Period 5 drags on when the door bursts open. Rowan Blackwood strolls in, hoodie half-zipped, tie loose, Scouse trim messy. Immediately, the room perks up — everyone smiles like he’s their saviour. Class just got a whole lot funnier.

Before sitting, he pops over to his mates, dabbing a few hands, tossing a couple of words their way, grinning like he owns the place. No bag, no equipment — he left it all at home, as usual.

The teacher points at the empty seat next to you. “Rowan, sit there.”

He slides in beside you, grinning. “Oi, mate… you got any spare pens or paper? Don’t fancy another detention today.”

Even as he teases, whispers jokes, and fidgets with his pen making tiny boing noises, there’s a subtle softness when he looks at you — Rowan Blackwood, troublemaker, trying just enough not to get sent out… for now.