he didnât understand that not all his students were similarly well-equipped. If you didnât understand a formula, he simply explained it in exactly the same way you hadnât understood in the first place. So you couldnât ask again. Not without feeling like a moron. As a result, a large percentage of the class sat in a fog of incomprehension while Mr Tillyard taught the three or four on his wavelength. It didnât make for a happy prospect on a warm Friday afternoon.
Demi leaned over a washbasin refreshing her make-up. Most of the mirror on the wall was tarnished, but she had found a small, clear space. Kari and Georgia flanked her. Three heads turned as Holly pushed open the door.
âHi, Holly,â said Demi, turning back to the mirror and grimacing at her reflection. Holly couldnât imagine what she might see to object to. As far as she could tell, Demi was flawless.
âHey, Demi. Kari, Georgia.â
The other two nodded, but didnât smile. Holly tried to examine herself in part of the mirror to the right of Georgia, but the tarnish was so severe she couldnât see a great deal. Not that it mattered, she thought. Probably a blessing in disguise.
âMaths, eh?â said Holly. It was the only class she shared with Demi who was one of the vast majority who had given up on ever understanding what Mr Tillyard was going on about. Most times Demi flicked through fashion mags under the desk or sketched her own designs on a drawing pad she brought along especially for that purpose. The teacher never noticed, so everyone was happy. Holly often spent her time examining Demi, trying to understand how she achieved the effect she did. Was it just clothes and make-up and jewellery? Or was there something else? Charisma, maybe? It was as big a puzzle as Mr Tillyardâs maths.
âI donât think so,â said Demi. âMaths doesnât appeal. It never appeals.â
For a moment, Holly was puzzled. It was Friday afternoon. It was double maths. It was always double maths.
âWeâve got something better to do,â added Demi.
âWhat?â
âShopping. To be precise, clothes shopping. Thereâs a new outlet at Westland and we are going to check it out.â
âWhat? You are going to wag?â
Demi tutted.
âSuch an ugly word, Holly,â she said. âI prefer to think of it as distance learning. Would you like to come along? I guarantee youâll learn more with us than with old Tillyard.â
Holly knew this was a defining moment. She had read about defining moments in novels, so she recognised the signs. She quickly debated the pros and cons. On the one hand, this was an invitation â a second chance â and she hadnât expected to be given another one. Turn this down and that was definitely it. Demi was making every effort. There would be no third chances. This was also the opportunity to pick Demiâs brains about fashion. And not in an abstract way. Action Plan 1 was being offered by the fashion queen herself. An image sprang to her mind. Holly emerging from the change room and Demi and the others critically examining her. âThat colour doesnât really suit you, Hol. With your legs you need something that will enhance your shape, slim your hips and accentuate your waistline. Try this . . .â Maybe there would be the opportunity to impress the girls with her willingness to be moulded to their taste.
Demi was right. It would certainly beat the hell out of going to maths.
On the other hand, there were all the consequences of wagging school. She knew she would never get away with it. True, Mr Tillyard didnât appear to know who she was and never remarked on her presence, let alone her work. But it was Murphyâs Law. What could go wrong, would go wrong. He would notice. He would ring her mother. And then the brown stuff would hit the fan.
âYouâre not scared, are you?â said
Demi leaned over a washbasin refreshing her make-up. Most of the mirror on the wall was tarnished, but she had found a small, clear space. Kari and Georgia flanked her. Three heads turned as Holly pushed open the door.
âHi, Holly,â said Demi, turning back to the mirror and grimacing at her reflection. Holly couldnât imagine what she might see to object to. As far as she could tell, Demi was flawless.
âHey, Demi. Kari, Georgia.â
The other two nodded, but didnât smile. Holly tried to examine herself in part of the mirror to the right of Georgia, but the tarnish was so severe she couldnât see a great deal. Not that it mattered, she thought. Probably a blessing in disguise.
âMaths, eh?â said Holly. It was the only class she shared with Demi who was one of the vast majority who had given up on ever understanding what Mr Tillyard was going on about. Most times Demi flicked through fashion mags under the desk or sketched her own designs on a drawing pad she brought along especially for that purpose. The teacher never noticed, so everyone was happy. Holly often spent her time examining Demi, trying to understand how she achieved the effect she did. Was it just clothes and make-up and jewellery? Or was there something else? Charisma, maybe? It was as big a puzzle as Mr Tillyardâs maths.
âI donât think so,â said Demi. âMaths doesnât appeal. It never appeals.â
For a moment, Holly was puzzled. It was Friday afternoon. It was double maths. It was always double maths.
âWeâve got something better to do,â added Demi.
âWhat?â
âShopping. To be precise, clothes shopping. Thereâs a new outlet at Westland and we are going to check it out.â
âWhat? You are going to wag?â
Demi tutted.
âSuch an ugly word, Holly,â she said. âI prefer to think of it as distance learning. Would you like to come along? I guarantee youâll learn more with us than with old Tillyard.â
Holly knew this was a defining moment. She had read about defining moments in novels, so she recognised the signs. She quickly debated the pros and cons. On the one hand, this was an invitation â a second chance â and she hadnât expected to be given another one. Turn this down and that was definitely it. Demi was making every effort. There would be no third chances. This was also the opportunity to pick Demiâs brains about fashion. And not in an abstract way. Action Plan 1 was being offered by the fashion queen herself. An image sprang to her mind. Holly emerging from the change room and Demi and the others critically examining her. âThat colour doesnât really suit you, Hol. With your legs you need something that will enhance your shape, slim your hips and accentuate your waistline. Try this . . .â Maybe there would be the opportunity to impress the girls with her willingness to be moulded to their taste.
Demi was right. It would certainly beat the hell out of going to maths.
On the other hand, there were all the consequences of wagging school. She knew she would never get away with it. True, Mr Tillyard didnât appear to know who she was and never remarked on her presence, let alone her work. But it was Murphyâs Law. What could go wrong, would go wrong. He would notice. He would ring her mother. And then the brown stuff would hit the fan.
âYouâre not scared, are you?â said
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