Read Online Only We Know by Simon Packham - Free Book Online

snort in perfect harmony.
    ‘Right, let’s have the next lot please,’ says Magda. ‘And try to put some feeling into it.’
    A couple of girls and the goalkeeper who can’t kick straight manage to make it to the end of the runway without totally embarrassing themselves, but the only ‘shoot’ the rest of them are fit for is the type that involves a firing squad. And the teachers are even worse: Mr Catchpole takes dad-dancing to a whole new level, Miss Hoolyhan should be walking behind the coffin at a Victorian funeral and Mr Peel, the time-warped history teacher, looks like an ageing rock star with piles.
    So when it comes to my turn, I’m actually quite confident about it, even when I realise who my partner is.
    ‘All right, Dizzy?’ says Conor Corcoran, who for some reason fancies himself as the next face of Versace. ‘Don’t worry, babe, I’m right behind you – nice arse, by the way.’
    As soon as I start walking, I forget him completely, gliding down the runway as smoothly as I’d always imagined. I may not be Kate Moss exactly, but I’ve been practising this in my head since the Year Six leavers’ barbecue, and now that I’m up here at last, I have to admit, it’s even better than I thought. For once in my life, I’m in the right place at the right time.
    ‘Thank God someone knows what they’re doing,’ says Izzy. ‘You’re a natural, Lauren. You sure you’ve never done this sort of thing before?’
    ‘Only in my sister’s bedroom.’
    ‘Okay, stop the music,’ says Magda. ‘I said stop the music. You two on the sound system, quit messing about.’
    The music eventually splutters and dies.
    ‘Now as you can see,’ says Magda, ‘we have a lot of work to do.’
    ‘Sorry about the stops, guys,’ says Mr Peel. ‘I’ll be better when I get some decent music.’
    Magda isn’t quite so optimistic. ‘Some of you girls have absolutely no idea. And you’re not even in heels yet.’
    ‘Why don’t you show them, Lauren?’ says Izzy.
    ‘Show them what?’
    ‘How to walk properly. They look more like a herd of cage fighters at the moment.’
    Magda claps her hands. ‘All right, you lot, shut up and listen to Lauren.’
    I step out in front of them, hiding my anxiety behind a semi-hysterical smile. But at least I know what I’m talking about. ‘Right, the first thing you’ve got to do is take smaller steps, yeah? And turn your elbows in towards the waist, so your palms face the front. Okay, guys, can we have some music please?’
    This time the sound system works perfectly.
    ‘Right, let’s just walk around the sports hall together. There’s no need to be self-conscious, no one’s judging you. And always remember, you’re doing this for yourself, not to look good for some guy.’
    The Year Sevens are really getting into it.
    ‘That’s great, much better. Now smile, and lift your chins. It’s such a boy thing to stare at your feet. And take in the sights as you go, don’t focus on your final destination.’
    Miss Hoolyhan looks almost carefree for once, sweeping round the sports hall in her long black skirt, her head held high.
    ‘Now, last but not least, swing your hips – but make it subtle. ’
    I’m not pretending they’ve suddenly turned into supermodels, but at least they don’t look scared any more.
    And Magda looks happier too. ‘Yeah, not bad,’ she admits grudgingly.
    ‘By George, I think they’ve got it,’ says Katherine, exchanging a nerdy high-five (minimal hand contact, shoulder level at best) with her bearded associate.
    But she can take the piss as much as she likes for all I care, because right now I’m feeling pretty good about myself. No one’s laughing at me. No one’s trying to kill me. They’re actually listening to me and even doing what I say. It’s almost like I’ve found my voice at last.
     
    Mr Catchpole is loading babies (the type they hand out in Year Ten to stop you getting pregnant) into the back of his yellow Corsa SXi. I try to