Monday morning, and our year curriculum coordinator, Ms Hinds, directs us into the hall, class by class for a special assembly. With only Year 11 present, the hall takes on a surreal quality, like we’re all aboard HMS Damnation on a one-way trip to the Island of Lost Souls.

Mr Gilchrist and Officer Pryce are up on the stage, grimly surveying us. Two captains on the bridge, about to whip this motley crew into shape. I hope they make Imran walk the plank.

‘Good morning, Year Eleven,’ Mr Gilchrist begins. ‘I’ve called this emergency assembly as unfortunately a terrible thing has occurred— WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?’

Whoever was stupid enough to think this wasn’t next-level serious just got the awakening of a lifetime.

‘Get up!’ Gilchrist orders, making everyone look round.

Noah rises slowly, showing disrespect with every gesture.

‘I don’t think you quite understand the importance of what has happened here at Stanley Park. I’ve had to call Officer Pryce away from urgent police business to give you this talk.’ He lets that sink in. ‘Sit down.’

Noah drops into his seat, his face redder than a mini Babybel.

‘Morning, Year Eleven.’ Officer Pryce scans the hall solemnly. ‘As your deputy principal has just explained, I’m here to give you a timely reminder of the law regarding sharing photos or videos of a sexual nature.’

At any other time, there might’ve been a few sniggers, but after Gilchrist’s outburst, everyone is corpse silent. By now, everybody has seen Imran’s evil video and knows exactly what she’s on about.

Officer Pryce gives us the same talk we had last year, back when we thought we were all too smart to ever get caught. She talks about evolving technology, about how we might think naked selfies are a bit of a laugh, but by doing it, we’re putting ourselves at risk and breaking the law.

‘Once you post an image on the internet, you’ve lost control, and it’s out there forever,’ she says.

She goes on about sexting and child pornography and how we’re all still legally children until the age of eighteen. Then she drops the bombshell about ‘joint enterprise’ – how even viewing and sharing this kind of video is a criminal offence that we could get prosecuted for.

‘A female student at this school engaged in a private moment with a male,’ she says sombrely. ‘It was recorded without her consent and shared publicly. You cannot even begin to imagine the distress and humiliation she is going through right now. We can’t determine if it’s a student from this school or another man in the video, but we do know he had tan skin, so was probably of Asian or mixed-race descent. If you know or even think you might know who he is, we would like you to do the right thing and come forward with this information. I will be in school all day today …’

There’s no shortage of compassionate, pitying faces in the hall. Where were these people when the video dropped? Where was the sympathy when mob mentality spread like an infection? Kelly’s moment of shock and betrayal slices through my thoughts, nearly choking me. How she pushed me away, like she no longer recognized me, like her brain was too damn mashed up to work. Was it fun watching another human being getting utterly destroyed? Did she get one top grade too many, or was it volunteering for loads of assemblies that got people’s backs up? Did her family’s wealth make her fair game to be utterly destroyed? The lion’s share of guilt lies with Imran, but all these bastards had a hand in it.

‘Over the days ahead, we aim to get to the bottom of this,’ Mr Gilchrist says. ‘The sooner, the better. At Stanley Park, we pride ourselves on being the sort of school that cares about each and every one of our young people. The right to learn in a safe environment has been violated for this student. When she comes back to school, and we don’t know if she will yet, there will not be any – and I mean any – mention of the aforementioned video clip. If there is, if she is made to feel unhappy or ashamed, I promise you that I will personally exclude you on the spot. Because if you could be that cruel to another human being who made a terrible mistake that they already regret, you do not belong at Stanley Park, and we are not willing to give you the benefit of our nurturing community.’

I hear sniffling and see Jade crying into a pink tissue. Melanie hugs her, placing her chin on top of her golden head as she strokes her shoulder.

Next Officer Pryce speaks about humiliation and mental health. She reminds us to be careful of what we say, because we can never know how it will affect someone else or what may be going on in their life.

‘Trust me – you don’t want to make yourself the trigger that pushes someone into hurting themselves.’

I zone out, distracted by the constant need to call Kelly. I don’t even care about the competition any more and anyway, I can’t enter something that’s half hers. I just need to know she’s all right.

‘When you go back to your lessons, you will do so quietly,’ Gilchrist says. ‘You will be mature and not share information with the lower school. The following students will need to stay behind: Rory Petersen, Imran Akhtar, Krishna Patel and Ilyas Mian.’

My stomach bottoms out. Why me?

‘Why you making me stay behind, though?’ Imran has the audacity to say as students are dismissed row by row. ‘This is racial profiling.’

‘Calm down,’ Officer Pryce says. ‘I assure you that’s not the case, but we do need your full cooperation. Whoever was on that video has committed a very serious crime.’

‘And?’ Imran says.

I want to scream.

‘Why you picking on me and my bredrin for?’ Imran kisses his teeth.

‘Because some people have already come forward with your names, and by law we are obliged to investigate,’ Officer Pryce retorts.

Yaas, queen! I think, wishing she would really Hulk out and twist him into a pretzel.

Imran snorts. ‘So what you want us to do? Get our dicks out so you can match ’em up with that video?’

Krishna and Rory snigger.

‘I’ll thank you to watch your mouth, sunshine,’ says Gilchrist, shooting Imran a warning look.

‘Follow me, please,’ Officer Pryce says stiffly, and Imran has no choice but to follow her into the corner where he won’t have an audience to show off to.

‘Sir,’ I say. ‘Is Kelly OK?’

‘Well how do you think she feels?’ Gilchrist replies tetchily.

He moves off to assist Officer Pryce’s inquiries because – surprise, surprise – Imran is being a prick. Now’s my chance. Pulling out my phone, I fire off a text.

I wait, but, just like with all the other texts I’ve sent this weekend, Kelly doesn’t reply.

‘You watching that video again?’ Rory asks, grinning.

I shake my head, putting my phone away.

‘Look at Imran denying it!’ Krishna says, gesturing with his chin.

I crane my neck. ‘You gonna tell ’em it was Imran?’

‘Whose mans is this?’ he says derisively. ‘Bro Code.’

‘Why, you thinking about snaking?’ Rory asks, leaning forwards threateningly.

I shake my head quickly.

‘Course he won’t,’ Krishna says. ‘They’re DedManz. If Imran goes down, he’s taking this one with him.’

I gulp.

All too soon, I’m being summoned by Officer Pryce. At least I’m up last. Do I do what the other lads did and deny all knowledge, or stick my neck out?

‘Before we begin,’ Officer Pryce says, her light eyes staring into my soul, ‘it’s really important that you remember to tell the truth. OK?’

I nod.

‘Do you know the identity of the male on the video?’

Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Imran lurking in the doorway and gasp. Pryce’s eyes follow mine.

‘Oi, bro!’ Imran shouts.

Officer Pryce bristles. ‘You’ve had your interview. Go back to your class.’

‘Yeah, in a second.’ Imran motions me over, and I get up.

‘Sit down,’ Officer Pryce instructs.

‘Just a sec, miss,’ I plead and duck out.

I run up the steps to where Imran is waiting between the aisles of seats so we can’t be overheard. He places strong hands on my shoulders and pitches forward till our foreheads are touching. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me.

‘You gonna keep quiet, fam?’

Looking into his dark eyes, I see the universe, and the universe stares back. Only now do I fully understand the power Imran commanded over Kelly. ‘You hurt my best friend, Imran. She’s the only one who ever liked me for who I am.’

‘What you chatting about? I rated your skills from Day One. Why you think I got you to tag up these ends?’ He moves his lips close to my ear, his goatee tickling my jaw. ‘Bros before hoes. Money over bitches.’

I throw my arms around him and, after a startled pause, he hugs me back. My hand slips inside his pocket.

‘What you doin’?’ he asks in surprise.

My fingers squeeze his phone. ‘Getting evidence.’

‘Huh?’

Whipping round, I sprint towards Officer Pryce. Imran swears, and I know he’s coming, know he’s going to tear me apart with his bare hands and make fritters out of my liver. The very ground shakes with rage, and the promise of revenge hums in the air, and for a moment, I believe Imran can control the universe.

Officer Pryce’s confused face switches up fast, her shoulders squaring, her hand reaching out for the phone. Holding it out like a baton, I barrel towards her. Imran’s hand snatches at my blazer, twisting the fabric. Gripping his phone tightly, I fling my arms back like wings, still pumping my legs as I slip out of the jacket. And I run like the wind, like the devil is on my heels blasting jets of fire and skunk.

Five metres, three metres, one—

Officer Pryce’s shoulder catches me in the side, sweeping my feet out from under me as she intercepts Imran. My bum slaps the polished floor, and I go skidding. Officer Pryce uses Imran’s own momentum to swing him round, slamming the side of his face down on to her interview desk. Snick-snick. She’s cuffed him.

‘GERROFF ME!’ he yells, bucking and twisting, trying to yank his wrists out of the handcuffs.

‘Don’t make this worse than it has to be!’ she says, pinning him down. But it’s like trying to nail down lightning.

His eyes cut into mine. ‘You got no idea what you’ve done. What happened to your dad’s shop was nothing, fam. Watch.’

Mr Gilchrist rushes in to help Officer Pryce restrain Imran, while she radios for back-up. Heart trying to explode out of my chest, my ears echo with Imran’s final threat, as I walk away dazed—

Suddenly, a gag of flesh and sweat slips over my mouth, mashing up my nose, then I’m being dragged out of a fire exit. The next thing I know, I’m flying through the air and kissing the playground tarmac.

‘Paigon!’ Noah yells.

Pushing myself up on grazed palms, my heart drops when I see the seven-inch Ka-Bar knife he’s wielding. My eyes cut to the fire exit.

‘Ain’t nobody coming for you now, bruv. DedManz had your back. But you turned it. Now you the deadest man.’

Noah’s hair gathers round his skull like twisted flames. Red lips curl over razor-wire braces in a grin that belongs in Arkham Asylum.

‘You don’t wanna do this, Noah …’ I say backing up, eyes trained on his knife. ‘Officer Pryce is just in there, and life in prison ain’t worth it …’

But Noah isn’t listening. His eyes have glazed over, and he’s chanting drill lyrics, something about making me ‘leak juice’ and putting me in a body bag. Gilchrist and Pryce are occupied with Imran. The whole school is busy in lessons. The playground is no-man’s land, and I am completely alone.

With nobody else to turn to and nothing left to do, I make the Sign of Wahid, hands slicing through the air, cleaving apart one reality, opening up another. Here comes the burn. First in my brain, then in my heart, energy waves like ripples in a pond. Suddenly I am Big Bad Waf and I am PakCore together. I’m that angry nine-year-old in a Superman costume who was told brown boys aren’t allowed. I am Ilyas Mian and I am Kelly Matthews. I’m every bullied kid ever. And I am vengeance.

I leap to the right, then to the left, springing into the air with blossoming rage.

Noah’s blade whistles past my cheek, splitting light into a spectrum of psychedelic colours. My left leg whips round, spinning my whole body through a wide arc. BAM! My heel strikes Noah square in the forehead. KA-DUNK! My right foot slams into his chest. PHWOOSH! A squall of spittle blasts from his ruby lips.

Then the tarmac is soaring up to meet me, and I know I am in for a world of pain. But just before I crash out, I glimpse Noah stagger like a drunk as Gilchrist rugby tackles him to the ground.

I fricking kicked the moon!

Then I’m just screaming.