(Josie
Sayz: As promised, here is the edited version of chapter two of 'Welcome to
Arcturus High' story, which is the first story of the 'Arcturus High
Chronicles'. Similar to the first chapter, the changes in this chapter are
mostly copyediting. There may be some slight re-phrasing around one of the
character's due to their role in the second and sixth story, but other than
that, this chapter remains, more or less, the same.
If you have found this page without reading chapter one, first, you can find it
here:
Chapter One: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2024/08/ah1-welcome-to-arcturus-high-ch1.html.)
Welcome to Arcturus High
Finding Friends
Caitlyn’s chest trembled. Salty prickles filtered into her eyes. Lathering bubbled in her stomach. Voices swirled around her. The light overhead flickered. She hugged her arms tight around her waist, as the next form tutor, a maths teacher (a short, timid man, with a red tuft of hair, named Mr Murray) hopped onto the stage. “You remaining students are all in blue band,” Mr Llewelyn informed them. “You will remain a separate group from your peers, until you reach year ten, when the two groups will merge.” An involuntary sniff escaped Caitlyn, as the distance between her and Jay sunk in.
More names were called. Students left their seats and exited the hall. Turning to Darcia, a lump lodged in Caitlyn’s throat. The girls gave each other forced smiles, as the next form tutor introduced herself. She was another maths teacher, named Miss Vines, dressed in a flowy white blouse and black pencil skirt. As names were called, Caitlyn turned to Darcia and whispered, “What if there’s been a mistake? What if our names aren’t down to go to this school?”
“Don’t be silly,” Darcia giggled, tapping Caitlyn’s shoulder. “There’s still two more form groups to go.”
The seventh teacher to call forward students was a slim, petite woman, named Miss Hirons, dressed in narrow fitted, dark trousers and a sage blouse. She introduced herself as an English teacher, who specialised in poetry. “If you are ever interested in the many sonnets of Shakespeare, I am probably the one to steer you in the right direction,” she announced, with a chuckle. Caitlyn found herself smiling back.
“I hope we get her,” Caitlyn whispered, crossing her fingers for luck. Darcia scrunched up her nose and shrugged.
While Miss Hirons called out names, Caitlyn’s attention was drawn to Mr Penn. Still stood at the side of the hall, he gazed back at her. The icy shuddering sensation and chilling spiral in her stomach that Caitlyn had experienced when she first saw Mr Penn, returned. Squeezing her arms tight, at her waist, Caitlyn flickered her vision back to Miss Hirons. ‘I bet we get him,’ she told herself. ‘I have a bad feeling.’ Forcing a swallow, she chewed on the inside of her cheek. ‘I only get a shudder like that when someone’s bad or something bad’s about to happen.’
As Miss Hirons called the last name for her form group, Caitlyn’s heart sank. Flopping back in her seat, she gazed around at the few students that still remained, dotted around the school hall. With over two hundred empty chairs staring back at them, the size of their year group sank in, causing Caitlyn’s stomach to spiral in a circumbendibus.
“And last, but by no means least, we have another member of our English faculty, Mr Shaw,” announced Mr Llewelyn, handing the microphone over to a tall, lean man, whose suit hung from his frame. Caitlyn’s brow puckered.
‘I guess at least we don’t have Mr Tall-Dark-and-Creepy,’ Caitlyn decided, as Mr Llewelyn clambered down from the stage and waddled towards Mr Penn. The two began whispering, while Caitlyn returned her attention to the form tutor stood on the stage.
Scratching a hand to his ginger beard, Mr Shaw groaned. As he placed the microphone to his mouth, his bulbous nose peered over the top of it. “I could just assume you’re all my form group,” he told them with a shrug. Flickering her eyes from Mr Shaw to Darcia then back again, Caitlyn was not sure whether this was supposed to be a joke. She sensed a tumbleweed roll across the stage, as crickets chirped. Mr Shaw lowered the microphone to clear his throat with a chesty splutter, before reading through his list of students’ names. “Darcia Addams,” was first to be called.
“See,” Darcia whispered, poking Caitlyn. “I told you we’ll be called.” As each name was read, the drumming in Caitlyn’s chest grew louder. Another student was called and another.
“Caitlyn Flynn,” Mr Shaw announced. Caitlyn’s stomach swirled, as she released a breath, she had not realised she was holding.
“See!” Darcia exclaimed, with an excited squeal. “We are together. There was nothing to worry about.”
“I know,” Caitlyn muttered, as she dropped her eyes to the floor. ‘But why him?’ wondered Caitlyn, with a sigh, as Mr Shaw’s spluttered another cough. ‘And why aren’t we all together?’ she sulked, as she slid her pencil case into her backpack, giving her star keyring one last comforting squeeze. She flinched, as Mr Shaw coughed again. ‘And what’s with Mr Penn?’ Humming to herself, Caitlyn pursed her lips, as she flickered her sight between the two teachers.
“Right, you lot,” Mr Shaw called out, once the last name was read. Caitlyn shuddered out of her thoughts. “Follow me.”
Departing from the main hall, Mr Shaw turned left, leading his students down the corridor. A puzzled frown wrinkled Caitlyn’s forehead. ‘That’s odd,’ she realised. ‘Will said there was a scary initiation ceremony, but we’ve all been split up already.’ A chuckle prodded into the corner of her mouth. ‘I bet he tricked us,’ she decided. ‘Or at least I hope he did.’
As they passed by classrooms, Caitlyn noticed that all of the doors were painted the same shade of cobalt blue she had seen many times already, with numbers painted, in white, near the top of the door. They walked past room twenty-six, twenty-five, twenty-four, and twenty-three, before stopping outside door twenty-two.
Whilst waiting for Mr Shaw to unlock his classroom door, Caitlyn turned her attention to the windows opposite the line of classrooms. The view led to a grassy area outside, where a shed-like building could be spotted in the far right. The next corridor along appeared to back onto Caitlyn’s right hand side view of the grassy courtyard. On the opposite side, more windows into another corridor could be seen. To the left Caitlyn spotted three large windows, situated high in the wall; this, she suspected, was the main hall, where she had just been. Towering over the main hall was the glimmering black, stone turret. It sparkled in the sunlight. Caitlyn’s mouth froze open, as she gazed upon it. ‘Is that a part of the hall?’ she wondered, seeing the bottom of the old, turret merge with the modern brickwork. ‘Were we just inside the magical King Arthur turret?’ she wondered, as her eyes widened. ‘It didn’t look like it,’ she sighed to herself, as her shoulders sank. ‘Maybe Jay was right,’ Caitlyn decided, with a shrug. ‘It’s just an old structure and they built the school around it. It’s very strange.’
Caitlyn’s thoughts came to an abrupt end, as Mr Shaw swung open his classroom door. A stampede of students pushed and shoved each other out of the way, to fight for the seat next to their friends. Lingering at the back of the group, Caitlyn and Darcia slipped into two of the three empty seats at the back of the classroom. As they settled down, Caitlyn spotted another teacher sat on a chair beside Mr Shaw’s desk.
“Settle down, settle down,” Mr Shaw grumbled, as he waited for silence. “Now, before we begin, I’d like to introduce you to my teaching assistant, Mr Heekin.” A young-faced man with a little stubble and dark hair, rose from his seat and nodded at the class. “He will be assisting me in keeping you under control,” announced their form tutor. Leaning towards Mr Heekin, he muttered, “I dare say they’ll need it.” Clattering a handful of papers together, Mr Shaw went on. “Now in a bid to get to learn your names, I have your timetables to hand out. As I call your name, raise your hand.” As timetables were passed out among the students, chatter began to build. “Caitlyn Flynn?” Mr Shaw called. Caitlyn shot her arm in the air. Passing Caitlyn her timetable, Mr Shaw did not even glance at her, before moving on to the next student.
Skimming the subjects, Caitlyn’s eyes darted across the page. Maths, English, geography, science, IT, history, music, art, PE, design and technology, RE and German. ‘German?’ Caitlyn forced a swallow, as her brow puckered. She sank in her seat, gripping her brow. “Anything wrong?” Darcia asked.
“First I get separated from Jay,” cried Caitlyn in a whisper. “Then I get German, instead of French.” Sliding her timetable across the desk, as far away from her as possible, Caitlyn sighed. “Can things get any worse?” she sulked. As if agreeing with her, the light above Caitlyn flickered.
“That might be my fault,” Darcia confessed, running a hand across the back of her neck. Caitlyn’s eyes widened, as she pushed herself upright in her seat. “You see,” Darcia began, forcing a swallow. “I asked to be as far away from Kieran as possible.” Pinching her lips in, Caitlyn nodded. “And… when I asked to be with Caitlyn, I didn’t specify which one.”
“No!” Caitlyn gasped, as she threw her head over her shoulder, scanning the room of students.
“You and Kaitlin Barker, from our old school, are I the same class,” Darcia told her.
“But she’s bad,” Caitlyn hissed. A chilling shudder tingled up Caitlyn’s spine and her stomach swirled, as she caught sight of Kaitlin across the room. “Now we’re in the same class again. Everyone’s gonna get us confused. They always do. It took me all six years of primary school for people to figure out Flynn is the good one and Barker is a troublemaker. I can’t go through another six years of that,” she cried. Inhaling a shaky breath, Caitlyn lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“You only have five years at secondary school,” Darcia reminded her, in a sing-song tone.
“Great,” muttered Caitlyn under her breath, as she rolled her eyes. “Let the countdown begin.”
“I kind of asked to do German too,” Darcia revealed, as Mr Shaw handed Darcia her timetable. “My dad knows it – they have clients in Germany, so I knew he’d be able to help me.” Folding her arms tight, Caitlyn hunched over the desk. A nervous tremor bounced in her knee.
“Is there anything else you failed to tell me that might make today any worse?” Caitlyn sighed, as her shoulders sank. The light, overhead, gave another flicker. Caitlyn’s chin lowered to her chest. A shaky breath escaped her, as her bottom lip quivered. Lowering her chin, Darcia shook her head.
“I don’t think so,” murmured Darcia. “But I don’t understand why you’re so upset. Don’t be so pessimistic – this is all so exciting,” she gleamed.
As the class settled down from discussing their timetables, Mr Shaw informed them of assembly times and tutorial. “You will have six lessons a day,” their form tutor informed them. “Within your first two lessons, you will have a fifteen-minute break. After second lesson you will attend either a fifteen-minute assembly in the main hall or you will come here for tutorial. This is followed by another two lessons and either assembly or tutorial – this will be the opposite to whichever you had first time around. Then you will have your last two lessons, in which a thirty-minute lunch break will be inserted in one or the other classes. Mr Heekin will give you a handout containing your break times, as well as the assembly and tutorial rota. While he does so, I shall give each of you a sticky label. You are to write your name on it. However, do not peel it off. Instead, you are to return it to me. I will then mix the names up and hand you a random sticker. It is your mission to find the person whose name I have given you and learn two facts about them. Once you are all done, I will have you reveal what you have learnt to the rest of the group. This means that you will have met two new peers – the one whose name you will have and the person who has your name. You will have fifteen minutes to complete this task.”
The rattling inside of Caitlyn’s chest increased. Sweat clammed up her palms. ‘He wants us to interact already?’ Caitlyn cried to herself. Forcing a swallow, she gripped her pen tight. As the sticky label was placed in front of her, Caitlyn clicked down the green ink of her multi-ink pen. She swirled her wrist, scribing her name in her neatest handwriting. Lowering her head, Caitlyn heard Darcia giggle beside her.
“Why have you done a circle over the ‘i’ instead of a dot?” Darcia chuckled, pointing her fountain pen at Caitlyn’s name sticker.
“It’s just how I do my ‘i’s,” replied Caitlyn with a shrug. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?” she cried, feeling her heart sink to her stomach. “Should I ask for another sticker?” Darcia shrugged.
“It just looks funny,” she mused.
‘Maybe I need to be more like Darcia,’ Caitlyn decided, folding her arms tight at her chest. ‘Maybe I should copy her,’ she thought with a hum. Prodding her mouth into her right cheek, Caitlyn flickered her sight to Darcia’s name sticker. Darcia’s neat, cursive handwriting sat perfect and straight on an invisible line, in blue ink. Dropping her sight back to her own name, Caitlyn’s shoulders drooped. Her rounded lettering, choice of green biro and the circle on the top of her letter ‘i’ made Caitlyn groan. “Mine looks childish, doesn’t it?” Caitlyn sulked.
“Stop being silly,” Darcia sighed. “I’ve just never seen anyone circle their ‘i’ before, that’s all.”
As their form tutor collected his students’ name labels, Caitlyn copied out her timetable, break list and assembly/tutorial rota (merging the three together) into her star covered notebook. “That’s a cool notebook,” Darcia told her. “Way better than mine,” she sulked, showing Caitlyn her plain, marl-grey cover.
“Thanks,” Caitlyn replied, feeling her stomach flutter a little, as she prodded a smile into her right cheek.
“I want to copy you,” Darcia blurted out.
“What?” frowned Caitlyn.
“I want to copy you,” Darcia repeated. “I want to have cute looking letters and I want to have a pretty notebook.” Caitlyn clasped a hand to her mouth, as a nervous laugh escaped her. “And I want friends like you do,” Darcia added with a pout.
“I was thinking I wanted to be more like you,” Caitlyn confessed.
“Me?!” Darcia exclaimed. “Yuck! No way! I’m boring. Boring’s no fun. I like you; you’re so much fun to be around.”
“Am not,” Caitlyn objected.
“Are too,” insisted Darcia. “Everything about you is fun. Everyone wanted to play with you at lunch, in our old school. Even your notebook, your pencil case and your backpack are fun.” Darcia’s eyes flickered from Caitlyn’s star covered notebook and pencil case to her khaki green backpack with silver flowers and a large silver embroidered butterfly on the flap. Darcia’s shoulders deflated, as she shifted her sight back to her own marl grey notebook and pencil case and her plain, black backpack. “Everything about me is plain and boring,” Darcia sulked, folding her arms.
“I just like what I like,” Caitlyn told her with a shrug. “I didn’t choose this stuff because I thought anyone would like me for it. I picked it because I liked it.”
“That’s why I like you so much,” Darcia told her with a chuckle. “You aren’t trying to impress people. You’re just being you.” Caitlyn felt her cheeks tingle. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“Maybe we can help each other out,” Caitlyn suggested with a blushing grin. “I can help you discover ways to express yourself and you can help me feel less scared about… well everything,” she added with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah,” Darcia agreed, nodding.
Chatter built around the room, as the class began discussing their timetable, lessons and lunchtime. Having collected his students’ name stickers, Mr Shaw returned to his desk. His hands raced over the keyboard and his fingers thundered into the keys, as his eyebrows daggered. With her back to her form tutor’s scowl, Caitlyn stared at Darcia’s triangular prism shaped pencil case. It was triple the size of Caitlyn’s dainty one that held her essential stationery. “Do you have any pencil crayons or gel pens in there?” Caitlyn asked, pointing at her friend’s pencil case.
“Yeah,” replied Darcia with a nod. “I’ve got both. D’you want to borrow one?”
“No thanks,” Caitlyn told her. “I was thinking, maybe you could decorate the front of your notebook with doodles you like,” Caitlyn suggested. “You could use your crayons and gel pens to make it colourful or maybe stick some stickers on it. That’ll make it unique and more like you.”
“Excellent idea!” agreed Darcia, clasping her hands together.
“As for your backpack and pencil case, maybe you could add a keyring you like to the zips,” she told Darcia. “And you’re good at sewing; maybe you could attach some patches or scraps of fabric that you like or maybe you could make the letter ‘D’ out of fabric and sew it on. I’m sure your mum would help you.”
“See!” exclaimed Darcia, with wide eyes. “You’re amazing.” Caitlyn felt her cheeks flush, as her stomach tingled at Darcia’s compliment.
“Am not,” Caitlyn objected. She hunched her shoulders and lowered her head.
“Are so,” insisted Darcia, clasping her hands together again. “I never would have thought of any of that. They’re all amazing ideas. I can’t wait to start.” Unzipping her pencil case, Darcia emptied a rainbow of pencil crayons and gel pens onto the desk. “You’re amazing!” beamed Darcia, as she uncapped a turquoise pen.
“I am not,” Caitlyn muttered with a shrug. “You’d have thought of them eventually.”
“Nuh-uh,” Darcia replied, shaking her head.
A chair scraped back. Caitlyn held her breath, focusing on the sounds behind her. Footsteps paced the room. Flickering her sight down to her notebook, she returned to copying out the last of her timetable. Out of the corner of her eye, Caitlyn watched Mr Shaw pass by a neighbouring desk. Without acknowledging the girls sat around the hexagonal table, he flickered six stickers down into the centre of the desk, before turning his back to them. Hands clawed out for the stickers, with each girl grabbing one tight and examining the name scrawled down before them. Caitlyn’s intestines knotted. Scraping her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she forced a swallow.
Paper fluttered beside her. Caitlyn flinched. “Ha!” Darcia boomed, clenching her fist with triumph. Caitlyn turned to her friend, wide eyed. “I got Aaron, from our old school,” Darcia boasted, showing Caitlyn the sticky label with Aaron’s scribbled name. “That’s easy.”
“Aaron’s here too?” whimpered Caitlyn. Arching her head over her shoulder, a shudder tingled up her spine, as Caitlyn spotted another of their primary school bullies. “How is this possible?”
“He and Kaitlin must have asked to be together,” Darcia told her with a shrug. “Who’d you get?”
“Samantha Blair,” replied Caitlyn with a hum, squinting at the teeny-tiny writing in front of her. She arched her head around the room. “Any ideas?” Darcia shook her head.
“Maybe try the girls over there,” Darcia suggested, pointing to the hexagonal table to their left.
“Right,” boomed Mr Shaw, returning to the front of the classroom. “You all have a name. Your fifteen minutes starts… now!”
Sliding out of her seat, Caitlyn gripped Samantha’s name sticker tight. She sniffed a shaky breath as the hexagonal table, full of girls that she was heading towards, all rose from their seats, mixing with the rest of the group. Hunching her shoulders, Caitlyn bit her bottom lip, as she glanced up. One girl remained. Stood alone, the girl with a sandy-blonde bob stared at the table. “Hi,” squeaked Caitlyn, as she neared the girl. “Are you okay?” Clawing her hands into her sleeves, the girl nodded. “My name’s Caitlyn,” she told her. “My friend Darcia’s over there,” Caitlyn said, as she attempted to point Darcia out amongst the bobbing heads. “What’s your name?”
“Samantha,” replied the girl, looking up.
“Really?” Caitlyn replied with a giggle. “Samantha Blair?” The girl nodded. “I have your name sticker.” As Caitlyn handed Samantha her name sticker, she asked, “Do you have any friends here?”
“Not really,” replied Samantha shaking her head. “I’m just sat with some girls I know from my old school. I don’t really have any friends.”
“Oh no,” Caitlyn murmured, as her heart flopped to her stomach. “That must be so hard!” she exclaimed. “I just got separated from my best friend, Jay. He was one of the first groups to leave the hall.” Fiddling with her tie, Caitlyn glanced around the room, as the chatter increased in volume. “You can sit with me and Darcia if you like,” Caitlyn offered. “You don’t have to,” she added, seeing Samantha’s face redden. “But if you want to, I’d like that.”
“Thanks,” Samantha giggled. “You’re really nice.” It was Caitlyn’s turn to blush.
“Do you want me to try and help you find the name on your sticker?” Caitlyn asked, as she saw Samantha’s eyes dart back down to her desk.
Nodding, Samantha whispered, “Yes please.”
“Who’ve you got?”
“I think it says Michael, but I can’t read the surname,” Samantha told her, as she held the sticker out.
“Me either,” Caitlyn giggled. Shifting her sight over to the other side of the room, where most of the boys were congregated, Caitlyn forced a smile before turning back to her new friend. “Come on. Let’s be brave,” Caitlyn said, holding her hand out to Samantha.
“Thank you,” Samantha squeaked. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
After helping her new friend, Samantha, find the guy named Michael, Caitlyn glanced around the room as she lingered nearby them. She spotted Darcia laughing with Kaitlin and Aaron and smiled at them.
“Erm, hi,” spoke a boy with a long brown fringe that swept across his eyes, as he appeared in front of Caitlyn. “Do you happen to know who Caitlyn Flynn is?” he asked, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
“That’s me,” Caitlyn replied with a nervous giggle.
“Cool,” nodded the boy, as he handed Caitlyn her name sticker. “I’m Arthur Pendragon, but my friends call me Artie.”
“Artie’s a nice name,” Caitlyn smiled. “Are your friends all in our form group?”
“Well… I’m kinda a loner,” he confessed with a shrug. “I know some a the guys from my old school, but I prefer my own company.”
“Wow,” gasped Caitlyn, as her eyes sparkled. “That’s really brave.”
“Nah it’s not,” Artie replied, scrunching up his nose. “The guys are always teasing me for it.” Caitlyn’s lower lip pouted, as she dropped her sight to the floor. “I like the circle you’ve done over the ‘i’ in your name,” he added, pointing at her sticker.
“Thanks,” she replied, blushing, as her heart fluttered.
“It’s cool,” he nodded. “Really unique. And you wrote in green,” he added with a smirk. “I like people who aren’t afraid to stand out from the crowd.” Pinching her lips together, Caitlyn felt her blush brighten.
With everyone now wearing their own name sticker, Mr Shaw gave his form group a tour of the building. While wandering around the school, Caitlyn clung close to both Darcia and Samantha, although she did not do much talking. Mr Heekin had handed them all a map of the building, and Caitlyn made as many notes as possible on it that she could squeeze in. The school was divided into five buildings. The front left wing (when stood outside of the school, facing the building) housed the maths corridor on the ground floor and IT and the language classrooms on the first floor. The back left-wing, that contained an adjoining corridor, both on the ground and first floor, was home to the science block. Chemistry classes were located on the ground floor, while biology and physics were on the first floor.
Walking down a staircase in the central corridor brought the group back to the main entrance. To the left-hand side of the reception area were the head and deputy head teacher’s offices. To their right was the drama studio hall. “Each year group will have an assembly in the drama studio hall once a week, instead of the main hall – as there are five year groups, but two sections of seating in the main hall,” Mr Shaw informed them, as they passed by. “There is also the opportunity to learn the art of drama during your English lessons, providing your class are well behaved.”
Opposite the main entrance was the main school hall, which Caitlyn observed, was where Mr Penn had led her and Jay to that morning. Alongside the main entrance, Mr Shaw pointed out, were the head and deputy head teachers’ offices, the reception desk and a board filled with portrait photographs and names of all of the teachers at Arcturus High. Mr Shaw then retraced their steps from earlier, as he led his form group back down the front right wing, which was the English department, on both the ground and first floor. Entering the right-wing corridor that connected the front and back buildings, were two art classrooms. As they reached the end of the corridor, they climbed a case of stairs to the first floor. “Here are your humanities subjects – geography, history and religious education,” Mr Shaw informed them, as they passed through the corridor and climbed more stairs to the second floor that housed the music corridor, where Darcia discovered she could have private flute lessons. She tugged on Caitlyn’s arm and bounced up and down with excitement. “Now I’ll be better at the flute than mum,” she exclaimed.
Heading back down the stairs, that they mounted to get to the humanities department, Mr Shaw pointed out the design and technology block, as they reached the ground floor. Pressing their faces up against a large, glass screen, the entrance to cooking classes, textiles, graphic design and resistant materials remained locked.
Doubling back to the merging corridor for the front and back of the right wing, Mr Shaw led his class down a long, narrow corridor, full of windows to their left, which faced a grassy area. Mr Shaw pointed out that this grassy area housed a large shed-like building, where they would find their lockers. “All coats and bags must be placed in your locker at all times,” he warned them. “Being found with your coat or bag on you during the school day, from tomorrow, will result in an instant consequence three.” A shudder crept down Caitlyn’s spine; they were being threatened with punishments already. Opposite the grassy area they could see the English corridor and their form room. Continuing along, Mr Shaw pointed out the entrance to the library, on their right, as well as the entrances to the boys’ and girls’ PE gyms.
As they reached the end of this corridor, Mr Shaw pulled open two shamrock-green and sunflower-yellow, plastic-framed doors. Another corridor appeared; this one was twice the size of most of the main school corridors. The ceiling grew higher and the corridor darker, the further they traversed. Turning back to face his students, Mr Shaw stopped in front of another set of green doors. “To your left, up these stairs,” Mr Shaw began, as he held a hand out to a narrow set of brick stairs heading up, in the corner, “is IT support, as well as two of our IT classrooms. If your timetable says CR-one or CR-two, you will find that they are up here.” Nodding, Caitlyn noted this piece of information down on her map. “And through these double doors is the canteen.”
“But Sir,” a guy asked, raising his hand. “What’s that door, beneath the staircase for?”
“Oh,” gasped Mr Shaw, in a fluster, as he turned to the small, tawny doorframe in the wall. Creases lined his forehead. “You know, I have no idea where that leads. It must just be a store cupboard – isn’t that right, Mr Heekin?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Sir,” confessed Mr Heekin, with a shrug. “I’m just as new to this school as they are.”
“Right, right,” their form tutor muttered to himself. “Yes… yes.” Bringing his fist to his mouth, Mr Shaw bellowed three thunderous coughs. His skeleton trembled. “Now, our last stop is the canteen,” he told his students, as he swung open the doors, leading the way inside. Peering over the shoulder of the person in front, Caitlyn gazed around the pupil-free canteen. Two tables with four chairs apiece were beside each other, with another two back-to-back in rows around the room. Both the tables and chairs matched the shamrock-green and sunflower-yellow of the plastic doors at the front of the corridor. “And before any of you get any ideas,” Mr Shaw warned. “The chairs are connected to the tables, and they’re all bolted to the floor, so there will be no furniture moving, thank you very much.” An echo of moans and groans filtered into the air.
As Mr Shaw clambered his way to the back of the group, ready to lead their return to their form room, Caitlyn grabbed Darcia and Samantha’s arms. “Guess what?” she whispered to her friends, with a mysterious grin. “I bet there’s something secret hidden in that room,” she told them with a giggle.
“Yeah!” Darcia gasped. “It’s our mission to discover what’s behind that door.”
“You too Samantha,” Caitlyn told her, with a big grin. “D’you want to help us come up with ideas?” Holding a hand to her mouth, Samantha giggled with a nod.
After returning from their school tour, Mr Shaw’s class spent the rest of the day filling in forms and taking mini assessments. Passing her stack of papers, over her shoulder, to Mr Heekin, as he collected their reading assignment, Darcia hissed to Caitlyn, “Why’d you let her sit with us for?” jabbing a finger at Samantha, who was sat on Caitlyn’s left.
“She doesn’t have any friends,” Caitlyn whispered to Darcia, with a shrug. “And she seems nice.”
“So?” hissed Darcia, snarling her nose. “I don’t want that gormless, hay-haired zombie following us around.”
“Darcia!” Caitlyn scowled. “Stop it. Samantha’s just shy. You haven’t even given her a chance,” she scolded. ‘She’s one of few people that I’ve had a positive feeling about today,’ Caitlyn told herself. Folding her arms, Darcia huffed, as Caitlyn turned towards Samantha. “How did you find that reading test?” Caitlyn asked her new friend.
“Hard,” muttered Samantha, rolling her pen across the table.
“Me too,” Caitlyn agreed. “I struggle with reading,” Caitlyn confessed, as she stiffened her shoulders. Samantha nodded. “And I can never find a book I like. Darcia’s really good at reading, aren’t you Darcia?” Caitlyn asked, desperate to include her two friends together in conversation. Turning to face them, Darcia grunted.
“Suppose,” the brunette muttered.
“Darcia reads lots and is really good at finding interesting stories,” Caitlyn told Samantha. “Maybe the three of us could go to the library together sometime and Darcia could help us find something we’d actually like to read, instead of the boring books the teachers pick. What d’you say, Samantha?”
“I don’t know,” mumbled Samantha. Her cheeks reddened, as she flickered her sight from Darcia, back to the table. “Maybe.” The corner of her mouth prodded into her cheek, as she looked up at Caitlyn.
“Darcia, what do you think?” Caitlyn asked, as she turned from Samantha, on her left, to Darcia, on her right. “It’s something the three of us can do together. And you are the best at finding good stories.”
“Okay,” grumbled Darcia, lowering her head, as she tried to hide her blushing cheeks from Caitlyn’s compliment.
“Yey!” Caitlyn cheered. “See Samantha, we can try to help each other out.”
“Thank you,” Samantha squeaked.
“That’s what friends are for,” Caitlyn assured her with a warm smile.
*
On Friday morning, Jay knocked on Caitlyn’s door and the two of them began their journey to school. As Caitlyn relayed to him how her first day went, he nudged her and replied, “See, I told you it wouldn’t be that bad.”
“Earth to Jay!” exclaimed Caitlyn, shaking a hand in front of his face. “Did you hear the same story I was telling you? At what part was that not so bad?”
“You made friends, didn’t you?” he pointed out.
“Kind of,” shrugged Caitlyn.
“And you didn’t need me by your side,” Jay told her.
“I guess so,” Caitlyn sighed. “But-” Passing by Kieran’s road, Jay signalled for them to wait a moment. “He’s gonna be late again,” Caitlyn warned, tapping her foot.
After waiting several minutes and with no sign of their friend walking up the road towards them, Jay and Caitlyn grew impatient and continued their journey. “So, how was your day?” Caitlyn asked. “I’ve done all the talking so far,” she confessed with a giggle.
“I’m just glad to see you’ve cheered up,” exclaimed Jay, running a hand through his hair. “Even if it’s only a little,” he added with a chuckle. Caitlyn beamed back at him. “My day was okay, I guess,” he told her with a shrug. “Our tutor, Mr Bruges, seems more pleasant than the sound a your guy,” Jay told her. A shudder shivered down Caitlyn’s spine, as the image of her form tutor, Mr Shaw, crept to the front of her mind. “He’s pretty cool,” Jay went on. “Very energetic though,” he added, as he tugged on the knot of his tie. “He thinks we should join every single sports group there is and volunteer to run laps around the track, before school.”
“No thanks,” Caitlyn laughed. “I think PE twice a week is enough.”
“I know,” agreed Jay.
“So…” she asked, rubbing the silky surface of her tie between her fingers. “Did you make any friends?”
“I had Kieran,” Jay shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And there’s this guy Sean, who took a liking to us.”
“That’s good,” replied Caitlyn, forcing a swallow, as the right corner of her mouth poked down. ‘He’s not okay,’ she realised. ‘And he won’t tell me why.’ As they passed through the park, Caitlyn’s eyes widened, as her smile returned. “D’you wanna meet up at the weekend?” she suggested. “Maybe catch up then. We can play football in the park… or computer games if you’re not up to running around. We can carry on playing that theme park game, if your dad lets us use the PC.”
“Yeah,” Jay nodded, as a smile prodded into the corner of his mouth. “I’d like that.” As Caitlyn’s grin grew, Jay found himself smiling back at her. “You’re good at cheering me up,” he told her. “D’you know that?”
“We’re best friends,” she reminded him, in a cheerful sing-song tone. “That’s what I’m here for. Oh, and I’m getting Will back for tricking us into thinking there was a scary initiation ceremony,” Caitlyn added with a chuckle. “He’s gonna regret scaring me.”
“Count me in,” agreed Jay, clasping his hands together.
As Caitlyn and Jay turned onto the main road, Darcia raced towards them, from a side road. “Morning!” she cheered, waving.
“Hi,” chirped Caitlyn, waving back.
“Hey,” muttered Jay with a nod.
“Yes!” Darcia hissed, as she walked alongside Caitlyn. “No Kieran.” Jay frowned at her.
“Darcia doesn’t like him either,” Caitlyn told him.
“Speaking of people I don’t like,” scoffed Darcia. “Did you tell him about that dreary, duck-face girl with straw for hair that was following us around, like a lost dog, yesterday?”
“Darcia!” Caitlyn cried. “You can’t say things like that?”
“Why not?” she shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
“Honestly,” tutted Caitlyn, shaking her head. “Samantha’s really nice. She’s just shy. She doesn’t know anyone, and like me, she’s scared.”
“Ugh!” Darcia groaned, scrunching up her face.
“That’s Caitlyn for you,” chuckled Jay. “She’s so sweet, she’ll make friends with anyone – especially those who are in need of a friend… never change,” he added, placing his arm around her shoulder, giving her a side-hug.
“I won’t,” she sang.
*
The wait for the design and technology block to open, on Friday morning, made Caitlyn’s stomach churn. Hundreds of bodies buzzed at the end of the art corridor. The rapping in Caitlyn’s chest grew faster, as more and more students crowded into the dead end. Pressing their faces against the glass doorway, students stared out across the courtyard at the large, glass building. “Are you sure we’re all in the right place?” Caitlyn asked Darcia, as she clawed her nails into her arms.
“Of course, we are,” replied Darcia with a chuckle. “Jay’s right, you really do worry about everything.”
“Do not,” Caitlyn objected, wrinkling her nose.
“Look,” sighed Darcia, pointing towards the glass doorway. “Through there is the entrance to all of the technology classrooms. Mr Shaw showed us yesterday,” she reminded her.
“No, he didn’t show us anything,” Caitlyn sulked. “We stood right there, like all those idiots, pressing their faces against the glass.” Her grip around her notebook and pencil case tightened. Turning to the group of boys who were pressing their faces against the glass wall, and exhaling a deep, loud gasp to leave a breathy smudge, Caitlyn sighed. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she fumed to herself. “We didn’t see a cooking classroom!” she ranted on. “Or a sewing room or a woodwork room or-”
“Hi,” came a squeak from Samantha, as she neared them.
“Ugh!” Darcia groaned. Crossing her arms, she muttered, “Humph,” and twisted her torso away from them, protruding her nose in the air.
“Samantha, you found us!” gasped Caitlyn. “I was scared we were all in the wrong place or something.”
“She still is,” Darcia muttered.
“Well, why doesn’t a teacher open the door, instead of squishing us all in this tiny corridor, like sardines,” complained Caitlyn.
Digging her chin into her chest, Caitlyn snapped her eyes tight, as the hurricane of students around her raced back and forth. ‘The width of the corridor could fit three people walking together, in a line, comfortably,’ Caitlyn decided. ‘But not this. This is torture.’ Four form groups filed into the narrow end of the corridor. Shoulders pressed up against other shoulders. Feet were trampled on. Backs were bumped into. Caitlyn’s chest trembled. Her throat tightened. Pressing her back up against the wall, she squished her right arm into a bin that hung from a bracket. Her brow creased, as she flickered her sight to the wall opposite. Loitered with black blazers and bobbing heads, the powder-blue coloured wall was lost. Laughter bellowed. Chatter echoed around them. ‘I can’t hear myself think,’ Caitlyn cried, squinting her eyes.
A boy with spiked hair, flung all his force into shoving another boy away from him, with both hands. Staggering backwards, the chubby boy with a nest of dirty-blond hair, flapped his arms at his sides, desperate to steady his balance. A yelp escaped him, as he stumbled over someone’s feet, crashing into Darcia. Seeping in a squeak, Caitlyn snapped her eyes tight. “I’m so sorry,” Caitlyn heard the boy say, as she squinted her eyes open. “I didn’t mean t’ hurt you. Jamie pushed me.”
“It’s okay,” muttered Darcia, with reddening cheeks, rubbing her left arm.
“I’m really sorry,” the boy blurted out. “I’ll get him back for you,” the boy told her, pointing out the one who had pushed him. “I’m Bentley by the way. It was nice bumping into you,” he called over his shoulder, as he fumbled his way back through the crowd. “Excuse me. Coming through. ‘Scuse me,” Bentley’s voice trailed, as he disappeared into the marsh of bodies.
“Are you okay?” Samantha gasped, appearing by Darcia’s side.
“I’m fine,” muttered Darcia. “Stupid boy.” Despite her remark, Darcia’s eyes gazed over to the bumbling boy, Bentley. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Her blush brightened, as she continued to stare.
“I told you waiting here was dangerous,” Caitlyn cried. “How do we know it’s even a door,” she went on, looking towards the glass wall that everyone was congregating by. “It could just be a window and we’re all waiting in the wrong place, and we’re supposed to be in the next corridor, or something.”
“D’you wanna go look on your own, when half of our year group are all standing here, waiting?” Darcia told her with an amused smirk.
“They’re not waiting,” Caitlyn retorted, snarling her nose at the disgusting mass of boys, still taking it in turns to press their faces into the glass, and the boisterous herd who barged into their friends, causing them to crash into other students, in an attempt to start a mosh pit. “Look at them; they’re hunting down their prey, like wild animals.” Holding a hand to her mouth, Samantha sniggered.
“You’re funny,” she mused.
“She’s so dramatic,” Darcia muttered, rolling her eyes. “Seriously Caitlyn… we’re in the right place. Any minute now a teacher is going to come ‘round the corner, open the door and we’ll all find our classroom. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Year sevens,” boomed a deep voice appearing from around the corner, as if answering to Darcia’s statement. A short male teacher, who stood at the same height as some of the taller year seven students, strode towards the door. “Make way! Make way!” he yelled, rattling a set of keys in his hands. Dividing into separation, students close to the centre of the corridor, pushed themselves back against their fellow peers, to create a walkway. The teacher’s bright, cobalt overalls lit the way through the crowd. “Jeez, are you boys trying to break the glass,” he sighed at the boys who were pressing their faces up against the window, desperate to see into the building beyond the door. “I don’t know where you’re from, but where I come from, doors open with keys,” he told them, jangling his set of keys out in front of them. Caitlyn and Samantha both giggled. Clattering the key into the lock, the teacher announced, “And as if by magic, hey presto, the door is open,” as he heaved the glass door ajar. Cheers and shouts of excitement echoed around them. Bodies zoomed through the doorway, as though by opening the door, a suction was activated, dragging all of the students through.
“Hold up!” called the male teacher, striding up to the entrance of the technology block. “Do you kids ever learn?” he sighed. “What did I tell you a moment ago?” He paused in hopes of an answer, although received nothing but puzzled expressions. “Doors open with keys,” he exclaimed, as he unlocked the entrance to the technology block. Bodies trampled through the doorway. A roar of pupils pushed and shoved their way inside. “Were you kids raised in a barn?” the teacher raged. “‘Cause I sure wasn’t.”
To Caitlyn’s relief, DT3 (the room number which her form group were looking for) was the first classroom on their right. “Come in, come in,” encouraged a smiling lady with a silver perm and an ivory-coloured apron covering her clothes. A warm tingle of familiarity swirled inside of Caitlyn. She hummed to herself, uncertain as to why she felt this way. “Find a seat and we’ll make a start,” their teacher told them.
The warm tingle bubbled to a frown on Caitlyn’s forehead, as she wondered, ‘Was she in here the whole time?’ As the teacher stood in the doorway, welcoming all of the students inside, the lines on Caitlyn’s brow deepened. ‘Was I right? Is there another entrance?’ she speculated. ‘Or did she lock herself in the classroom? She definitely wasn’t waiting in the corridor with the rest of us; I’m certain of that,’ Caitlyn told herself. ‘And why do I recognise her? Hmmm… it’s a mystery.’
Caitlyn placed her notebook and pencil case down on the first table, in the classroom, she came to. Having pulled the stool out from the desk, Caitlyn held a hand to the seat, as she leapt up into it. “Goodness, these seats are high,” Caitlyn exclaimed.
“Yeah,” agreed Darcia, taking the stool on Caitlyn’s left.
“I can’t get up,” Samantha squeaked with a nervous laugh, hoisting herself up onto the seat beside Darcia. As Samantha shuffled into her stool, Caitlyn shot her eyes up to the boy who sat opposite her.
Prodding the corner of his mouth into his cheek, Artie murmured, “Hi Caitlyn.”
“Hi Artie,” she beamed back. “Are these your friends?” she asked, as two boys appeared at their table, opposite Darcia and Samantha.
“Kinda,” he mumbled with a shrug.
“Kinda?! Kinda?!” exclaimed the boys at his side.
“Yeah, we are,” nodded the boy opposite Darcia. “I’m James, this is Lee,” he said pointing a thumb to the boy opposite Samantha. “And you seem to already know Artie,” he added patting a hand on Artie’s shoulder.
“Keeping the girl t’ yourself, already, are you?” teased Lee. “The cheek of it.” He tutted, shaking his head.
“Shut it,” Artie snapped, as his ears turned a deep scarlet. Folding his arms tight at his chest, Artie pressed his forearms into the desk, hunching his back. “You guys are the worst,” he muttered.
“We’re only messin’ with ya,” laughed Lee, as James nudged Artie.
“I’m Darcia,” Darcia announced, introducing herself to the boys. “And this is Caitlyn and Samantha,” she told them, pointing to the red head and blonde sat either side of her.
“I see the girls have manners,” James said with a laugh, as he gave Artie another nudge. “They introduce their friends.”
“Ignore them,” Caitlyn whispered to Artie, lowering her head.
“Ooow, already got her stickin’ up for ya?” sniggered Lee.
“Sorry,” Artie mouthed to Caitlyn. Scraping her tongue against the roof of her mouth, Caitlyn’s brows slanted upwards. A knot formed in her stomach. As she folded her arms tight at her chest, Caitlyn flickered her sight to the table, hearing James and Lee sniggering.
“Right,” beamed their teacher, once everyone in their form group had found a seat. “My name is Mrs Hartwell. I’ll be your cooking teacher for the term. Here, we will teach you how to bake cupcakes and muffins, before we move onto sweet and savoury pastries. We’ll end the term with a cake baking contest. Around you, you’ll notice cooking stations. This is where the magic happens.”
Arching her head around the room, Caitlyn noticed that cooking and preparation stations lined the one wall. The table, which Caitlyn was sat at, was in the centre of a mini, ‘u’ shaped kitchen. A sink and draining board were situated behind her. Cupboards were displayed both above and underneath the counter, while chopping boards of different colours were spread out over the granite surface. In front of Caitlyn, and behind the boys, were two built-in ovens, with hobs on the counter. An array of saucepans and skillets lined the tabletop. Each group of tables, sitting six students, had their own miniature kitchen. A row of four kitchen units lined the one side of the room, whilst another group of six students were sat opposite on the far side, near the teacher’s table.
“Three of you from each table will be cooking on our Thursday class, and the other three on our Friday class,” Mrs Hartwell announced. “Now, I’m going to mix friendship groups up a little, as in the past, I’ve noticed one friend doing all of the work for the others. Now, the only person you’re tricking there is yourselves,” she warned them. “I will sort you into group one and group two. Group one, you will have the kitchen every Thursday. Group two, the kitchen will be yours on Fridays. So,” Mrs Hartwell beamed, approaching Caitlyn’s table. “You three shall be group one,” she said pointing at Lee, James and Samantha. “And you three shall be group two,” she told Artie, Darcia and Caitlyn. Flickering a glance at Artie, Caitlyn gave him her biggest smile. “Oowh, forgive me, dear, but I feel as though I recognise you,” beamed Mrs Hartwell at Caitlyn. Cupping a finger to her chin, their cooking teacher let out a hum. “Oh, I remember now,” beamed Mrs Hartwell. “You were part of my taster session I did when you came for the day, back in the spring. I think we baked bread, didn’t we?”
“Yes,” Caitlyn replied with a smile. “I liked that.”
“Good. Then that brings us onto our demonstration for today,” announced Mrs Hartwell, clasping her hands together. “Once I have sorted you all into group one and two, I’ll show you how to bake bread. It’s a simple recipe, with simple instructions. If we start soon, we can get it in the oven before break time. Then when you return, it should almost be ready.”
Watching Mrs Hartwell divide up the rest of her form group, a warm smile prodded into Caitlyn’s cheeks. ‘At least cooking class doesn’t seem that bad,’ Caitlyn decided. ‘Mrs Hartwell is super nice.’ Dropping her sight to the table, Caitlyn’s insides began to churn. ‘I feel bad for Artie though,’ Caitlyn thought, as her stomach flopped. To prevent herself from looking up at the boys, Caitlyn rummaged around in her pencil case. Gripping her pen, she flickered open her notebook and began scribbling down her cooking teacher’s name and the cooking group that she was in. ‘At least he’s in our cooking group,’ Caitlyn decided, poking her mouth into the corner of her cheek. ‘Then when Samantha’s stuck with the boys, Darcia and I can watch out for her.’
A warm, mouth-watering, fresh-bread scent lingered in the air. To Caitlyn’s surprise, as soon as the bread began baking, her form group calmed down. ‘Maybe everyone else likes the smell of bread just as much as I do?’ she wondered with a grin. ‘Or maybe everyone’s behaving in hopes that Mrs Hartwell lets them try some,’ she realised.
“Right,” cheered Mrs Hartwell. “If you’ve all finished your worksheets, numbering the order of steps to bake bread, I shall let you go to break. Anyone struggling, remain behind and I’ll give you a helping hand.”
With the class free to leave, Artie leapt off his stool and raced for the classroom door. Caitlyn’s stomach spiralled. Her heart jolted in her chest. Hopping out of her stool, she followed after him. “Artie,” Caitlyn called, spotting him plodding ahead of her. His back stooped and he slid his hands into his pockets. “Artie, are you okay?” Caitlyn asked, as she caught up with him in the art corridor.
“Sorry the guys’re jerks,” he muttered with a shrug.
“It’s fine,” she told him. “So longs as you’re okay.” Prodding the corner of his mouth into his cheek, Artie gave Caitlyn another shrug. “I know you prefer your own company,” she told him, as she continued to follow him and they turned the corner into the next corridor, heading towards the canteen. “But if you ever want a friend, or someone to talk to… or to just get away from them for a bit, you’re welcome to hang around with me and my friends.”
“Where’s Caitlyn gone to now?” she heard Darcia huff, from around the corner, behind them. Caitlyn’s forehead puckered. “How dare she leave me? The nerve,” Darcia grumbled.
“Or maybe just me,” added Caitlyn, with a nervous giggle.
“Thanks,” he muttered, slowing their walk to a stop. “I really appreciate it, Caitlyn.” Smiling back at him, Caitlyn felt a warmth tingle inside her, from seeing Artie’s face light up. His soft smile made Caitlyn’s cheeks flush a deep, rosy hue.
“Here he is,” sang Lee, shuddering Caitlyn and Artie out of their gaze. Caitlyn lowered her head, pinching her lips in. Scratching a hand to the back of his head, Artie forced a swallow, as Lee and James appeared beside him.
“Couldn’t leave Caitlyn alone, could ya?” teased James. Caitlyn’s heart sank to her stomach. She shuffled away from them, staring at her shoes.
‘Did I just make things worse?’ she worried.
“Will you guys cut it out?” Artie sighed. “We were just talking. If I buy you a sausage sandwich, will you quit messin’ about?”
As Artie and his friends disappeared down the corridor, Caitlyn let out a sigh. “D’you think he’s okay?” Caitlyn asked, as Samantha and Darcia appeared at her side. Samantha shrugged.
“He’s got his own friends,” Darcia told her. “You don’t have to befriend everyone.”
“I know,” she sighed. “He just… doesn’t seem happy. I wish I could help him.” Gripping her right elbow with her left hand, Caitlyn stiffened her shoulder blades.
“You’re really nice,” Samantha squeaked, poking Caitlyn’s arm. “I think he knows that too. If he needs you, he’ll find you… just like I did.”
“Thank you, Samantha,” replied Caitlyn, as she relaxed her shoulders. “I need you too,” she whispered. Samantha’s cheeks turned pink. Placing an arm around Samantha’s shoulder, Caitlyn hugged her nearby. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Once the boys had been fed, both from their sausage sandwich Artie had bought them at break, and the bread that Mrs Hartwell had baked, both Lee and James quietened down. Caitlyn kept her head low. She did not want to give the boys a reason to pick on Artie again. ‘Samantha’s right,’ she told herself. ‘He knows he can speak to me, if he needed to.’
Their next lesson was maths. Folding her arms, Caitlyn glared at Darcia, as her friend boasted, “I’m going to be in top set,” when their teacher announced that as of Monday all students would be placed into maths groups based on their final examination result from primary school.
“Don’t worry,” Samantha had whispered, placing her hand on Caitlyn’s arm. “I’m not that good at maths either.” With a sigh, Caitlyn forced Samantha a smile.
Caitlyn’s mind flashed back to her primary school’s final examination week. Her younger brother had caught the chickenpox and because she had never had it, Caitlyn caught it too. There had been many sleepless nights, struggling through the burning itch that the chickenpox had caused. Due to Caitlyn being contagious, she had been made to miss school for two weeks. When it was time to sit her exams, Caitlyn was made to sit by herself, in the deputy headmistress’s classroom. As the memories returned, Caitlyn felt her head become heavy, her vision turned fuzzy and her eyes begged to close, as though the feelings she felt in that moment, had returned. ‘I could have done better in my end of year exams, if I hadn’t caught the chickenpox,’ Caitlyn fumed. ‘I may not be as good at things as Darcia is, but I would have got a higher level if I wasn’t so tired and itchy.’
A knot formed in Caitlyn’s intestines, when Darcia continued to boast throughout their RE lesson. “I know,” Darcia had exclaimed, when their teacher, Miss Lehal, asked if anyone knew of any religious teachings. “I go to Sunday school,” Darcia had blurted out, wavering her arm in the air. Darcia’s grin grew, as she explained to the class all of the activities that occur during her Sunday school and what the church services were like.
In English, Caitlyn folded her arms tight at her chest. Their English lesson was taught in their form room, by their form tutor, Mr Shaw. ‘Darcia’s good at English too,’ Caitlyn reminded herself, as she sank deeper into her seat. ‘I wish there was something I was better than Darcia at,’ she sulked. ‘I just want to be good at something… just one thing.’
The hairs on the back of Caitlyn’s neck pricked up. Arching her head over her shoulder, to see the whiteboard, she felt as though she were being watched. Flickering her sight to her left, she locked eyes with Artie. She gave him a soft smile. His ears turned red and he shot his eyes down to the table. “Are we paying attention, Miss Flynn?” boomed Mr Shaw. Caitlyn jumped. Her heart panged. Her face grew red.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied with a nod.
“Then what was I just saying?” he asked with an unamused glare.
“That the author’s description of the old man having pain in his shoulder blades is used to emphasise his age and the severity of his condition,” explained Caitlyn. “Because the saying goes that when your shoulder blades hurt, it’s because your wings are trying to grow back. Some people believe that we start off as angels, you lose your wings when you’re born, but when you die, your wings grow back and carry you away to whatever afterlife you believe in.”
“Very good,” Mr Shaw grumbled. “I stand corrected.”
Dipping his head into his elbow, Mr Shaw blurted out three whooping coughs. “Right,” he muttered, as he clicked the trap pad of his laptop several times. The extract disappeared from the presentation screen, on the board, and was replaced with the novel’s front cover. “Now has anyone read the book that we have taken the extract from?” he asked the class. Darcia shot her hand up. Feeling her insides swirl, Caitlyn protruded her finger in the air. “Yes, Miss Flynn?” nodded Mr Shaw. “And would you recommend it to the class – without giving away the ending?” he added.
“I would,” she told him, flickering her sight from her teacher to the whiteboard and back again. “It’s an interesting story about an unusual friendship, a mysterious creature and children taking matters into their own hands. It’s odd for a book to be aimed at children and for the message not to be report everything unusual a mysterious to your parents or a guardian.” Caitlyn’s tongue scraped against the roof of her mouth. Her heart hammered in her ribcage. As her fingers trembled, she balled her hands into fists, shoving them into her lap. “None of the adults in the book ever come into contact with the creature described in the passage,” Caitlyn continued, as her stomach lathered. “I don’t think it’s all happening in the main characters imagination though. Maybe it’s saying that the older you get the more sceptical you become and less likely to understand or believe in the unknown? Maybe? The author uses a lot of life and death imagery throughout. I guess it’s what the creature represents.”
“Well put,” said Mr Shaw, with an approving nod. Rising from his chair, he paced the room, towards Caitlyn. “An interesting interpretation,” he told her. “I hope Miss Flynn’s brief summary of the text might entice some of you to pick up a copy. Your homework over the next month is to find a book, read it and write an essay, explaining what you found out, what you liked and why.” Forcing a swallow, Caitlyn shuffled in her seat. “Now, Miss Flynn’s summary of the text is a little vague compared to what I am expecting from you in terms of an essay, however, her personal interpretation is something I want you all to try and focus on. I don’t want you to recite a direct narrative of what the story entails. I want each of you to have a go at discovering running themes throughout the book and discuss how it made you think.”
“Well done,” Samantha whispered, nudging Caitlyn. “That was very brave.”
“Thanks,” gasped Caitlyn, as her heart continued to race. Her pulse trembled in her eardrums. Pressing the backs of her fingers into her cheeks, Caitlyn attempted to extinguish her flaming face. “I tried,” she mumbled.
“That was better than what I’d have said,” Darcia told her, joining in their whispered conversation. “You interpreted it in your own way. I’d have just told him what happened and probably gave the ending away,” Darcia said with a laugh. “I don’t get English,” she grumbled. “I know what happens in stories, but I don’t care why it happens or how it’s supposed to make you think.”
“I just told him what I thought of the story,” replied Caitlyn with a shrug. “I didn’t mean t’ do anything in particular.”
“I think you just did the thing teachers want you to do,” Samantha told her.
“I hope so,” Caitlyn murmured. “Not that I meant to,” she added. “I mean, I hope I did something right, for once.”
- Josie -
