Though I am a bit worried about Josh.
Miss Mint’s just said last night he didn’t talk. Like, not just during the cooking programme but at all. Not to her or to Mum.
I figure it’s ‘cos of GCSEs and stuff. I nearly say he can probably tell there’s something different about the person he’s hanging round with but I’m too nice. “He’s working really hard,” I say, which might be true. And then at that exact moment, I spot Felix through the window. He’s in the playground by the benches, with his arm round Frankee’s waist, but he’s not talking to her, he’s staring off over the heads of shrieking, speeding kids and balls like he’s a killer whale and the one he’s staring at is Josh.
Who’s all alone, ‘cos he should be with me.
* * *
We sit down at a lab bench by piles of pipettes. The other thing Mr Morlis has to say is this: it’s not permanent. We can swap back.
Digesting this is so weird and amazing, it’s like coming home on a normal school day to find Gary Barlow eating Christmas dinner with your mum, then announcing they’re engaged.
He says:
mammatus cloud transformations were well documented during the 1600s
they’re likely linked to Shakespeare
they happen to people who want something in their lives changed
they’re reversible.
This last point makes my tummy turn cartwheels but he also says everything he’s read makes him think the timing relates to the play that it happened in. The key thing is this: it’s Twelfth Night so Mr Morlis’ educated guess is if we don’t swap back within twelve nights of the storm, it won’t happen at all. I’ve never heard anything like any of this. And how he knows about the twelve nights I’ve no idea. By educated guess, I have to say it’s not something I’ve learned at school so far. But then he is Mr Morlis and he’s a legend, so I can’t think what else to do except believe him, to be honest.
Miss Mint looks sceptical but lets him continue. It all depends on just how much we both follow the rules. If we break them within the twelve nights, it might be that we end up staying in each other’s lives forever. Which is so scary I don’t even want to think about it.
I do some counting really fast. Miss Mint does too and we both say, exactly the same time, “the Review.”
‘Cos that’s twelve nights away. End of term review. The last day of school.
Mr Morlis is firm.
“The fascinating thing is,” he says, twiddling his ‘magnesium’ tie which shudders and shifts in the light. I’ve always thought’s a bit much but he still wears it coolly, “the swap back depends on one vital condition.”
Miss Mint looks awful: it’s like she’s lost weight and on my body that’s fine ‘cos there’s a little bit to lose, but I hope she slept ok ‘cos there’s massive bags now under her eyes and I thought she’d be pleased with this news, and I’m pretty sure she is but she just looks exhausted.
“What’s that?” she asks, words floating out like a snowdrift.
“It’s seems clear that within the timeframe, to make certain the body switch back happens, both parties must tell the truth at all times,” he says.
“What, no lies?” Miss Mint looks worried.
“No lies at all,” he says, and he’s grave.
And I think, ok. We can both tell the truth for twelve days and nights. That’s easy. A walk in the park, like with Tao.
We can do that, no problem, Miss Mint and me.
Can’t we?
Chapter 10: Tuesday, second night
Leaving school at lunchtime’s hard ‘cos all I really want to do is find Josh and go to Erin’s All you can eat for Africa food stall in the atrium. She’s spent a fortnight setting it up and Josh did loads of the cooking as part of Initiative Week and I reminded Miss Mint about it ‘cos I promised I’d help but she scarpered after we left Mr Morlis and I don’t know where to.
I can’t find Josh either but I’ve been told by Miss Mint to go home.
I’m saving money by using the bus and you’d think she’d be pleased but she looked grim when I mentioned it; said be careful of gum on seats. Expensive clothes can be a nightmare she’d said and I think the word for that is patronising.
Weird people take the bus in the day. Mainly gabbing mums and small kids or greyed out ladies like we did in art last week, or men with Mint crusty coats and I sit at the back and ignore them. I wish I had headphones to really chill out but I still can, in a thinking hard way.
Fact is, I actually don’t hate being Miss Mint, to be honest.
At least so far, anyway. A lot of it’s to do with the clothes and the hair and the looks from the boys and