you start a new school you hook up with people pretty quickly but only find your real friends over time? That didn’t happen with us. We found each other straight away, as if it was meant to be.
We were put on the same table in science on our second day at school. Cass and Donna had been at the same primary school, although they’d never really spoken, but otherwise we didn’t know each other at all. My best friend from primary school,Megan Roberts, had emigrated to Australia in the summer holidays, and I was properly grieving. I felt like half of me was missing and I didn’t really care who I sat next to. Anyway, we didn’t get a choice cos our teacher, Mr Evershot, placed us.
It was my policy to instantly hate any teacher who didn’t let us choose our own seats or partners in group work, but you couldn’t hate Mr Evershot because he was tiny like a gnome and nice without being try-hard. He had a
really
strong northern accent. He was from Wakefield in Yorkshire. I know this because we saw it written on the board when we got into class that first day. ‘Mr Evershot. From Wakefield in Yorkshire.’ Some boy had shouted out, ‘Is that why you talk funny, sir?’ and Mr Evershot had just looked him in the eye and said, ‘Yep.’ That shut him up.
Anyway. There we were: Donna and Cass all uncomfortable because even though they’d gone to the same school they’d hardly spoken and definitely never sat next to each other; Ashley chewing the skin off the side of her nails and scowling because her mum had just finished with a boyfriend who Ash had really liked; and me feeling miserable and awkward. On paper, not exactly a match made in heaven.
But then Mr Evershot made us break off into groups to discuss what the most dangerous room inthe house was (Year Seven science for you), so we were forced to talk to each other.
‘Well, obviously it’s the kitchen,’ said Ashley, who I was instantly terrified of because she was chewing gum in class and sounded bored (it didn’t take much to freak me out back then).
‘So let’s say living room,’ said Donna. ‘To be original.’
Ash must have approved of that, although I don’t remember what she said, but Cass piped up with: ‘I don’t think we get extra points for being different. It’s more a right/wrong scenario.’ I still remember the way her voice sounded: sort of sweet and gentle, like she was genuinely trying to help. I was eaten up with admiration that she’d (a) stood up to Donna, who had a rougher accent than mine and was therefore – yes – scary and (b) used the word ‘scenario’.
So we were at least talking, though nobody could accuse us of instantly clicking. But then the Defining Moment of our friendship: Mr Evershot stumbled as he walked past our desk and whispered, ‘Fook,’ under his breath.
And the four of us cracked up. A teacher saying a rude word was funny enough, but a teacher saying a rude word in an accent? We were crying with laughter. Honking and wheezing like a bunch of asthmatic geese. After a minute we’d calm down, but then oneof us would catch another’s eye and it’d start all over again.
‘Something funny, girls?’ Mr Evershot had asked wryly, but he didn’t tell us off, adding instead: ‘Glad to see you’re getting on, but make sure you come up with the goods.’ He pointed at the piece of paper in front of us and we eyed each other and giggled, but got back to listing dangerous household appliances.
And you can’t really not be friends after that. Soon we started going to lunch after the lesson, and it went from there. We were only eleven years old then. Just kids. Most of us hadn’t even started our periods.
And now here we were, still best friends and about to go into the big wide world together.
But first I had to go to English, Cass to business studies, Donna to theatre studies and Ash to media studies …
3
‘So. Appearance and reality in
Jane Eyre …
Thank you, Mr Jones.’
Mr Roberts handed
We were put on the same table in science on our second day at school. Cass and Donna had been at the same primary school, although they’d never really spoken, but otherwise we didn’t know each other at all. My best friend from primary school,Megan Roberts, had emigrated to Australia in the summer holidays, and I was properly grieving. I felt like half of me was missing and I didn’t really care who I sat next to. Anyway, we didn’t get a choice cos our teacher, Mr Evershot, placed us.
It was my policy to instantly hate any teacher who didn’t let us choose our own seats or partners in group work, but you couldn’t hate Mr Evershot because he was tiny like a gnome and nice without being try-hard. He had a
really
strong northern accent. He was from Wakefield in Yorkshire. I know this because we saw it written on the board when we got into class that first day. ‘Mr Evershot. From Wakefield in Yorkshire.’ Some boy had shouted out, ‘Is that why you talk funny, sir?’ and Mr Evershot had just looked him in the eye and said, ‘Yep.’ That shut him up.
Anyway. There we were: Donna and Cass all uncomfortable because even though they’d gone to the same school they’d hardly spoken and definitely never sat next to each other; Ashley chewing the skin off the side of her nails and scowling because her mum had just finished with a boyfriend who Ash had really liked; and me feeling miserable and awkward. On paper, not exactly a match made in heaven.
But then Mr Evershot made us break off into groups to discuss what the most dangerous room inthe house was (Year Seven science for you), so we were forced to talk to each other.
‘Well, obviously it’s the kitchen,’ said Ashley, who I was instantly terrified of because she was chewing gum in class and sounded bored (it didn’t take much to freak me out back then).
‘So let’s say living room,’ said Donna. ‘To be original.’
Ash must have approved of that, although I don’t remember what she said, but Cass piped up with: ‘I don’t think we get extra points for being different. It’s more a right/wrong scenario.’ I still remember the way her voice sounded: sort of sweet and gentle, like she was genuinely trying to help. I was eaten up with admiration that she’d (a) stood up to Donna, who had a rougher accent than mine and was therefore – yes – scary and (b) used the word ‘scenario’.
So we were at least talking, though nobody could accuse us of instantly clicking. But then the Defining Moment of our friendship: Mr Evershot stumbled as he walked past our desk and whispered, ‘Fook,’ under his breath.
And the four of us cracked up. A teacher saying a rude word was funny enough, but a teacher saying a rude word in an accent? We were crying with laughter. Honking and wheezing like a bunch of asthmatic geese. After a minute we’d calm down, but then oneof us would catch another’s eye and it’d start all over again.
‘Something funny, girls?’ Mr Evershot had asked wryly, but he didn’t tell us off, adding instead: ‘Glad to see you’re getting on, but make sure you come up with the goods.’ He pointed at the piece of paper in front of us and we eyed each other and giggled, but got back to listing dangerous household appliances.
And you can’t really not be friends after that. Soon we started going to lunch after the lesson, and it went from there. We were only eleven years old then. Just kids. Most of us hadn’t even started our periods.
And now here we were, still best friends and about to go into the big wide world together.
But first I had to go to English, Cass to business studies, Donna to theatre studies and Ash to media studies …
3
‘So. Appearance and reality in
Jane Eyre …
Thank you, Mr Jones.’
Mr Roberts handed
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