and the heat of his body burn next to me. I dared not look; it was going to be a long, long fifty minutes. I doodled a circle around and around on a corner of my exercise book.
A hand raised in the row in front. ‘Mr Branson, can I go to the toilet?’
My pen stilled. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as a bone-jarring dread swept through me.
Mr Branson?
I slowly shifted the crinkled paper I had slipped inside my Biology book and smoothed it out: Biology – Mr Cranford.
My eyes widened, the sound of Mr Branson’s voice became muffled, the whole world seemed to slow right down. I could feel a light sheen of sweat form against my skin, my hands clammy as the beat of my heart thrummed dangerously fast. I had no choice but to slowly and subtly shift my eyes sideways, peering at Ballantine’s textbook.
His History book.
Oh. My. God.
I was in the wrong class.
Chapter Nine
How to lose friends and irritate people in less than an hour, by Lexie Atkinson.
I had gone from badass new girl facing off against Ballantine and asserting my authority, to quickly and rather mortifyingly grabbing my Biology book and scurrying towards the teacher, apologising in my lowest voice that I was in the wrong room before walking briskly out the door with not so much as a backwards glance.
Mars Bar boy, bless his soul, had actually walked me to the wrong room; an honest mistake, no doubt, but it didn’t make me feel less like throwing myself down the stairs. Maybe breaking my leg and being taken to the sick bay with a doctor’s certificate that insisted on weeks of rest, in my own room that is – no distractions, no disrupted sleep, no filthy looks by bullying cousins. Just me, room service and watching reruns of John Stamos in Full House ; it sounded so tempting. Instead, what little confidence I had left was knocked out of me as I once again found myself slinking into a doorway, late, disrupting the class and earning myself the spotlight for all the wrong reasons.
After Biology, I glanced at my timetable. My next class would be easier; it was a non-accelerated class, so it would be less intimidating, right?
Wrong!
Miss Smith, our Health teacher, actually wanted me to stand up and introduce myself, like I was in some kind of therapy group.
Hi, I’m Lexie and I am an alcoholic.
‘I’m Lexie from Red Hill.’ I managed, sitting down quickly.
‘ Hello , sexy Lexie!’ a boy in the back called out.
‘That’s quite enough, Tommy; one more outcry from you and you will be going on a little holiday.’
Tommy straightened with interest. ‘Oh really, Miss? That sounds nice, where am I off to?’
‘Sit down,’ she warned. ‘Right. Welcome, Lexie.’ She smiled before turning to the whiteboard and beginning the class.
Miss Smith used the better half of the session writing directly from her textbook onto the whiteboard, which in turn we had to copy into our exercise books. It was her attempt at keeping us quiet for a bit and it was pretty effective; well, except for the girl next to me.
‘I’m Laura,’ she said out of the blue.
My eyes shifted from the board in surprise. ‘Oh, hey. Lexie.’
‘I know.’ She nodded.
Well, this was going well.
‘Have you been in Paradise long?’
It was the first authentic question I’d been asked, and judging by her earnest expression she actually seemed to genuinely want to know the answer. It took me a moment to think, to voice the words.
‘We arrived on Friday.’
‘We?’ Another question. Wow. An actual conversation was unfolding right in between copying off the whiteboard; I was pretty certain Miss Smith was conducting some kind of plagiarism. Still, it made the time go faster, or maybe it was due to the real-life human connection I was finally having. I tried to play down my excitement, tried not to answer her questions so eagerly and talk for too long, but I couldn’t help it, it had opened the floodgates and before we knew it we were chatting away
A hand raised in the row in front. ‘Mr Branson, can I go to the toilet?’
My pen stilled. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as a bone-jarring dread swept through me.
Mr Branson?
I slowly shifted the crinkled paper I had slipped inside my Biology book and smoothed it out: Biology – Mr Cranford.
My eyes widened, the sound of Mr Branson’s voice became muffled, the whole world seemed to slow right down. I could feel a light sheen of sweat form against my skin, my hands clammy as the beat of my heart thrummed dangerously fast. I had no choice but to slowly and subtly shift my eyes sideways, peering at Ballantine’s textbook.
His History book.
Oh. My. God.
I was in the wrong class.
Chapter Nine
How to lose friends and irritate people in less than an hour, by Lexie Atkinson.
I had gone from badass new girl facing off against Ballantine and asserting my authority, to quickly and rather mortifyingly grabbing my Biology book and scurrying towards the teacher, apologising in my lowest voice that I was in the wrong room before walking briskly out the door with not so much as a backwards glance.
Mars Bar boy, bless his soul, had actually walked me to the wrong room; an honest mistake, no doubt, but it didn’t make me feel less like throwing myself down the stairs. Maybe breaking my leg and being taken to the sick bay with a doctor’s certificate that insisted on weeks of rest, in my own room that is – no distractions, no disrupted sleep, no filthy looks by bullying cousins. Just me, room service and watching reruns of John Stamos in Full House ; it sounded so tempting. Instead, what little confidence I had left was knocked out of me as I once again found myself slinking into a doorway, late, disrupting the class and earning myself the spotlight for all the wrong reasons.
After Biology, I glanced at my timetable. My next class would be easier; it was a non-accelerated class, so it would be less intimidating, right?
Wrong!
Miss Smith, our Health teacher, actually wanted me to stand up and introduce myself, like I was in some kind of therapy group.
Hi, I’m Lexie and I am an alcoholic.
‘I’m Lexie from Red Hill.’ I managed, sitting down quickly.
‘ Hello , sexy Lexie!’ a boy in the back called out.
‘That’s quite enough, Tommy; one more outcry from you and you will be going on a little holiday.’
Tommy straightened with interest. ‘Oh really, Miss? That sounds nice, where am I off to?’
‘Sit down,’ she warned. ‘Right. Welcome, Lexie.’ She smiled before turning to the whiteboard and beginning the class.
Miss Smith used the better half of the session writing directly from her textbook onto the whiteboard, which in turn we had to copy into our exercise books. It was her attempt at keeping us quiet for a bit and it was pretty effective; well, except for the girl next to me.
‘I’m Laura,’ she said out of the blue.
My eyes shifted from the board in surprise. ‘Oh, hey. Lexie.’
‘I know.’ She nodded.
Well, this was going well.
‘Have you been in Paradise long?’
It was the first authentic question I’d been asked, and judging by her earnest expression she actually seemed to genuinely want to know the answer. It took me a moment to think, to voice the words.
‘We arrived on Friday.’
‘We?’ Another question. Wow. An actual conversation was unfolding right in between copying off the whiteboard; I was pretty certain Miss Smith was conducting some kind of plagiarism. Still, it made the time go faster, or maybe it was due to the real-life human connection I was finally having. I tried to play down my excitement, tried not to answer her questions so eagerly and talk for too long, but I couldn’t help it, it had opened the floodgates and before we knew it we were chatting away
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