Disclaimer: I do not own Malory Towers, Saint Clare's or any of the characters except Peggy and Maria.
THANK YOU!!!
Thank you all kind reviewers. Especially those who gave me ideas (I could pretty much say all of you) and helpful comments; that's what I need and want. Thanks Phas for helping me post and stuff, and Nonnimus, I was delighted when I read your review. I read it four times. But thank you all!!
You may not like this chapter as much- I did it in one day in comparison to two or three days. Thank you A for Antechinus for telling me about the skipping to different places thing- I'm trying to do it and I think if I CAN do it it will make a big difference to my story.
Please, if you have not read The Fifth Form again At Malory Towers, please read it. It is by my wonderful sister Phasmidfan, and I mean it, it's one of the BEST STORIES IN THE WORLD!
Now, in case you're bored of my author's notes, READ ON AND ENJOY!!! :)
Dol-99
"Good radish!" cried Mam'zelle.
Half the class was frowning because of the failed trick, Mam'zelle Dupont having given them an order mark, two order marks, in fact, because she had received a reasonably large shock when the 'dapple' she had found on her desk was jerked away from her with a string Alicia had been holding, and the other half were trying not to let themselves smile at Mam'zelle's mistake.
"You have gotten two order marks," boomed Mam'zelle, "and I say, good radish!"
Even Alicia was shrinking back in her seat, because she was plotting revenge in her clever mind, but Janet sat up and boldly said, "Its good riddance, not good radish," and the ready-to-snort Irene stifled a laugh.
"I do not care," Mam'zelle retorted, baring her yellow teeth fiercely, "because you have been given order marks. Do you not care about that?"
Janet looked thoughtful. "We're still going to the concert; one- well, two- order marks won't change that," she said.
"Ah," said Mam'zelle, dragging suspense into the words, "But you won't be going to the concert. If you behave like this, then I feel you are not...." she paused. "....mature enough to go to this concert. I feel so proud, talking as Miss Potts would!"
Doris and Kathleen groaned. How silly of Janet to bring up the concert! If she hadn't then perhaps they would still be going.
"Now, if there is one more treek," Mam'zelle said severely, "Between now and the concert...."
Here the class expected and hoped to hear, "You won't be going," because it meant there was still some hope of actually going, and their hearts leapt with nervousness and fluttered with excitement, but Mam'zelle continued, "Then you will write French verbs out the whole time. But I am kind, ah, I am verrrrry kind, and I think that not going will be punishment enough. Tomorrow you will have Mam'zelle Rougier! But still I say, good radish!"
Then there was a terrible silence, where nobody knew what to say or do, and it hung in the air like a cloud, ready to burst at any moment. And the person to burst it was Mam'zelle.
"Class is dismissed," she said, "And I let you out early so that you can think over your abominable behaviour..." here Pat and Isabel giggled, but, of course, into their handkerchiefs, "and you can also discuss your punishment. It is a just punishment, too. Now go!"
The class filed out of the room, and chatter began in the common room, because now it was Break.
"I don't believe you, Janet," Darrell cried angrily, "Fancy reminding Mam'zelle of the concert!"
"It wasn't her fault," Kathleen said, and frowned, "You might have well been the one in her place, Darrell!"
"But still, now we've all got to stay back," Pat said, from her corner.
"Oh, shut up, you," Alicia ordered. "It was partly my fault, but also Darrell's fault for creating the trick. You'll remember that if you look back."
Irene's other friend Belinda caught Pat's scowl, and hurriedly sketched it. Gwen was fuming with anger as well, having particularly wanted to go to the concert, and Belinda sketched her too. She and Irene fell back, laughing.
"How can you laugh at a time like this?" the red-faced Gwen demanded. "Thanks to all of you, I'm missing a wonderful concert here!"
"Do we care about you, Gwen?" Darrell sighed. "Sally, Peggy, look at the time. You've got to go to rehearsal. See you afterwards!"
***
"Look here, Gwendoline Mary Lacey," said Maria sharply from her place, "Stop coming whining to me asking for a part in the pantomime. Okay?"
"No," said Gwen. "I was a born actress, and singer, and just one line at least, and I'll stop complaining."
Moira turned to Maria and grinned. "Let her embarrass herself and sing a song," she said.
Maria nodded. "Look, at this part, sing a song that you have to write yourself, and get that Irene girl to write the music. You know, I badly wanted to choose... what's her name... Doris, she's such a good actress, but then I wanted sensible Sally to have a go."
"Fine," Gwen said, and was gone.
"Peggy," Maria called to Peggy, who was singing a song, "Your character doesn't have a limp."
"I know," said Peggy, "but I have a limp. I can't help it."
Maria smiled. "Okay then," she said. "Sally, here's your part."
The rehearsal continued smoothly, Maria dismissing the group when the play had been practised several times. When Sally and Peggy returned to the common room, they were itching to tell about Gwen, who had probably told everyone anyway.
"Did you hear about Gwen?" Sally asked.
Doris nodded. "Irene's going to write the song too. The words, I mean. Well, we'll be having a break from lazy old Gwen, then."
Everyone beamed, the concert forgotten, and they went excitedly to their next lesson- art. After art there was grammar and English, followed by supper. The rest of the night was free.
"Look here, girls," came a snooty, all too familiar voice. Gwen. "I'm going to sing you my song, and Irene here will play the piano. I'll be sight reading. It's about a girl called Gwendoline. Not named after me, of course, I'm far too modest. Ready, Irene?"
"Yup!" Irene sat down at the piano and played a twinkling introduction. Then the high pitched voice wrecked it, ruined it:
"There is a girl, I know!
With big blue eyes,
And golden hair that flows,
The one that I despise.
She's rather fat,
And hard to bear,
When she's in the street,
People stop and stare.
She's snooty, stuck-up and vain,
But in all, she's rather plain,
She ate all the biscuits in the biscuit tin,
And her name is, G-wendoline!
People think that it serves her right,
If, by her own intention,
She gets into a fight,
Mostly just to get attention.
But who, you ask, is this beast?
Who will eat and eat and eat?
Who's always having a feast?
And who has stink-y feet?
She's snooty, stuck-up and vain,
But in all, she's rather plain.
She ate all the biscuits in the biscuit tin,
And her name is, G-wendoline!
She's fat but she thinks she is thin!
Her name is Gwen-doline!"
Gwen bowed and all the girls clapped. Not for the terrible singing, but for the words of the song, which Gwen had not realised were made to describe her. It was hilariously funny to watch her sing all the things she was, without realising.
"They'll love it, on the night!" Isabel cried.
"Sing it again!" cried Belinda, who, with Doris, had fallen against the piano, and were laughing crazily.
"Yes, do!" everyone shouted.
So Gwen sang it again, and again, and was only too proud to see and hear the amusement of the other girls.
And so the term goes on, with half term coming up in the next week, a lacrosse match as well, with Kathleen, Pat and Isabel, and a whole school pantomime rehearsal.
Isn't there a lot to look forward to?
Ah yes, my song, it was great fun writing but to you maybe not so much reading. Tell me what you think.
Thanks again reviewers! Review more! :)
Also, please tell me whose diary I should do.
I might do in between chapters of the diary. If you want.
Till the next chapter,
Dol-99