a few times, and add a little smile for good measure.

‘Now, she gave me a description of the trespasser.’ Mrs Farroukh lets this sink in for a moment. Then for another moment, and I think she adds yet another moment just for extra effect before she says, ‘But …’

I have started to sweat. I feel a trickle under my arm. I blink again.

‘But, as she admitted, it was getting dark. She could not be certain that she would recognise him – or for that matter her – again. From the age of the trespasser, though, and what they were wearing, it would seem very likely that he – or she – was one of our students.’

She hasn’t taken her eyes off me. She leans against her desk and her bottom spreads along the edge.

‘I like to maintain good relations with the community, Malcolm. I suggested to the caller that perhaps this was quite innocent. Perhaps the intruder was simply collecting a stray football or some such. But injuring an animal, however unintentionally, is quite another matter. I don’t like the idea that our neighbours might think of our students as anything other than wonderful. Do you see?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Good.’ There’s a long pause. Then she lets out a sigh that makes her helmet of silver hair tremble slightly. ‘COMMS, Malcolm. Community Outreach Marden Middle School. We’ll draw a line under today’s incident with Kezia Becker and we’ll say no more about it, not even to your mum, all right?’

‘Yes, miss.’ I can’t believe I’m getting away with this.

‘But – and it’s a very big but …’

Now normally, to hear the large-bottomed Mrs Farroukh say the words ‘a very big but’ would have made me splutter with laughter. Right now, though, I’m too nervous to hear what’s coming to find anything funny. ‘But – you have to promise me that you’ll become part of COMMS. I have already spoken to Kezia and she will be joining us too. Do you agree, Malcolm? It’s a lovely group of hardworking, enthusiastic students and it’s a very worthwhile endeavour. I’ll email your mum. There’ll be a permission form for her to sign, but what you tell her is down to you, all right?’

I’m not sure I have ever heard a teacher describe anything less appealing, but what choice do I have? I nod as solemnly as I can.

She smiles warmly at me and claps her hands. ‘Excellent! We’ll be starting in a few weeks. I’ll team you up with Susan Tenzin. She’s the new girl: you may remember her from assembly and she has already volunteered. Is that all clear, Malcolm?’

‘Yes, miss.’

Susan Tenzin again. Susan Tenzin with her super-clean fingernails and apple-smelling hair and make-me-feel-stupid, peaceful smile. I’m beginning to dislike her. Right now, though, I can’t worry too much about that because …

Seb had the same dream as me.

And I need to talk to him about it.