Charlie whirls round, and I grab his wrist.
‘Shut the fuck up, Ward.’ It’s actually Henry who steps in and gives Valentine a withering glare. Henry, who takes his job as school captain dead seriously and never swears in public. But also Henry whose sister died – his sister who would be livid if she knew what was going on here.
‘No problem. I brought you a little something but there’s no need for words.’ He slaps a round sticker on Henry’s back. ‘Want some more? Here, they’re on me.’ Val reaches into his trouser pockets and throws a handful at us. The stickers flutter to theground as Val walks off. Charlie catches one and turns it over.BRING BACK MANLY MEN, I read.
I burst out laughing.
‘God, how Neanderthal can you get?’ murmurs Charlie.
Emma peels the sticker off Henry’s back and crumples it in her hand.
‘I reckon he actually means it.’ Olive sighs.
‘We can try again next year,’ Emma suggests. ‘He’ll be gone by then, so his mum won’t be on the parents’ council any more, right?’
There’s an awkward silence. Henry’s saying something now, but I’m not even listening: suddenly I’ve got this idea.
‘What’s up?’ Charlie asks, looking at me. ‘Tori?’
Bring back manly men . . .
OK, Valentine Ward, we’re on the same page.
You want trouble?
You’ve got it.
32
SINCLAIR
I never thought the upper sixth would join in. Not for their Farewell, which, apart from the official Leavers’ Ball, is the most important celebration at the end of the school year. Tori’s hashtag has been trending on Twitter, TikTok and Instagram since last week, and I’m sure it’s not entirely a coincidence that everyone is suddenly so enthusiastic about breaking gender norms and posting#bringbackmanlymenselfies. Valentine Ward looks like he’d rather go straight for his pals’ throats, because he’s one of the few lads who haven’t forgone their trousers in solidarity. Almost the whole rugby team has joined in, wearing pink tulle skirts, dresses or kilts. OK, so the last of those is traditional male attire in Scotland, but it’s the symbolism that counts, right? Eleanor and the other final-year girls are rocking their jumpsuits and trouser suits.
‘Oh, my God,’ Tori whispers – she’s currently on her phone, probably to share new stories on the Insta account, which has almost forty thousand followers now.
‘What?’ Olive comes over.
Tori holds out her phone.
‘What is it?’ I repeat, as I see the repost of her latest story.
‘Whoa, is that real?’ Olive breathes. She grabs the phone and stares at Tori.
‘Yeah, I think so. It looks real.’
‘Whatisit?’ I insist.
‘Hayes Chamberlain reposted it,’ Tori explains.
‘Who?’ Emma and I ask simultaneously.
‘Hayes?’ Tori repeats, sounding so incredulous that I just shrug cluelessly.
‘The singer? From London? Come on. Everyone knows him.’
‘Is he the one out of that band?’ Emma asks, and Tori nods proudly.
‘You know I said the other day they’re apparently making a film of one of Hope MacKenzie’s books? There are rumours he’s going to be in it. Which would make total sense because I think he’s a friend of Scott’s. You know, Hope’s boyfriend.’
