on Miss Webb’s face, I can already guess that maybe the new twins are something else entirely.
‘It’s because they’re starting in the middle of the year. Nothing more exciting than that, I’m afraid. Thanks, girls. Remember what I said.’
Chapter Two
Obviously, I cannot wait to discuss this thrilling development with Shimmi and Nathalie. I hardly get the chance, as I have Spanish before lunch, which neither of them takes. As the bell rings, I stumble straight over to the dining hall, to catch up with Shimmi and grab something to eat before we go and meet Nathalie. It’s a precise regime, perfected over, well, every lunchtime in the history of forever.
‘Yo, bitch.’
‘What’s with this new “bitch” thing?’
‘Ooh, I
do
apologise – Ms Salem, queen of the world. Better?’
‘Whatever,
bitch
. So, what about these new girls, the twins that Miss Webb was talking about? That whole speech was pretty strange, don’t you think?’
‘Just this place getting weirder by the second. They’re obviously going to be total freaks. I wouldn’t go getting all enthused about it or anything.’
‘I wasn’t! I just mean… Oh, nothing.’
‘Macaroni cheese and chips, please.’ Shimmi shoots a sly look across at me as she places her order for double carbs.
‘What, you’re having hot lunch? But what about—? Oh, sorry, um, just a tuna fish sandwich, please.’
‘Yeah, I thought I’d eat here today, spice things up a bit, woo-hoo. Are you sticking around?’
‘No, I’d better…’ I gaze longingly at Shimmi’s chips as she drowns them in vinegar.
‘OK, see you later… Hey, Alex, Alice – wait for me!’
I shouldn’t be surprised that Shimmi’s just gone straight off like that. She’s ever so slightly higher up the social scale from Nathalie and me – only because all the cool girls think she’s funny – and so eating lunch isn’t such a minefield for her as it is for us.
Actually, I could probably sit and eat a hot lunch like a normal person if I wanted to as well, but it would be too mean to ditch Nathalie. So, I take my tuna sandwich and trudge across the damp hockey field, to the almost-hidden old cricket pavilion that sits on the outer edges of school property. Nathalie is already settled in, nibbling at the edges of a samosa.
‘Hey.’
As always, she looks slightly relieved that I’m there – as if, until she actually sees me, she still thinks I might not turn up. Like I said, we’re not quite at the bottom of the pile around here, so this part of the routine is not completely out of sad necessity. No, it’s because Nathalie has a phobia of people seeing her eating, always has ever since that time she puked up cannelloni all over Lexy White in Year Seven and never lived it down.
‘So, what about these new twins?’ are the first words out of Nathalie’s mouth, and I’m pleased it’s not just me who’s secretly excited. Shimmi probably is, too, really.
At least with Nathalie, you don’t have to pretend to be cooler than you are.
Having spent all of lunchtime gossiping about the hot topic of the new girls – and without Shimmi there to make us feel like complete psychos for being so interested – by the start of afternoon lessons, Nathalie and I cannot wait to lay eyes on these mysterious creatures. It helps that it’s Friday afternoon and – for me, anyway – that we have English to finish up the week.
However, my heart sinks when we enter the English room to find the desks pushed up against the walls and the chairs arranged in a semi-circle in the middle. Miss Webb is putting slips of paper, face down, on each seat. This can only mean one thing. The A level English course includes a module called ‘Explorations in Drama’ – we’ve been studying
King Lear
and
Arcadia
, and Miss Webb has long been threatening to do a practical session in which we do improvisation exercises to learn what makes a good dramatic scene. Frankly, I’m appalled that even my
Michelle Pace, Andrea Randall