by Paul Jackson
Emma Worby gave an audible sigh of relief on hearing the shrill of the school bell. At last it was mid-morning break. The fresh-faced sixteen-year-old with the lush, long brown hair held in a sweet ponytail, hurriedly packed her books away. Her large brown eyes focussed on her friend, Candice Moore, who was seated in the next row of desks. Candice returned a mischievous wink.
A boy seated near to Emma took the wink as a cue to gain Candice's attention. Candice was the fifth form 'stunner' and was sought after by every boy in the year. To Candice, however, fifth year boys were drips and her attention was on the much older boys in the sixth form.
"Spin on it, little boy!" she said, cocking a finger at him.
Candice, the class record holder for reprimands and detentions, looked down at the wooden desktop and proudly smirked at the carving she'd made on it about three weeks ago. 'Candice woz 'ere' it read. She had expertly filled in the carving with a black marker pen and had added neat little kisses around the carving in pink.
"Alright! Alright!" said Mrs Hills, the geography teacher. "Let's have none of this fuss and commotion! We shall ALL file out in an ORDERLY single file when I give you permission!" she announced in a raised, exasperated voice that just about matched the decibel level of the class.
Amid the noisy scraping of chair legs on the wooden floor, done deliberately in most cases, Mrs Hills continued in a high-pitched nasally drone.
"Not yet! Not yet! Now, I shall want the homework that I have set completed by our next lesson which is on Wednesday! HUSH!" she bellowed, clapping her hands in quick succession. "HUSH! Or do we want to remain at our desks? You are all sixteen years old, not little infants! Now be quiet or I may decide to keep you in for the entire break!"
Apart from a few muttered whispers, Course 'E' managed to fulfil the simple task of being quiet.
"Very well, you may file out in silence with no pushing and shoving! SINGLE FILE, Course 'E!'"
The red-faced teacher looked at Candice Moore, who was chewing. The girl was currently teasing a couple of boys. Standing in the doorway, Mrs Hills held out a tissue in her hand and waited for Candice to draw level with her.
"Candice Moore! GUM!"
"Oh, me, miss?"
"Yes! You, miss! For the umpteenth time!"
Candice insolently gobbed out her chewing gum into the waiting tissue. Mrs Hills gasped and looked disdainfully into the green eyes of the girl with the chestnut hair that flowed down her back. Wrapping the offending gum in the tissue, Mrs Hills spoke in a harsh tone.
"Candice Moore! If there was a GCSE examination for gaining the attention of boys, I'm sure you'd get an 'A*' rather than the 'F' minus you are likely to get at the end of this year in geography!"
Candice offered a wide, toothy grin. She looked the badly overweight teacher up and down, scornfully, before placing her hands on her hips with a pronounced pose, and pushing out her well-developed breasts. Then, jutting out her chin, she said, "Well, miss, if you've got it, flaunt it, I say! I mean, how many years have I got left to flaunt it, miss? What age is it that you start to look like a lump of lard?" Again she looked the teacher up and down.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Moore! Do your parents know you speak like this at just sixteen years old? Oh, for goodness sake, just get out of my sight, you rude, horrible girl!" The red-faced teacher returned to her desk and placed the gum upon it.
Amid uncontrollable laughter, the class filed out into the din of the begrimed lower corridor of Larkfield, a comprehensive school located in Dartford, just off the A226. With other pupils spilling out of their classes, the corridor was bustling. A tidal wave of light grey and black, the school uniform colours, made its way to the playground and the diner where snacks were sold.
"Well, you still up for it then?" giggled Candice, light freckles cutely decorating her small, upturned nose.
"Yeah!" followed Emma, munching on a Twix bar rather hurriedly, breaking the school rule of no confectionary or food to be eaten in the corridors or classrooms. But Emma was oblivious to that. She couldn't give a hoot. For leaving school during break on this crisp October morning to flirt with the two apprentice motor mechanics at 'Phil's Auto Repairs' that was situated in the next road was far more important.
"Wish we didn't have to let them see us in this crappy school uniform, though!" she said disapprovingly, looking down at her black blazer and light grey skirt.
Candice shrugged. "Better than not seeing them at all! Anyway," she continued, flicking her long eye lashes and combing her beautiful brown hair with her fingers, "they might like us in our school skirts!" She gave a fizzy grin. "Oi, you!" she suddenly bleated, looking down at Emma's hemline. "Yours is a bit short this morning! Huh! I wonder why?"
"No way! Look at yours then!" squealed Emma, eyeing Candice's tight cotton skirt that was worn high on her shapely, well developed thighs, covered only by the black tights girls were allowed to wear. That is, certain black tights that conformed to uniform policy. The school handbook stated 'plain black tights'. Those worn by Candice were hardy that. Black, yes, but down the sides ran little patterns of bunny girls cheekily blowing kisses.
"You had better watch it with those sexy tights!" Emma said. "Ol' Mrs Burke was measuring hemlines last week and if she sees those tights she'll have a fit! She was sending girls off to see 'Beamish' for short hemlines! Not that I'm scared of him!" she breezed, cockily. But then her stomach quaked, and she battled to convince herself it was due to eating the Twix bar hurriedly.
"Huh!" cussed Candice. "Probably turns stinky Beamish on having a string of us STUNNING girls, well me, at least!" She paused. "Being sent to him for hemlines! Creep! He doesn't scare me! As for 'Burky!' Huh! 'Burke' is the right name for her!"
The two giggling, high-spirited girls were now out of sight of the school and were nearing Phil's Auto Repairs. It was situated at the dead end of a short, narrow road that had rows of old two-up, two-down 1930's houses. Most were in need of urgent renovation, coupled with unkempt gardens. Not that the two excited girls noticed.
"Suppose we better not be late back," Emma said in a low voice, still thinking about the possibility of being sent to Beamish if caught. Her pretty ponytail which complemented her overall sweetness, bobbed, as Candice excitedly quickened her pace, skimming over the yellow leaves that peppered the uneven pavement.
"Ah, why not?" rebelled Candice, shaking her head with a rush of anger. "It's only bloody French with Miss Onshore! I hate French! Nothing could keep me away from these two guys. Have you seen Dave's arms when he gets his overalls off?" Candice sucked in air at the thought. "Fit or what!" she said, giving a glimpse of her radiant smile and rolling those mesmeric green eyes of hers.
"Dave's mine!" replied Emma, giving her obstreperous friend a shove. Loud giggles could be heard above the noisy tatt-tatt-tatt sound of a delivery van's diesel engine. Its driver eyed the two schoolgirls, as a sudden gust of autumn wind caused their short skirts to flutter. Each continued to barge into the other.
"You can have Robbie!" continued Candice. "He's tasty!"
She put a consoling arm around Emma's shoulder before eyeing the van driver. She blew him a mischievous kiss, puckering her lips with a coquettish curl.
"You are such a tease, Candice Moore!" laughed Emma.
Girlish banter and giggles abounded until they were outside the entrance to Phil's Auto Repairs. It caused Emma to retreat into her usual shell. She was far less ostentatious than the glitzy Candice. She fumbled awkwardly as the two apprentices came into view, both carrying large, grimy looking tea-mugs, each with their oily overalls halfway down across their waists. Both wore vests that showed off their developed upper frames.
It was Candice's voice that could be heard most, notably by the garage owner, Phil, who sat in his office. It was she who cracked the innuendo, using her lusty provocativeness, making the two young lads laugh. Emma found herself becoming jealous of her friend's exuberance. She was also envious of Candice's looks and physical development. But to Emma's surprise it was her that Dave, the better looking of the two apprentices, gave the lingering looks to. Was it that Dave preferred Emma's shy naivety, or the nervousness of her pretty smile? She blushed further, for Dave appeared to be lost in the pools of Emma's cute, brown eyes. He noticed a sweet, innocent look glow across her angelic face. This was much to the disapproval of Candice, who shot both Emma and Dave a resentful glare.
The obese-looking and quite breathless garage proprietor, known locally as 'Dodgy Phil', got up from his filthy office desk and put down his tobacco roll-up with a hoarse cough. What concerned him was that these girls were coming to see his two apprentices almost every day. It was preventing the two mechanics from getting on with their work. Phil didn't want to get the two girls into trouble, but he knew something had to be done. The meeting went on for a full fifteen minutes before the girls began to slowly drift away. He shook his head as he watched the two girls depart. Both were giggling and each waved affectionately back at the two mechanics. Already they were late back for school. He eyed their short, swaying grey skirts that weren't too much below the hems of their black blazers. He noted, too, their sheer black tights, wondering if they were perhaps wearing stockings. He allowed himself a rare grin. He questioned if the school actually had any control over its pupils, especially the two pretty madams departing up the road. Dodgy Phil stopped muttering to himself, as a sudden thought came to mind...
"I wonder if... na, doubt it," he said, dismissively.
The two girls huddled excitedly together as they made their way through the main school gates, walking up the badly cracked pathway towards the entrance. Five foot high hedgerows bordered both sides.
"And what time do you call this?"
The two girls stopped abruptly, each emitting an audible gasp. From the top of the left hand hedgerow popped the large head of Mr Beamish, the head of year. He towered over the top of it with a look of thunder on his face.
"Just you two creatures wait there!" he boomed. Now he paced towards the gap in the hedgerow as both girls watched the side-on view of his huge head from the pathway.
"Aww, nooo!" gasped Candice, "not pissing Helluvahead!'" she cursed.
Emma turned white as the fifty-seven-year-old giant of a man suddenly stood in front of them. He almost lazily folded his arms across his chest.
"Wasn't expecting me, were you!"
"Well, only pervs loiter behind hedges," mumbled Candice through gritted teeth.
"Something to say, Candice?"
"No, sir," she responded, daring to contemptuously smile.
"Let me see, now," paused Mr Beamish, rubbing his chin. "We're in mid-October, with the term just over a month old. How many times has a member of staff had to speak with you two girls, especially you, Candice?"
The girls never responded, causing Mr Beamish to sigh.
"Well, come along, out with it," he said, once more folding his arms across his black jersey and rocking back casually on his heels. "What feeble excuses do we have?"
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