Stuttering Stan takes me to the principal's office. Very neat, everything in its place. A shining computer in one corner. Diplomas on the walls. A small plaque on her desk, MRS. LYNNE REED, PRINCIPAL, just in case anyone is in any doubt.

Nancy's already outside, waiting her turn. I'm sitting across from Mrs. Reed, gaze glued to the floor, waiting for her to start in on me. She transferred here the year that I started, and I was one of the first students she had to discipline, just a couple of days into her new job. I've had to explain myself to her a lot of times since then, though in my defense it's been a while since I was last hauled before her.

Mrs. Reed flicks through a file, slowly. I'm guessing it's about me. I try not to fidget. My face is red and I keep my hands tucked under my legs, in case she spots them trembling. I shouldn't be worried. I'm in trouble, sure, but Dad won't give me any grief, not when he hears what it was about. Still, I'm in the wrong and Mrs. Reed isn't the sort of person who makes you feel at ease in a situation like this. She looks like something from an ancient movie, black cape, silver hair, thin-rimmed glasses.

"I don't like it when my students fight," she finally says, putting the file aside.

"Nancy started it," I say evenly, careful not to sound like I'm whining.

"I'll let Miss Price state her case once I'm through with you," Mrs. Reed says. "I suspect her story will differ significantly from yours. Please tell me what happened, and try to be honest if you can."

I was going to spin it, but that last line stings me. It's like she's challenging me. So I decide to hit her with the facts. If I'm going down, I might as well go down with my dignity intact, not whimpering and making up stories.

"I was having a dig at Tyler."

"Tyler Bayor?" she asks.

"Yeah. Nancy stuck her nose in and told me I was being racist."

"Were you?"

"No." I scowl. "I mean, yeah, in a way I was, but nothing bad. I said something about his kind not being civilized."

"That was stupid," Mrs. Reed murmurs.

I bristle but don't retort. Because she's right - it was stupid.

"Anyway," I mutter, "Nancy squared up to me. I told her to butt out. She didn't. Then she slapped me."

"She struck first?" Mrs. Reed asks.

"Yeah. Everyone saw her."

"And you hit back?"

"No. I let her slap me a few times. I tried to make a joke out of it. But then she cut me and I lost it."

"I see. Is there anything else you wish to add?"

I think about stopping there, but Mrs. Reed is looking at me archly, like she still doesn't think I'm capable of telling the truth. "I made some gorilla noises," I sigh, my blush deepening.

Mrs. Reed hums, picks up my file again and glances through it.

"I know your father," she says out of the blue.

"My dad?" I frown.

"Yes," she says. "We share concerns about our nation's disintegrating morals and have attended many of the same meetings over the years."

I blink, confusion turning into outright bewilderment. Dad has never talked about Mrs. Reed. I can't imagine where they could have run into each other, except at parent-teacher evenings.

"Your father is an upstanding member of the community," Mrs. Reed continues, and I have to choke back a scornful laugh. "He works tirelessly for the things he believes in. Always there to lend his support when it is needed, giving selflessly of his time and energy. We need people like him. People like you. People who want to make Britain great again, who are prepared to fly in the face of public apathy and political correctness."

She pauses to make sure I'm on her wavelength. And I am. Mrs. Reed must share Dad's low opinion of foreigners. I wouldn't have thought someone in her position could be as small-minded and bigoted as my old man, but thinking back to the meetings he's made me attend, there were all sorts present. I guess racists come from every walk of life.

"This is not where we fight our battles," Mrs. Reed says as I gape at her. "You achieve nothing by stirring up trouble like this. You merely hand ammunition to those who wish to undermine our cause. When you get into difficulties of this nature, it reflects poorly on your father, and by extension on the rest of us."

"I wasn't fighting any battles," I wheeze. "I was just having a go at Tyler and then Nancy got in my way and..."

Mrs. Reed smiles gently. "I know it can be frustrating when people like Nancy interfere. Like your father, I am critical of this government's immigration policies. They have let in too many people of Nancy's caliber, and afforded them far too prominent a voice. But we must fight sensibly for a sensible Britain. When you are older, you can vote and campaign and express your concerns politically. The tide is turning. Public opinion is swinging our way, and will continue to do so, but only if people can trust us, if we behave calmly and responsibly. We must rise above insults and petty fights. We're better than that.

"You can return to class now," Mrs. Reed says. "I'll have a talk with Miss Price. Since she slapped you first, I'm sure I'll be able to convince her to let the matter drop. But, to be safe, tomorrow I want you to take her to one side and apologize."

"But - " I start to object.

"It's that or a suspension," Mrs. Reed snaps.

I fall silent. I wasn't going to argue about the apology. I was going to say that this isn't fair. I thought she was going to chew me a new arsehole. I didn't expect her to sympathize with me. I wasn't fighting for a cause. I'm not like my dad. I don't give a stuff about any of that crap. I expected her to bawl me out, suspend me, maybe expel me. Instead she's commending me. For making gorilla noises to a black girl.

It's wrong. I lost my head and did something I shouldn't have. That was bad, but this is worse. It's disturbing to think that a woman in Mrs. Reed's position would praise me for losing my temper and saying such a thing.

But how dumb would I need to be to criticize my principal for being a racist? She's giving me a get-out-of-jail-free card. I'd have to be a moron or a martyr to turn that down. And I'm neither.

"All right," I mutter and get up and go.

I don't look at Nancy as I pass. I can't meet her eyes. She probably thinks it's because I'm upset at having been punished. But it's not. It's because I'm ashamed that Mrs. Reed thinks I'm a racist. And because I'm worried that she might be right.