walking back to my room from the library, with a pile of maths books under my arm, when I sensed someone was following me. I quickened my step, my shoes clipped against the hard wooden floor, which gleamed under the harsh artificial lights.
It was eight pm, and most of the other girls would be in their rooms, chatting, or watching television in the common room.
I paused at the door, leading to the courtyard and turned, looking down the corridor. There was no one there. Could I have imagined the sound of footsteps approaching?
A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been so jumpy, but recently, I’d come to the attention of a vicious clique of girls, who called themselves the glitterati. Stupid name for a bunch of stupid girls. It hadn’t been serious, a bit of name-calling, someone shoving me, or pulling my hair when I had my back to them. Spiteful, petty things.
There was no one there now. I sighed with relief, pushed open the door and walked out into the courtyard. The students’ accommodation, an old and attractive red-brick structure, was on the other side of the yard. It was a new addition, only forty years old, but it had been designed to fit in with the main school building.
The courtyard was threaded with footpaths, which were lined with flower beds, planted with a variety of brightly coloured flowers. I took a deep breath, savouring the scent of them.
Half-way across the courtyard, I heard a noise behind me. I turned and bit my lip. Mary Clark and Cindy Whitaker, two of glitterati’s ring leaders, stood a few feet away.
Mary smiled. Her thin lips drawing back over her pointed teeth. “What’s the hurry, Lucy? Too good to mix with the likes of us?”
Cindy cackled.
I was close to the entrance of the dorm. If I turned and ran, I could make it inside and lock myself in my room before they reached me. But I wasn’t going to run. Not from them.
“What do you want?” I said, gripping my books to my chest.
“An apology,” Mary said, and Cindy just laughed again. Obviously Mary was the leader.
I waited for them to walk up to me. “What for? I haven’t done anything to you.”
“You stole her boyfriend, Jason,” Cindy said, and then was silenced by a glare from Mary.
“Your boyfriend? Jason?” I shook my head. “I’m not interested in Jason.” I turned away.
“Don’t turn your back on me, you stuck-up bitch,” Mary shouted, reaching for my arm. Her fingers dug in, and the books I had been holding fell to the ground.
I shook off Mary’s grip. Shaking with adrenaline and anger. Even in the red mist of rage, I could see the absurdity of Mary calling me a stuck-up bitch. Over the past few weeks, Mary had been quick to point out how my scholarship, put me far beneath the other girls at St. Catherine’s.
I took a deep breath and bent down to retrieve my books. “You’re being ridiculous. I –”
Before I could finish, Mary kicked me in the ribs, not very hard, but enough to send me off balance and graze my knee.
Anger flashed through me, and I picked up my Algebra text book, the heaviest of my hardback books, and lifted it above my head, intending to hit Mary with it as hard as I could.
A light dazzled us. Mrs. Smith stood at the opposite end of the courtyard, waving her torch at us. “What’s going on out there?”
“Nothing, Mrs. Smith,” all three of us replied in chorus.
“Well, get inside and stop making such a noise.”
Under the watchful eyes of Mrs. Smith, I gathered my books and followed Mary and Cindy inside.
I hoped that would be the end of it. Mary and Cindy left me alone when we entered the accommodation building, so I hurried to my room.
This year, I was sharing a room with a little mousy girl called Beatrice. At the start of the school year, I tried to make friends, calling her Bea, inviting her to watch television with Caroline and me, and encouraging her to join us on trips to town. But Beatrice held back. I wasn’t sure if she simply didn’t like me, or
It was eight pm, and most of the other girls would be in their rooms, chatting, or watching television in the common room.
I paused at the door, leading to the courtyard and turned, looking down the corridor. There was no one there. Could I have imagined the sound of footsteps approaching?
A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been so jumpy, but recently, I’d come to the attention of a vicious clique of girls, who called themselves the glitterati. Stupid name for a bunch of stupid girls. It hadn’t been serious, a bit of name-calling, someone shoving me, or pulling my hair when I had my back to them. Spiteful, petty things.
There was no one there now. I sighed with relief, pushed open the door and walked out into the courtyard. The students’ accommodation, an old and attractive red-brick structure, was on the other side of the yard. It was a new addition, only forty years old, but it had been designed to fit in with the main school building.
The courtyard was threaded with footpaths, which were lined with flower beds, planted with a variety of brightly coloured flowers. I took a deep breath, savouring the scent of them.
Half-way across the courtyard, I heard a noise behind me. I turned and bit my lip. Mary Clark and Cindy Whitaker, two of glitterati’s ring leaders, stood a few feet away.
Mary smiled. Her thin lips drawing back over her pointed teeth. “What’s the hurry, Lucy? Too good to mix with the likes of us?”
Cindy cackled.
I was close to the entrance of the dorm. If I turned and ran, I could make it inside and lock myself in my room before they reached me. But I wasn’t going to run. Not from them.
“What do you want?” I said, gripping my books to my chest.
“An apology,” Mary said, and Cindy just laughed again. Obviously Mary was the leader.
I waited for them to walk up to me. “What for? I haven’t done anything to you.”
“You stole her boyfriend, Jason,” Cindy said, and then was silenced by a glare from Mary.
“Your boyfriend? Jason?” I shook my head. “I’m not interested in Jason.” I turned away.
“Don’t turn your back on me, you stuck-up bitch,” Mary shouted, reaching for my arm. Her fingers dug in, and the books I had been holding fell to the ground.
I shook off Mary’s grip. Shaking with adrenaline and anger. Even in the red mist of rage, I could see the absurdity of Mary calling me a stuck-up bitch. Over the past few weeks, Mary had been quick to point out how my scholarship, put me far beneath the other girls at St. Catherine’s.
I took a deep breath and bent down to retrieve my books. “You’re being ridiculous. I –”
Before I could finish, Mary kicked me in the ribs, not very hard, but enough to send me off balance and graze my knee.
Anger flashed through me, and I picked up my Algebra text book, the heaviest of my hardback books, and lifted it above my head, intending to hit Mary with it as hard as I could.
A light dazzled us. Mrs. Smith stood at the opposite end of the courtyard, waving her torch at us. “What’s going on out there?”
“Nothing, Mrs. Smith,” all three of us replied in chorus.
“Well, get inside and stop making such a noise.”
Under the watchful eyes of Mrs. Smith, I gathered my books and followed Mary and Cindy inside.
I hoped that would be the end of it. Mary and Cindy left me alone when we entered the accommodation building, so I hurried to my room.
This year, I was sharing a room with a little mousy girl called Beatrice. At the start of the school year, I tried to make friends, calling her Bea, inviting her to watch television with Caroline and me, and encouraging her to join us on trips to town. But Beatrice held back. I wasn’t sure if she simply didn’t like me, or
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