St. Mallory's Forever!

2 - ABBY: Chaos, Carnage and Confusion - Travelling Day

They call it a travelling day, but to Abigail Roe (that's me by the way, just so as you know) it looks more like a traffic jam day. Every parking bay in the school is taken, and a long, straggly line of overstuffed cars trail away out of the courtyard, through the gates and up the long, snaking school drive to vanish among the Sussex hedgerows.

The air thrums with the grumble and snarl of expensive motors (I swear some of them hire a Rolls just for the day, to impress the Head) while frantic parents struggle through the school gates, laden with trunks, suitcases and lumpy carrier bags. Harrods, mostly, although occasionally a Fortnum & Mason bag will put in an appearance. And very occasionally an M&S Finest. You can spot the scholarship girls a mile away!

Bitchy? Moi?

I was joking. Honest! Actually, when we're at home our parents go out and do the weekly shop at Tesco's or Sainsbury's just like everyone else. But this is the first day back, so everyone is out to make a good impression. Hair coiffured, nails perfectly manicured, uniforms all crisp and new and hitherto untouched by human hands. Shoes polished until they positively gleam. Unblemished undies, newly fitted bras that are a tad too big so we can grow into them, and–

"Abby! Abby darling, could you come here for a moment?"

Oh. My. God. Excuse me. Must go. That's my mother calling.

She never calls me darling at home (wouldn't dare!) so why in the name of all things sane does she call me it here? If boarding school has that effect on parents, what chance do us poor students stand?

"Coming, Mum!" *Stretches lips into big happy smile*. Rule number one: never show how embarrassed you are by your parents. No matter what they say or do. Or what they're wearing

Reluctantly I dragged myself from in front of the big oak doors and made my way down to the parking area. Drat! I'd just got prime position on the top step, too. Queen of all I surveyed. Great for spotting old friends arriving, and even better for identifying any potential fags – I mean new girls – but more on that later.

I darted down the steps and jinked my way through the oncoming crowds towards Mum's car. Of course she's only parked right between a Roller and a top of the range 4X4 with huge wheels and an even bigger back seat. You know the type of thing – with enough inbuilt games consoles such that you could happily never get out.

No idea what sort of vehicle it is, mind (I'm a girl – knowing car brands is the boys' equivalent of reading Hello! magazine) but you can be sure it's never been off-road in its life. Come to that, the trip down to sunny Brighton is probably the first time it's ever been outside the M25.

Oh, did I say sunny? Strike that! I've never known first day back to be anything but overcast and dreary, and today's no exception. I think the guy upstairs is sending us a subliminal message about the term ahead. Gloomy outlook. Storms on the horizon.

"Well, I'd better be off, sweetheart," said Mum, eyes moist and ready to flood. "I want to get back on the road before the traffic gets too bad," she managed to finish, her voice breaking slightly.

Oh God, I hate this bit. You know, the "saying goodbye in front of all your friends" bit. Why can't they have a private "Saying Goodbye Room" where this can be done behind closed doors? Luckily I'm an old hand at this by now. I know how to put a brave face on it as we both realise we won't see each other ever, ever, ever again. Well, for a month or two, anyway.

That's why Dad and my little sister aren't invited. Seeing your father in tears is just soooo embarrassing! Little sis' Ruby is embarrassing too, of course, but for entirely different reasons. Last term Ruby only picked her nose, licked it and the offered it to Matron. No wonder she's been left at home this time. My sister, I mean, not Matron.