That evening, Zoe had dinner in her room. She refused to say sorry to Max for hitting him, and her mum said she had to stay in her room until she did. Zoe didn’t care.

She was better off on her own. She was even starting to get used to it. She was on her own all day at school, and then on her own at home. One day she’d vanish for good, and nobody would even notice.

‘Zoe?’

It was her dad, home from work and tapping on her door. Zoe sat up on her bed.

‘Mum said you had a row with Max this afternoon.’

Zoe sighed. Here we go, she thought.

Her dad sat on the end of her bed.

‘This isn’t like you, Zoe,’ he said. ‘You don’t usually hit or shout, and you don’t usually say you’re not sorry. Mum says there’s some trouble at school.’

Zoe nodded.

‘Is it Iris?’ asked her dad.

‘Sort of. Iris didn’t start it, but she didn’t stick up for me, either, so I’m mad with her, too.’

‘Start what? What’s been happening?’

‘There’s a new girl at school called Isabelle. She’s horrible, and she hates me, and now I hate her.’

‘You hate her?’

‘Yes, I do,’ said Zoe. ‘She’s a bully. I wish I could pay her back for how mean she’s been to me.’

Zoe went on to tell him everything that had happened at school.

‘Yes, I see,’ said her dad. ‘You must be really angry with Iris and Isabelle.’

‘I am,’ said Zoe.

‘Isabelle really hurt your feelings.’

‘Yes,’ said Zoe. ‘Exactly.’

Phew, she thought. At least Dad understands.

‘Hmm,’ said her dad.

‘What do you think I should do?’ asked Zoe. ‘How can I make her sorry for what she’s done to me?’

‘That’s a good question. There are two ways you can handle this Isabelle,’ said her dad. ‘The first way is to spend lots of time brooding about how much you hate her and thinking up ways to hurt her feelings the way she has hurt yours.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Zoe, eagerly. ‘I could make her feel stupid in front of everyone.’

‘Yes, you could,’ said her dad. ‘But then, on the other hand, that might just make her angry. And if you do get her back and make her feel bad – well, aren’t you being just as big a bully as she is?’

‘No!’ said Zoe. ‘How am I a bully if she started it in the first place? Doesn’t it serve her right?’

‘Maybe it does,’ said her dad. ‘But I’m not really thinking about what Isabelle deserves. I’m thinking about you. And I don’t think you’re the kind of girl who enjoys being cruel.’

Zoe wasn’t sure her dad was right. She had been imagining some great ways of making Isabelle cry in front of the whole school. It had been the only fun thing she’d done all week.

‘I like the first idea,’ she said. ‘But tell me anyway – what’s the other way?’