into a slow walkover handstand, going into a pirouette.
Kieran’s eyes glistened with what might have been appreciation. ‘You’re very athletic.’
‘I’ve enjoyed doing gymnastics since I was little.’ Her skin prickled with awareness of him; she had to admit he had a surprisingly well toned body for a genius—biceps, triceps, and six-pack all visible under his tight black T-shirt. She wasn’t going to look at them—she wasn’t. ‘Maybe that’s why I like dance. Got a problem with that? Have a go.’
‘OK, I will. It looks easy enough.’ With a put-upon sigh, he attacked the floor, springing over, failing to spot as he turned and ending up with a wobbly stance. He looked taken aback that it hadn’t gone well.
Raven folded her arms. ‘Don’t tell me, big guy: you have no sense of balance?’
‘I understand balance.’ He put his hands on his hips, running over the move he had just made, perplexed. ‘It’s supposed to be easy.’
‘Easy?’ Raven had never seen such incompetence from someone doing Dance—he clearly hadn’t even done the basics. He had to be doing this as a joke—messing with her future. She forgot about being shy with him. ‘You don’t know the first thing about how to move, do you? You’ve been lying to me!’
‘Obviously I don’t yet understand it. Not your kind of dance, at least.’
‘So what kind of dance is your kind of dance then?’
Annoyed too, he folded his arms and stared over her head, eyes fixed on a poster displaying the various parts of an orchestra.
‘Hey! Are you listening to me?’ She knew she was getting too confrontational with him but his remoteness was infuriating. ‘I need you to work with me here. You can’t be completely useless at everything; you must be able to move a little!’
He clutched his fingers on his elbows, looking as remote as Mars.
‘Please, give me something to go on. Ballroom, maybe? Isn’t that what you posh kids learn? Or … or Latin?’ Hell, no. He had no passion for that. ‘Hip-hop?’ That too sounded ridiculous so she committed the fatal error of laughing.
His expression became even more distant. ‘Do your own dance, Raven. Tell the teacher, I quit.’ He picked up his bag.
No! She didn’t want to be the only one doing a solo. ‘What? You’re giving up, just like that?’
He walked out—an answer of sorts.
‘Aargh!’ Raven stood in the middle of the empty room, wishing she had something handy to throw. She kicked the piano stool. She really shouldn’t have lost her temper like that; she now felt about an inch high. The annoying thing was she probably even owed him an apology and saying sorry to Mr Arrogant was about as attractive as eating bush tucker. One thing she had learnt was that he didn’t take failing at something well; she shouldn’t have rubbed it in.
Zapping the music back on with the remote, she worked off her temper by dancing alone.
Joe burst into the room. ‘Are you OK, Key? Raven told the teacher you felt ill—left class early. Everyone in the Sixth Form Common Room is asking me what’s wrong.’ He glanced at the screen in front of Kieran. ‘What’s that? You’ve got access to the academic results of all the students. You find something?’
Kieran tapped a few keys, temper seething.
‘Key, you’re worrying me, bro. Say something.’
‘There’s a sequence.’ Kieran strove for cool and rational; if he kept talking maybe he wouldn’t have to face up to failing. ‘The students that we’ve noted as absent—when they come back, they all improve in their performance.’
‘So, what are you saying? Whatever is happening to them while they are away does not harm, but helps? Like they are getting extra tuition or something?’
‘I cannot support that conclusion at this time; I’m simply giving you the facts. Denzil Hardcastle—crashed out of his GCSEs, thanks to a preference for joyriding rather than studying. Left with all A*s in his A levels. Talented but
Kieran’s eyes glistened with what might have been appreciation. ‘You’re very athletic.’
‘I’ve enjoyed doing gymnastics since I was little.’ Her skin prickled with awareness of him; she had to admit he had a surprisingly well toned body for a genius—biceps, triceps, and six-pack all visible under his tight black T-shirt. She wasn’t going to look at them—she wasn’t. ‘Maybe that’s why I like dance. Got a problem with that? Have a go.’
‘OK, I will. It looks easy enough.’ With a put-upon sigh, he attacked the floor, springing over, failing to spot as he turned and ending up with a wobbly stance. He looked taken aback that it hadn’t gone well.
Raven folded her arms. ‘Don’t tell me, big guy: you have no sense of balance?’
‘I understand balance.’ He put his hands on his hips, running over the move he had just made, perplexed. ‘It’s supposed to be easy.’
‘Easy?’ Raven had never seen such incompetence from someone doing Dance—he clearly hadn’t even done the basics. He had to be doing this as a joke—messing with her future. She forgot about being shy with him. ‘You don’t know the first thing about how to move, do you? You’ve been lying to me!’
‘Obviously I don’t yet understand it. Not your kind of dance, at least.’
‘So what kind of dance is your kind of dance then?’
Annoyed too, he folded his arms and stared over her head, eyes fixed on a poster displaying the various parts of an orchestra.
‘Hey! Are you listening to me?’ She knew she was getting too confrontational with him but his remoteness was infuriating. ‘I need you to work with me here. You can’t be completely useless at everything; you must be able to move a little!’
He clutched his fingers on his elbows, looking as remote as Mars.
‘Please, give me something to go on. Ballroom, maybe? Isn’t that what you posh kids learn? Or … or Latin?’ Hell, no. He had no passion for that. ‘Hip-hop?’ That too sounded ridiculous so she committed the fatal error of laughing.
His expression became even more distant. ‘Do your own dance, Raven. Tell the teacher, I quit.’ He picked up his bag.
No! She didn’t want to be the only one doing a solo. ‘What? You’re giving up, just like that?’
He walked out—an answer of sorts.
‘Aargh!’ Raven stood in the middle of the empty room, wishing she had something handy to throw. She kicked the piano stool. She really shouldn’t have lost her temper like that; she now felt about an inch high. The annoying thing was she probably even owed him an apology and saying sorry to Mr Arrogant was about as attractive as eating bush tucker. One thing she had learnt was that he didn’t take failing at something well; she shouldn’t have rubbed it in.
Zapping the music back on with the remote, she worked off her temper by dancing alone.
Joe burst into the room. ‘Are you OK, Key? Raven told the teacher you felt ill—left class early. Everyone in the Sixth Form Common Room is asking me what’s wrong.’ He glanced at the screen in front of Kieran. ‘What’s that? You’ve got access to the academic results of all the students. You find something?’
Kieran tapped a few keys, temper seething.
‘Key, you’re worrying me, bro. Say something.’
‘There’s a sequence.’ Kieran strove for cool and rational; if he kept talking maybe he wouldn’t have to face up to failing. ‘The students that we’ve noted as absent—when they come back, they all improve in their performance.’
‘So, what are you saying? Whatever is happening to them while they are away does not harm, but helps? Like they are getting extra tuition or something?’
‘I cannot support that conclusion at this time; I’m simply giving you the facts. Denzil Hardcastle—crashed out of his GCSEs, thanks to a preference for joyriding rather than studying. Left with all A*s in his A levels. Talented but
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