I’m stuck. I heard the question; something about what would Olivia do if she had to choose between Orsino and Sir Andrew. It ought to ring a bell because of the work we did last night but to be honest I was staring at her necklace with the three tiny crescents on it, trying to work out if I could make one like it from beads, at the time. I wish I was better at English.
“Dunno, Miss.”
A shadow crosses Miss Mint’s face. “Were you listening?”
“Yes,” I lie.
Her mouth twitches. “I’ll come back.” She moves on through the next couple of points, and then sets us to work finding quotes.
Oh my god, school’s depressing. Miss Mint’s room’s on the ground floor where they haven’t got around to modernising yet and there’s flaky paint and scabs of stapled mounting paper all over the walls. I’m near the radiator, which is belting out heat, making my swamp hair go dry and frizzier than Debono’s. I can feel the damp of the windowsill seeping through my sleeve. I’m so not in the mood to work but Josh’s scribbling away, plucking A* quotes out like pick ‘n’ mix.
I don’t know where to start.
“What have you got?” I whisper, trying to sound nonchalant but Josh’s not fooled and slides me his exercise book to copy while he thumbs through the text. The maverick. But I’m bored so I write notes to him instead.
Miss Mint’s timer goes off and pens go down. There’s not even a highlighter lid on the floor: it’s like she has some sort of spell over us. Like Mr Morlis, she can get us all doing what she wants no problem, and I’ve no idea how. No one else can do it like they can: although there are some ok teachers at Fairmere, they’re definitely the best in the school. I think Miss Mint’s top’s from Oasis and I want it. I’m not sure, though; it might be Warehouse . I scribble in Josh’s book asking him if he knows.
After some pointless group work on character, the bell goes. We sit. You don’t move until Miss Mint says so.
“Right, I need volunteers. Thank you Josh Meadows, Erin Wiltshire, Courtney Rowan, Rachel Dewar and Lisi Reynolds. The rest of you may go.”
Scraping chairs get quieter and I can hardly stop myself from grinning: more time with Miss Mint, then drama - last thing on a Friday: mental. Then home, for the WEEKEND. Oh yes.
“You’re going to help with the trip next week.”
We eye-roll collectively, but anything for Miss Mint.
“School gates, eight sharp, Monday morning. School uniform. No sweets. The coach leaves at eight forty and I need to brief you before the rest arrive at quarter past.”
We move to her desk and she shows us a list, each of our names in bold at the top of five or six others in our class. I’m with Olly; great.
“Miss, we’re not together!” Courtney wails.
“Nope,” Miss Mint says simply. “Happy birthday for tomorrow Courtney. Being fifteen has its responsibilities, I’m afraid. I’ll see all group leaders bright and early on Monday. Have a lovely weekend.” She smiles and we shove off.
* * *
After school, I’m waiting near the school entrance for Josh to fetch my coat from the lockers in the lobby when there she is. Alicia Payne, the moron of the school and head year 11 bully. Sorry if that’s bitchy, but so’s she.
She’s alone, of course, buying hot chocolate from the machine. Her tights look like a cat’s run up and down them and she gives me a terrible grin with banana teeth. She’s wearing that idiot Alicia band she once told me was ‘iyonic’.
“Aw, fleecy. You cold?” and she creeps forward with luminous eyes and, before I can react, tips the froth from the plastic beaker just enough so it splashes onto my sock and burns. That machine would produce thousand degree hot drinks even after nuclear war.
“Hope it’s not boiling ,” she slimes, heads away, then turns back towards me in her stupid black patent ballet slippers, fat feet falling out as they slap off.
Alicia and I go way back. James Payne’s left school now but he was my mentor when I was in year 7 and we really got on. He’s quite famous now and I miss our chats but his sister’s poison.
The main reason she hates me is Tao. And I gulp and stop thinking because that’s the thing guaranteed to make me lose it.
Josh appears and here we are again: heading home together through the dusk but it’s different ‘cos it’s Friday. At last. Five days at school is enough to drive anyone mad and five days in December when you can’t even sit outside having a laugh on the field is child cruelty.
We head back to his.
At the Meadows’, the lights are all on, there’s cartoons blaring and Josh’s little brother Dominic is making a meal out of not having one.