Radiance, Alana Curran [book series for 12 year olds txt] 📗

The News

The swirl of waves is a wondrous thing that tricks the eye of the unwary traveller, at least that’s what my home school teacher, Mrs. Dickens, told me. However, she never told me the meaning, she told me it was my duty to find out for myself.

Of course I did plenty of research about it on the internet, in the library but when I informed her of this she just shook her head and tutted at me.

“You’re taking the easy way out, reading it in books instead of actually living it,” she lectured. “That’s cheating, the meaning will come and smack you right across the face one day and I’m afraid it’s never pleasant.”

Mrs. Dickens was a wise, old woman, but sometimes I believed she made everything up as she went along, just to make it sound wise but really she didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

 I don’t know why, but I always felt like she was hired because they wanted to see if she was good enough to teach other children at home. Long story short: Using me as a student experiment.

I was home schooled for about three hours every day, one hour we’d do maths, another we’d focus on literature and finally the last hour would be used for a history lesson.

On Tuesdays we’d have an extra half hour to focus on religion and on Fridays we’d have career education instead of history.

I didn’t mind it too much, it seemed much better than staying in a proper school for six hours learning about even more subjects like geography, P.E and science.

I tried going to school when I was twelve, but I was just too hungry and tired to concentrate throughout the day. People picked on me because puberty had really hit me like a ton of bricks that year and my face was full of acne, I was sweating a lot more (which I know sounds gross and stupid, but believe me, I had sweat problems) and I was wearing a head brace because of how wonky my teeth were.

I know that most of the puberty phases had gone by and I wasn’t wearing my head brace anymore, I still felt wary about attending a proper school daily. Having to get up at seven o’clock wasn’t really my cup of tea, I had to at least sleep into about noon.

I didn’t think I’d have to go to high school, until one afternoon in August.

Mrs. Dickens was packing up her briefcase at three o’clock and told me to keep the new textbooks and exercise pads which she bought me safe.

I nodded, happy that she cared so much about what I had to write in.

“And when you’re doing your preparation for your GCSE’s in your new school, try not to forget about old Mrs. Dickens,” she giggled.

I looked up at her, not sure I heard her right.

“You mean new teacher?” I asked hopefully, “Are you retiring Mrs. Dickens?”

She looked astonished.

“I’ll have you know that I’m only forty nine,” she scowled. I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands. I knew that mum told me Mrs. Dickens was younger than she actually looked but to be honest she actually looked about sixty. Still grumpy about my remark, she continued. “Alessia, you are going to a proper school to prepare for your exams.”

“You’re having a laugh, aren’t you,” I smiled, bursting into an explosion of laughter, hoping she’d admit her sad attempt of a joke.

I sank as the seriousness of the expression on her face did not fade away to even the tiniest excuse of a smile.

“Come on, Mrs. Dickens, I can’t be attending a real school,” I insisted. “I’ll get bullied.”

“Alessia, I’m well aware that you have been bullied by children when you were eleven...”

“Twelve,” I corrected.

“But you’ve changed since then, you’re the picture of perfect health. Clear skin, no bad odour and you’ve lost a lot of weight,” she complimented.

“I wasn’t bullied because of my weight!” I gasped.

“Never mind,” she said quickly, obviously wishing she hadn’t mentioned it. “You wear your contact lenses more often and you don’t need braces, your teeth are beautifully straight.”

“It was the brace that got me into bother, not my crooked teeth,” I grumbled. “I looked like an astronaut, people used to call me Stinky Spaceman, my generation’s vocabulary has improved. Think of the things they’ll call me now!”

“I’m afraid this isn’t my area of expertise, Alessia, it wasn’t my decision, it was your mother’s,” she explained. “She said something about the law, so go and argue with her.”

“I will,” I informed, “But why do I even need these new books if I’m going to a new school, I’m going to get even newer books aren’t I?”

“Maybe, this is just in case,” she smiled.

I got up and stormed out of the study in a huff to find my mum and put up a persuasive argument with her.

I regret not saying goodbye to good old Mrs. Dickens because I never heard from her again after that.

It ran downstairs, yelling at the top of my voice before my sister, Brenda, came in and saw me standing in the middle of the foyer.

“Alessia, will you please stop bellowing,” she tutted in disgrace.

“Brenda, I need to talk to mum, where is she?” I asked.

“She’s went away shopping with Thistle,” she replied. “Why?”

“Why? The only person who should be asking ‘why?’ is me! Why are you asking me ‘why?’ when I have a ‘why’ included in MY question!” I babbled.

“You’re losing me now,” she sighed,

I rolled my eyes and folded my arms.

“Why do I have to go to school, Brenda?” I asked, calming down a little, following her into the drawing room and sitting down on one of the silk armchairs.

She sat down on the armchair opposite my own with a serious expression, I knew she had something to tell me which I wasn’t going to like.

“Alessia,” she began. “A social worker visited mum and told her that if you don’t go to school to prepare for your GCSE’s, then she’ll go to jail.”

“What!” I gasped, heart racing.

“I know, it’s horrible. She said since you have been to school before, it’s against the law not to go back,” she explained.

“But I haven’t been to school before!” I insisted, jumping up from my seat. “I’ve always been home schooled! Just ask Mrs. Dickens! She’ll tell you!”

Brenda shook her head, waving her hand dismissively.

“You went to school for a couple of weeks when you were five, remember? In primary one?”

“I did?” I asked, flopping back down again, stunned. "I knew about the time when I was twelve, but.."

“Yes, I know it must be hard for you to remember,” she sighed. “You were such a young, little thing and you have a real bad memory.”

“Brenda, I can’t have gone to school before, you know what mum’s like when you mention going off to college,” I frowned, biting my lip. "She was so happy when I wanted to drop out at twelve."

“She’d rather send you to school instead of being imprisoned in a dark, gloomy cell,” she grunted. “Wouldn’t you?”

I hated it when Brenda was right. She was always right! There was no other thing I could, a part from accepting the fact that I was going to school.

“Which school am I going to then?” I murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

A huge grin appeared on her face.

“Chellewood,” she smiled, brushing her fuchsia locks behind one ear (Her and Thistle dye their hair pink all the time, I wanted to do it, but it seemed tacky). “It’s an amazing school, I still can’t believe you got in! It’s in a lovely environment with peach trees and wildlife! All sorts of natural flowers, not to mention the lovely people you’ll meet.”

“I suppose that’s an upside with going to school,” I admitted. “Plus, I need to make more friends.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, you have lots of friends!”

“I have Tina,” I corrected. “One friend.”

“That’s better than no friends, isn’t it?” she asked, I shrugged lazily and she sighed. “You’ll make lots of new friends, don’t you worry.”

The Bombshell

So apparently this school I was attending didn’t have a uniform, we just wore casual clothing.

This was a problem for me.

I know it’s better to wear casual clothes instead of wearing a uniform because they were often ugly and nerdy, but what about my wardrobe.

Would people have snide comments about my clothes? Would I have enough clothes to mix and match? Would fellow students notice me wearing the same sweater two days in a row?

These were the questions that haunted me.

“Don’t worry, Alessia, you’ll be getting a whole new wardrobe, so you won’t have to worry about that, but you need a schoolbag, that’s our first priority,” mum assured at the shopping centre the next day. “How about some bunny slippers?”

“Bunny slippers?”

“They’re on sale and you don’t usually find bunny slippers on the high street anymore,” she reminded me.

“Ok, whatever,” I sighed, looking at some Hoodies which really caught my eye.

“If you like anything, just pick it up honey, we’ll spare no expense,” she called out to me.

My eyes widened, grabbing four Hoodies, a top with the union flag printed on it, with matching converse and three pairs of designer Ugg boots.

It didn’t stop there, I saw a whole rack full of different coloured ugg boots and I immediately picked them all up. Then there was a cute pair of black pumps with colourful, cartoon fruit pieces on it and I fell in love with them and a pair of knee high rainbow socks. Admittedly, I went a bit nuts. I don’t even wear the Ugg boots anymore, because they make my legs look like tree trunks.

“See, now you’re really getting into the shopping mood,” mum smiled.

“There’s so much to choose from,” I admitted, lifting three pairs of leggings.

I must admit, I went a little mad and even bought a few bits of costume jewellery but I fell in love with a very fancy, navy coloured winter coat with a white, fur hood. It looked so luxurious and I had to have it.

Mum bit her lip.

“I don’t know Alessia, I’ve bought you lots of clothes today,” she reminded me.

“We can afford it mum, we’re not poor, we’re well beyond the normal person standards!” I exclaimed.

“It’s not money, I just don’t want you to think I’ll buy you anything just because you ask, I know it’s nice for me to buy you things, but I don’t want to turn you into a spoilt brat,” she explained.

“This can be the last thing that I ask for! I promise!” I begged.

She hesitated, but finally agreed and bought the coat for me. I was really pleased and said thank you about a billion times.

Now, mum wanted to go shopping for school supplies.

“You’ll definitely need a hot water bottle too, y’know what you’re like when you get your cramps,” mum giggled.

I turned away from some of the sparkly pencils which had caught my eye and looked at her, in a way that kind of said shut-the-fuck-up, as a cute