Mischief

Mischief in the making.

It was the first day of a new term, September 8th, what would have been
my 16th birthday, and all through the school the rooms gleamed with the
painstaking work of the cleaners all in preparation for the school year
ahead whence the newly pristine chambers would become a war zone.

Room W8 was no exception. The walls had been newly painted with a
vibrant magnolia and a new sumptuous, spiky green carpet had been laid
all in anticipation for the students return (and most probably to hide
the huge scorch mark as left by the previous inhabitants when they
carried out their end of term experiment in the name of Science.)

Rows of desks lined the floor placed with military precision and
slightly shiny from the gentle wipe of the cleaner's duster. No minute
speck of dust had been left, they had seen to that personally.

Ah the bell rings, it's 8.20am, the pre registration time has finally
begun. The peaceful scene becomes irreversibly smashed by twenty six
girls unwillingly arriving in dribs and drabs. I was the first to
arrive, gliding effortlessly across the floor and taking my place by
the bookshelves. I surveyed the paint fume filled room with abject
disgust. One year in here? No ta! Still at least the room's better than
the mouse infested North block. "Welcome to year 11" I sighed, this is
it then.

The next to srrive through the jaws of death and into the mouth of
hell, to quote Tennyson, was none other than Mary dressed as usual in
her unadorned, unadapted school uniform. Head to toe sensible, knee
length skirt, flat shoes, regulation tie length, still it was her
calling, she was the boring, plain and sensible one, quiet and almost
invisible. I didn't know her that well, I probably never would.

All at once, Emma and Katie arrived discussing last night's escapades
at the Gold Lion nightclub. Class bikes! You know, they'll go with
anything provided it has the necessary wedding tackle and a fat
wallet.

Some more people arrived, Harry and Bill (real names Harriet and
Rebecca) resplendent in track tops and trainers bounced by longing for
P.E lessons followed by the unfortunately named Gertrude and her bum
chums Emily and Jess otherwise known as the "Boff Brigade". Most of the
class had assembled by now heving entered in the due course of about
ten minutes. The last of the form made their dramatic entrance. The
"Daddies Little Darlings" had finally arrived, the type of girls who
had traded in their childhood pony club membership for a wardrobe full
of designer gear, serious retail therapy problems and a mobile phone
surgically attatched to their ears. They chewed gum constantly and
chatted about shallow little things such as the latest nail varnish
colours as according to a copy of "Elle".

Now each person had finally assembled, everyone awaited and secretly
dreaded the arrival of the new form tutor. The door swung open, our
captor for the year entered. She was the female equivalent of Harold
Bishop, if there was ever such a thing. Miss Moses, the R.S teachereven
had the same floppy jowls as him. She terrified the first years who had
her with tales of hellfire, whilst she was secretly and universally
ridiculed by everyone else.

Instantaneously she swiped the magazine from under Cheryl's nose and
had binned it in the space of a second denouncing it as sickening,
demeaning pornographic material and condemned the poor girl to an R.S
department detention. Then she vowed wholehearedly to crave an audience
with the girl's parents to discuss her shocking and immoral behaviour.
Bloody hell! All this just because the girl was reading "Mizz"
magazine, it wasn't as if it were "Cosmo" or "More" or something of
that ilk.

Oh please save us! A year with that monster... that teacher would drive
anyone insane. Suddenly, I realised just what everyone else was
thinking and longing for the same thing; Mr Morgan our past form tutor,
the bloke who'd left after his nervous breakdown at the end of term and
who'd caused the tragic accident outside the gates at the end of the
day. He would have been better suited for a form like ours, he knew us,
given us free rein and even turned a blind eye to the naked man
calender which had adorned the noticeboard for the whole of Year 10.
Then again, that new teacher-bloke, what's his name, Mr Roberts, was
pretty hot with a butt like two eggs in a handkerchief and all that.
Even his bald patch could be excused for a solar panel for a sex
machine, Yummy!

Unnatural oppressive silence hung over the entire form, pleased by the
apparent repentance of her brood, Miss Moses stood smugly smiling. She
thought she had won her new pupils over to what she called decency and
upright morals so that they would eventually become decent genteel
young ladies.

Wot a Larf! I smaned inwardly, this lot, Mary excepted, would never
end up like it. After a further ten minutes of penal duration, sorry
registration, which cliche'd as it sounds felt like several hours, the
bell rang and lessons began, off to the more reassuring teachers of
last year.

Breaktime found me perched on top of the bookcase dangling my legs down
over the shelves whilst snooping on Chaz and Lucy who were deep in
conversation. Oh, how I missed them. They were talking about some new
record out in the charts which I had lost track of over the past few
weeks or some new totty on "Eastenders" or something like that. I
didn't care really what it was all about, I just wanted to hear the
intonation of their voices, it was soothing. Besides I could no longer
talk to them anymore, I could only listen now, it was reassuring just
to hear them.

More lessons followed, and then lunchtime, I stayed in the form room
and lsitened. A little later, having become bored of my surroundings
and the teacher, Mr Polpar's "entertaining" Geography lessons, I chose
to cause a little mischief to my classmates on their return. I planned
and waited never once leaving my bookcase perch. I waited for lunchtime
and for them to all arrive and assemble in the room, to eat and relax.
I wanted them to notice me. I started by switching the radio on making
sure no one was near it first, I turned the volume up from a quiet
mumble to ear shattering full blast, playing the songs I had loved from
last term, Ash's "A Life Less Ordinary", Bernard Butler's "Not Alone"
and the song I'd won the talent show with, Republica's "Drop Dead
Gorgeous" I'd caught their attention and now held it steady. Now for
the fun to begin, I raced round and round the room rattling and
throwing open the windows and pulling the blinds up and down. It had
all backfired, I could see their shock and growing fear which confused
them. I found a board marker and began to write to them, slowly and
steadliy.

Hiya Sweeties, it's Carrie the fluffy darling, I'm back, I've come back
to see you.

By then the friendly response I'd anticipated had fizzled out. Kate and
Emma ran out screaming with so many others. Chaz and Lucy had started
crying then as it all got too much for them, fainted. The room cleared
save for Mary. She sat alone after I had slammed the door behind the
screaming girls.

"Carrie, you shouldn't have done that." she said in her quiet way "You
knew it would have scared them and it has. You've got to realise you're
not one of them anymore, you're...you're ..." I materialised to face
her, still in my uniform. She was right, I had to remember last term's
events the car hitting me, my body flying, my dying. I didn't blame Mr
Morgan, he was stressed. I was the reason he left, I was the
accident.

I spoke, my voice trying to form words "I'm sorry" The words didn't
come out so I glided over to the board, picked up the pen once more and
wrote it,

I'm Sorry.