Bloodshed tends to bond people, one way or another. Ruby sat on her bed and looked at the words she had written in her ‘Book of Hate’ earlier that day. Sucked on the end of her blue Biro, remembering the exact moment when she had realised she was falling in love with Harry. From the moment they had got chatting in the school corridor, on her first day, they had clicked and started hanging around together. Deciding to meet up on a Saturday night the following week hadn’t felt like a big deal at all.

Ruby and Harry had walked along, heads bent together so they could share the same set of headphones. It was a hot, sticky early September evening that still felt like summer. Neither teen had wanted to go home, even though it was approaching ten p.m., Ruby’s curfew. The day so hot the roads released their tarmac smell and metal railings had been almost untouchable, had turned into a stifling night.

They wandered through the skatepark, nodding their heads in time to the beat and swapping smiles at the really good bits that made them want to air guitar it out. It was dark, but the skate park was well lit, and even though it was late the roar of the boards’ wheels over concrete could still be heard as dedicated boarders practised on halfpipes.

As they came out of the brightly lit oval, through the other side of the skatepark, and entered the twilight area before they reached the orange-lit street, they noticed the people standing in front of them.

A group of teenagers.

A group of teenagers from Ruby’s old school, Tennyson’s Exclusive School for Girls. The girls who she had desperately tried to befriend – and who had made her life a misery. Poppy Flintock’s head tilted like a cat that had spotted something interesting to toy with.

No, not here, not when she was with Harry.

Ruby groaned inwardly for letting her guard down and allowing herself to think, even for a moment, that she could be happy. She had forgotten momentarily that she was the carcass on which all carrion fed.

‘Hey, shithead.’ Poppy’s drawling call was unmistakeable.

‘Hey, shithead.’ Poppy’s devoted followers echoed her, a choir led by their conductor.

‘Got yourself a little friend? Found another shithead? Wow, well done, who’d have thought there would be another one?’

Poppy wrinkled her nose and put her head on one side as she studied Harry. ‘Doesn’t the smell put you off? I mean, she stinks like shit. She’s got piles. Doesn’t the cloud of flies buzzing round her bother you?’

Her brow smoothed, as if realisation had dawned. How she loved to put on a show for her audience. ‘Oh, no, I get it,’ Poppy sniffed theatrically. ‘Yeah, you smell of shit, too. So you don’t even notice it. How sweet.’

Her followers snuffled like eager piglets. Giggling, nudging each other, some going the extra mile to impress their leader by pretending to choke on the imaginary stench of Ruby and her friend.

‘Oh my God, I just thought.’ Poppy’s hand flew to cover her mouth as if to hide the smile behind the mock horror. ‘You’re… you’re not going to have sex and give birth to a load of tiny little shitheads, are you? Oh my God, Ruby, are you up the duff? You are. Look at you blushing.’

The followers didn’t need any further instruction. They took their cue, chanting.

‘Ruby’s up the du-uff, Ruby’s up the du-uff.’

Harry looked at Ruby. Disgust, anger, even pity – that was what she expected to see. He rolled his eyes and laughed.

Not at her. At them.

Taking her hand, he walked through the crowd. There was no choice of going around them, the only means of escape to carry on forwards, or go backwards – and Harry clearly realised as well as Ruby that doing that meant turning their backs on her enemies. Not a good idea.

Ruby gripped Harry’s hand and let his strength flow through her. It wasn’t an act this time as she stood that little bit taller, walked that bit more confidently. She had Harry by her side, she could conquer anything.

And she did.

The mob parted for the couple, in shock.

Closed around them.

Poppy turned – and spat in Ruby’s face. The shock of the gobbet sliding down her cheek froze Ruby in place. Until she spat right back, and all hell broke loose.

Harry tried to push a lad off him. Even as Ruby was punched in the ribs, she saw her boyfriend yank at his enemy’s top, pulling it over his head to try to stop him being able to hit out.

Ruby lashed out, trying to stop herself from falling to the floor.

Where was Harry? Was he all right?

There. Poppy’s boyfriend had shoved Harry’s glasses up and put his fingers right under Harry’s eyelids. She’d never seen anything like it. He screamed. Ruby lurched forward – she had to help him. A fist smashed into her stomach. She doubled over, gasping, unable to breathe.

Fury wouldn’t let her give up.

Head still down, she ran full tilt at the lad, just like she’d learned when playing rugby with her dad. Butting him in the side and causing him to stumble and let go of Harry.

Harry didn’t need a second chance. He punched his opponent hard in the face, while he was still down. Once, twice, three times.

Ruby could barely breath, she was so badly winded. Harry turned to grab her hand, and the urge to run died on his lips as he saw her wheezing.

If they didn’t get out of here soon, they were done for.