I didn't really learn a lot in school. I always tuned out of the boring classes and went to my own world, which happened to be a storeroom full of rum and a box of matches.
All I learned from school was how to not annoy Sister Ethel. I had spent nine long years in the huge orphanage in Nottingham and I still hadn't learned enough, by the looks of how things were going on this Friday afternoon.
Science was my least favourite subject. We never got to do cool chemistry experiments involving explosions and bubbles and whatnot. Instead we spent a painful half hour taking down a report about intestines on the blackboard.
I had got to the third paragraph of this intestinal account and my hand was tired from having to use cursive non-stop and I was bored and tired and I had learned only one thing; no matter what colour skin, hair or eyes you have, we all have a variety of pulsating, slimy objects inside us. And what do you do when you're feeling down? You mess with someone, preferably cranky old nuns.
I picked up my grubby rubber from the corner of my tiny wooden desk and waited until Sister Ethel had turned around to write our homework on the board and threw it with all my might. All the girls in the class watched, bewildered, as the rubber soared through the air like a majestic bird and slammed against the blackboard, about a yard away from Sister Ethel's head, giving a mighty thud.
Despite the fact that I missed pretty badly, it was definitely effective as Sister Ethel lowered the chalk slowly and turned around with her wrinkly face screwed up with fury. In the heat of the moment I had ceased to remember almost everyone in the class hated my guts because I was "mouthy" and "mean", and as if the missing rubber on my desk wasn't enough of an indicator that I was guilty, every single girl pointed at me in silence.
I bowed my head and waited for Sister Ethel to make me put my hand out. I had been hit with her wooden ruler so many times I had lost count three years ago. I heard her drop her chalk and walk over to me and an ominous shadow hung over me and my copybook. She slammed her hands on my desk so hard I thought she'd knock it over, and crouched down until her face was level with mine. Her eyes were narrowed and they stared straight into my soul.
"I have had ENOUGH of your behaviour, missy " She hissed audibly.
She got back up and I thought that was that.
Never have I been so wrong.
She grabbed my chin with her cold fingers and tilted my head upward so I was facing her, before slapping me across the face three times.
Hard.
She probably had a more powerful slap than most of the men that worked in the orphanage put together and the sound echoed on the wooden panelling loudly, making everyone flinch.
Even so, a mere slap in the face was only going to encourage me to get revenge...