Lowewood Academy

“Hip hip, hooray!
Hip hip, hooray!
Hip hip, hooray!”

The Dashwood sixth form contingent joined in the cheers heartily. It was a long-standing tradition, this, for each house to commandeer the Prefects’ Common Room for a night in the last week of term for a house celebration. Dashwood’s turn had eventually come around, and here we all were. It’s meant to be a genteel occasion – no drunken debauchery here, just enough fizz for a flute each with which to toast Dr Higgins and Miss Golding – and for them, in turn, to wish us all the best.

Alex had led the toasts, as House Captain, and I stood proudly by as I watched my husband – husband!! – do his duty. I’m sure in two months’ time, when we move on to a rather larger educational establishment, it will feel a little strange to be small fish in a big pond, rather than the other way round, but of course I’m looking forward to it – anonymity can be a good thing too!

My thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.

“Penny for them?” asked Miss Golding, smiling at me.

(more…)

I can’t say I noticed that she wasn’t at breakfast.  But then, when you’re table-monitoring for the Dashwood second years, you can’t afford to take your eye off the ball for a moment!  Boy are they unruly!  Was I really ever that unruly when I was a second year?

On second thoughts, don’t answer that!

What was I saying?  Oh yeah: Juliet.  So it didn’t really hit us that something was up until she didn’t appear for first period.  I mean, prefects often have other tasks to perform, teachers to see, pupils to discipline, and that must be even more the case for the Head Girl.  But even though going to classes after the exams were finished has to be one of the most pointless exercises ever, Juliet equally had to be the least likely girl in the school to bunk off one!  Yet when Mr Croft asked us where she was, none of us could actually be sure.  He made a note, and the lesson carried on without her.

When she didn’t appear for history either, Lydia’s nose for a story started twitching.

“Do you think she could’ve been sleepwalking again?” she hissed to me when old Necrophia was writing on the board.  “Maybe there’s been an accident?  Maybe she went in the lake again?  Maybe…”

“Seymour, you may be 18 and you may have sat your history papers already, but nonetheless, if you talk in my class, I will tawse you.  I would have thought you were clear about this by now.”  Dr Necrophia glared at her in customary ill-humour.

“Er, yes sir, sorry sir,” she replied.

“Final warning,” he snapped dismissively, and effectively ended the conversation.  It had got me thinking though.  *Had* something happened?

(more…)

First I smelled the cigarette smoke. Then I heard the voices. Only then did I see the two guys sprawled on a fallen-down log, dragging on their cigs and gulping from a bottle they were passing back and forth between them.

They didn’t see me: Ballincrea’s back was turned, and De Bouverie was lying back and staring at the sky.

My first impulse, when I saw them, was to turn on my heel and get the fuck out. I hadn’t had to whack anybody since the bloody PC, and it was just bloody typical that the first people I caught breaking rules were the very two I felt least qualified to punish. The image of me tiptoeing away from the scene was so tempting, so attractive, I could nearly feel myself moving, despite standing completely still.

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