The friendship compass

When Jules moved to a new town in the middle of the school year, his grandfather gave him an old brass compass with leaves engraved on the lid. "It's a bit special," he said. "It doesn't point north." Jules opened it. The needle trembled, spun, then stopped, pointing at the window. "So what does it point to?" His grandfather shrugged with a small smile. "That's for you to find out."

The next day at break, Jules stood alone against the wall with the compass in his pocket. He didn't know anyone, and everyone else already seemed to have their own games and jokes he didn't get. He took out the compass for something to do. The needle pointed to the far end of the playground, toward the old chestnut tree.

Under the tree, a girl with round glasses was trying to build a pyramid of conkers. Her name was Ines, she lived three houses down from Jules, and she was new too, though she had arrived in September. "Want to help? They keep rolling away." They spent the whole break building, knocking down and starting again. When the bell rang, Jules glanced at the compass. The needle was pointing straight at Ines.

Over the next few days, Jules followed the needle everywhere. It led him to Leo, who collected stones and knew the name of every one, to Mrs Ferrand, the librarian, who saved him the last book in his favourite series, and even to the neighbours' dog, an old basset hound who waited for him every evening behind the gate. Jules was starting to understand. The compass pointed to people he could become friends with.

Then, one Wednesday, it went haywire. The needle spun and spun as if it had panicked. Jules shook it, tapped it, laid it flat. Nothing worked. Worried, he called his grandfather. "It's broken, Grandpa. It doesn't point to anyone any more." There was a pause on the line, then a soft laugh. "Where are you right now?" Jules looked around. He was in Ines's garden with Leo, building a den out of cardboard boxes and an old blanket.

"It doesn't know where to point," said his grandfather. "They're all around you." Jules hung up and watched the needle, still turning, more slowly now, from Ines to Leo, from Leo to the kitchen window, where Ines's mum was cutting cake for their snack.

That night, Jules put the compass on his bedside table with the lid open and switched off the lamp. In the dark he heard the needle brush very lightly against the glass, then settle. It was pointing at the wall, toward Ines's house three doors down, where everyone was surely asleep already. Jules closed his eyes and thought about the den, which they would finish on Saturday.