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He was the youngest in his class because he’d skipped a year at primary school.

Partly because he’d been assessed as gifted but also because with a birthday at the start of September, he’d either be the youngest in the year or the oldest and his mum, more than his dad, had decided he’d benefit from the challenge of more difficult work.

There were pros and cons, especially socially, and it was very rare for any child to skip a year, but it had all been decided for him before his mum died.

So Zeph was only just turning sixteen, while Alice, who was in the same year as him, would be seventeen in December.

Zeph had issues with Alice. Georgia too, though she mostly ignored him.

But Alice hadn’t done anywhere near as well as he had in her GCSEs, which meant no one had properly congratulated Zeph on getting a top grade in every subject for fear of making Alice cry harder.

His father had asked him to help her revise a couple of subjects, and he’d tried, but she’d not put the effort in.

He wasn’t prepared to take responsibility for her results, and although Elisa had tried to blame him—something he’d never forgive—at least Alice hadn’t. Not for that, anyway.

She was spiteful and mean in private, sweet and charming in public.

She picked on Zeph but he felt a bit sorry for her.

She was always putting herself down. I’m stupid.

I’m fat. I’m spotty. No one likes me. I’m ugly.

It’s not fair. Well, life wasn’t fair. Zeph had learnt that long ago.

He’d also quickly learned that Alice didn’t want advice, she just wanted someone to listen to her moans and complaints, someone who’d be sympathetic.

That wasn’t Elisa. Nor Georgia. His dad was more patient with her.

Zeph was pretty sure Alice had an eating disorder but telling Elisa that had stopped Alice speaking to him for a while.

She dropped into bouts of depression and Zeph was used to hearing her crying at night.

She seemed happy about the party so maybe that was one reason, the only reason, to be pleased it was happening.

Arriving early at Fishbourne Academy was a risk.

The gates were open but the doors to the school were still locked so everyone milled around outside.

Unfortunately, everyone included Scott and Rufus.

Bigger than him, taller than him and mean to the bone.

Zeph swallowed hard. He always did a lot of swallowing around them.

They made his nerves jangle. He spotted them near the science block, and almost as though they sensed him coming through the main gates, they turned in his direction. Shit.

He thought about heading the opposite way but what was the point? They’d follow. A confrontation was inevitable, the infliction of pain a possibility. His heart rate increased. He should stand his ground, stop being a mouse.

New term. New start. New him.

“Well, look at you, princess,” Scott sneered as they walked up to him. “Shiny new shoes, new blazer, new trousers, new glasses. Did your mummy put you in new underwear too?”

Zeph didn’t point out they also wore new clothes.

“Get your trousers at Marks and Spencer?” Rufus snorted. “Machine washable for when you wet yourself. You are prone to accidents.”

Zeph kept his face blank. He’d never wet himself, well he probably had when he was a toddler, but last year Rufus had deliberately sprayed water over his crotch to make it look like he’d had an accident.

Zeph had made the mistake of reporting him and Rufus’s parents had been called into school. Things got worse.

He wished he could think of some putdown about them being interested in his underwear, but not interacting was the best option. He tried to walk away, and Scott stepped into his path. “Hey, we’re talking to you, dickhead. You owe us money.”

“No, I don’t.”

He pushed past them both, shocked he’d managed to do that until he felt the hard kick at the back of his knee.

His leg buckled, he stumbled forward and barely managed not to faceplant.

He limped away, his lips pressed together, as the pair sniggered behind him.

That’s my bad leg, you dickheads. They didn’t know about the cancer but they’d seen his scar in PE.

Zeph hid in the toilets until it was time to go in, and yes, he was ashamed he’d resorted to that.

Leaving it until the last possible moment to turn up at registration meant he avoided another incident.

The only free seat was on the far side of the room at the front and he walked there with his head down.

There’d been an induction day at the end of the summer term so they already had their timetables.

Their form teacher was Mr Andrews. Young and new, he’d be teaching further maths and would be one of Zeph’s teachers.

Registration complete, it was into the hall for assembly.

Zeph tried to get out of the room quickly, but Scott shoved him aside before he could exit into the corridor and Zeph banged his head on the door frame.

Ouch. That hurt! He stepped back into the classroom out of the crush, took off his smudged glasses and rubbed his head.

He’d wait until everyone had gone. He kept his gaze down and blinked back tears.

“You should have shoved him back.”

Zeph looked up. A boy he’d never seen before stood in front of him. He put his glasses back on. Oh!

He was a head taller than Zeph.

His hair was sun-kissed blond.

His face was tanned.

His eyes were rain-cloud grey.

His lashes were thick and long.

His mouth… Stop it!

Zeph wanted to fall at his feet and weep. It wasn’t fair. Oh God, I’ve resorted to that mantra? In all this time, he’d not developed a crush on anyone at Fishbourne Academy and now Irresistible Boy had joined the school? It bloody wasn’t fair.

He could feel the tears in his eyes on the verge of spilling and he quickly took off his glasses and brushed his hand over this face before his glasses went back in place.

“Why didn’t you shove him back?” the boy asked.

“I’m trying not to react,” Zeph said.

He huffed. “You look like you’re going to cry.”

“Wait until they shove you against a door frame. It hurts.”

The guy laughed and walked away, and he wasn’t Irresistible Boy anymore but yet another arsehole. Zeph pulled himself together and headed down the corridor, keeping to the side to avoid being pushed.

It was a whole school assembly and the hall was full and noisy.

Zeph tried to slink to the back, but Mr Perkins, his former history teacher who stood by the door, indicated he had to go forwards to find a seat.

Zeph could see two spaces, the closest was next to Rufus or several rows further forward there was a place next to Georgia.

Zeph dropped down by Georgia, who predictably ignored him.

The moment the Head started to speak, the hall fell silent. Zeph was only half-listening as Mr. Carter talked about the school equipping students for a full and constructive place in society. Failed so far with Scott and Rufus, then! They’d probably end up as criminals or policemen.

Apparently, students should be willing to take risks in their learning, have a strong work ethic and always strive for excellence.

He wondered what sort of risks Mr Carter was imagining.

Refusing to do homework? More likely the head was in line with his dad and thinking of personal challenges like taking up a new sport, and joining a team. I won’t. They can’t make me.

When everyone started to clap, Zeph did too, though he wasn’t sure why he was clapping.

Georgia nudged him. “Get up there!”

He turned a shocked face in her direction. “What?”

“Carthorse said your name,” she hissed.

“Me? Why?”

“Get on the stage, dipstick!”

It was last thing Zeph wanted to do but everyone was staring at him.

He shoved to his feet and made his way to Mr Carter’s side.

Zeph’s hand was shaken, he was handed some pieces of card and went back to his seat.

He didn’t look at what he was holding until he sat down.

Oh. They were from the exam board. Apparently, he’d scored a hundred percent in his GCSE maths.

And in physics and biology. Wow. He shoved the cards in his backpack.

Another reason for Rufus and Scott to pick on him.

Maths was his first lesson. Zeph’s favourite subject.

He headed for a desk on the far side of the room.

Unfortunately, Scott and Rufus were in this class too but were sitting close to the door.

Zeph made sure to walk far enough away from them to avoid any chance of being tripped.

He’d just taken a seat when New Boy dropped down at the desk in front of him.

Portia, the most beautiful girl in the school and didn’t she know it, with hair that fell like a black waterfall, sat at the desk next to the boy who most definitely wasn’t perfect. Not at all. Not one bit.

Probably.

“Hi. I’m Portia.”

“Jack.”

Zeph rolled the name around in his head. He hadn’t noticed at registration. He liked the name.

“Where are you from?” Portia turned on her intense megawatt beam, and pushed her hair behind her ear. She was such a flirt.

“Middleton.”

She giggled. “No, I mean which school did you use to go to?”

“Quiet now everyone!” Mrs Samson called. “Even you, Portia.” And Portia turned to face the front.

For once, Zeph found his attention wandering.

Jack had taken off his blazer and hung it over the back of his chair.

He’d not exchanged glances with Zeph at all.

Zeph’s gaze was fixed on the fine hair at the back of Jack’s neck.

He must have had his hair longer in the holidays because the skin was paler at his nape.

A thought about how that soft skin would feel under his mouth made Zeph panic.

A rush of heat was followed by a deluge of fear.

Shit. But enough to quell any issue in his trousers.

Registration was taken and Zeph found himself waiting for the rest of Jack’s name. It turned out to be Steel. It sounded strong and hard. Not like Zeph Watson.

Rufus was tasked with handing out books and he slammed a text book and workbook down on Zeph’s desk hard enough to make him jump, which in turn, made him knock his desk forward into the back of Jack’s chair.

Jack twisted round and gave him, not Rufus, a look of disgust. Of course he did. Even pissed-off he was attractive.

Zeph mouthed sorry and tuned into the lesson. He had to forget gorgeous, untouchable boys, and think only about maths, and not sit anywhere near him again if he could help it.

When Mrs Samson asked the first question, Zeph slid up his hand.

The teacher sighed. “Anyone else apart from Zeph?”

Jack put up his hand and Zeph blinked. That was interesting.

“Answer?”

“7.5 centimetres.”

“Correct. Now, all of you work out the area of the shaded sector. Hands up when you’re done.”

A moment after Zeph put up his hand, Jack’s rose too. Zeph felt a ripple of pleasure. He didn’t want to be the only one who was really good at maths, though he half-wished it wasn’t Jack he’d be competing with.

Three other hands went up. None had the right answer.

“Yes, Jack?” the teacher asked.

“28.7 centimetres squared.”

“Zeph?” she asked.

“The same.”

“Correct. Come up here, Jack, and show us how you worked it out.”

Zeph caught Jack’s quietly exhaled sigh of displeasure.

Zeph wasn’t fond of writing on the interactive whiteboard either.

When Jack stood up and walked to the front of the room, Zeph forgot he didn’t want to like him.

Forgot he was cold and uncaring. Forgot it was dangerous to stare.

Forgot the consequences of letting down his guard.

Because Jack was long and lean with a narrow waist. His shirt was slightly untucked at the back and Zeph wanted to untuck it completely and… Oh God. Thinking is so dangerous!

Jack took the smart-board pen from Mrs Samson and wrote quickly. His writing was neater than Zeph’s. His smile for Mrs Samson was electrifying. How was he supposed to concentrate with Jack at the same school, let alone in the same classroom?

As it turned out, Jack was in every one of Zeph’s classes.

Not only maths, but further maths, physics, computer science and PSHE, personal, social and health education.

It was as if Zeph was being taught a lesson he didn’t understand at all.

What had he done to deserve being punished like this?

He had better things to do than lust after a straight boy.

Why hadn’t Jack been at the induction day in the summer?

At least Zeph would have had time to… What? Get over himself?

There was no escaping Jack even if he’d wanted to.

Did he want to? Zeph already felt thrown out of kilter.

It was unsettling having someone in school that made him feel what he was.

He wanted to believe no one knew or had guessed he was gay.

Scott and Rufus might call him ‘princess’ but that didn’t have to be significant.

Lots of boys were called homophobic names—out of the hearing of the teachers.

Zeph knew better than to react, let alone complain about it. But now he had to be even more careful.

How was that possible when he was already on a tightrope, constantly petrified of falling?

It was difficult to be optimistic about reaching safety without slipping.

He hoped he’d be happy once he had his first job, but outside of that, all he could see was the clawed fingers of misery and loneliness beckoning.

Zeph gave himself a mental slap. Feeling sorry for himself was pointless and not him.

His life would change when he went to university.

He’d find others like him, shy gay boys, and make friends.

In the meantime, he’d try hard not to look at Jack because any glance caught by Rufus or Scott would out him.

Zeph failed within minutes, though fortunately Rufus and Scott weren’t nearby.

It was impossible not to look at Jack. When he had the chance to snatch glances unobserved, Zeph couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Jack was polite but not friendly. There was something about the way he held himself that was different.

Confident, mature, alert. He sat with the cool group at lunchtime, invited to their table by Portia.

Something that had never happened to Zeph.

He saw Jack laugh and smile, and something unpleasant took root inside him.

Jealousy.