The Wonderground

39 - Expelled

Rose's butt was numb. The six were slumped awkwardly in a row of faded plastic turquoise chairs in the corridor outside the Headteacher's office. They were probably designed to be uncomfortable. Elliot's leg was shaking uncontrollably next to her and he was breathing too fast. He was sweating and gripping the front of his trousers with bunched fists.

Isla looked worse. Her eyes were sunken and her skin was pale. She looked utterly defeated. She was staring vacantly at a painting of one of the school's headmasters from the nineteenth century: Sir Robin Silverwild.

Rose could not imagine the amount of trouble they were in. But she knew that Isla's punishment would be the hardest. They had humiliated the school. Worried all the teachers. But Isla had also made a fool of her mum.

Jack looked bored. He was picking bits of Blu-tac from a Year Six artwork display depicting Henry VIII and his six wives. He was rolling the blobs into neat little balls and flicking them with his middle finger from his palm towards a wastepaper basket mounted on the wall next to the fire exit. Rose sensed this was not his first visit to see the Head.

Charlie and Amelia sat quietly together. Their blank expressions did not give away their feelings.

Rose's toes prickled with pins and needles. The wait was excruciating. She looked at her Timex watch. 08:59 a.m. She knew it was working again but tapped the face anyway. Their phones had been confiscated and Rose did not know what to do with her hands. She placed one upon Elliot's knee in the hope it might calm his nerves. It made no difference. She felt bad for the others. Her father's diplomatic status meant she would simply be transferred to another UK school.

She expected Isla would be grounded for eternity but saved from expulsion as she still had to attend school with her mum. Jack probably did not care as his parents would throw their millions at another establishment. The fates of Amelia, Charlie and Elliot were less certain.

The door to their left creaked open and a bespectacled face appeared. It was Alex Sutcliffe, personal assistant to Mrs. Marney.

"She's ready for you now," he said solemnly.

The six stood together.

"Are you ready for her?" asked the young P.A. with genuine concern.

Isla and Elliot shook their heads solemnly. Amelia took their hands and squeezed tightly as they were shown through into the office. Mrs. Marney was seated at her desk, cleaning her glasses with a piece of toilet roll. She did not look up.

Alex ushered them towards the desk. There were no chairs and they were made to stand for a full minute before the Blankrook School headteacher lifted her head, replaced her glasses and sat forward in her chair to peer at them. Her face conveyed anger, disbelief, disappointment and relief all at the same time. "Seriously?" she uttered with exasperation. "I know that history trips can be a bit dry. But to run away?" she asked bewilderingly. "To Blackpool of all places?!"

Nobody moved a muscle. Isla held her breath. Elliot was doing the opposite; his heart was pounding out of his chest as he hyperventilated.

"You're eleven years old for heaven's sake!" she added. "You've disgraced the school. You've embarrassed me. And you put yourselves at great risk. For what? Some mint choc chip ice cream and a donkey ride? And what on earth happened to your eye, Charlie?" she asked with frustrated concern. The swelling had gone down but the purple bruise had turned an ugly mustard yellow.

She slumped back in her seat and tried to calm down, screwing her eyes tightly closed and placing her palms flat on the square of green leather that protected her desktop. After a moment's silence, she slowly opened her eyes. They were filled with tears.