13: Revision
Being a fifteen-year-old stuck in a boring school wasn't very different to being a fourteen-year-old stuck in a boring school, George concluded by the end of the next day. His schoolwork was 'back on track', according to Mr Pearson, who seemed relieved to be rid of Natalie and her bad influences on everyone. George thought that school was a much more boring place without Natalie's jokes, but he seemed to be almost the only one who thought so. He sat with Charlie at lunch as usual, but they didn't talk much and twenty minutes before the end, Charlie drifted off to chat to some of the other hockey players for a bit. George felt alone and after enduring the final few hours of lessons, he went home by himself, assuming that Jemima would be going over to Will's again.
"Hey, wait," Jemima said, sounding out-of-breath as she caught up with George in the crowd leaving the school gates.
"What's up?" George asked, slowing down a little so they could walk together.
"Did Ewart text you?" she asked, her face tinged with pink from the cold air.
George dug his phone out of his pocket. There was a text from Ewart from an hour earlier which he hadn't seen in his lessons.
POLICE HERE, WILL'S DAD ARRESTED. START MAKING EXCUSES FOR LEAVING
"So you cracked it?" George laughed. "You're definitely getting a black shirt for this."
Jemima smiled modestly. "Nah, this isn't black shirt material. Mr Pearson came and took Will out of our afternoon lessons and I realised something was up."
"How long until we can go home, do you think?" George asked. "A week?"
"Something like that," Jemima said. "Ewart reckoned last night that we couldn't go straight away, or it would seem suspiciously linked to Will's dad, but a week or two is probably enough."
"Ewart can pretend he found out what you and Will were getting up to in his bedroom all these months," George grinned, and Jemima smacked him with her bag.
"Pig," she said, tutting. "You were the one moping around and crying after Natalie, who you weren't even dating."
"I wasn't moping," George protested. "We were just friends."
"Yeah, right," Jemima cackled. "You obviously fancied her but Letty beat you to it."
George shook his head, refusing to rise to her bait. "You think whatever you want, but you're deluded," he said. "Do you think Ewart will let me off school until we leave if I promise to keep up my campus work?"
"Doubt it," Jemima said, pessimistically. "But, you can always ask."
Even though Jemima had been the one teasing George, when the reality hit her that she was never going to see Will again, George discovered her having a little cry in the kitchen. He gave her a hug, though, instead of taking the mickey.
"Mission relationships are always hard," he commiserated, but Jemima sniffed and laughed a little.
"Like you've had so many," she said. "There's that one you lied about from two years ago…"
"That really happened," George told her, annoyed, but he smiled too. "Will was a nice guy, though."
"It makes you wonder what life would be like if you weren't a Cherub," Jemima said, leaning against the fridge. "Do you reckon you'd just have a normal girlfriend and normal friends, go to school every day, not need to worry about remembering your cover name or knowing you're going to leave one day and never see all these people again?"
George shrugged. "Probably," he said. "Sometimes it seems appealing, but then you think about all the things you'd miss, like spreading those outrageous campus rumours or all-night parties that you'd never be allowed with a foster family."
"You're right," Jemima said, but she still sounded sad.
"And anyway, going to a normal school would drive me mad," George grinned. "I already have three GCSEs and most kids our age won't even sit the exams for another year."
"Plus you'd have to wait two more years to get your driving licence," Jemima smiled. "And you'd have to drive around with some driving instructor telling you to slow down."
"I hadn't thought of that, yeah, that sounds awful," George said. "I definitely prefer being a Cherub."
For safety's sake, Ewart made them spend two more weeks going to school, winding up the mission and clearing out the apartment. Jemima had one or two friends who took her out for a leaving party, but George didn't feel like spending time with Charlie in the end and he just said goodbye to her at the end of his last day of school like normal. She'd got closer with her hockey teammates anyway now that Natalie was gone.
"I've told everyone at the Embassy that I'm putting Jemima in a girls' boarding school to keep her mind off boys," Ewart joked to George as he was putting the things he cared about in his room into a suitcase, only keeping out the things he needed for the flight back.
"Sounds completely plausible," George grinned.
"Anyway," Ewart said, pointing a finger at George. "Have you been keeping up with your schoolwork since we started winding down the mission?"
"Yeah," George lied. In fact, he'd taken full advantage of Ewart being out at work until late and managed a full campaign on FIFA as well as brushing up his racing game skills in anticipation of some tournaments when he got back to campus. He'd deliberately not even opened his campus laptop so he couldn't feel guilty about the backlog of assignments.
"That's not what I've heard," Ewart said, narrowing his eyes.
"There's one or two things outstanding, but nothing serious," George said, sounding exasperated. "You know how some of the teachers are, they think their subject is the only one you're doing and if your essay isn't done by the next day, you're deliberately avoiding it."
"Hey, be more respectful when you're talking about the teachers," Ewart scolded him.
"Okay, okay. Look, once I'm packed I'll go through all my homework assignments and double-check they're all done," George lied again, and Ewart was placated. When George did open his campus laptop, he had several emails that said URGENT: OVERDUE HOMEWORK and for maths alone he had four practice papers plus two homework assignments overdue, which would be at least twelve hours of work if he really applied himself. In any case, there was no way he could work in an apartment which was mostly in boxes, so he shut down the laptop, put it in his bag and decided he'd knuckle down just as soon as he was back on campus and fully rested.
"Good to see you back on campus, Mr Knight," Rose Cameron said breezily as George dragged himself into her office.
"Why do we have to meet at seven-thirty?" George complained. He'd had to get up at six to get showered, dressed, down to the cafeteria for breakfast and back up to Rose's office.
"The early bird gets the worm," Rose told him, tapping the side of her nose.
"I'm still jet-lagged so I couldn't get to sleep until past midnight," George carried on. "I need two days to get my sleep cycles sorted before I'll feel at my best."
"You don't have two days," Rose grinned. "According to my calendar, we're now just ninety-two days away from your first exam of the summer."
"So?" George asked, holding in a yawn.
"I've been round all your teachers yesterday and less than half of them are confident you'll get a good grade," Rose went on. "Unacceptable. And, on top of that, every single one of them said some of your homework was now overdue."
"I'm trying, Miss, but I've got to actually go to lessons all day as well as getting caught up," George complained. "Usually we get a week or so to settle back in on campus after a mission."
"That week isn't for Cherubs preparing for exams," Rose said, firmly. "You've been away from campus a lot and missed all the January exams so you've got a backlog to do this summer. If you get through all of this, you'll be more or less done with your GCSEs and can focus on A-Levels. Five A-Levels is enough for any university, but by the time we've missed two or three more exam sittings because of missions you only have about three goes left to get through all those."
"I can always re-sit," George pointed out, feebly.
"You mean do extra revision on top of all the work you already have?" Rose asked, shaking her head. "George, no matter how we look at it, you're not applying yourself. You might have coasted by in previous years, but we're at the sharp end of your education and I'm not about to let you sleepwalk into a crisis."
George sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. All he wanted to do was crawl back under his duvet.
"The good news," Rose said, snapping him out of his daydream, "Is that, in recognition of both how much work you have to do, and how lazy your attitude is, Kimberley Reynolds has volunteered to be your personal tutor."
George groaned. "She's so savage when it comes to lessons," he said, from bitter experience. "She knows at least ten times as much as me and she's younger than me."
"Maybe some of that knowledge will sink into your brain," Rose said, tapping the desk in front of her with a pen. "When you're finished with your lessons, you've got a two-hour revision session with Kimberley, then half an hour for dinner, then a further ninety minutes in your room of homework, supervised either by me or by someone else."
"Oh come on, Miss, this is going to kill me," George said, shocked. "That's twelve hours a day or more."
"What did you think you were going to be doing? Kicking back on the Xbox?" Rose said, severely. "You can still have Sundays off, we're not monsters, but if you miss a single lesson, homework deadline or essay submission from now until your exams, you'll be straight into heavy drill for twenty-four hours on Sunday, then back to lessons on Monday."
George shook his head. "You might as well just put me in heavy drill right now," he muttered, annoyed. "There's no way I can do this. And heavy drill will kill me with my arm in a cast."
"You can do it," Rose said, her tone changing to encouragement. "You had much longer days in Basic Training, and those included physical training too. And you're a smart person, you just need to apply yourself. GCSEs aren't particularly difficult if you just keep on top of the work, trust me."
"Whatever," George said, getting up. "Can I go now?"
"Can I go now, Miss," Rose corrected him.
"Can I go now, Miss?"
"I'll see you later for your homework session. Don't be late."
It seemed to be common knowledge on campus that George was behind on his schoolwork and when he reached his first break, at lunchtime that day, he took full advantage of the opportunity to complain.
"Give it a rest, George," Jemima said, smugly. She'd been awarded a black shirt for her mission performance and had been lording it over everyone. "I was away for just as long as you but I'm not miles behind on my work."
"Don't listen to her," Rex said, putting his arm around George. "Since she got her black shirt she's turned into an idiot. Listen, purely because what they're making you do is torture, plain and simple, I'm willing to lend you my History GCSE essays from last year and I'll even rewrite one or two if you need them for a deadline," he said, smiling generously.
George stared at him. Help like that was unheard-of on campus. "Are you for real?" he asked, half-expecting a joke.
"Absolutely serious," Rex said, nodding. "Cross my heart, hope to die."
"You lifesaver," George said, thanking him fervently. "I can literally never repay you."
"No payment necessary," Rex replied, magnanimously. "I am just being a good friend."
To George's complete bewilderment, when he saw Letty in a corridor after English class she jogged over and whispered an offer to do his English coursework for him, and Beatrice dropped off a folder full of Russian notes for him over dinner. In the end he had offers of help from practically everyone he knew on campus, and none of them said they wanted anything in return. By the time he got back to his room, he knew something was up, but he didn't say a word to Rose as she watched him spend ninety minutes on a Shakespeare essay while she sat on his bed and did paperwork.
He was exhausted by the time she left and he was in the middle of cleaning his teeth before bed when someone knocked on his door. He walked over, still with his toothbrush in his mouth, and opened up to see Bianca Wright, a blonde Aussie girl who was friends with Kimberley. She'd been away most of the past few years on a long mission in Australia and her tan hadn't completely faded yet.
"Hi George," she said brightly.
George looked around suspiciously. "Strange to see someone from the eighth floor down here," he said, his voice muffled by the toothbrush. He expected some kind of prank by the eighth floor, which was the last thing he needed.
"I heard you've got a ton of schoolwork to do," she said, smiling.
"Yeah, a ton doesn't even begin to describe it," George said, unhappily.
Bianca was dressed like she was getting ready to go to bed, in baggy pyjama bottoms and fluffy socks and a big sweatshirt. She giggled a little. "Well, I just thought I'd say that if you want to hang out sometime, take your mind off it, let me know."
George looked at her, still expecting a trick. "Um, yeah, okay, might do that," he told her.
"Awesome. Talk later," she said, waving and heading back up the corridor. George watched her go, still unable to work out what was going on, but he shrugged and closed the door, double-checking the room for potential traps before turning in.