Being New

Starting a new school after half term can’t be easy. This is a scene I wrote this morning  for a story I’m working on. So it’s new too…

 Clarence didn’t seem to mind being new. He was old at being new. He just walked in ahead of her and, while he waited for the teacher to introduce him, he looked around at the boys and girls in the class who were all looking at him. He had a half a smile on his face and when the teacher, Mrs Naffin, pointed out his desk, he nodded, went over and sat down.

And that left Clara on her own up there. Her throat was so tight she could hardly get a word out and when she did it emerged as a whisper. One of the girls smiled encouragingly and that made it worse. She scowled and didn’t look at anyone, not even Clarence; though when she did glance at him, as she was heading for her desk,  he was still fiddling with his pens, straightening out his exercise book and then writing his name on the cover. She bet he wrote neatly.

She felt a light tap on her shoulder and nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned round. It was mad-boy Douglas from the estate. She hadn’t even noticed him when she came in. He didn’t smile. She hadn’t seen him smile yet, not once but he mouthed something at her. She frowned and then realised he was asking if she was alright.

She nodded. She wasn’t but she would be. The lesson started and she stopped thinking about herself and her tight throat and her heart beating so hard it was like a policeman hammering on a door in Eastenders.