Mr Morlis looks, for once, a bit uncertain.
“Tell Miss ... tell Lisi what you told me,” I say, and as my guard is nearly down I want to bite my nails, badly.
“I’m sorry?”
“Miss, I don’t think we need to ...”
“ Tell her about the mammatus clouds, ” I say, and there’s no pretending any more; I just want him to make it better somehow; I don’t care if it’s a story, if it’s not even true; it’s the only thing that makes even a miniscule bit of sense around here.
Plus he’s a teacher so he has to make it alright.
Mr Morlis looks blank, so I lead him into it.
“... and then when we were on the coach, you told me about the mammatus cloud phenomenon. About what happened in America with people and body swaps and that. Like we’ve done. ‘Cos it must be the same.”
When I think about it, ‘cos I’ve told him everything that happened at the Globe, including the bit where I thought his thigh was nice and warm and solid when I climbed it, he should be a bit shaken to say the least but I’m not prepared for what he does next.
“HALLELUJAH!” he shouts.
Miss Mint looks like she’s going to cry and she’s done her eyeliner so much better than I normally do, it would be a real shame.
When he’s settled down, he grabs both our hands. “Lisi’s right! My goodness! Do you realise what this means?” he’s like space candy; I’ve never seen him so excited. Miss Mint shakes her head. I twist bangles and discover I can arch an eyebrow.
“This is bigger than Higgs Boson. It means you’ve broken every law of physics known to man.”
“And woman,” I say.
“It means,” he takes a powerful breath, “wearethefirstpeopleevertoseethisphenomenoninthetwentyfirstcentury.”
Isolation timetables rustle as he exhales.
“Chris,” Miss Mint says and I can tell she’s relieved she can talk to him straight, “you believe us then?”
“Of course,” he says, jumping up and starting to pace. “But we need to think. I need to think. We need to find out how long it lasts; how we get you switched back. But right now, go home,” he points at me. “There’s no way you should be teaching without a qualification. We’ll get cover, don’t worry; go home. We’ll say you’re sick.”
“I don’t want to. What about my classes?”
Miss Mint looks at me sharply. “Lisi Reynolds, is that a conscience?”
I don’t like her sarcasm. Especially from my mouth; it doesn’t look pretty. I wither her with her eyes. “I can stay and teach. I did it this morning. It’s easy.”
Then they’re both silent and I do feel a bit stupid, to be honest.
“I mean, if you tell me what I’m doing this week I can prepare stuff. Taff’s away so I’ll have loads of time.” I feel shy mentioning him; like she can tell we’ve kissed. There’s no way she can know, but there’s no way she’s happy.
“It’s a mad idea,” she says. And then the bell goes.
They both look at each other a bit wildly and I nearly laugh. What’s the problem? I can handle it; all I have to do is stand in a room full of kids. And I’m hoping we can come to some arrangement about money: I mean, if I’m doing her job ...
“It’s too late to arrange cover,” says Mr Morlis. “Periods three and four — what are they?”
“Year 11 middle and year 10 top,” says Miss Mint quietly. And then I do feel a bit chilly.
* * *
But it’s too late.
Kids pour out of the canteen and in from the freezing playground. School uniform sucks but it’s protection too: with this dress on, I stick out like one of Martha’s plum cakes in a shop full of scones. I know where I’m going and I know the book’s The Glass Menagerie but on top of that I really don’t have a clue.
Miss Mint told me where the slides were and suggested I lose my voice and get them all to read. How boring’s that? And anyway I haven’t read the book so if they asked me a question I wouldn’t know.
So I decide to do something more fun. Trouble is, I know who’s in the class.
Alicia Payne.
In she comes, scuffing and scoffing, skirt all twisted, wearing more makeup than the rest of the girls put together. Cookie crumbs spray over two rows of desks as she galumphs to the far corner and plonks herself down.
“Alicia, let’s do that again, please.”
I’d say this even if I didn’t hate her guts. Manners cost nothing, as Mum would say.
The rest of the class are actually calm: sub-zero temperatures don’t mix with thin V-necks.
“Miss, am I doing my controlled assessment next Thursday, am I Miss?” Alicia says, adding a fourth layer of face powder.