St. Mallory's Forever!

7. ABBY: House Meeting

Seats! Seats! We get to sit on seats! Ohmygoshthisisthemostexcitingthingever!!!!!

Whoa. Major abuse of the English language there ... I can hear Shakespeare back-flipping in his grave.

But yes, after a whole year of sitting on the floor and fighting to keep straight faces as we slowly lost feeling in our gluteus maximi, we finally get to sit on something civilised.

Well, sort of – there isn't enough space on the bench for everyone, so Don Pedro had to sit on my lap to make room for Helen and our new Chinese acquaintance. Christie had Pip on her knee, and, just to be contrary, Georgia had moved back onto the floor and commandeered my legs for a back rest. As a result, I was going numb long before Mrs Trewell had even flipped out her customary list and balanced her Dumbledore-esque glasses on the end of her nose.

"Hello girls!" Mrs T. panned the room and nodded to each year group (nearly dislodging her glasses in the process, for the first time that evening). "It's that time of year again, and, for the benefit of our new arrivals, I'll just run through the basics of the house rules. I'll try not to keep you too long, but we all know what Mr Tuftt will say if I don't tell you everything."

Don Pedro sniggered, and I felt Georgia quaking with suppressed mirth. Mr Tuftt's obsession with order, rules and pragmatism is legendary at St Mall's.

So we sat there and listened as good ol' Guvnah T. explained the rules for what, to me, felt like the hundredth time. Wake up buzzer at 7:20, breakfast at 7:30, hair up for mealtimes, correct uniform to be worn at all times on school campus, suitcases to be stowed in the cellar and not – I swear she looked straight at me here – stowed on top of cupboards, the times for presenting oneself in the evening, the times when lights were to go out, assembly at 8:00 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, the importance of organising tutor meetings and times for music and drama lessons, sport and extra curriculars ... and on and on ad nauseam.

Now, call me a creeper, but I actually tried to get a proper look at Helen during the meeting. The spectre of our deathly-awkward introduction was still hanging over my head, giving me a guilt complex, but she looked so sullen and forlorn I almost felt I shouldn't bother. I'm supposed to be looking after her and everything, but ... I don't want to have to trail around behind her like some horrible awkward shadow forever! Over dinner she'd just sat at the end of our table poking at her food and mumbling answers to every question we tried to ask. She even resisted Pip, and that's saying something – nothing more than an "oh my gosh, you guys are so weird" sort of tiny smile and a lot of hiding under her fringe.

I feel horrible for saying this, but I almost wish I could leave her to someone else. I was never much good with people who don't like me.

Anyway, at the end of it all, the meeting was over, and everybody piled out of the door and back up onto the corridor. I lurked by Helen so as not to lose her, and I tell you I nearly fell over backwards when I saw the little Chinese girl Zoo-Anne step up beside her and start chatting.

According to the Don, who is the font of all knowledge when it comes to internal affairs, this new girl is booked in for ESL, although her English seemed pretty good from what I overheard between her and Helen. But most likely she just knows a couple of stock phrases. Rather like me and Spanish. What would I do without Don Pedro?

Anyway, new girls aren't usually quite so talkative until they've sussed the house out and settled down with the oldies – probably 'cause we're supposed to know what we're doing, and their parents tell them to place their hopes in our clumsy hands, poor souls.

But this is good, right? If this Helen girl has a friend, then maybe she'll talk to the rest of us?

I'd certainly welcome an excuse not to have another repeat of this evening. Please excuse me while I go and bleach my brain.

":Zd��h;$