Millie shakes her head and raises her voice to be heard over the sound of drilling. “Nope. It could be another lecture about how much time and money it wastes when the fire brigade gets false calls.”
“Didn’t they deal with all that yesterday?” Jamie says. “Guaranteed it wasn’t one of us, anyway. I’d put money on it being someone from St Edward’s.”
“Can we not keep mentioning the fire alarm, please?” I ask.
Every time someone brings it up, it makes me feel all shaky and sick again. Ugh, the humiliation. It’s even worse than the time I fell over and accidentally pulled down Ryan Henderson’s shorts in the middle of a school football match. I thought nothing was ever going to top that. How wrong can a girl be?
How could Jade and Kara steal my clothes? Evil. Pure, pure evil.
Then a horrible thought strikes.
What if the assembly’s about me?
No. It can’t be. Can it? But what if there’s photographic evidence that’s got out somewhere? Everyone was made to delete any photos or videos they’d taken, and were told if any went online there would be suspensions, but even so… my stomach flips over and I feel a bit queasy.
“I don’t think it’s about the fire alarm,” Jamie says. “I heard Mr Patterson’s been fired after getting caught in a cupboard with a Year Twelve.”
“No way!” Millie and I exclaim together.
“Stevo told me that some Year Nine’s pregnant and we’re getting a safe sex lecture,” Danny says, hoiking his backpack higher onto his shoulder.
“No way!” Millie and I chorus again.
“That can’t be true, can it?” I ask incredulously.
Rumours are flying like wildfire and get increasingly more outrageous the closer we get to the assembly hall. Nobody seems to know for definite what’s behind the summons we’ve received, but everyone’s got an opinion on what it might be. We hear a married science teacher’s eloped to Australia with one of the dinner ladies (which would be quick work, since they were in school only yesterday). Then that the deputy head, Mr Groves, was killed in a car accident last night. Some of the younger kids start crying. Then someone says it wasn’t him, it was the school secretary. Then someone else says it was actually the librarian and she was poisoned.
Surely with this many rumours going around somebody must have died?
As we file into the assembly hall, the room’s buzzing, hissed whispers passing from seat to seat. The excitement is growing by the second. I mean, nobody actually wants someone to be dead, that would be bad, but everyone loves a bit of drama, especially first thing in the morning. Plus the intrigue is loads more interesting than double history, which is what I should be having right now.
We find four seats together and collapse into them, eager to know what’s going on.
“I heard a rumour this assembly was to tell us you’d been expelled for indecent exposure,” says a voice near my ear.
Jade and Kara are sitting right behind us, smirking. My heart sinks into my shoes.
“No you didn’t, shut up,” says Millie.
“Shall we move?” I say under my breath.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Millie says firmly. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
Jade sits back in her chair, entertaining herself by kicking the back of my seat repeatedly as I try not to think about what she said. Gah! She’s so annoying!
She can’t really have heard that rumour… can she?
Our headteacher, Mrs Cooper, steps onto the stage and everyone shuts up, pronto. Jade even stops with her incessant kicking. As one, the whole school leans forward to listen to what Mrs C’s got to say. You could hear a pin drop. Usually nobody cares about assembly, everyone’s sitting there with headphones in, chewing gum, texting their mates, passing notes… but we don’t usually get called out of lessons for a special assembly. Something’s going on. Something big.
Mrs Cooper’s been here forever, like nearly thirty years or something bonkers like that. There are photos of her with classes in the late eighties where she’s got this huge perm and massive shoulder pads. Hilarious. I know it’s not normal to like your teachers, but Cooper’s actually okay. I like her even more since she rescued me from the whole fire alarm thing. That was the first time I’d seen her for ages, she doesn’t seem to have been around much lately.
“Good morning, Collinsbrooke,” Mrs Cooper says, and we all chorus back, “Good morning, Mrs Cooper,” like automated robots.
She gives a few notices and then gets down to the good stuff. “Well. Now, you’ve all been gathered here this morning because we have some big news,” Mrs Cooper says. “It affects each and every one of you, and the school as a whole. I’m afraid I… I…”
Whoa. Is she crying? Mrs Cooper, who’s always über-composed, apparently even after the stink-bomb attack of ’94 that’s passed into school legend, looks like she’s wiping away a tear. Maybe the death rumours are actually true.
“I’m very sorry to have to tell you that…” She takes a big breath.
Who is it? Everyone’s peering around, trying to see which staff member isn’t here.
“… I’m retiring, effective immediately.”
The whole school slumps with an ‘uhh’ as one, in disappointment.
Which probably makes us a smidge evil. But we were hoping for some big news, explosive news, news that would keep us entertained for the rest of the day. This, well, yeah, it’s sad, but it’s not exactly dramatic, is it? No big deal.
“Some of you might be wondering why I’m retiring a few weeks into a new term,” Mrs Cooper says. “I’ve been in the hospital recently, having various tests. While I’m not going to go into details of what’s wrong, I’ve been advised to avoid stressful situations and, as lovely as most of you are, some of you push my blood pressure in the wrong direction. So, I’m taking early retirement. I’ll miss you all – well, most of you – very much.”
At this point, Mr Groves walks onto the stage. “I’m sure we’d all like to offer Mrs Cooper a huge round of applause for everything she’s done for us during her time here.”
“Mr Groves will be taking over as your new head,” Mrs Cooper says after the clapping dies down, “although I’ll still be consulting on various matters, and will be in school every Monday morning for a few weeks during this handover period. Now. Before I go, I’ve got one more piece of news, rather more exciting, I think. Having been at this school as long as I have, and being required to leave in the way I am, I’m rather keen to leave behind a, well, a tribute, if you will. I won’t call it a memorial, as I’m hoping I’ve got many years left in me yet. As many of you know, I’m a passionate musician…”
There are groans from around the hall as everyone remembers being made to sing along to her guitar, piano and, over more recent years, trumpet. She’s not exactly the most talented musician in the world. Mrs Cooper’s the one responsible for the tuneless school orchestra (attendance means immediate social death) and the never-ending trips to classical music recitals.
“All right, simmer down,” Mrs Cooper says. “Listen to what I’ve got to say. What I’d like to leave the school with as a tribute is a music recording studio.”
Now everyone’s paying full attention. A recording studio? For us? That would be all kinds of amazing!
“Now, obviously, a recording studio is going to cost a lot of money, so we’re going to need to start fundraising,” Mrs Cooper continues. “As you know, we’ve been having extensive building work to improve the school facilities, and we can incorporate the studio into these current plans. But it’s still going to be expensive. So this is where it’s going to be interesting for you. We’re going to hold a farewell fundraiser party in November, so I can say goodbye to you all properly, but you’re going to organise it, with a bit of help from the teachers and the PTA, of course. I want you to go away and think about what could raise the most money, and then you’ll vote on which you think is the best idea. A committee will then be formed to organise everything. Mr Barn
es is waiting by the double doors, he’ll be handing out information sheets with all the details as you leave.”
The room is now frantic with excitement. This sounds amazing! Whatever issues people have had with Mrs Cooper before now, they’ve all been forgotten. A recording studio! A party! This is way, way exciting. There are loads of muso types here, and who hasn’t fantasised about becoming a totally famous pop star at least once?
“There’s just one more thing,” Mrs Cooper says. “I’m sorry about this, as I know it won’t be popular, but only those in Year Ten and below are allowed to pitch. The rest of you need to be focusing on your exams.”
There’s a deafening groan of disappointment.
“We are so doing this,” says Millie. “We’ll come up with a fantastic idea.”
There’s a snort from behind us. “Yeah, right, as if you losers could come up with anything good,” Jade says.
“Shut up, Jade,” Millie says, not even turning round.
Up on the stage, Mr Groves is trying to give out some announcements, but it’s hopeless – nobody’s listening to a word he’s saying – so in the end he dismisses us before the bell rings for break.
“We need to think about this,” Millie says, grabbing my hand and pushing at Jamie’s back with the other. “Go, go!”
Millie’s enthusiasm for everything means she gets an idea in her head and she’s off running with it at speed. Usually it’s sugar-fuelled, but if she’s still on her sugar-free diet, this must be the natural Millie energy force we’re witnessing.
“Nothing you can come up with will be better than what we’re going to suggest,” Jade says.
“You may as well give up now,” Kara adds. “Nobody’s going to vote for you.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Jamie says.
“Won’t hold my breath,” Jade sneers, then she and Kara shove their way through the crowds.
“Now we have to come up with something amazing in order to beat them,” I say.
“And we will,” Millie says. “Let’s go and find somewhere to sit down.”
Behind us, the JCB roars into life. They’ve knocked down some of the buildings to create a new humanities block, and there’s an arts centre that’s due to be started after Christmas. We knew there was going to be a suite of music rooms in it, but a recording studio as well – suddenly the arts centre is sounding much more interesting.
We find a space on the wall outside, and within about five seconds have turned blue with cold. Millie passes around some sugar-free jelly bears and then leaps to her feet, bouncing with excitement as she scans the information sheet Barnes gave us.
“Sugar-free sweets? Really?” Danny says sceptically.
“They’re better than you’d think,” Millie says. “Mum got them for me.”
I take an orange bear and put it into gingerly into my mouth. Actually, they’re not too bad. Not as good as the real thing, but edible.
“See? They’re all right, aren’t they?” Millie says. “I needed to find a sugar-free sweet substitute, cutting them out altogether was killing me.”
“Um, you know these are laxative if you eat too many?” Jamie says, scanning the packet and spitting out his jelly bear.
Danny and I immediately do the same.
“What?” Millie says, grabbing the bag to check. “Shut up, you’re lying. Oh God, you’re not. What am I going to do? I ate loads in maths.”
We all fall about laughing at Millie’s stricken face.
“You ate poo bears,” Jamie snorts.
Danny howls. I can’t stop laughing either.
“Seriously, you guys, what am I going to do?” Millie asks. “Stop it! You have to help me!”
“Mills, I don’t think there is anything you can do,” I say. “Hope for the best, and make sure you’re not too far away from the toilet for the rest of the day.”
“Yikes,” Millie says. “Oh well, I feel okay at the moment. And Mum’s at home, she’ll have to come and pick me up if I need her to.” She takes the bag of jelly bears and throws them in the nearest bin. “I never knew sweets could be so evil. So, let’s talk about the fundraising party. It’s so cool we get to choose what happens at it. I still can’t believe we’re going to get a recording studio, either. Amazing. Just amazing.”
“It is pretty fantastic,” Danny agrees.
“This says that we need to present our ideas at a special assembly being held next week,” Millie says, scanning the piece of paper in her hand. “It’s supposed to help inspire confidence and public speaking or something, but who cares about that? What ideas have you had, guys?”
“I’ve had a good one,” Danny says.
“Great, what is it?”
“Star Wars party,” Danny says proudly. “What?” he asks, genuinely perplexed as he sees three cynical faces staring at him.
My heart sinks. Don’t get me wrong, I love my cute, funny boyfriend. But his Star Wars obsession? Not so much.
“Star Wars, mate?” Jamie says. “For real?”
“Yeah!” Danny says. “It’ll be great. We can dress the whole gym up in black sheets with these fibre-optic lights so they look like stars, and hire people to dress up as Stormtroopers and give everyone a lightsaber and there could be Ewoks and Yoda and Star Wars themed food. It would be epic.”
“I’m not sure everyone would go for it,” I say, trying to be kind. Danny’s Star Wars obsession is, well, kind of dorky. And his pitch sounds a smidge like a party for a six-year-old, not that I’d tell him that.
“No, come on, give it a chance, it’d be great,” Danny says, warming to his theme. “Picture it… the gym as a solar system, all dark, with the stars shining, and then in walks Darth Vader…”
“Yeah, but how’s that going to make any money?” Jamie asks. “People aren’t going to pay much to come and see that, are they? A tenner, max.”
“There could be a DJ,” Danny continues weakly. I think he knows he’s fighting a losing battle.
“I’ll write it down, but it sounds more like a theme party than a way to make money,” Millie says kindly. “Anyone else got any suggestions?”
“What about an all-you-can-eat competition, like you see in America?” says Jamie.
Millie rolls her eyes. “Who’s going to pay to see you throw up?”
“We need someone cool to come, like a band or someone famous,” Jamie says.
“It would be amazing if we could get The Drifting,” I say wistfully.
“As if,” Danny says. I think he’s still narked nobody liked his idea.
“I know we never could,” I say. “But it would be so super amazing. And people would pay loads of money for tickets.”
“Yeah, but it’s never going to happen. We need to think of an idea that could actually work,” Millie says. I can tell she’s getting frustrated. “C’mon, guys, we need to think of something better than whatever Jade and Kara are going to come up with. We can talk about famous people coming but unless anyone’s got any contacts, it ain’t gonna happen.”
“Well, what do you suggest then?” Jamie asks.
“There’s got to be loads we could do! Like a… a… urgh, I don’t know! Why can’t I think of anything?”
“A raffle?” I suggest.
“It’s a bit church fete, isn’t it?” Jamie says.
“Not if there were really incredible prizes,” I say, warming to my theme. “Like a car or something.”
“A car?!” Danny scoffs. “My Star Wars idea’s better than that. Only the sixth formers and teachers can drive and where are you going to get a car from?”
“All right,” I mumble. “A car wasn’t the best suggestion, although I bet parents would buy tickets. Mum and Dad would love to replace our old Volvo. But maybe you could get people to donate prizes. Like clothes from the local shops in town, cinema vouchers, tablets, that kind of thing.”
“That’s not bad,” Millie muses. “It’d take some work to get people to donate stuff, but I bet we could do it. But we can
’t only have the raffle. We need something to go along with it. A theme. And stuff to make it a fun party. Crikey. This is hard. Loads harder than I thought it would be. I thought we’d have tons of good ideas.”
“We’ve had loads,” Jade says, walking past with Kara. “You might as well give up now – it’s obvious our suggestion’s going to be the best.”
“You don’t know that,” Millie says.
Kara snorts. “So do! You’re all so lame there’s no way you’re going to come up with anything worth listening to.”
“Shows how much you know,” Jamie says.
Jade raises one eyebrow at him and crosses her arms. “I do know. Nobody’s going to care about anything you lot come up with. As if. Come on, Ka, let’s stop wasting time and go and find someone interesting to talk to.”
As Jade and Kara stalk off, we stare after them.
Are they right? With the only idea we’ve got being a raffle for which we have no prizes, and a Star Wars theme we’re trying to ignore, I wonder if maybe they have a point, much as I hate to admit that those two witches could be right about anything.
But then my stubbornness kicks in.
We are not going to let Jade and Kara dictate what happens at this party. We can do this! We just need a little bit more time.
CHAPTER FOUR
“What is the matter with this dog?” Dad says as I pass the lounge en route to the kitchen. I need some toast. I’m always starving after school.
Crystal Fairybelle is sitting by Dad’s feet, staring up at him and whining. His enormous bug eyes seem bulgier than ever.
“He won’t flipping leave me alone. Shut up, you stupid mutt,” Dad mutters. “Go away.”
“He’s been acting all kinds of weird since Amber had the babies,” I say.
“Hmm. Does he look sad to you?” Dad asks, poking Crystal with his toe.
“Sad?”
“He seems a bit depressed.”
“Er, it’s a dog. I’m not sure they get depression.” Since when has Dad cared about anything to do with Crystal, anyway?
Crystal whines again, louder this time, and starts pawing at Dad’s chair.
Suzy P, Forever Me Page 3