Dear Reader,

When I started writing Ace of Spades, I was in my first year

of university, I had just finished watching Gossip Girl for the
first time (instantly becoming obsessed) and I was very
lonely in many ways.
I had grown up in South London, moving between
Brixton, Camberwell and Croydon throughout my
childhood, and I was so used to seeing people who not only
looked like me but also sounded like me and my family. I
was used to finding an African market around the corner,
crowds of Black people outside of the cinemas and the
arcades; I was used to being invisible and moving through
the world like I was somewhat normal (whatever normal
means, anyway).
But then I got into a university in Scotland, and in theory,
while terrifying, it sounded like it would be great. Old
buildings, a lot of greenery, less expensive than London –
a new adventure. I thought in this place, I’d find my people.
I thought things would be different, but I couldn’t have
imagined how different it would actually be.
When I got to Scotland, I no longer felt somewhat normal.
I’d walk around and there would be so many new faces, all
of them white. I could no longer find places to buy the food
I was familiar with. I’d get people staring at me, crossing the
road when they’d see me coming, side-eyeing me in classes,
or when they weren’t avoiding me, they’d say things like,
where are you really from and, I didn’t know there were many

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 Black people in London and, is that your real hair? Can I touch Writing Ace of Spades was like a very lengthy self-therapy
it? session; as if I was giving my characters advice and they
I felt like a zoo animal – which is both ironic and were also giving me advice. By the end of my first draft, I felt
problematic considering this is something that actually my usual, somewhat normal self again. And I hope that any
happened and still happens, where white people pay to see person of colour reading this book feels the same way. I
Black people in what are essentially human zoos. In some hope that by the end of the book, you feel like you belong
sense this also happens with people visiting countries in and that you are able to take up space and have a happy
Africa and bringing harm to the people there…but I digress. ending.
I felt weird. I wrote Ace of Spades for Black kids everywhere. There is
In my first year of university, I’d mostly sit in my room, no real setting in this book, North America is mentioned
eating ice cream, watching Gossip Girl (and occasionally and so is Britain, but ultimately this is a love letter to all
crying and thinking about dropping out). Black kids, and a survival story about the systems in place
Gossip Girl genuinely changed my life. I always wonder that try to hurt them – which is a global phenomenon.
why I didn’t watch it years ago…but maybe the universe When this book comes out, I’ll be just graduating from
knew I needed to watch it when I did. So that not only my final year at university, which feels very fitting.
would I have something to keep me company at university, I started this journey of both going to university and
but also so that I could write Ace of Spades. writing this book as someone who had so many questions
Watching Gossip Girl I realized how much I craved a story about the world and myself, and I finished university and
like this but with people who looked like me as the stars. this book with many answers (as well as a love for Scotland).
And so Devon and Chiamaka were born. I hope that you check out Gossip Girl, it is seriously great!
I wondered for a while whether this story would be like And I also hope that you enjoy this story.
my own high school, where there were so many Black and
Brown students, or whether it would be like my university With love,
experience, where I was this Black person surrounded by so
much whiteness. I decided not to go with what felt
comfortable/familiar, and started planning a story about
two Black students at a private school, working through my
own feelings of being out of place with the characters. Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, November 2020

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 For all the Black kids drowning in the sunken
place, desperately trying to claw their way out,
this book is for you.

And for my mum, who believed in me first

and gave me my love of fables.

UNCORRECTED PROOF COPY

This is an uncorrected proof copy and is not for sale. It should not
be quoted without comparison to the finally revised text. It does not
reflect the quality, page size or thickness of the finished book.
All specifications are provisional.

Paperback 10th June 2021

ISBN: 9781474967532 £8.99 480pp

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 “They say life is full of surprises. That our dreams really
ACE OF SPADES is a work of fiction but it deals can come true. Then again, so can our nightmares…”
with many real issues including racism, – Gossip Girl
homophobia, bullying and suicide ideation.
“All I know is sometimes, if there’s too many white folks…
I get nervous.”
– Get Out

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Ace of Spades proof.indd 8-9 12/11/2020 11:22:32
 1

MONDAY

First-day-back assemblies are the most pointless practice

ever.
And that’s saying a lot, seeing as Niveus Academy is a
school that runs on pointlessness.
We’re seated in Lion Hall – named after one of those
donors who give money to private schools that don’t need it
– waiting for the principal to arrive and deliver his speech
in the usual order:
1. Welcome back for another year – glad you didn’t
die this summer
2. Here are your Senior Prefects and Head Prefect
3. School values
4. Fin.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for structure. Ask any of
my friends. Correction – friend. I’m pretty sure that, even
though I’ve been here for almost four years, no one else
knows I exist. Just Jack, who generally acts like there’s
something seriously wrong with me. Still, I call him a friend,
because we’ve known each other for ever and the thought of
being alone is much, much worse.

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 But back to the thing about structure. I’m a fan. Jack Collins, he seemed fine before summer. Sometimes I feel
knows about the many rituals I go through before I sit down like I’m so lost in my own world, I don’t notice the things
at the piano. Without them, I don’t play as well. That’s the that seem so obvious to everyone else.
difference between my rituals and these assemblies. Without “And so,” Headmaster Ward’s voice booms over everyone
these, life at Niveus would still be an endless drudge of else’s, “we keep within the Niveus tradition, starting today’s
gossip, money and lies. assembly with the Senior Prefect and Head Prefect
The microphone screeches loudly, forcing my head up. announcements.”
Twenty minutes of my life about to be wasted on an assembly He swivels expectantly as one stiffly-suited teacher
that could have been an email. rushes forward, handing him a cream-coloured envelope.
I lean back against my chair as a tall pale guy with dull Silently, Headmaster Ward opens it, the paper’s crinkle
black eyes, oily black hair slicked back with what I’m sure amplified to a blaring shriek through the speakers. He
was an entire jar of hair gel, and a long dark coat that almost removes a small card and places the envelope on the podium
sweeps the floor, stands at the podium, staring down at us in front of him. I start to zone out.
all like we’re vermin and he’s a cat. “Our four Senior Prefects are…” He pauses, his pupils
“My name is Mr Ward, but you must all address me as flicking back and forth like black flies trapped in a jar. “Miss
Headmaster Ward,” the cat says, voice liquid and slithery. Cecelia Wright, Mr Maxwell Jacobson, Miss Ruby Ainsworth
I squint at him. What the hell happened to Headmaster and Mr Devon Richards.”
Collins? At first, I think he’s made a mistake. My name never gets
The room is filled with confused whispers and called out at formal assemblies. Mostly because these
unimpressed faces. assemblies are usually dedicated to the people the student
“As I’m sure some of you are aware, Headmaster Collins body know and care about, and if Niveus was the setting for
resigned just before summer break, and I’m here to lead you a movie, I’d probably be a nameless background character.
all through your final year at Niveus Academy,” the cat Jack elbows me, pulling me from my shocked state, and I
finishes, his lips pursed. push myself out of the chair. The creaking of wooden seats
“So, the rumours were true,” someone whispers nearby. fills the hall as faces turn to glare at my attempt to shuffle
“Seems like it… I hear rehab is super classy these days through the rows. I mumble a “sorry” after stepping on
though…” some guy’s designer shoes – probably worth more than my
I hadn’t even heard anything was wrong with Headmaster ma’s rent – before making my way to the front where the

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 senior teachers are lined up, my sneakers squeaking against But me? I feel like any moment now, guys with cameras are
the almost-black wood beneath. My heart pounds and the gonna run out and tell me I’m being pranked. That would
light applause comes to an awkward stop. make more sense than any of this.
I recognize the other three standing up there, though I know things like Senior Prefects are popularity contests.
I’ve never spoken to them. Max, Ruby and Cecelia are these Teachers vote for their favourites each year and it’s always
giant, pale, light-haired duplicates of each other, and next to the same kind of person. Someone popular, and I am not
them, my short frame and dark skin sticks out like a sore popular. Maybe my music teacher put in a good word for
thumb. They are main characters. me? I don’t know. He’s the only teacher I really speak to.
I stand next to Headmaster Ward, who is even more “As all of you know, the roles of Senior Prefect and Head
terrifying up close. For one thing, he’s unnaturally tall and Prefect should not be taken lightly. With a lot of power
his legs literally end at the top of my chest. His pupils move comes great responsibility. It is not just about attending
towards me, staring, despite his head facing the front. council meetings with me, or organizing the big events, or
I look away from him, pretending that the BFG hasn’t got impressing a choice college. It is also being a model student
a scary emo brother called Ward. all year round, which I am sure the five of these students
“I’ve already heard great things about our Head Prefect here have been during their time at Niveus and will,
this year,” Ward’s voice drags, making what I’m sure was hopefully, continue to be long after they leave Niveus
meant to be a positive, somewhat lively sentence as lifeless behind.” Headmaster Ward forces a tight smile.
as a eulogy. “And so, there should be no surprise that the “Please give another round of applause to our prefect
Head Prefect is none other than Chiamaka Adebayo.” council this year,” Ward continues, triggering louder claps
Loud cheers fill the dark oak-walled hall as Chiamaka from the sea of pale in front of us.
walks forward. I notice her army of clones seated at the I feel a few eyes on me, and I avoid them, trying to find
front clapping in scary unison, all as pretty and doll-like as an interest in the floor beneath my feet, rather than the fact
their leader. There’s a smug expression on her face as she that there are rows and rows of people watching me.
joins us. I almost roll my eyes, but she’s the most popular I hate the feeling of being watched.
girl at school, and I don’t have a death wish. “Now for the school values.”
I shift awkwardly, feeling even more out of place now. We all turn to face the giant screen behind us, like we
If Max, Ruby and Cecelia are all main characters, Chiamaka always do, ready to watch the school values scroll down like
is the protagonist. It makes sense seeing them up here. credits at the end of a movie, while the national anthem

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 plays in the background. In normal assemblies, we usually “Now for a speech from our Head Prefect, Chiamaka.”
just pledge allegiance to the flag, but seeing as this is the The student body goes wild at the mention of her name,
first assembly of the year, Niveus does what it does best: clapping even louder than before and cheering like she’s a
amps up the drama. god – which by Niveus standards, she basically is.
The screen is enormous and black and covers most of the “Thank you, Headmaster Ward,” Chiamaka says as she
large, double-glazed window behind the stage. Niveus is a steps up to the podium. “Firstly, I would like to thank the
school made up of fancy, dark wooden walls, marble floors and teachers for selecting me as Senior Head Prefect – it’s
huge glass windows. The exterior is old and haunted-looking something I never imagined would happen.”
and the interior is new and modern, reeking of excessive Chiamaka’s been Head Prefect three years in a row now,
wealth. It’s like it’s tempting the outside world to peer in. she was the Junior Head Prefect as well as the Sophomore
There’s a loud click and a large picture fills the screen: a Head Prefect – there’s nothing remotely shocking about her
rectangular playing card with As in each corner and a huge selection. Mine, on the other hand…
spade symbol at the centre. She looks back at the teachers with her hand still placed
That’s new. over her heart from when we sang the national anthem,
I turn to find Jack in the audience, wanting to give him feigning surprise like she does every year.
our What the hell? look, but he’s staring at the screen as if the My eyes really, really want to roll at her.
whole thing doesn’t faze him. Everyone else in the audience “As your Senior Head Prefect, I will work hard to ensure
looks just as unbothered by this as Jack. It’s weird. that our final year at Niveus is the best one yet. Starting
“Ah, there seems to be some kind of technical with the Senior Snowflake Charity Ball at the end of the
malfunction…” Mrs Blackburn, my old French teacher, month. This year’s prefect council and I will make sure it is
announces from the back. A few more clicks, and all goes a night everyone will talk about for many years to come.”
back to normal. The national anthem blares from the People start to clap but Chiamaka doesn’t back down,
speakers and we sing along, with our palms placed on instead she drags the microphone forward, not yet done
our chests as we watch the school values fly past: with her soliloquy.
Generosity, Grace, Determination, Integrity, Idealism, Nobility, “Above all else, I promise to make sure that the majority
Excellence, Respectfulness and Eloquence. of the funding we get goes to the right departments. I’d hate
Nine values most people at this school lack. Myself to see all the generosity shown by our donors go to waste.
included. As Senior Head Prefect, I will make sure the right people –

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 the students winning the Mathalons, competing at the prefects they choose in senior year are always immediately
science fairs, the ones actually contributing something to drafted as the top candidates for the valedictorian selections
the school – are prioritized. Thank you.” and while Chiamaka will probably get it, I’m still happy to
Chiamaka finishes, flashing a wicked grin as the hall even be considered. Who knows, if I can get Senior Prefect,
erupts in applause once again. what’s stopping the universe from granting one more wish
This time, I roll my eyes without a care, and I’m pretty and making me valedictorian?
sure the girl in the front row with the red bows in her hair I don’t usually allow myself to dream that much –
looks at me with disdain for doing so. disappointment is painful, and I like to control the things
The prefects all stay behind to get our badges, while that seem more possible than not. But I’ve never been on
everyone else marches out of assembly to their first period the teachers’ radars before, or anyone else’s for that matter.
classes. I watch them all with their shiny new fitted I excel at being unknown, never being invited to parties and
uniforms, their purses made from alligator skin and faces whatnot. Now that I’m here, and something like this is
made from plastic. Looking down at my battered sneakers actually happening to me, I can’t help but feel it is a sign
and blazer with lose threads, I feel a sting inside. that this year is gonna go well…or at least better than the
There are many things I hate about Niveus, like how no last three. A sign that maybe I’m gonna get into college –
one (besides Jack) is from my side of town and how everyone make my ma proud.
lives in huge houses with white-picket fences, cooks who Ward finally dismisses us and I rush out of the hall,
make them breakfast, drivers who take them to school, and weaving through a small crowd of students still hanging
credit cards with no limit tucked away in their designer about, and into one of the emptier marble hallways with
backpacks. Sometimes, being around all of that makes me rows of dusky grey lockers. I only slow when a teacher turns
feel like my insides are collapsing, cracking and breaking. I the corner. She gives me a pointed look, her sleek bob giving
know no good comes from comparing what I have to what her face the same scary judgemental appearance of Edna
they have, but seeing all that money and privilege, and Mode from The Incredibles, then she passes and I can breathe
having none, hurts. I try to convince myself that being a normally again.
scholarship kid doesn’t matter, that I shouldn’t care. The sound of a locker door slamming hard grabs my
Sometimes it works. attention, and my head whips around to find the source. A
The badges are all different colours. Mine is red and dark-haired guy with sharp, heavy make-up around his eyes
shiny, with Devon engraved under Senior Prefect. The and an expression that says Fuck off stares back at me. Josh?

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 Jared?… I can’t remember his name, but I know his face. I climb the steps to the first floor where my music
He’s the guy that came out last year at Junior Prom, classroom is, burning the depressing memory and tossing
walking in holding his date’s hand. His guy-date’s hand. And its ashes out of my skull.
it wasn’t that big of a deal. People were happy for him. But My body tingles when I see the dark-oak door with a
all I remember was looking at him and his date, hand-in- plate engraved Music Room, and the sadness melts away.
hand, and feeling this overwhelming sense of jealousy. This is my favourite classroom, the only place in school
Prom is one of Niveus’s many compulsory and that’s ever felt like home. There are other music rooms,
meaningless events, and so, like a masochist, I watched mostly for recording or solo practice, but I like this one the
them all night, from the benches at the side of the hall. I most. It’s more open, less lonely.
watched them slow-dance, arms wrapped around each other “Devon, welcome back and congrats on becoming a
like they were naturally safe there. Like nothing bad would prefect!” Mr Taylor says as I step in. Mr Taylor is my favourite
happen to them. Like none of their friends outside of school teacher; he’s taught me music since freshman year and is
would hurt or mock them. Like their parents wouldn’t stop the only teacher I ever really speak to outside of class. His
loving them – or leave them. Like they’d be okay. face is always lit up, a smile permanently fixed to it. “You
My chest had squeezed as I’d held onto that thought. My can get started on your senior project, along with the rest of
vision blurred, the lights in the room becoming vibrant the class.”
circles. I had blinked back the tears, quickly wiping them off My classmates are lost in the world of their own music,
my cheeks with the sleeve of the black tuxedo I’d rented, some on keyboards and others with pencils firmly gripped
still watching them dance, like a class-A creep, looking away in their hands as they write down melodies on crisp white
only when it got too painful. music sheets. We were meant to start planning our senior
“What?” A deep voice cuts into the memory like a blade. projects over the summer, ready to showcase when we got
I blink to find the guy at the locker is staring at me, looking back. But I spent most of my summer occupied with my
even more pissed off than before. audition piece for college, as well as other not-so-academic
I turn quickly, walking the opposite way now, not daring things.
to look back. Because, one, Jared? Jim? – that guy – scares I spot my station at the back by one of the windows, with
the shit out of me, and two… My mind flashes back to prom, a keyboard on top of the desk and my initials, DR, engraved
their intertwined fingers, their smiles. I screw my eyes shut, in gold into the wood. Not many people take music, so we
forcing myself to think of something else. Like music class. all have our own stations. I’ve always loved this classroom

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 because it reminds me of those music halls from the classical 2
concerts online: oval-shaped, with brown-panelled walls.
Being in this room makes me feel like I’m more than a
scholarship kid. Like I belong here, in this life, around these
people.
Even though I know that isn’t true.
“Thanks,” I say, before stepping towards the keyboard MONDAY
I’ve dreamed of all summer. I don’t have a keyboard at home,
because there’s no space and they are a lot more expensive High school is like a kingdom, only instead of temperamental
than they look. I’m sure my ma would get me one if I asked, royals, golden thrones, and designer outfits flown in from
but she already does so much for me and I feel like I burden Europe, the hallways are filled with loud postpubescent
her more than I should. Instead, when I’m not in school, I teens, the classrooms with rows of wooden desks, and
improvise; humming tunes, writing down notes and students who are dressed in ugly plaid skirts, navy-coloured
listening to and watching whatever I can. I’m more into the slacks and stiff blue blazers.
composition and songwriting aspect of music anyway, but it In this kingdom, the queen doesn’t inherit the crown. To
still feels good to have an actual instrument in front of me get to the top, she destroys whoever she needs to. Here,
again. every moment is crucial; there are no do-overs. One mistake
I plug the keyboard into the wall and it comes alive, the can have you sent to the bottom of the food chain with the
small square monitor in the corner flashing. I put my girls that have imaginary boyfriends and wear polyester un-
headphones on, running my fingers over the black and ironically. It sounds dramatic, but this is the way things are
white plastic keys, pressing a few, letting a messy melody and the way they will always be.
slip out, before I sit back, close my eyes, and picture the The people at the top in high school get into the best
ocean. Bluish green with fish swimming and bright sea colleges, get the best jobs, go on to run the country, and win
plants. I jump in, and I’m immersed by the water. Nobel prizes. The rest end up with dead-end jobs, heart
The familiar sense of peace rises inside and my hands failure, and then have to start an affair with their assistant to
stretch towards the piano. create some excitement in their otherwise dull lives.
And then I play. And it’s all because they weren’t willing to put in the
work to make it in high school.

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