Water swirls around my body, dragging me down as if I’m a sack filled with rocks.

Weeds hold me, wrap their feathery arms around me. I kick to get free and my legs scrape against sandpaper boulders.

Bubbles fizz, rise, gurgle, bloody like raspberry lemonade.

‘You will soon be mine, Ziggy,’ the river sings lovingly.

A huge shadow swims alongside me. Fur like quicksilver. Yellow eyes glinting.

I fight for air, for life.

I wake to the sound of Momma calling me for breakfast. But the nightmare has chased away my appetite.

At school before class, Petal is walking around the classroom collecting money for Pizza Monday.

Harry Arnold, Macka and Chris are playing with a soccer ball, aiming at a bullseye tacked on the back wall with drawing pins. They miss and it bounces off Petal’s head.

‘Hey, watch it!’ she yells, giving her ear a rub.

A high-pitched squeal followed by uproarious laughter comes from the corner by the heater. It’s Stella, in a huddle with her Stellagtights. That’s what we call her followers – Maureen, Tani and Prudence. They laugh and throw back their heads, then draw together again, whispering as if they’re sharing the best secret.

Stella always sets the hair trend. At the moment, the Stellagtights are wearing their hair piled on top of their heads like Stella did the night of the dance, but with a few wispy bits hanging down. It’ll only take a week before all the girls, except me and Petal, will be wearing their hair in exactly the same way.

The door opens and Miss Cubby enters.

‘Morning, everyone,’ she says, smiling. She shines so brightly it’s as if a sunbeam has walked in. Without being told, we all stand at our desks.

‘Today we have a new student joining our class,’ she says.

The room goes silent. We have never had a new student before. The image of the creepy boy I saw at the dance flashes through my mind.

Miss Cubby puts her bag down beside her desk. ‘I want you all to show him a lovely Dell Hollow Elementary welcome. Not only is he new to Dell Hollow, but I’m not sure how much English he speaks.’

‘He’s a foreigner?’ Harry Arnold says.

‘He is, and I think it would be a lovely gesture if you showed him around the school at recess, Harry,’ Miss Cubby says.

‘But Miss Cubby, we’re playing soccer. Why don’t you pick some goody goody like . . .’ He looks around the room and then points at me. ‘Like Ziggy.’

‘Maybe he would like to play soccer too,’ Miss Cubby says.

‘He’s probably never even seen a soccer ball where he comes from,’ Harry says sulkily, and slides down in his seat, splaying out his legs.

‘Now, class, be good while I get him from Principal Poole’s office.’ Miss Cubby leaves the room and the noise level rises as everyone starts talking at once.

It seems like only moments later that the door swings open. Miss Cubby walks in first. We all stare at the figure behind her. I realise with a shock that it is the boy I saw at the dance. So it wasn’t my imagination! He is tall with black wavy hair and honey-coloured skin that seems to glow like burnt butter. In Dell Hollow everyone has fair skin and light-coloured hair, so it’s a shock seeing someone who looks so different. He’s wearing a white collarless shirt that hangs loosely over baggy cotton trousers. And sandals. This will get everyone talking. The boys and men of Dell Hollow wear their shirts tucked into belted pants. And sandals are only for weekends.

‘This is Raffi Tazi,’ Miss Cubby says.

‘What kind of weird name is that?’ Harry Arnold sniggers into his closed fist.

The new boy looks at all of us and everyone stares back. He doesn’t seem embarrassed. I’d be bright red if I was standing there. Even from here I can see that his eyes are the colour of acorns with dark brown flecks in them.

‘Sit down over there, Raffi, dear,’ Miss Cubby says, pointing to the empty desk behind me. In case the new boy doesn’t understand, she gestures when she speaks. ‘That boy over there with the glasses is Harry Arnold. He has kindly offered to show you around the school at recess.’

The new boy nods once and looks at Harry, who frowns and crosses his arms over his chest.

As Raffi makes his way between the rows of desks, twenty pairs of eyes follow him. I don’t want to stare like the others, but I can’t help it. He looks straight ahead, his eyes focused on his desk, no emotion on his face.

When Miss Cubby turns to write on the board, Harry picks up the soccer ball and rolls it swiftly along the ground towards the new boy’s feet.

He is going to trip for sure. But at the last second he makes a sideways movement and, with cat-like ease, kicks the ball off the ground. It hits the target on the wall, scoring a perfect bullseye.

But that’s not all. As the ball bounces back towards him, Raffi catches it and throws it to Harry. Harry’s not quick enough and it hits him square in the face. It all happens so fast that by the time Miss Cubby turns around to see what the laughter is about, Raffi is already slipping into his seat behind me and Harry Arnold is rubbing his red nose.

I feel Raffi’s eyes scorching the back of my head and my scalp tightens. Goosebumps break out all over my arms and waves of light dance in front of my eyes.

‘Everyone get out your exercise books,’ Miss Cubby says. ‘I’m going to give you a quick maths test. Raffi, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.’

But Raffi has already opened his book and started scribbling.

I open my own book and stare at the sums for a couple of minutes. I feel strange. I shake my head and try and concentrate. But the noises of the classroom are fading away and the desk looks like it’s made of water. It moves and sways, and suddenly I’m falling . . .