school.â
I made a face.
âIf you had a job, I wouldnât be going to this stupid school anyway. Iâd be on the way to The Abbey, on the bus, on my own.â
âOh,â said Dad, and we walked the rest of theway in silence.
âHere we are,â said Mum brightly as we stopped outside my new school.
I gulped. Iâd never looked closely at this building before. Iâd only ever seen it through the tinted windows of Mumâs jeep as we drove past on the way to tennis or pony club.
The walls were grey.
The windows were grey.
The bars on the windows were grey.
The sky had even turned grey in sympathy.
Why couldnât I be getting off the bus at The Abbey, looking forward to hearing about the exotic places my friends had visited over the holidays?
Or why couldnât I be walking along to Victoriaâs school, looking forward to meeting the friends sheâd told me so much about?
Why did I have to be in this grim, grey place?
âDonât make me go in there,â I said. âItâs too scary. Please bring me home.â
Mum shook her head.
âDonât be silly, Eva. You have to go to school.â
I had a brainwave.
âI know. Now that Dad has no job, why doesnât he home-school me? He knows heaps of stuff. Heâd be a great teacher.â
âYou wouldnât say that if youâd been there when I was learning to drive,â muttered Mum darkly.
Just then three very scary-looking boys went past, pushing and shoving each other as they went through the school gates.
âDid you see them?â I asked when they were safely out of earshot.
Mum put on her bright voice again.
âYou shouldnât judge by appearances, Eva. Iâm sure theyâre perfectly nice boys.â
âWhy donât I invite them home for tea this evening then?â I said, and watched as Mumâs face went pale.
âCome on,â said Dad. âIf we donât go inside youâre going to be late.â
I knew there was no point in arguing any more, so I followed my parents, as they led the way intomy new school.
Mum and Dad shoved me in the door of the principalâs office, and after a few polite words, they got to home again.
I wasnât so lucky.
There was no escape for me.
A few minutes later, I was following the principal, Mrs Parker along the corridor. There was a strong smell like old boiled cabbage.
Why couldnât I be back at The Abbey, which smelled of perfume and floor polish?
While we walked, Mrs Parker was muttering about school rules, and locker keys, and fire drills.
I was muttering along in time, like I actually cared.
Why did I need to know all that stuff? This was only a temporary blip. Soon Iâd be back in my old school, where I belonged.
At last we stopped at a classroom door.
âHere we are,â said Mrs Parker brightly. âSixth Class. After you, my dear.â
She opened the door and pushed me inside. I stoodthere wishing that the ugly grey floor would swallow me up.
It was weeks since Iâd had my nails or my hair done.
I had no make up on. (It was against the dress code of course.)
I was wearing the ugliest clothes I have ever, ever stood up in.
And thirty pairs of eyes were staring at me.
I tried to look like I didnât care.
I tried to think of nice stuff.
I tried to think of Madam Margaritaâs words.
Help people, and you will get your reward.
How soon could I start helping people?
And how soon would I get out of here?
âMr Gowing, this is Eva,â said Mrs Parker, after what felt like three hours. âSheâs your new student.â
A boy at the back of the class waited until the teachers were looking the other way, and then he flicked a piece of folded paper in my direction. The paper flew into the air and then hit me on the cheek. It really hurt.
I turned to stare at the boy.
Maybe it was time to start helping people.
Iâd happily help him to