(no subject)

There were several consequences of the fight between Bethany and Anna. The first was that both girls were sent to the head, where Bethany tried to claim Anna was bullying her.

"She calls me pathetic and a loser." she complains to Mrs Patel.

"Only when you're picking on or being mean about other kids." Anna protests. "Which I think is pathetic."

"Enough, thank you." Mrs Patel says. "Bethany, if you say mean things about other children, they will probably say them about you. But Anna, that doesn't give you the right to say mean things back, you should of course stand up for someone but tell a teacher if you or someone is being picked on."

The second consequence is that the next day, Anna comes in looking quite different. Fry doesn't recognise her at first because she has thick cosmetic make-up covering her birthmark. Then he realises that he's seen her like this before - she goes to the same dance school as his little brother Gil.

"I don't want to wear this to school." Anna is saying to her mother as they come through the school gates. "I hate it."

"Well you should have thought of that before you started fighting like an urchin." Anna's mum says, irritably. "I told you people don't like to look at that thing, you should have worn your make up from the start."

There is soon a crowd around Anna, which she breaks away from, only to run into Bethany's group.

"We have lunchtime detention together all this week." Bethany says, with a glare.

"Yay." Anna says, coolly, pushing past them. Bethany catches her on the shoulder.

"FYI, you're still ugly." she whispers.

"FYI, I'm telling." Anna says sarcastically, heading towards the school building.

Lucy and Sophie look uncomfortably at Bethany. She looks back at them.

"What? You saw her shove me just then, right?" she says.

"Beth, she hardly touched you." Lucy says in a hushed voice. "What's going on with you? Leave her, she's not worth getting into more trouble over."

Bethany doesn't know whether Anna has told on her or not when they get into the classroom. Miss Havisham doesn't give it away either way - the first thing she does is to rearrange some of the students.

"There's no sense in those of you who have chosen to do advanced maths to be moving around every day." she says. "Or the Young Historians." she adds, referring to another voluntary group. Fry has joined this group too, which generally involves going to the library one afternoon break a week, finding something out, and bringing it back to pin on the notice board. It also involves being encouraged to learn historical dates, something Miss Havisham had done as a little girl but did not feel the need to force on the whole class. Most of the group had ignored this aspect, but date memorisation was right up Fry's alley.

"Thomas, you're in both groups - change places with Bradley and sit here next to Pixie." Miss Havisham commands. Bradley shoots her a glare, which she ignores. "Sophie, you're in the history group, move over to the far side of Anna, shift the chairs up one... ah, and George, change with Jamal."

George, who is now in a coveted seat as far away from Miss Havisham as possible, looks pleased by this. Jamal, who has landed himself next to his mate Bradley, sees this as a small price to pay for having to turn around when he does advanced maths. Sophie shoots Anna an uncomfortable look, before glancing anxiously over at Bethany.

Fry, who has been watching with trepidation, is just glad he didn't have to move. And everyone in his immediate vicinity is similar, except for the addition of Tommy, which he has no objection to.

That morning, some of the kids give their talks. A few will do it each day this week, so that the others don't get bored and fidgetty. Tommy talks about tennis, of course. Maisie gets up and gives an interesting talk about her secret membership of the Holby Historical Reenactment Society.

Tommy, who has a bit of a crush on Maisie, looks amazed, enough to risk the wrath of Miss Havisham and lean across the table.

"Maisie, I thought you were a model?" he whispers loudly. Maisie looks around in surprise.

"Why?" she asks.

"Well, you kept talking about shooting." Tommy says.

"A bow and arrow, silly." Maisie giggles, but not unkindly. "I wouldn't want to be a model, Mum says it's wrong to be vain."

Anna rises and goes to the front of the classroom to give her talk, crossing between them. Tommy frowns slightly.

"Weird. I was sure your mum was saying to the other mum when I was taking them round last term that you might have to go out of school for modelling."

"Quiet for Anna's talk, please." Miss Havisham says.

Anna holds her head up, and speaks clearly. Fry thinks again how different she looks with the birthmark covered.

"I'm a professional dancer." she says. "And a model."

On the next table, Fry sees Maisie put her head in her hands. When Anna sits back down after her talk, Maisie turns back round to her.

"Sorry Anna." she says, genuinely. "That was very rude of me, I didn't know you were a model. You're not vain at all. I think you're amazing."

Anna looks round at her, suspicious, but detects sincerity and smiles slightly.

"Don't worry about it. Some child models I know are seriously vain, but not usually as much as their mums."

Fry, watching this scene, concludes that being a kid is getting more and more complicated by the minute. Before he knows it, Maisie and Anna are talking like they're best friends, and at the end of the morning, they go off together to the girls' bathroom to wash off her cosmetic camouflage makeup.

It's interesting, he considers, how people can say sorry to each other and make up easily, and others can say sorry and mean nothing at all.

***

"There is an Atmosphere in my classroom."

Mr Irons looks up at Miss Havisham as she enters his office with that statement. It is so unheard of for her to admit something out of her control in her classroom, let alone come to his little room, that for a moment he is lost for words. Then, he hastily gets up to offer her the adult sized chair, and perches on the edge of his desk.

"Can I help?" he asks. Presumably that is why she is here.

Miss Havisham sits in his chair and pauses for a moment.

"This... this ADHD nonsense." she says, as though chastising herself for even allowing to consider it might exist. "What are the signs?"

"Forgetfulness, impulsive behaviour, irritability." Mr Irons says, relaxing slightly now that they are more on his field of interest. "Leaving jobs half done, interrupting... they tend to be unpopular with other children because they act without thinking it through, get into trouble with teachers and are generally misunderstood. But they can be intelligent and creative and lively children, and they can be helped with the other things."

"I'm still not convinced it exists." Miss Havisham says. "But it does rather describe her."

"I assume we're talking about Bethany Sharpe." Mr Irons says.

"Yes. Dreadful home situation, I gather." Miss Havisham says. "Father in prison for fraud, likely to be there a long time. Could that cause it?"

"No, we don't think it works like that." Mr Irons says. "But it probably doesn't help. I raised concerns with her mum about ADHD last year and she got very nasty with me, said I wasn't to speak of it ever again."

"I fear we may have to." Miss Havisham says. "I don't normally believe in that sort of thing..."

"Miss Havisham, perhaps..."

"Please call me Belinda, Jim, they do so titter in the staff room when you do that."

"Perhaps Bethany needs you to believe in it for her sake?" Mr Irons suggests, going slightly red. "If not using the label, at least reading up on how to handle it."

"I have no problem with that. But perhaps you might be able to have a chat with Bethany, please?"

"Of course." Mr Irons nods.

"Thank you." Miss Havisham stands. "But it'll have to be afternoon break, I'm about to have her and Anna in lunchtime detention sharpening every pencil crayon in the school."

"No extra homework then?" Mr Irons says.

"I never use homework as a punishment, Jim." Miss Havisham says firmly. "Homework is an opportunity."