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silver speckles in it. My uncle grabs a carton of orange juice and closes the fridge quickly.
    Adil taps at his watch and mouths, “ We’re going to be late! ”
    “Sorry Uncle Alistair, we have to go. Why don’t I walk down after school? I’m free this afternoon.”
    “Sure, sure, brilliant, see you then.” Adil is looking at the photos on the noticeboard. Uncle Alistair sidles up to me and bends down to whisper in my ear. “ On your own. I have stuff to show you .” I nod conspiratorially.
    “ We met Camilla last night ,” I whisper back.
    “ Did you ? Oh great, great. She went for a floatabout earlier and I haven’t seen her since. She does that sometimes.”
    “What is this?” says Adil, twisting his head to one side and squinting.
    “Oh, that. That’s a saltwater slug. A big one.”
    “A saltwater… slug?”
    “Yes, well, we’re going to be late! Let’s go!” I grab Adil by the sleeve of his duffle coat.
    “THANKS FOR COMING, GUYS! SEE YOU LATER!” Uncle Alistair shouts. Ouch. Why can he not speak at a normal volume? It’d be rude to ask, so I don’t.
    The school day goes slowly, as slowly as a… as a saltwater slug. I’m way too old for Eilean Primary, I’m well ready to go on to high school and start my life. I want to be a writer, like my dad. I’m going to be as famous as him.
    Lunchtime.
    “What’s that crap, Luca?”
    Here comes Gary and his mates. I sigh.
    I munch on my saffron risotto. Yes, this is the kind of thing I get in my lunch box: saffron risotto, penne with olives and capers, spaghetti with a walnut sauce. My friends get ham sandwiches, cheese sandwiches, maybe a tuna wrap… But my mum is passionate about food and I love what she cooks. Of course, Gary and his friends make a habit of laughing at the contents of my lunch box every single day.
    “Saffron risotto, Gary. And your point is?” I raise my head and I catch a glimpse of Valentina framed in the door of the lunch hall, watching Gary with a deadly look in her eyes, before joining her friends at the primary 6 table.
    “You people eat strange stuff, it makes me sick.”
    Us people? Adil leans over.
    “I happen to find your ham sandwich disgusting, Gary. Everything is relative.” My heart warms. Adil wouldn’t say boo to a goose, but he always tries to stick up for me. Gary shoots him a look that means Adil is also included in the “you people” category.
    They move away and sit at the table near the door, well away from us – in case we contaminate their lunch, no doubt. Barely a minute goes by when we hear a scream. Gary jumps up and throws his lunch box off the table.
    “WHAT’S THAT!?!?” he shouts, with a look of horror on his face.
    His lunch box is lying open on the floor, and in it, even from here, I can see a slimy, very dead octopus.
    Mrs Craig and Mrs Duncan run to the scene, the janitor is called, and Gary is taken into the office, shaking. The head teacher, Mr McLaughlin, tells everyone it was a very silly, cruel trick to play and that whoever is responsible should be ashamed of themselves. Everybody looks down, but some of us can’t hide our satisfaction. There are quite a few people who get routinely tormented by Gary and his friends.
    My eyes meet Valentina’s across the hall. A little imperceptible smile is curling her lips.
    ***
    “Where did you find a dead octopus?” I ask her on the way home from school.
    “I know people,” she says loftily. Her white-blonde hair is loose again and it’s flowing in the chilly breeze.
    “Donald?”
    “Yes.” She beams. Valentina loves going down the harbour. She scans the catch, hoping to find weird creatures. Her dream is to find something really strange, photograph it and be featured in Cryptozoology Today . Donald Anderson is one of the fishermen who look out for bizarre fish for her. He’s a kind man, who sort of adopted her as a granddaughter, because his own grandchildren live in Canada.
    “I told you not to get involved,” I tell her.