Lowewood Academy

“How can he know?”

“Well, I don’t know, do I?”

“Have you told anyone?”

“What do you think? Of course I bloody haven’t told anyone. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Alex paused.

“No, of course not, darling,” he relented. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe our first marital row is being caused by bloody William de Lacey. As if he’s not responsible for fucking up my life enough as it is.”

I drew my knees up under my chin and wrapped my arms around them. Sometimes it’s the nearest you get to a hug, and right now Alex and I were being too spikey with each other for me to get up off his bed and throw my arms around him.

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, miserably. “I’m sure this is exactly what he wants.”

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Notice of Convocation of the Lowewood Prefects’ Council

Date:  Friday 1st of May
Saturday 2nd May

Time: 7pm

Venue: Friday 1st May - History Classroom
Saturday 2nd May - Gym

Chair(s): A. Ap Iorwerth (Dashwood) & J. Aston-Beresford (Dashwood)

Other officiating prefects:
Friday 1st May: E. Corwin (Dashwood), O. Priestly (Sandwich), H. Mallinson (Dashwood)

Saturday 2nd May: V. Rees (Byron), P. Beaumont (Dashwood), R. Woodward (Sandwich)

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None of them spoke. There was a moment, where they all stood, naked, frozen, horror etched across their faces.

Disgust etched across mine.

Silence.

So I asked again. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

It was at that point that Elizabeth Tweedie snorted. We all looked at her. She shuddered, shook, went red in the face and tears spurted from her eyes as she giggled helplessly. The others looked at her, aghast.

Finally she managed to force out some words….

“Just make ‘fuck’ a verb Juliet,” she said between helpless giggles. “Then you know exactly what we’re doing!”

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