The Boys Left Behind: The Hayford Murders Duology, #2

By Lara Jane Robinson

KATE GRANGER IS GONE. BUT SOMEBODY ELSE IS READY TO TAKE HER PLACE.

In the aftermath of the Granger Girls crimes – a spree which resulted in the tragic deaths of four teenagers – the affluent area surrounding Hayford Independent school is shaken to its core. Few are affected more deeply than Nathan Willis and Romeo Collins, friends and lovers of several of the perpetrators.

When yet another girl is murdered, the duo's sadness turns to anger, as things only grow more personal. Their determination to find the truth about this latest death soon leads to them being forced to hide a new secret - one of family loyalty and revenge, which if discovered could see them lose their freedom forever.

It was an accident, but nobody would believe that.

Romeo and Nathan must carry this new burden while also dealing with grief, family problems, addictions, love, and heartbreak. Will their friendship be enough to carry them through? Or will this latest secret be their last: the one that destroys them once and for all?...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lara Jane Robinson
• Release date: Apr 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224083190

Book preview

The Soundtrack

Sweet Little Lies by bülow

hometown by cleopatrick

youth by cleopatrick

Let Somebody Go by Coldplay & Selena Gomez

x ANA x by Badflower

We’re In Love by Badflower

idontwannabeyouanymore by Billie Eilish

Seventeen by BRKN LOVE

Never Let Me Down Again by Depeche Mode

Slide Away by Oasis

To listen to the full playlist, search The Boys Left Behind official playlist on Spotify.

A good friend will always stab you in the front.

― Oscar Wilde

Prologue

APRIL. TWO MONTHS AFTER THE EVENTS OF THE GRANGER GIRLS.

N athan? Nathan, we need to go! Can you hear me? Nathan!

Nathan Willis stumbled backwards, his vision blurred, his head spinning. He could see a large object on the ground, and he could see Romeo Collins. That was all. Nothing else was there.

"Shit. Shit."

Nathan!

Romeo grabbed his arm, nails digging into flesh. But despite the pain, Nathan couldn’t move. His feet felt glued to the ground of the woods, a place which held such a dark history: last year, sixteen-year-old Gretta Marin had been shot dead only metres from this spot by a group known as The Granger Girls.

And now, these woods had become the location of another terrible event; a horrible secret Romeo hoped they would keep. Nathan, in that moment, wasn’t sure he felt the same way. His lips moved uncontrollably. A few seconds passed before he managed to get any words out.

Is she...we can’t-

We have to. Romeo’s voice was firm. If he felt any of the fear his best friend did, he was doing a good job at hiding it. I can hear people coming! We need to go now!

But it’s...it’s not...we can’t-

Romeo didn’t wait for Nathan to finish, cutting him off by taking hold of his arm and dragging him away. They moved a few steps before Nathan accepted that Romeo was indeed right. They didn’t have a choice: he had to run.

And so the two boys ran. They didn’t stop even when their lungs burned and their legs itched to the point of pain. They didn’t stop until they were out of the woods, and into the park where Mollianne Richards – another victim of the Granger Girls – had died.

Nathan. Romeo’s voice was thin when he spoke again: he was breathless, finally showing fear. I’m...I’m sorry this has happened. God, Nathan, I’m so sorry I’ve pulled you into this.

I’m sorry...I’m sorry as well, Nathan said, without thinking: he had nothing to be sorry for, besides the fact that he’d ever met Romeo Collins.

Romeo swallowed. The sound echoed around the trees, clinging onto the icy air.

You can’t say anything to anyone. You know that, right? he continued, his blue eyes the coldest Nathan had ever seen them. I know we didn’t mean to – I swear, I didn’t mean to – but I don’t think the police will believe us. It’s too...we’re too closely connected.

Nathan nodded. He was back in his trance-like state, his vision starting to go fuzzy again.

"Please...you have to protect me. I can’t go to prison for this. We can’t, Nathan."

No, Nathan agreed. Then suddenly, he fell out of his trance and it hit him, all at once. Holy...holy shit, Romeo, he gasped. I can’t believe...we couldn’t have-

We have. We did. Romeo tightened his grip on Nathan, pulling him so close that Nathan could feel his breath on his neck. We can’t lose our lives over this. Think of your family, and our friends. We need to keep this a secret, because I don’t think anyone will believe us.

Nathan nodded. Romeo was right. They were the bad kids: they did drugs, had sex, and were the friends and lovers of convicted murderers.

They were the kind of boys who killed people.

We’ll never get away with this, Nathan thought. It was an accident, but nobody will believe us.

Y-Yeah, he breathed. I’ll keep it a secret. It’ll be our secret. Forever...

Chapter One: Home

sweaty and breathless , Romeo Collins stumbled through the front door of his family’s seven-bedroom home in London, England. He gripped the doorframe, knuckles white, and suddenly thought about how excessive it was: they’d only been a family of five at their largest. Now, there were just three of them left.

Still, Romeo was used to excessiveness. In fact, he loved it most of the time: an excess of money, an excess of drugs, an excess of sex. Although thinking of the excess of rooms made him deeply sad for a moment, that emotion was fleeting: he felt too antsy to be upset. His entire body itched, giving him the irrational, horrifying urge to peel off all his skin. Romeo wanted to get out of himself, out of the house, and - quite frankly - out of this world entirely.

He was a mess. He’d been one all his teenage years so far, but now he felt he’d truly hit rock-bottom.

Throwing off his St Michael’s school blazer – which was maroon-coloured, with cream piping details and several pin badges on the lapels – he made his way into the living room, where his mother was sat.

As usual nowadays, Clara Owen - previously Collins, she'd quickly gone back to her maiden name after finding out about the adulterous activities of her children's father - was curled up on the sofa, a blanket on her knees. A cup of tea sat untouched on the table beside her, left to go cold. The angle at which he currently stood gave Romeo a clear view of the article she was reading on her iPad: a piece entitled My experiences losing a child: dealing with grief.

Romeo took a choked breath. All he wanted was to go a single day without being reminded of his little sister’s death. But tomorrow marked only two weeks since her body had been found - it was far too fresh a tragedy for anyone to move on yet.

He scratched his nose. God, I need a line, he thought to himself. He wasn’t sure whether he was shaking from his upset or withdrawal.

Remaining stood in the doorway, several metres from his mother, he finally mustered the courage to speak.

Hello, Mum. Just like his body, his voice quivered.

Clara’s gaze flicked from her iPad to her son, the eldest of her children. Seeing his face made her feel a little better. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to watch him and Maya - her surviving daughter - all day every day, never letting them out of her reach. But of course, that was impossible, and so she made the most of these briefer glances.

Hi, Romeo. You all right, honey? How was school?

School, Romeo thought with disdain, School was hell, as always. I don’t want to learn. I don’t care about education: Father’ll buy my way into any job I want. And the other kids are fucking heartless. They say I killed my own sister. The only parts of the day that are bearable are the breaks where I sneak into the bathroom and snort as much coke as my nose will allow.

But, of course, he couldn’t say any of that.

School was fine.

A moment passed before Clara replied.

That’s good. Her voice was stilted. Did much happen? Were your lessons interesting?

Romeo shook his head.

Are they ever?

Clara pressed her lips together, eyes down once again.

No, I suppose not. School isn’t much fun, is it?

No. Romeo turned: he was done with this conversation, if one could even call it that. I’m going upstairs. Call me when dinner’s ready.

With that, he rushed from the living room, up the stairs, down the hallway past his mum and both his sisters’ bedrooms, and towards his own room. Once inside, he slammed the door behind him and fell back onto the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, feet just about touching the carpet.

He fought to catch his breath, a result of both panic and the running he’d just done - he’d never been the most athletic boy, and the drink, drugs, and cigarettes didn’t help.

He was clammy all over. His heart was pounding so loudly he could hear it without lifting his head.

Fuck, Romeo groaned. It was only ten past four. He knew he should try to get up, try to do something productive – homework, GCSE revision, emotionally supporting his mother – but he lacked the energy. His exhaustion was so overwhelming he thought he’d melt into the bed, skin and muscle dripping away until he was nothing but a pile of bones.

A pile of bones, just like Annelise.

Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. Romeo’s vision was already blurry; crying intensified the effect, temporarily blinding him.

Giving up, he closed his eyes, with no intention of opening them again today.

Chapter Two: Guilt, Grief, and Panic

Meanwhile, Nathan Willis picked up his mobile phone and rang his best friend’s number. The response he got wasn’t a friendly one.

Nathan, what the hell do you want? Romeo snapped, having made Nathan wait over a minute for him to pick up. I literally just saw you, like, an hour ago at school.

I know, I know. I’m sorry.

Nathan was pacing as he spoke, making his way up and down the length of his bedroom, steps quick but heavy. He bit his lip hard: he couldn’t have a panic attack. He needed to pull himself together, breathe and be rational. If he didn’t do that, he would end up dead: he couldn’t go on like this for the rest of his life. He found himself wondering if this was how Kate had felt, as she too went through each day harbouring secrets so dark they could destroy her entire life. In the end, they did just that.

I’m...look, I’m scared, Romeo. You know I am, he admitted, to the only other person in the world – he hoped – who knew the truth about Vivian Jacques’ death. Who knew that, six days ago, they had killed her together. Six days ago, they had met up with the fourteen-year-old in the woods, because she’d taunted Romeo, telling him she knew more about his sister’s death than she was letting on: she’d killed Annelise because she was obsessed with the Granger Girls. Six days ago, they’d fought. She’d had a knife – the marks it left were still visible on Nathan’s hand – and they’d pushed her. She hit her head on the hard woodland ground and never opened her eyes again. I can’t live like this. You can’t either.

Well, we don’t have a choice, Romeo replied. You know what I’m going to say: you’ve got to just carry on as we have so far. Like we know nothing, like we believe the police’s theory about some paedophile double murderer. Our freedom depends on it.

I know, Nathan said, hating how whiny he sounded. I know, but... but it's hard to keep lying. Sometimes...sometimes I even wonder if I’d be better off in prison, having told the truth. At least then I wouldn’t feel so guilty.

At that, Romeo tutted.

How can you say that? If you confess, we’ll be labelled cold-blooded murderers. We won’t just be in prison for a couple of years, Nathan, it’ll be our entire lives! You can tell them exactly what we did and why, but they’ll never believe us. We’ll probably get even worse treatment than Chloé, Starr, and Gracie. He was raising his voice with every word, anger lacing the syllables like poison through wine. "They’ll print our faces on the covers of newspapers, they’ll label us...they’ll call us all the worst names, you know which ones I mean. Will that make you feel better? Being locked up for something that, actually, you didn’t do? Or at least, not in the way they think."

Nathan swallowed. Romeo was right. He had been from the start: the police wouldn’t believe them. Nobody would when they found out how closely connected they were to the Granger Girls killings; if anyone were to know of both this and Nathan’s love for Kate, his life would surely be over.

He sighed, accepting defeat.

You’re right, Nathan told Romeo. And as he bid him farewell, he felt yet another surge of guilt. Once again, he’d allowed his desire for an easy life to win out over his morals.

He reached beneath his bed, pulling out a plastic bag. Cannabis was in it, alongside papers, filters, and a lighter. Sighing, he rolled a joint and put it to his lips.

He'd made so many promises to himself - to get his life together after Kate’s death – and he’d broken every single one of them. He was a failure, stupid and weak. He’d never go to Oxford, never be a doctor, never succeed in any other way. He was nothing but a waste of space.

Yet he just about stopped short of lighting his joint. No, Nathan thought, make an effort. You haven’t even tried to get better.

Getting better would be hard for anyone, though, if they’d gone through what Nathan had: his best friend since primary school - the only girl he’d ever loved – had died by her own hand, and he couldn’t openly mourn her because of the horrifying things she’d done in her last few months, crimes which had shaken their old-money London community to its core. On top of that, Starr Smith - Kate’s best friend and a girl he’d considered one of his own buddies – was in prison for her role in the murders, depriving Nathan of the person who’d best be able to understand his grief for Kate. And then, finally, there was his own involvement in this new death, actions which had destroyed Nathan’s view of himself. He’d gone from self-pity, acknowledging that he was allowed to grieve for Kate despite her crimes, to hating every part of who he was.

He was a monster, but not in the way that Kate had been. It wasn’t a title he’d sought out or revelled in. It was something that anguished him, keeping him awake for days at a time.

But Romeo is right, Nathan thought. Nobody would believe us if we told the truth. We have to keep it inside, locked away, and go on with our lives, hoping it never comes out. Hoping it doesn’t change us even more than it already has.

Placing the joint onto his bed with more care than it deserved, Nathan stood up in defiance. Storming over to the window, he flung it open and took a greedy breath of fresh air – or at least, as fresh as air could be in London. He then approached his desk, where several of his schoolbooks sat. Forcing himself onto the chair – despite the sudden burst of determination, it still felt like lead was weighing him towards the floor – he grabbed a piece of graph paper and the first book from the pile. As good a place as any to start, he thought, as he opened it up and began to make notes. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t get his head around it. The numbers seemed to blur in front of him, and he didn’t know whether he was supposed to add or subtract, divide or multiply. The longer he stared, the more difficult it grew. He felt like he was five years old again, a stupid kid who’d grabbed a textbook far beyond his level - academics so tough they were a foreign language he’d never been taught. He couldn’t remember numbers; he couldn’t count.

At last, he acknowledged the burning in his eyes, the thumping of his heart, and the sweat running down his back. He breathed, but shallower this time: his lungs felt tight, like they were deliberately trying to deprive him of oxygen. He was dizzy. He wanted to scream but couldn’t.

Nathan sank to his knees beneath the desk and stopped trying to fight. He allowed his body to shake as he sobbed, hidden under the table like a scared child. That was what he was, after all: a spoilt, silly kid, pulled into situations that terrified him.

How did they do it? Nathan wondered. He shoved his fist into his mouth and bit hard on his knuckles. How did Kate survive as long as she did? How is Romeo walking around like everything’s fine?

He didn’t know how much time passed between him biting his hand and the air returning to his lungs, his muscles relaxing, his tears starting to dry. At last, he mustered the strength to place his hands onto the carpet and haul himself up. His legs wobbly, he carried himself to his bed, where the joint still sat.

Whatever, he thought. The voice in his head was different to how it had sounded earlier: it was harsher now, less sympathetic. Whatever, let

me fail. This is torture: I can’t go on. I can tell the truth, or I can die.

Heart still pounding, Nathan retrieved the lighter and dipped his joint into the flame. He both relished and despised the sour smell that greeted him. He loved it because it was a relief - a coping mechanism, something to calm him down and make him forget, however temporarily. He hated it because, while being an escape of sorts, it still reminded him of who he was, the version of himself he’d never shake: bad boy drug dealer, and almost-lover of a dead killer. He hadn’t even achieved the full title of boyfriend – he was only ever Kate’s friend-with-benefits – and yet he’d never be anything more than that. All the strength he’d ever had had come from Kate: he’d been fuelled by her validation, by the tiny hints of love she’d given him.

As he took a drag of his joint, Nathan remembered what he’d thought after hearing her confession of murder: he’d left her house thinking that, if he didn’t have her, all his other dreams would be meaningless. Without Kate, he figured he’d never achieve those goals anyway.

And in that belief, Nathan knew he’d been right.

Chapter Three: The Morning After

Emerald Evans opened her eyes, smiling as the memories of yesterday flooded back. The X-rated nature of them made her quietly giggle, as she pulled her dark, glossy hair out of her face. She'd slept well last night – she’d certainly tired herself out – but still she groaned, as she stared at the ceiling and realised what day it was: Sunday. She already knew she wouldn't be mentally ready for school tomorrow, despite being well-rested.

Sighing with both satisfaction and annoyance, she rolled over and lightly placed her hand on the shoulder of her companion. She smiled again as their skin connected. He was so warm, just as he had been last night.

Romeo?

Romeo rolled over, unintentionally making eye contact with Emerald. His pale blonde curls were messy, stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his skin had broken out overnight. He looked terrible – not as he had last night - but Emerald found the smile he gave her cute regardless.

Good morning, Em, he greeted her, his voice reflecting his grogginess. You all right?

Emerald sat up, flicking her hair over her shoulders. Her feelings towards him had changed from lust to pity upon seeing his face. Romeo had a reputation at St Michael's, the school they both attended, as being one of the most attractive male students, but right now she unquestionably outshone him. Her tan skin, the colour of which she'd inherited from her mother – a Latina woman of mostly Mapuche Chilean descent - was glowing. Her face was spotless, and her eyes were sparkling like the gemstone for which she was named. Romeo, on the other hand, clearly hadn't been looking after himself since his little sister's death just over two weeks earlier. Not that Emerald blamed him for that; she’d be in a similar state if her little brother Andre were to die. It was that thought that made her want to do anything she could to help him, which was one of the reasons she was in his bed right now.

Yeah, I’m great, Emerald replied to Romeo’s question. Last night was amazing.

Romeo snorted, gazing up at her from where he was still lying flat.

Was it? he asked, seemingly in disbelief. I mean, don't get me wrong, you're gorgeous. You know I love our hook-ups usually, but last night-

He interrupted himself with a groan, gripping his head in his hand.

-Last night I wasn’t really into it. I’m sorry. I thought you would’ve noticed.

Emerald shrugged.

I didn’t, honestly.

Well, that’s good. Romeo murmured. I’m glad you enjoyed it at least.

Emerald nodded, as she placed a soft hand on Romeo’s shoulder. He put his own hand over hers, as tender as if they were real lovers.

And then there was an awkward silence, as the two of them looked in each other’s directions, but not at each other: Emerald’s eyes had glazed over as she considered what to say next, and Romeo was in a similar trance.

He's thinking about his sister again, she thought. Fourteen-year-old Annelise Collins had left her home without telling anyone, and never made it back again. She was gone so suddenly; strangled by an unknown perpetrator, her body found in the local park. To Emerald, she was a stranger, her story just another tale of true crime horror. But she was Romeo’s baby sister, companion for most of his life, his flesh and his blood. Emerald couldn’t wrap her head around it. No amount of empathy would allow her to truly feel the kind of pain her friend must be in.

I’m sorry, Romeo, she eventually said, causing Romeo’s focus to snap back to her. He smiled, but his eyes remained sad.

It’s okay. It’s not your fault. And you’ve been good to me.

Emerald took a breath, pushing the duvet down to her hips. Romeo didn’t react to the sight of her bare chest. He seemed numb, his body still while his mind raced with only negative thoughts.

You must think about her all the time, Emerald said, realising as the words left her lips how stupid they were: of course he thought of Annelise all the time. Still, Romeo didn’t mock her obvious statement.

Yeah, he muttered, as he moved his left hand away from hers, onto his stomach to hold the right one. I worry so much. About the pain she was probably in. If there’s a heaven and whether or not she’s in it. If her killer-

Romeo cut himself off, suddenly seeming frightened. But the panicked look passed after just a split-second, and he spoke again.

-If, like, whoever killed her is still out there. If her death’s connected to Vivian’s, just...oh god, just a lot of different things. I try not to; I’ve been trying to distract myself. Like with you, Em. Usually you’re such a great distraction, but last night...it didn’t really work this time. It’s all just been too much.

None of this surprised Emerald. She knew she was a distraction for Romeo, something to entertain him while he tried not to think about his problems. He hadn’t told her a lot about the ones he’d had prior to Annelise’s death, but last night had been their fifth spent together, spread out over a couple of months, and she’d managed to deduce a few things about him in that time. Sometimes he’d make little confessions to her in the hours after they’d had sex, when they were lying beside each other in the darkness of his bedroom; naked, vulnerable. Their relationship had grown deeper than simply friends-with-benefits. When they’d first started speaking to each other in their English class at the start of that academic year – their eleventh – they’d seemed destined to have a shallow kind of relationship. They’d both known they would end up sleeping together eventually – the lust was instant and obvious – but what they didn’t expect was to have built up a genuine friendship by the time that finally happened, after months of tension. Emerald had thought it would be a one-night-stand; she’d never expected to hear Romeo confess his fears to her, to bear his heart in the early hours. It was nice, though, she had to admit. She wasn’t in love with him or anything, but it felt good to have this relationship where they were honest with each other, because Emerald had had her own problems lately as well. She’d kept them to herself for the most part so far, but the idea of unbottling to Romeo was appealing. Now wasn’t the right time, of course - she had to remain the strong shoulder for him to cry on - but she hoped that, maybe in a few months, it would be okay for them to swap roles.

Emerald could really do with a good cry.

I get it. It’s still too early to be able to distract yourself from something like that. She continued their conversation, which prompted Romeo to look up at her and smile again – this time, though, the expression seemed less forced. Then, suddenly, he climbed out of bed and walked to the other side of the room, stopping in front of his desk.

Well...there is one thing that kind of works, he stated, opening a drawer beneath the desk. Do you do lines? I can’t remember if I asked before. His voice was neutral, as he took out a huge bag of cocaine. Emerald’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of it.

I...I don't. But I can if you want me to.

Emerald was – at least mostly – a good girl. She didn’t do drugs; she didn’t smoke, vape, or drink, aside from the occasional cup at a party or special dinner. But if it made Romeo feel better, she’d do a line. She’d do ten, if it eased his pain even a little. She knew she was too soft: she’d do anything to make anybody feel better, even at her own expense.

Romeo smiled, nodded, and opened the bag. He poured two small piles of white powder onto the desk, before using a credit card to arrange them into lines.

You know, I actually got clean of this for a while. My sister – Annelise, it was – she found my stash and told our mum. She got rid of it all, so I tried to use that as an opportunity to quit. He laughed humourlessly. "That was when I started smoking. But it wasn’t really a good replacement, so now I just do both. Destroy my heart and my lungs."

At this point, Emerald got out of bed and joined Romeo by the desk. She recalled one incident before where he’d taken drugs in her presence – it was the second night they’d spent together, and he’d done it just before they started undressing – but she hadn’t realised it was a real addiction until now.

How long have you been using, then? she asked.

Romeo sighed, his gaze dropping to his feet.

Two years now, he replied. My older cousin got me into it.

Emerald didn’t respond to that; she wasn’t sure what to say. The more she thought about Romeo being an addict, the more uncomfortable she felt at the sight of the lines on the table in front of them. She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

We gonna do it then? she asked.

Romeo nodded.

Chapter Four: The Perks of Being the Popular Kids

Monday arrived quicker than any student at St Michael’s would have liked. For Romeo, the morning had passed agonisingly slowly; most days at school were a struggle for him, but today had been particularly bad so far. Double maths was torturous enough at the best of times, but when combined with the symptoms of cocaine withdrawal and grief for his little sister, it was too much to bear. Romeo had sat there fidgeting, alternating between staring straight ahead – fighting to stop his eyes falling shut – and looking aimlessly round the room, trying to find something - anything - to distract himself from thoughts of her. It was impossible, though, because every girl with blonde hair, every high-pitched voice, every giggle – it all reminded him of Annelise. And when he was reminded of Annelise, he was reminded of her death: strangled by her best friend, her tiny body abandoned in the spot where she’d died. He'd been juggling those thoughts with mental prayers that his teacher didn’t realise he wasn’t focused on maths – or that he was suffering side-effects of his drug addiction. It had only been yesterday morning that he’d done a line with Emerald Evans, but his usage was now so frequent that just one day without cocaine was enough to give him a case of the telltale anxiety and fatigue.

After the hell of double maths was over, he’d had art – one of the few subjects he actually enjoyed – and English, a class he shared with Emerald. She’d asked if she could have lunch with Romeo’s friend group, and so now they were sat in the dining area, crappy school food in front of them as they laughed and gossiped. Or rather, Maximillian and Jake did those things. Romeo and Nathan were doing their best impressions of carefree people, while Emerald quietly – a little awkwardly – observed.

And then she just walked out! Jake laughed, recalling an incident that had happened in his English class last week, between a particularly outspoken girl and the equally-opinionated teacher. Emerald, did you hear about it?

Emerald shook her head, and Romeo felt himself warm up inside. He was glad Jake and Maximillian (who never let anyone shorten his name) had taken so well to Emerald joining them that day: he knew they’d be nice, of course, but he hadn’t expected them to make such an effort to include her. They’re really great guys, he thought to himself, so much better than I am.

Nathan wasn’t being quite as friendly, though. He seemed a little nervous in Emerald’s presence, but then again, he’d always been the most reserved member of the gang. And, like Romeo, he was dealing with a lot right now.

Hey boys! a voice suddenly cooed. The group all turned their attention to two girls stood behind Romeo and Emerald, grins that were too enthusiastic to be genuine on their lips. This duo had become familiar faces in the last few weeks: they were the latest additions to the large group of kids who were desperately trying but failing to integrate into their social circle. It was one of the downsides of being the most popular students at St Michael’s - the kings of the school, known by almost everyone, from the year sevens all the way to the sixth formers (who thankfully, for the most part, were too old and preoccupied with their studies to care about school popularity.) Romeo found himself wishing he’d warned Kate Granger about this aspect of being popular: if he had, maybe she would’ve put aside that dream and never hurt anyone. Or, more likely, she would’ve used the hangers-on to her advantage, manipulating them to do her bidding as she had the members of the Granger Girls group. Romeo couldn’t understand that himself. He’d never had any desire