The Second Virginity of Suzy Green - By Sara Hantz Page 0,1
direction, and put my best foot forward. I took so long getting ready this morning we were almost late—not good on my first day.
Walking in front of me toward the entrance are three really cool girls. It’s easy to tell; confidence oozes from every pore. Nothing to do with the uniform, as we’re all dressed the same. It’s just the way they stand tall while walking and the way people part to let them through. Maybe if I tuck in behind everyone will think I’m one of them.
I push open the entrance door and follow the arrows to the school office. When I get there I knock on the door and wait, while my foot taps nervously on the wooden floor.
No answer.
After a few seconds I knock again.
Still no answer.
Panic sets in, as according to my watch school started exactly two minutes ago. This is so not good. Just as I lift my hand to knock a third time the door opens and a tiny grey haired woman stares out at me.
“Yes?” She says tersely, peering over the top of her gold rimmed, half-moon shaped glasses.
“I’m Suzy Green. I start today.”
“You’re late,” she says looking pointedly at her watch and frowning.
Old Suzy would have quipped in a flash that if she’d answered the door sooner then being late wouldn’t be an issue. New-start Suzy however-
“Sorry, I lost my way.”
“Well never mind that now. Follow me.” She rushes off with such speed that a trail of dust rises behind her, and it takes me all my time to keep up as these disgusting black regulation lace-up shoes they force us to wear are murdering my feet.
We go along a corridor, up some stairs, along another corridor, and around a corner - by which time I’m so sure I’ll never find my way back I give up even trying to remember the way.
Finally we stop outside a class with 7D on the door. She gives a sharp knock and walks in, with me following close behind.
My jaw drops as everyone stands up. Not only that, they’re all quiet.
“You must be Suzanne,” says the teacher standing at the front. She smiles at me. Phew. Thank goodness they’re not all like school-office woman (whoever she might be). “I’m Mrs. Richardson, your House Mistress. Take a seat over there,” she points to an empty desk by the window, “and I’ll talk to you at the end of the tutorial.”
I sit down and pull out a pad and pen from my bag, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. I’m sensing all eyes are on me and I can feel my cheeks colouring—not a good look. Will someone tell me why I agreed to come to this school? Hypothetical question. It was Mom and Dad’s idea and I wasn’t in a position to say no. And there isn’t a better place to be if I want to stay out of trouble.
The forty minute lesson goes by in a flash and I’m surprised that when the bell rings nobody jumps up and races to the door. Instead they wait for Mrs. Richardson to tell them to go. All except me and another girl—who only happens to be one of the cool girls I saw earlier—as we’re asked to stay behind.
“Hi,” says the other girl. “I’m Lori.”
There’s something really familiar about her but I can’t quite work out what. Maybe it’s something to do with the preppy blond hair tied up in that couldn’t-care-less look, which probably took at least half an hour to perfect. Not that I don’t like it. I’d kill for hair like that, rather than the dark brown mass of curls I inherited from Mom that frizz out at the slightest opportunity.
“Suzy,” I say smiling back at her. My mouth freezes for a second as I worry my smile is too Cheshire-cat-like. First impressions count and I mustn’t screw up.
“Suzy. You prefer that from Suzanne?” Mrs. Richardson asks as she comes over to where we’re standing. I nod my head. “Good. I’ll try to remember. Here’s your timetable.”
She hands me a small piece of paper, and I take a quick glance. Oh, no. Period one is biology. I hope there’s nothing to dissect. Last term we dissected a sheep’s head, and all I can remember before coming over faint was someone throwing the eye across the class and it splattering in my face. Gross.
“Lori is your allocated buddy,” Mrs Richardson continues, reminding me I’m at St Peter’s now and not Carlton High. “She’ll show