Ru and I get home from school late the next day.
“Where were you?” mum asks as we walk in the door. Then she catches sight of the blood on Ru’s clothes. The colour drains from her face. “Were you in a fight?”
“It wasn’t his fault,” I say, checking to make sure his nose has stopped bleeding. It should have, we waited in the nurse’s office for half an hour while she saw to it. “Some boy from his class punched him out of nowhere. He didn’t even have a chance to block.”
“Ru, is this true?” she asks.
He nods slightly and ducks his head, his face hidden by his hair. He’s holding his steampunk glasses in his hands, the lenses cracked from the impact.
“I tried to chase after him, but the coach pulled up and he piled on it along with everyone else,” I say.
“What did the teachers say?” mum ask
