we’re witches?’ Una gasped.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Grace. ‘But I think Justine was right. We shouldn’t have crossed the doctor.’
Grace, shoulders hunched, strode down Brooke Road. She was on the way to see Ms Lemon, and she hoped she was doing the right thing.
The teacher lived in a small, quiet apartment. Grace held the door for an old woman shuffling through with a little grocery cart, then bounded up the stairs. Ms Lemon did not look surprised to see Grace on her doorstep.
‘Come in,’ she said, and went off to boil the kettle.
Grace had been in the apartment once before; it was very small, but prettily decorated, and had a lovely view of the river from the sitting room. Now she stood against the arm of the sofa; she was too anxious to sit. She declined the offered cup of tea but, before she could speak, Ms Lemon did.
‘I know what this is about. Vera called me. Poor Jenny must be very upset.’
‘She is,’ replied Grace. ‘We all are. We’re a group, we stick together. So how could she expel one of us from the class? Mrs Quinlan’s being totally unreasonable.’
‘Not totally,’ Ms Lemon sighed. ‘Jenny can be very disruptive.’
‘She speaks her mind, Miss.’
‘It’s more than that. She’s disobedient.’
Grace looked at the teacher in surprise.
‘You agree with Mrs Quinlan. About keeping Jenny out.’
‘Not entirely, no. But… it is Vera’s class. It’s her decision.’
‘Okay, but Jenny can still come to your lessons.’
Ms Lemon put down her teacup and clasped her hands.
‘Grace, the lessons complement each other. You need both lots of instruction or it could lead to dangerous gaps in your skill and knowledge.’
‘So we’ll teach Jenny what we learn in Mrs Quinlan’s class. And she can still come to yours.’
‘That’s not good enough, you haven’t the experience–’
‘Then how can Jenny stay in the group?’
The teacher avoided her gaze.
‘Are you expelling her?’ said Grace.
‘It’s not up to me–’
‘It is up to you. You’re our teacher too! Are you going to let Jenny into your class, or not?’
Ms Lemon looked up, her hazel eyes pleading.
‘Vera won’t. So I can’t.’
Grace felt a lump in her throat and a disappointment like she had never felt before. Bethany Lemon was the person Grace most looked up to in the world. She was always fair, always just; like a sensible knight in shining armour. But now Grace could see a blemish on that armour. Ms Lemon could be bullied – was being bullied – by Mrs Quinlan. Grace looked down at Ms Lemon on the sofa, with her hands clasped and her expression worried, and she suddenly saw the little girl inside the woman. All at once, Grace felt a crushing pressure. She was going to have to be the adult.
‘That is not fair, Ms Lemon. And you know it. I’ll see myself out.’
As she walked from Brooke Road, tears stinging her eyes, Grace realised she hadn’t told Ms Lemon about the doctor and the missing straw doll. But, she thought, what was the point? Telling an adult didn’t seem to be the cure-all anymore. She didn’t feel she could depend on Ms Lemon now.
It was a truth she felt she had always known, but didn’t want to admit; adults are human too. And now that she was just months away from turning fifteen, Grace realised she would become one soon, and others would depend on her to be sensible and fair and to know everything.
She stopped on the bridge to watch the river flow beneath her, and just let herself cry. She wasn’t ready.
She wasn’t ready to be the grown-up.
11
All aboard the Caterpillar
The next day after school, Grace waited for Jenny at the school gates. They hadn’t had a moment alone during the day, and she didn’t wanted to embarrass her friend by announcing her permanent expulsion in front of the rest of the group.
Finally the tall girl appeared, sauntering towards her like she hadn’t a care in the world.
‘Jenny, I need to talk to you. It’s about the
‘I don’t know,’ replied Grace. ‘But I think Justine was right. We shouldn’t have crossed the doctor.’
Grace, shoulders hunched, strode down Brooke Road. She was on the way to see Ms Lemon, and she hoped she was doing the right thing.
The teacher lived in a small, quiet apartment. Grace held the door for an old woman shuffling through with a little grocery cart, then bounded up the stairs. Ms Lemon did not look surprised to see Grace on her doorstep.
‘Come in,’ she said, and went off to boil the kettle.
Grace had been in the apartment once before; it was very small, but prettily decorated, and had a lovely view of the river from the sitting room. Now she stood against the arm of the sofa; she was too anxious to sit. She declined the offered cup of tea but, before she could speak, Ms Lemon did.
‘I know what this is about. Vera called me. Poor Jenny must be very upset.’
‘She is,’ replied Grace. ‘We all are. We’re a group, we stick together. So how could she expel one of us from the class? Mrs Quinlan’s being totally unreasonable.’
‘Not totally,’ Ms Lemon sighed. ‘Jenny can be very disruptive.’
‘She speaks her mind, Miss.’
‘It’s more than that. She’s disobedient.’
Grace looked at the teacher in surprise.
‘You agree with Mrs Quinlan. About keeping Jenny out.’
‘Not entirely, no. But… it is Vera’s class. It’s her decision.’
‘Okay, but Jenny can still come to your lessons.’
Ms Lemon put down her teacup and clasped her hands.
‘Grace, the lessons complement each other. You need both lots of instruction or it could lead to dangerous gaps in your skill and knowledge.’
‘So we’ll teach Jenny what we learn in Mrs Quinlan’s class. And she can still come to yours.’
‘That’s not good enough, you haven’t the experience–’
‘Then how can Jenny stay in the group?’
The teacher avoided her gaze.
‘Are you expelling her?’ said Grace.
‘It’s not up to me–’
‘It is up to you. You’re our teacher too! Are you going to let Jenny into your class, or not?’
Ms Lemon looked up, her hazel eyes pleading.
‘Vera won’t. So I can’t.’
Grace felt a lump in her throat and a disappointment like she had never felt before. Bethany Lemon was the person Grace most looked up to in the world. She was always fair, always just; like a sensible knight in shining armour. But now Grace could see a blemish on that armour. Ms Lemon could be bullied – was being bullied – by Mrs Quinlan. Grace looked down at Ms Lemon on the sofa, with her hands clasped and her expression worried, and she suddenly saw the little girl inside the woman. All at once, Grace felt a crushing pressure. She was going to have to be the adult.
‘That is not fair, Ms Lemon. And you know it. I’ll see myself out.’
As she walked from Brooke Road, tears stinging her eyes, Grace realised she hadn’t told Ms Lemon about the doctor and the missing straw doll. But, she thought, what was the point? Telling an adult didn’t seem to be the cure-all anymore. She didn’t feel she could depend on Ms Lemon now.
It was a truth she felt she had always known, but didn’t want to admit; adults are human too. And now that she was just months away from turning fifteen, Grace realised she would become one soon, and others would depend on her to be sensible and fair and to know everything.
She stopped on the bridge to watch the river flow beneath her, and just let herself cry. She wasn’t ready.
She wasn’t ready to be the grown-up.
11
All aboard the Caterpillar
The next day after school, Grace waited for Jenny at the school gates. They hadn’t had a moment alone during the day, and she didn’t wanted to embarrass her friend by announcing her permanent expulsion in front of the rest of the group.
Finally the tall girl appeared, sauntering towards her like she hadn’t a care in the world.
‘Jenny, I need to talk to you. It’s about the
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