He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe someone could just mess with Fisher’s life like that.

Jez rang back to say he’d logged out, and they shut down Facebook. ‘And that’s it?’ Nicky said.

‘For now. It’s only a bit of fun. But it made you feel better, right? And he’s going to clean up your page so that none of the stuff Fisher put up is there any more.’

It was a bit embarrassing then because when Nicky breathed out he did this kind of shudder. He did feel better. It wasn’t like it really solved anything, but for once it was nice not to feel like the butt of the joke.

He messed with the hem of his T-shirt until his breathing went back to normal. It was possible Mr Nicholls knew because he looked out of the window like he was really interested even though there was nothing there apart from cars and old people.

‘Why would you do all this? The hacking thing and driving us all the way to Scotland. I mean, you don’t even know us.’

Mr Nicholls stared out of the window at the car park and just for a moment it was like he wasn’t really talking to Nicky any more. ‘I sort of owe your mum one. And I guess I just don’t like people crapping all over other people. Bullies didn’t start with your generation, you know.’

Mr Nicholls sat there for a minute, and Nicky was suddenly fearful that he was going to try to make him talk about stuff. That he’d do that thing the counsellor did at school, where he tried to act like he was your mate and said about fifty times that anything you said would be ‘just between us’ until it sounded a little creepy.

‘I’ll tell you one thing.’

Here it comes, Nicky thought. He wiped at his shoulder, where Norman had left a drool.

‘Everyone I’ve ever met who was worth knowing was a bit different at school. You just need to find your people.’

‘Find my people.’

‘Your tribe.’

Nicky pulled a face.

‘You know, you spend your whole life feeling like you don’t quite fit in anywhere. And then you walk into a room one day, whether it’s at university or an office or some kind of club, and you just go, “Ah. There they are.” And suddenly you feel at home.’

‘I don’t feel at home anywhere.’

‘For now.’

Nicky considered this. ‘So where was yours?’

‘Computing room at university. I was a bit of a geek. I met my best mate Ronan there. And then … my company.’ He looked a bit serious after he’d said that.

‘But I’m stuck there until I finish school. And there’s nothing like that where we live, no tribes.’ Nicky pulled his fringe down over his eyes. ‘You do things Fisher’s way or you stay out of his way.’

‘So find your people online.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. Look up online groups for things you’re … interested in? Lifestyle choices?’

Nicky registered his expression. ‘Oh. You think I’m g*y too, right?’

‘No, I’m just saying, the Internet’s a big place. There’s always someone out there who shares your interests, whose life is like yours.’

‘Nobody’s life is like mine.’

Mr Nicholls shut his laptop and slid it into a case. He unplugged everything and glanced over towards the café.

‘We should head back. Your mum will be wondering what we’re up to.’ He opened his door and then turned back. ‘You know, you could always write a blog.’

‘A blog?’

‘Doesn’t have to be under your real name. But it’s a good way of talking about what’s going on in your life. You put a few keywords in, and people will find you. People like you, I mean.’

‘People who wear mascara. And who like neither football nor musical theatre.’

‘And who have enormous stinking dogs and sisters who are maths prodigies. I bet you there’s at least one person like that somewhere.’ He thought for a minute. ‘Maybe. Perhaps in Hoxton. Or Tupelo.’

‘I’m not a hairless baboon, you know.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ Nicky pulled at his fringe some more, trying to cover the bruise. It had gone this really grim yellow, which made him look like he had some weird disease. ‘Thanks, but blogs are … not really my thing. Blogs are like for middle-aged women writing about their divorces and cats and stuff. Or nail varnish obsessives.’

‘Just putting it out there.’

‘Do you write one?’

‘Nope.’ He climbed out of the car. ‘But I don’t particularly want to talk to anyone.’ Nicky climbed out after him. Mr Nicholls pointed his fob and the car locked down with an expensive thunk. ‘In the meantime,’ he said, lowering this voice, ‘we didn’t have this conversation, okay? It wouldn’t go down too well if anyone knew I was teaching innocent kids how to hack into private information.’

‘Jess wouldn’t mind.’

‘I’m not just talking about Jess.’

Nicky held his gaze. ‘First rule of Geek Club. There is no Geek Club.’

‘Good man. Right. You going to walk this disgusting dog of yours before we head off?’

16.

Tanzie

Nobody really wanted to get back in the car. The novelty of spending hours in a car, even one as nice as Mr Nicholls’s, had worn off pretty quickly. This, Mum announced, like someone about to give an injection, would be the longest day. They were all to make themselves comfortable and make sure they’d been to the loo because Mr Nicholls’s aim was to drive almost to Newcastle, where he had found a B&B that took dogs. They would arrive at around 10 p.m. After that, he had calculated that with one more day’s driving they should arrive in Aberdeen. Mr Nicholls would find them somewhere to stay close to the university, then Tanzie would be bright and fresh for the maths competition the next day. He looked at her hopefully. ‘Unless you think you’ve got used to this car enough for me to go above forty now?’