To Be Honest(45)
... and then goes.
Lloyd Parker scratches his nose and draws a big cock and balls on the page as he sits at his desk with some lined paper soon to be checked. But not yet.
‘Cos Alicia Payne’s late.
I’ve done all these things, like email Debono, who she has for last lesson ( whom ) and nagged her and dragged her away from the bike sheds at lunch to remind her it’s ‘three fifteen sharp’ if she wants to take part in CA. And I thought she did.
Controlled assessments are usually done in a classroom of kids from one class. But Alicia was ill for it, Lloyd was off too and so one more chance, Alicia. Just one more chance, to be honest.
Lloyd glances up to the door and she’s there, with her hair swinging wildly, escaped from its band. There’s a full can of unopened Fizz in her hand (which is cider). I choose to ignore it.
“Sorry, Miss. It’s just this boy came up to me, asked me to walk his dog before Review.”
And it’s, ‘phew, Alicia doesn’t hate dogs!’ that’s the first thing I think, but I say,
“Drink can away now. You know that’s forbidden. Sit down next to Lloyd.”
She does what she’s told, a mood-swung, loved-up, out-cidered girl
Trying to pass GCSE.
“I can’t see,” she complains.
“Nothing to,” I retort and write the instructions and time on the board and they start.
The two of them pick up their pens. They’ve notes pages; A4 sides scribbled on, quotes and notes and occasional rubbings out. The clock ticks: three, four, five
And I pause, say, “pens down,” and they both stretch and sigh but then Lloyds eye has wandered.
“Oi, Miss! I could see ...”
I instinctively cover my chest, hold my breath, ‘cos I’m wearing a vest underneath Miss Mint’s oversized, pink maxi-dress.
“ ... Alicia cheating.”
“You ... what?”
Nasty boy, I think. How dare he say such a thing. Not my Alicia. Not Payne. But she clings to the desk in the way she did when we looked at rhythm, viewpoint, Sugar Berry. Exact same. But it’s her desk, not mine.
I say, “Alicia, come here.”
She gets up.
“Thank you, Lloyd. You may go. Leave your papers behind.”
He gets up.
“But Miss ...” but he does.
I look at her work. It seems fine. No paragraphs; only seven words a line ‘cos her writings all big and girl-loopy, but still. Then I look at her notes and my throat starts to fill up and if I’m not careful, the words will spill out. So I am careful. Calm and serene, like an un-trollied lake or a warm summer breeze. I’m just all Mint and pleasant.
“Alicia Payne.”
“That’s my name,” but she won’t meet my eyes.
“How’d it go?”
“I’ve got loads of stuff down, Miss. Look. See?” And she points at my desk, at Lloyd’s and her work all stacked up.
“Do you want to tell me ... anything?”
“Oh, my god, Miss!” she pops, like a cork or the top of her can of Fizz-y. She kicks back her chair and she’s gone, quick as that. And I sit down and think, Oh Em Gee.
* * *
I make a beeline for the staffroom, seeking out a corner ‘cos the loo’s being cleaned, I ease into Miss Mint’s now tight jeans and out of my dress.
I’m a mess. Day eleven. How dare he? I can’t believe Lloyd would lie. I tried to find him after Alicia had scarpered. Lloyd Parker’s a sharper tool than he’d have you believe. Although lazier than Tao after he’d got into the larder and eaten and eaten his fill, he’s got radar for things that are out of the ordinary. Like cheating.
My school’s good like that. Kids aren’t wont to cheat ‘cos they know they’ll get caught. All my friends know the code: you just don’t. ‘Cos we all know you’re cheating yourself. That sounds lame, but it’s true. Like that time when Rach got stressed. She’d missed French, she’d been smoking; we’d a test and I’d offered to help. In tech, I’d said, “fait accompli: moi vous aider,” just to show off. What I’d meant was, I’d give her a look at my book. Mais non, ‘cos although Josh’s reckless in English, Rach wouldn’t accept it ‘cos we all knew Fairmere’s policy’s pretty hardcore.
First, your parents are called. Well, your parents or carers. Whoever’s a share in your life. It’s not nice. Mr Underwood rings. You’re hauled into his office, to hear him say things about honesty, school reputation, your mum. You just sit there, quietly, biting your tongue. Your teacher agrees. So you’re there in a chair with these grown-ups all round and all they do is stare and you can’t make a sound ‘til they’re done.