‘Troll Boy’s dead!’ ‘Fight! Fight!’

Excited shouts shot round the playground as the mass of kids waited. School was about to end and, just for the fun of it, Lukas Brudvik was going to beat up the Troll.

‘At least use his proper name,’ muttered Jack as he hovered by himself at the edge of the group, shifting from one foot to the other to keep warm. He zipped his padded jacket to the maximum.

What had got into those kids? They’d been all right up till now. Welcoming even. It was the first time he’d seen anyone bother Skuli. It was like someone had flicked the ‘mad’ switch; cast a spell on them or something.

Where were teachers when you needed them?

Stay out of it, Jack told himself. If they were picking on Skuli, that meant they weren’t picking on the screwed-up thirteen-year-old new kid from England. Him.

Jack stabbed the toe of his trainer into a puddle, breaking its brittle cover of ice. This was supposed to be the start of the summer holidays? This place made even British summers look good. But then what did you expect when your mum dragged you to Norway and a town virtually in the Arctic!

Jack brought up the last message on his phone, from Vinnie back home.

Jack smiled. Then that familiar feeling gripped his chest. He’d only been in Isdal a few weeks, but already Northumberland and footie matches with chips after seemed a long way off and a long time ago.

He quickly tapped a reply.

Shouts rang out. Jack slipped his phone back in to his pocket. The words rippled round the mob. Skuli’s in the cloakrooms … He’s putting on his coat … That Troll Boy’s dead … Fight! Fight!

Jack watched the kids, screeching and hooting, chanting for Skuli, while the show-off, Lukas Brudvik, strutted about, making a big thing of putting on gloves and flexing his fists.

A girl in a blue coat turned her head and looked at Jack. She wasn’t doing any chanting. A long plait dangled from under a fur-trimmed hat. What was she called? Emily or something … Emma, that was it. He knew what her look was saying. We should do something.

Now all eyes were on the cloakroom door. Jack could see Skuli through the window, standing by the coat hooks, still folding those little origami animals he’d been making in class, his mass of curly black hair flopping over his face, oblivious to what was waiting for him.

‘I’ll let you have a go at the Troll if you like, Jack Tomassen. Soon as I’m finished.’ Lukas Bruvik was by his shoulder. He nodded and his smirk said, Prove yourself, new boy. Here’s your chance to pass the test. You can be one of us.

Everyone went quiet. The door swung open and Skuli came out, blinking at the knot of kids in his way. They parted and he stepped forward, still fiddling with one of his origami animals.

Lukas circled Skuli, his boots slapping the frosty concrete, his arms behind his back. ‘Troll Boy … Troll Boy …’

Skuli Isaksen was half troll – that’s what Lukas had been telling everybody that morning. That was why he was short and stocky. That was why he and his dad kept to themselves and lived under the ground, in a basement flat below an abandoned shop.

Jack’s heart thudded. He felt the kids’ impatience, taut and dangerous, like the drawn-back string of a bow. He saw Emma, trying to make herself heard over the din. Lukas marched in time as he kept on with the chant. ‘Troll Boy … Troll Boy …’

Others took up the words. Some moved slowly towards Skuli. They clapped their hands as they sang, moving in a circle, closing in. Kids who Jack would never have expected to copy a loser like Lukas.

Emma was shouting now – ‘Stop it! Leave him alone!’ – but their chanting drowned her out.

Lukas darted at Skuli, then jumped away swinging a bunch of nettles. The kids around him scattered, laughing. Skuli rubbed at his face and Jack saw red blistery lumps come up in a line by his mouth. Lukas swiped at him again and Skuli nearly fell as he tried to get out of the way.

Jack stood there, his hands clenched in fists inside his pockets. Skuli could get rid of Lukas with one good punch if he wanted. He was small but he was strong; Jack had seen  him in sports lessons. One good, well-placed punch where it really hurt … But there he was, not even trying to defend himself. Why didn’t Skuli fight back?

I should just walk away, Jack told himself. If Skuli won’t help himself, why should I?

But now Lukas had a stick, a thick thing covered with thorns. The other kids were hollering. Emma was jostled away as she tried to step in. The stick swiped through the air and Skuli gasped. A line of blood appeared across his forehead.

Jack’s body tensed. That was going too far. Skuli could have had that in his eyes! Walk away now, the voice inside him said. Find a teacher. It’s nothing to do with you. Keep out of it.

Lukas lunged and smacked Skuli’s face with his fist. Skuli shrank down, covering his head with his useless hands.

The crowd screeched. Lukas stood back, looking pleased. ‘Want a turn now, New Boy?’ he called to Jack.

The crowd went still. All eyes on Jack. The wind sent a sheet of newspaper flapping across the concrete. Just one little slap; that was all it took, he told himself. Score some points in the new boy stakes. Be accepted into the Isdal clan. He wouldn’t have to be the weirdo outsider any more. He nodded slowly and stepped forward. I can be best mates with Lukas and live happily ever after. 

Jack launched himself towards Skuli with a shout, but at the last second he swerved and rammed into Lukas instead, pushing him hard, making him slam down on his backside. The other kids howled with laughter and Lukas lashed out at them as he tried to get up.

Jack grabbed Skuli’s arm. ‘Go on.’ Don’t stare at me like I’m the thick one! ‘Get out of here!’

Jack turned back to Lukas and helped him to his feet. ‘Up you get, Lukie.’ This little New Boy is going to show you where you belong … in the emergency room of the nearest hospital!

Lukas glared at him, shaking him away, and then Jack noticed the other kids, re-massing, moving in. There were more sticks. Big stones now too.

Skuli still stood there like a moron. He tugged at Jack’s sleeve. ‘We’d both better get out of here, don’t you think?’

A fist-sized pebble slammed Jack’s leg, nearly knocking it from under him. Another thumped hard against his arm. What had got into these kids? The crowd moved closer. So many. Too many. Jack swallowed and moved back a step. Faces staring, hostile. Two against thirty? He didn’t fancy those odds.

Jack sprang away, dragging Skuli with him. I’d have a better chance pulling a dead body along with me, he thought.

Instantly there was a rush of children behind. ‘Quick!’ They hoisted themselves over the playground fence. Jack lost his footing and slammed down on to sharp gravel. He scrambled up and ran on across the playing field. The kids streamed after them. There were short shouts, little screams of delight; Lukas at the front, yelling.

Jack sprang over the drainage channel at the end of the field and pelted up a grassy slope. He reached the crest of the hill. A smooth long finger of water stretched out in front of him, pointing at the sea. He saw the fishing boats bobbing on the metal-grey water of the bay, the blood-red houses huddled on its banks. To the right, brown fields sloped downwards; to the left was the wide, wooded valley, another hill rising up behind it, with a tall wooden church on top and the river gorge beyond.

Jack sped straight down towards the town, calculating the distance they needed to cover: the grassy slope; the long, narrow tracks through the scrubby pine woods; on to the main street … Thank god for all that football training back home; that’s all he could say.

Jack twisted to check on Skuli. He was falling behind. The other kids were gaining, pouring over the lip of the hill. Behind them was the vast dark rock of the mountain that loomed over Isdal with its pitted glacier.

‘Faster, Skuli!’ Jack shouted.

He plunged into the labyrinth of tracks that twisted through the woods, passing a crow impaled on the barbed wire fence: a warning to other birds not to come near. Gusts...