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Authors: Cathy Hopkins
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adolescent voices made the
noise level almost unbearable and I struggled to hear anything Tasmin or Clover said to me as they pointed out various landmarks – the library, the loos, the main hall, the canteen. Tasmin
had told me that there were one and a half thousand pupils at this school. There had been four hundred at my old one.
We finally got to the common room for Year Ten and Eleven where the mania ceased. It was quiet at last when Clover shut a door behind us. My first impression was that the room smelt of Pot
Noodles. A number of pupils were already in there, some seated. A group of girls were making tea at a kettle by a sink in the left corner, others were catching up with gossip from the holidays,
judging by the shrieks of laughter. ‘And then what did he do?’ I heard one of them ask. A dark-haired boy was absorbed in his laptop near the window, another couple were sitting in the
corner chatting. All of them looked up when we walked in, curious glances checking me out. I wanted to slope away and observe from a corner but Tasmin pointed to me and said in a loud voice,
‘New girl alert. Name of Paige Lord. My cousin. Be nice or else.’
The girls at the kettle gave me a weary wave then turned back to their drinks and chat. The boys went back to what they were doing. Clearly, I wasn’t worthy of any more interest.
Tasmin and Clover were soon busy catching up with the girls at the kettle and I grabbed a seat to take in the new environment – tall windows in need of a good clean to the left,
noticeboard with various posters to the right, lockers at the far end, and rows of well-worn brown fabric chairs arranged to make benches along the middle and back of the room. Inside me a battle
was taking place.
One part of me felt about five years old, overwhelmed, bewildered and finding it hard to breathe when I thought about how so much had changed so fast. If I gave in to that side of me, I knew I
would curl up and cry. Another stronger part of me was telling me that I must be brave, remind myself of what was good in my life, everything Mr Nash, my old headmaster, used to lecture us about in
past school assemblies and we used to laugh about later. Now I needed all the positivity he preached and I mentally ran the checklist of things to be grateful for that he used to read out to us.
I have my health, I have my intellect, I have potential friends, I have a roof over my head even if it’s not my own. I have food to eat. I have clothes to wear
.
It didn’t wash. A third part of me wanted to tell Mr Nash to go and stuff himself because what had happened to me and Mum and Dad felt grossly, horribly unfair and I didn’t want to
be there in this strange school with one and a half thousand unfamiliar faces.
‘Paige,’ said a voice next to me.
I looked up to see a blond boy standing in front of me. He looked familiar. He was one of the musicians I’d seen in the café when I’d gone to find Mum on Saturday.
‘Oh hi, yes, I’m Paige. How do you know my name?’ I asked.
He pointed to the other side of the common room, which was now filling up with more and more people. ‘Tasmin. She’s telling everyone to come and say hello.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘How embarrassing.’
The boy nodded. ‘She means well. I’m Liam. You’ve just moved here from London?’
‘Is there anything she didn’t tell you?’ I asked.
Liam smiled. ‘A lot. So, first day. How are you feeling?’
‘Fine. No. That’s a lie. I feel slightly insane, like there are all these different parts of me inside doing battle. Voices all saying something different.’ I don’t
normally blurt out my inner feelings to strangers but I was feeling so nervous and out of place, I couldn’t stop myself. I was hoping Liam would nod and tell me that he felt like that some
days too. But he didn’t. He looked slightly alarmed and stared at me as if he didn’t get what I was saying at all. ‘You hear voices?’
‘No! Not exactly
noise level almost unbearable and I struggled to hear anything Tasmin or Clover said to me as they pointed out various landmarks – the library, the loos, the main hall, the canteen. Tasmin
had told me that there were one and a half thousand pupils at this school. There had been four hundred at my old one.
We finally got to the common room for Year Ten and Eleven where the mania ceased. It was quiet at last when Clover shut a door behind us. My first impression was that the room smelt of Pot
Noodles. A number of pupils were already in there, some seated. A group of girls were making tea at a kettle by a sink in the left corner, others were catching up with gossip from the holidays,
judging by the shrieks of laughter. ‘And then what did he do?’ I heard one of them ask. A dark-haired boy was absorbed in his laptop near the window, another couple were sitting in the
corner chatting. All of them looked up when we walked in, curious glances checking me out. I wanted to slope away and observe from a corner but Tasmin pointed to me and said in a loud voice,
‘New girl alert. Name of Paige Lord. My cousin. Be nice or else.’
The girls at the kettle gave me a weary wave then turned back to their drinks and chat. The boys went back to what they were doing. Clearly, I wasn’t worthy of any more interest.
Tasmin and Clover were soon busy catching up with the girls at the kettle and I grabbed a seat to take in the new environment – tall windows in need of a good clean to the left,
noticeboard with various posters to the right, lockers at the far end, and rows of well-worn brown fabric chairs arranged to make benches along the middle and back of the room. Inside me a battle
was taking place.
One part of me felt about five years old, overwhelmed, bewildered and finding it hard to breathe when I thought about how so much had changed so fast. If I gave in to that side of me, I knew I
would curl up and cry. Another stronger part of me was telling me that I must be brave, remind myself of what was good in my life, everything Mr Nash, my old headmaster, used to lecture us about in
past school assemblies and we used to laugh about later. Now I needed all the positivity he preached and I mentally ran the checklist of things to be grateful for that he used to read out to us.
I have my health, I have my intellect, I have potential friends, I have a roof over my head even if it’s not my own. I have food to eat. I have clothes to wear
.
It didn’t wash. A third part of me wanted to tell Mr Nash to go and stuff himself because what had happened to me and Mum and Dad felt grossly, horribly unfair and I didn’t want to
be there in this strange school with one and a half thousand unfamiliar faces.
‘Paige,’ said a voice next to me.
I looked up to see a blond boy standing in front of me. He looked familiar. He was one of the musicians I’d seen in the café when I’d gone to find Mum on Saturday.
‘Oh hi, yes, I’m Paige. How do you know my name?’ I asked.
He pointed to the other side of the common room, which was now filling up with more and more people. ‘Tasmin. She’s telling everyone to come and say hello.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘How embarrassing.’
The boy nodded. ‘She means well. I’m Liam. You’ve just moved here from London?’
‘Is there anything she didn’t tell you?’ I asked.
Liam smiled. ‘A lot. So, first day. How are you feeling?’
‘Fine. No. That’s a lie. I feel slightly insane, like there are all these different parts of me inside doing battle. Voices all saying something different.’ I don’t
normally blurt out my inner feelings to strangers but I was feeling so nervous and out of place, I couldn’t stop myself. I was hoping Liam would nod and tell me that he felt like that some
days too. But he didn’t. He looked slightly alarmed and stared at me as if he didn’t get what I was saying at all. ‘You hear voices?’
‘No! Not exactly
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