Cypress Alley

Chapter 4

If Mrs Olson's voice went any lower, I swore I'd rip my hair out.

Eliza wasn't greeted warmly at school because the bruise had turned blue. Everywhere we went people were pulling their phones out and snapping photos to text to their stupid friends. Either that or they 'accidentally' bumped into us with rude remarks slipping swiftly off their tongues.

Damn them.

Despite all this, Eliza was lucky. In my opinion, at least. Usually, she wouldn't be the one being teased, and lots of people genuinely like her. Her social skills are polished, as are her athletic skills... who wouldn't want to be friends with her?

But today, she was getting a share of my daily torment. And she loathed it. It appeared to me that for her, even history class was infinitely better than going out to recess. 

I stretched my arms out ahead of me and sighed. We were stuck in Mrs Olson's class for at least another forty-five minutes, with her voice dropping lower and duller with each passing second. I placed my head down on my desk, hoping Mrs Olson wouldn't catch me. I wanted to catch up on the sleep I'd missed the previous night. A small nap couldn't hurt, could it?

Whoosh!

A paper plane hit me squarely in the back of my neck. I turned to see who threw it but nearly everyone behind me was sniggering. It had to be Malcolm, I guessed – who else would have the guts to throw something across the classroom in front of Mrs Olson? I glared at him and scrunched up the plane. I didn't open it to see what was inside – I had a feeling I would be better off not knowing. I was about to throw it back when Mrs Olson tapped me on the back.

"Mr Sullivan, do you care to tell me why you're passing notes in class?" she growled.

"What?" I sighed. "No, no, no, I'm not the one passing notes. You see, someone-"

"I don't want to hear your explanations. I'll take that!" She snatched the plane from my hand and opened it. Her pale face began to contort, slowly beginning to glow a bright red. I guess it was a good thing I didn't open it myself.

"You, young man, are going to be spending lunch with me." She scribbled something down quickly and stuffed it in my face. A detention slip. Great. Eliza gave me a pointed from the other side of the room. I shrugged. Mrs Olson seldom gives out detentions – getting shouted at by her is usually enough to scare the daylight out of anyone. Malcolm should have been the one to get detention.

I sighed and stretched my legs out. I might as well take a nap now. I couldn't exactly get another detention.

---

After the second nap I was supposed to call "Detention At Lunch", I caught up with Eliza as we headed to our next class – Potions.

Okay, it's not really Potions, but who doesn't call Chemistry 'Potions?'

Apparently, everyone except me. And North. I remember her once telling me when we were paired up for a chemistry practical. We were making salt crystals and she told me that this was nowhere near as fun as real Potions and Mrs Hunter was a bad substitute for Professor Snape. And for some reason, I really think she believed it. 

That day, Eliza wanted to know everything about the detention. She'd never been to one before, and neither had I. There wasn't much to tell her except that I got told off for napping. She laughed. It wasn't really funny.

When we got inside Mrs Hunter handed back our tests. It was a really boring test about atoms, but Eliza said it was really hard. I thought it was the dumbest test Mrs Hunter had ever written.

I read the scrawled handwriting on the front of my test paper. 100%. That was the second time this year. I usually only get around 95% but I've really been on a roll this year.

Eliza leaned over to look at my paper and sighed obtrusively. "Of course, Elijah gets the perfect score and I'm the one stuck with a 60."

"Well, 60 is good," I encouraged, trying my best to sound encouraging.

"Yeah right." She shuffled back into her seat and flipped through her paper. "Congratulations," she said after a while, smiling, seemingly forgetting about what had just happened. "You deserved that mark."

I muttered my thanks and slipped my paper away. History and Science are the only classes I have with Eliza. The worst class and the best class, respectively. I'm actually younger than Eliza and the rest of our year. I skipped a grade a couple of years ago to move into Eliza's grade. I guess that's another reason why I'm always picked on. I'm called 'midget' and 'mini mouse' because I'm shorter than everyone else. I'm also classified as the 'nerd', even though I really don't think I deserve that status. I guess my grades in maths and science are good enough, but if you take one look at my PE report card... things change dramatically.

"Eli," Eliza said, interrupting my thoughts. "Any news about North?"

"No," I reply, exasperated. "I was with you the whole day."

"Not at lunch you weren't."

"But I was stuck with Old-son."

Eliza looked at me incredulously. "Really? Old-son?"

"Yep." I smiled slyly.

She rolled her eyes. "Be serious."

"Sirius!" I almost snort with laughter at her reaction. She grabbed my science textbook (to which I'd stuck an Advanced Potion-Making cover) and was about to hit me when she remembered something.

"Well I learnt something," she huffed, sounding a lot like Hermione. "North had some enemies."

"No sh*t, Sherlock."

"Don't you swear again and it's Shylock, not Sherlock for goodness' sake."

"Whatever. Anyway, what were you saying?"

"That girl Wendy. She loathes North."

"Who told you?"

"Sources."

"What sources?"

"Elementary, Dotson."

"I don't think that's the context in which the phrase 'elementary, Watson' is supposed to be used."

"It's Dotson and I don't care."

"Sure..."

"Will you just listen?"

"I am."

"The source was Wendy. I overheard her saying that she doesn't care that North is dead. Also, do you remember that they used to be friends? If they were friends, why doesn't she care? She also said some horrible stuff about North which I'm not going to tell you."

"Suspicious..."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No."

"Good."

We sat in silence for a while as Mrs Hunter introduced a new topic. Then, out of nowhere, Eliza said: "We need out own catch-phrases."

"What?"

"Yours could be something to do with Harry Potter. How about... 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good'?"

"Why?"

"Just 'cause it's cool." 

I had to agree, it was cool. I nodded in agreement and Eliza smiled. 

"What should mine be, then?" she asked.

I thought for a while. "If you prick us, do we not bleed...?"

"What?"

"Y'know. Shylock."

"Yeah?"

"Shakespeare?"

"No..."

"Merchant of Venice?"

"What?"

"Doesn't matter. How about..."

But we were interrupted by a hand on both of our shoulders, followed by Mrs Hunter's frowning face.

I guess I was wrong about not being able to get two detentions in a day.

Great.