In form-class, Jamil cold-shouldered him. Marcus didn’t mind. Jamil was like that sometimes. He had a black eye-patch on and spent most of his time in class walking up and down ooh-arring with it. Marcus didn’t need a clown as a friend. At break he hung by the stairs and played text tennis with Adele. Everybody h8s me @ skul 2day. H8rs gotta h8. tell them to go xxxx themslfs Tick Nix dat. think it but don’t say it - i did that myslf n got report card. Was BORING. 2 l8 I jus sed it. Lol Nobody heard me tho. am in corridor. Send me a pic Marcus sent her a selfie. Am likin da snarl n cute tach. U luk like a grime star Tnx Soz agen abt my dad Gotta go. No credit left c ya He didn’t want to talk about Adele’s dad. It was strange, but he felt angrier about it now than when he first heard it. Everyone was talking about it, the whole school, especially the black kids. They wanted to do something about it but nobody had thought of anything yet. Marcus was right under one of the school bells and heard it ring loud and clear.
