Lowewood Academy

I should have guessed that if we were ever going to have a riot at Lowewood that Jennifer Adamson would be behind it. That girl has the tact of Boris Johnson, the mouth of Lily Allen and the same attitude toward her own safety as Amy Winehouse. Although she’s in Sandwich – and drives Catherine Lamplugh totally nuts poor darling – she hangs out with Faye Dennington-Glass from my house, worse luck! So she occasionally crosses my path.

So why oh why was it me that got to sort out the Great Lowewood Riot? It was smack bang in front of Wilkes House for fuck’s sake! When I asked Herbert lately if he’d noticed sixty people shouting at each other, he claimed he was engrossed in chemical formulae for Mr Bang and that he’d thought it was a ‘particularly noisy game of netball Jessica’.

Twit!

Ok, let’s run down what happened.

Fact the first
Jennifer Adamson and Amelia Fox-Knightly can’t stand each other. Something to do with them both getting off with Henry Marston this year and him professing to be unable to choose between them. All I can say is, he’d better hurry up, because they are both the alpha female types that will rip off his balls if he pisses them off!

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Oh the irony: my goddamn Viagra still hadn’t come.

Since that spur-of-the-moment decision in the library to order a box of life-enhancing pills I’ve wondered if it was really the right thing to do. I wasn’t worried about the ethics of it as much as the practicalities. What happened if Mrs Bartlett viewed the library computer’s history, remembered who’d be around that evening, and added up the ubiquitous two and two AND GOT FOUR? And worse still, I was dreading the actual arrival of the pills. How would they come, I wondered? Under plain cover, or in some kind of medical looking box with ‘SEXUALLY DYSFUNCTIONAL’ written on the outside. In fact, the more I thought about the moment I clicked to make my purchase the more I wondered what kind of madness had overcome me. Did the desire for a shag really lead down such bewildering and desperate avenues?

For every day the pills were delayed my anxiety built still further.

It got even worse when Mr Tough asked me why I was spending so much time hanging round the pigeon holes. Of course he treated all as a BIG JOKE, as per usual, saying things like: “Are you waiting for your invite to the Mensa Christmas Ball” and “Is it another red letter day for my friend Martin?” and guff like that. Little did he know. Ha. Doubt he’s exactly spreading it round the town either. Anyway, I soon shut him up. When he came and asked me why I was STILL hanging around on Wednesday morning I told him it was because I was waiting to hear if my mother’s health situation had improved, which shut him up for good. He muttered an apology and I smiled all the way through breakfast.

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“C’mon, Faye – say it!”

“Rosie, is this really necessary?”

“Say it!”

I sighed. “Fine. For one week only, I am going to be a shameless points-slut.”

“That’s not what I told you to say, Faye,” said Rosie in a scandalised hiss, whilst Jen and Emilie laughed.

“Yeah but it’s what you meant,” I said, yawning. We’d been in my room for hours, going over and over THE RULES. I was starting to feel like my head was going to explode.

“Right, Faye, one more time, repeat them back to me and then I’ll leave you alone.” said Rosie, rubbing her eyes.

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