‘Get your hands off me you, you imbecile!’ Hugo Fox storms, trying to shake off Dad’s grip. ‘My father is a very important man around here and he knows some very influential people. You’re going to regret—’

‘Shut it,’ Dad growls. ‘Don’t threaten me with your toffee-nosed friends in high places. You’ll answer to the law like the rest of us, whoever your old man might be.’

‘Mr Fox is his dad,’ I say as Angie wheels my chair closer. ‘My Head Teacher at school.’

Hugo turns, his face all screwed up and ready to have a go at me, but then the strangest thing happens. When he sees me, his face drains of all colour and he swallows hard.

‘What?’ I say, but he looks quickly away.

I shrug my shoulders at Dad. I can’t figure out why Hugo is acting so weirdly all of a sudden.

‘Look, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement,’ he starts babbling to Dad. ‘My father is a man of means. I know you people around here always need money, we can – oww!’

A muscle flexes in Dad’s jaw. He pulls Hugo over to the wire fence so he is standing next to us.

‘We mightn’t have piles of cash on this estate, but most of us know what’s right and wrong,’ he tells Hugo between gritted teeth. ‘So don’t insult me with your corrupt little offers. The police can decide what’s going to happen to you.’

My useless phone falls clean out of my hand.

As I watch Angie reach to scoop it up, Hugo shuffles his feet, and that’s when I see them.

White trainers with a broad green-and-red stripe. And in the middle of the stripe sits a perfectly embroidered little gold bee.

I sit upright in shock, grimacing as a bolt of pain shoots through both my hips.

For a few seconds, in my head, I’m back there.

Lying in the road, the booming bass beat, the voices and the white training shoe next to my face.

The glistening shape that I couldn’t process back then comes flooding back to me with crystal clarity. It was a little gold bee sitting on a green-and-red-striped trainer.

Things move fast after that.

The police arrive and I recognize one of them as being PC Bolton, who came to speak to me at the hospital. Dad explains how we caught Hugo in the act of breaking into the centre.

‘The others scarpered but I kept hold of this one,’ Dad says.

‘Get your hands off me!’ Hugo squirms.

‘We’ll take it from here, thank you, sir,’ PC Bolton says.

Dad lets go of Hugo’s arm.

‘N-now, officer,’ Hugo stammers. ‘Thank goodness you’re here. You need to arrest this thug—’

‘Just a minute, young man.’ PC Bolton frowns. ‘I’ll decide what action is taken, not you.’

Hugo closes his mouth.

And that’s when I tell them. About the trainer. The significance of the bee.

‘Rubbish,’ Hugo says, his voice lifting higher and higher as he speaks. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, this boy is deluded.’

‘There’s only one foolish boy here so far as I can see,’ PC Bolton remarks.

A week later, PC Bolton sits down in our living room and shakes his head at Dad.

‘Unbelievable. I’ll be honest, we were looking at some of the unsavoury characters who live here, on the estate,’ he says. ‘We were convinced the culprits responsible for the hit-and-run incident and the vandalism of the Expressions centre would be residents of the estate.’

‘That’s understandable.’ Dad shrugs. ‘It just proves that where you live has no bearing on knowing right from wrong.’

‘That’s true, and there’s a lesson in there somewhere,’ PC Bolton agrees. ‘The word unofficially was that the Expressions centre would secure some major funding, so Hugo decided he’d ruin its chances himself. He paid Linford Gordon to break the windows and steal essential equipment.’

‘Did Hugo admit to driving the car?’ I ask.

‘Eventually, but not until the evidence was rock solid against him. He and his father maintained his innocence all along, but fortunately, in the end, someone did come forward with information and then we knew we had the right man.’

‘So someone did see it happen!’ I gasp.

PC Bolton shakes his head. ‘This person wasn’t actually there on the day, but he heard Hugo Fox and his friends talking about what happened and decided to come forward. A very unlikely source of help, I might add.’

‘Are you allowed to tell us who it was?’ I ask.

‘Linford Gordon,’ PC Bolton replies. ‘He said you’d been friends for most of your lives until just recently. To his credit, even though Hugo and his thugs threatened him with violence to keep quiet, he decided to do the right thing by you, Calum.’

I’m dumbstruck. Linford!

‘I can’t believe Hugo Fox’s trainers gave him away,’ Dad comments.

‘Not just any trainers though, Mr Brooks,’ PC Bolton says. ‘Those trainers are a top designer brand and the little gold bee is a distinctive trademark. Nearly four hundred pounds a pair. Not your regular footwear around these parts.’

‘Blimey.’ Dad seems baffled.

‘We found minute traces of Calum’s blood on the sole of one of the trainers. We found the same on the chrome grille of Hugo Fox’s vehicle, despite it having been obviously scrubbed up and cleaned.’

‘But why?’ I say, still not fully understanding. ‘Why did they do it and why did they damage the centre?’

‘Seems Hugo wanted the centre closed so the funding went to the place where he runs classes and it was them who promised to send him to a top drama facility in London if their bid was successful. So he teamed up with a few thugs from the estate.’ PC Bolton shakes his head in disapproval. ‘Seems these thugs convinced Linford to break a few windows for cash. He said he did it because his stepdad is out of work and his little sister had no money for her school lunches or new shoes.’

‘Hugo Fox,’ I whisper. ‘Who’d have thought it.’

I’m guessing Hugo won’t be coming into school to brag at any more of our assemblies.