Saffron & Bruno and the First Day at School

There was a tingly feeling in Saffron’s stomach.  She was feeling a curious mixture of emotions: excited and nervous.  She hurriedly got dressed and, picking up Bruno, dashed downstairs to eat her breakfast.  She knew she was hungry but, for some reason – she blamed the excited nervous feeling she was feeling – Saffron didn’t really eat much of her toast and cereal.  She gave Bruno and extra hard squeeze; then she stood up, checked her school bag and got ready to go out and catch the bus.

Up in the attic, the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew crowded around the window and watched as Saffron waited.  She had come up to tell them about starting school the night before and they were just as excited and nervous as she was.  Well, they were just as excited and nervous once Saffron had explained what school was and why it was such an important thing.  As they watched Saffron waiting an idea started to form in the minds.

“You know,” said Stephen Number Sixteen, “I’ve never been to a school.”

“Me neither,” said Stephen Number Five.

“Nor me,” said Stephen Number Eight.  This sentiment was echoed by all the Stephens.

“I remember school,” said Andrew with eyes all misty and lost in nostalgia, “It was a long time ago and I’ve probably forgotten nearly everything I learned there.”

“Forgotten everything you learned?” Queried Stephen Number Seven.

“Except for how to walk through walls,” prompted Stephen Number One.

“Without going through a door,” said Stephen Number Ten, “That’s just cheating.”

“Yes,” said Andrew, “Except for walking through walls, I’ve nearly forgotten everything I learned.”

“I wonder what school is like?” mused Stephen Number Twelve.

“I know,” said Andrew, “Let’s go and find out.”  After much nodding and smiling the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew hurried down to the front gate and waited with Saffron for the school bus to arrive.

“What are you all doing here?”  Saffron asked.

“We’re coming with you,” announced Stephen Number Ten.

“We’re coming to school,” said Stephen Number Four with a grin.  Saffron grinned too, secretly happy she was going to have some friends with her.

The school bus arrived and the smiling driver opened the door to let Saffron on.  She turned to wave goodbye to her parents, who were watching from the kitchen window, and then she stepped onto the bus.

“Bags me the back seat!” Yelled Stephen Number Eleven, and the whole gaggle of ghosts rushed to the back and jostled with each other to see who could get the best seat.  Saffron giggled a little, the first laugh of the day.  She looked around and saw a young girl, about her age, who was offering her a seat.  Saffron smiled and sat down.

“Hello,” said the girl on the bus, “my name’s Rachel.  Are you Saffron?”

“Yes,’ replied Saffron, a little surprised that the girl should know who she was.

“Mr Dressing said I was to be your buddy,” Rachel said, “and so I thought I’d start straight away.”  She smiled.  Saffron smiled back.

“Thank you,” she said.  The girls were soon lost in conversation whilst the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew waved out of the windows and drew funny faces in the condensation.

“So,” said Rachel, finishing her description of the school, “it’s a really fun place so long and you stay away from the custard and jam roly-poly and leave Agatha Bartholomew alone.  She’s quite horrible.”

“Right,” said Saffron, “no custard or roly-poly and no Agatha Bartholomew.”  She gave Bruno a tighter squeeze and prepared for her first day to start.

“I like your frog,” Rachel said with a smile.

“He’s Bruno,” said Saffron.

“Hi Bruno,” said Rachel.

The classroom was big and square.  It had lots of colourful pictures and pieces of work on the walls.  There was a row of coat pegs and cubby-holes along one wall.  At the front of the room the whiteboard had the day’s date and, in big bright writing, “Welcome Saffron” written in capital letters.  Saffron smiled.  Rachel took her hand and sat her down next to her.  The girls were sat at table large enough for four students.  Soon the rest of the class came in and two girls sat opposite Saffron and Rachel.

“Hello new girl,’ said one of the girls, the other one just sniggered.

“Hello,” said Saffron, “I’m Saffron.”

“We know, new girl,” said the girl, “it’s written on the board.”  The other girl just sniggered again.

“Oh, yes,” said Saffron.

“I’m Agatha Bartholomew,” said the girl, “ and you’d better not upset me!”  Saffron looked at her and gulped a little.  Agatha Bartholomew had spiky hair, spike ears, spiky teeth and, somehow, spiky eyes.  Her accomplice, who was still sniggering, was round.  They didn’t look like a good match.

“Leave Saffron alone, Agatha Bartholomew,” Rachel said, “You don’t scare us you horrible girl!”  Agatha snorted and went into her hag for her books and pens.  

Just then Mr Dressing, the teacher, walked into the room and the class stood up to greet him.

“Good morning, class,” said Mr Dressing.

“Good morning Mister Dressing,” said the class.  Mr Dressing sat down, shrieked and jumped up again.  A pin had been placed on his chair.  Saffron heard and giggle.  She looked around.  Stephen Number Ten was shuddering with laughter, as were the rest of the Sixteen Stephens.  Andrew had a concerned look on his face.

“Who did that!?”  Bellowed the teacher.

“It was the new girl!”  Agatha Bartholomew called out.  Saffron froze.  What a mean girl Agatha Bartholomew was!

“That isn’t a very good start to the day,” said Mr Dressing and he gave Saffron a very stern look.

*

The morning went well, after the bad start.  The class did some sums and some writing and were working on a new art project when the bell for morning teatime went.  Out in the playground, Rachel introduced Saffron to some of her friends and she had a great time playing tag, hide and seek and skipping.  Saffron especially found it funny watching the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew trying to master the skipping rope.  It was almost as funny as watching them trying to learn how to walk through walls.  Every other rotation of the rope led to one of them falling on their bottoms.  It was very funny.

“What’s that?”  Agatha Bartholomew sneered out the question, pointing at Bruno.

“That’s Bruno,” said Saffron, a little taken aback by the rude interruption in her playtime.

“Hey, everyone!”  Agatha Bartholomew called out, “The new girl’s brought a toy doll with her to school!  What a baby!”  She laughed and her round friend sniggered.  The rest of the school children ignored her but Saffron felt her cheeks going red with embarrassment.  The bell rang and it was time to go back into class.

Mr Dressing walked into the classroom eating his morning tea.  It was a bright green apple, it looked like a Granny Smith’s.  He placed the apple on his desk and spoke to the class.

“Now,” he said, “I’ve been looking at the pictures you’ve been drawing and I must say some of them are fantastic!”  He smiled and so did the whole class.

“Thank you, Mister Dressing,” they chorused.

“I particularly enjoyed your picture of the sheets on the washing line, Saffron,” said Mr Dressing, “very clever the way you’ve given them faces and made them look like they’re alive.”

“Oh no,” said Saffron, “They’re not sheets, they’re…” Before she could finish Agatha Barthomew shot her hand in the air and began to speak over the top of Saffron.

“Do you like my picture of a dog, Mister Dressing?”  She said loudly.

“Why yes,” Mr Dressing said, “I especially like how you’ve capture the dog barking.  He looks very angry, Agatha.”

“Yes,” Agatha Bartholomew agreed, “he is.”  Saffron gulped a little.

Mr Dressing went back to his desk and, without really looking, picked up his apple and took a big bite.
“Ow, my jaw!” He yelped.  The apple wasn’t an apple anymore.  The apple was now a bright green tennis ball.

“Who did that!?”  Bellowed Mr Dressing.

“It was the new girl,’ shouted Agatha Bartholomew, a broad grin on her face.

“Well,” said Mr Dressing, “This isn’t the sort of first impression I expected you to make.”

“But…”  But Mr Dressing wouldn’t let Saffron speak.  He shook his head and sat down at his desk.

PARP!

The class roared with laughter.  Mr Dressing jumped in the air.  On his chair was a large, round, red whoopee-cushion.  His face went crimson.

“Who did that!?”  He bellowed for a third time that day.  Before anyone else had time to react Agatha Bartholomew’s hand was in the air and waving about.  She pointed at Saffron and, for the third time that day, yelled, ‘It was the new girl, sir!”  Saffron could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.  She could hear the laughter of the Sixteen Stephens but was confused as to why they would want to get her into trouble.  She looked around.  The ghosts were collapsed on the floor in paroxysms of laughter, they were doubled up, they were rolling around, they were pointing at Agatha Bartholomew’s bag and gesturing for Saffron to look.  Saffron caught sight of something poking out of Agatha Bartholomew’s school bag.

“Please, Mr Dressing,” she said in a quiet voice, “It wasn’t me, sir.  Please, sir, check Agatha’s schoolbag, if you don’t believe me.”  Agatha Bartholomew gasped in outrage.  Her round friend stopped sniggering long enough to gasp too.  Mr Dressing marched over and opened the bag.  He reached in and pulled out a box of drawing pins, a tube of tennis balls and the empty wrapper for a “farty-fartpants whoopee-cushon”.  He went crimson once more.
“Agatha Bartholomew, I think you’d better come with me to the Head Mistress’ office!”

“But…but…” Agatha Bartholomew began, but to no avail.  Off she was taken to see the Head Mistress.

*

At lunchtime, Saffron, Rachel and some of their friends were sat eating in the school cafeteria.  They had avoided the custard and jam roly-poly and were talking about the tricks and japes that had happened in class during the morning.  A plate of custard slammed down on the table, little droplets bounced out and splatted on the table-top.

“Don’t think you’ve got away with this, Saffron and your toy frog.  I’ll get you, don’t you worry,” snarled Agatha Bartholomew.  The girls at the table fell quite.  Saffron stood up.  She looked around the room; she saw a nod of a head, and then she smiled.  Then she giggled.

“What’s so funny?”  Sneered Agatha Bartholomew.

“Two words,” replied Saffron, “Two words are quite funny.”

“What two words?”  Said Agatha Bartholomew suddenly not quite so sure of her self.

“FOOD FIGHT!”  Yelled Stephen Number Ten, and he picked up Agatha Bartholomew’s custard and jam roly-poly and poured it all over her head!  Saffron giggled.  The room was filled with food.  Custard was everywhere.  Jam roly-poly was everywhere.  The dinner lady, Gladys Wight had the right pip, she had only cleaned the canteen that morning…she shrugged, picked up a plate of custard and flung it at her colleague Gloria Waynor

“Did you just try to get me with your pie?”  She asked and they laughed and joined in with all the food-fun.  The door to the canteen opened and Mr Dressing and the Head Mistress took in the scene.  They saw Agatha Bartholomew pick up a pie.  They saw Agatha Bartholomew fling the pie at Saffron.  They saw Saffron duck.  They also saw the pie heading straight toward them.  They did not see Stephen Number Eight catch the pie in his mouth, lick his lips and mumble the words “oooh, blueberry, my favourite” as he went about the room catching as much food as he possibly could, his belly expanding by the second.  And they could not quite work out how they had not been splatted by the food.

“AGATHA BARTHOLOMEW!”  The Head Mistress yelled out.  The students and dinner ladies froze. “AGATHA BARTHOLOMEW FOLLOW ME THIS INSTANT!”  Screeched the Head Mistress and she turned on her heal and stormed out of the canteen.

Gladys and Gloria picked up a mop each.  They heard the click of some fingers and they smiled.  The canteen sparkled and there wasn’t a drop of custard to be seen anywhere.

“Nice to have you back, young Andrew,” Gladys called out to the room.

“Good to see you haven’t lost your touch,” Gloria smiled.

“You’ll have to introduce us to your new friends, one day,” Gladys said.  Andrew smiled.  He’d always enjoyed custard and jam roly-poly.

*

Saffron lay in her bed.  She was too awake to try and fall asleep.  What a day it had been.  How nice it was to meet Rachel and her friends.  How horrible Agatha Bartholomew had been.  Tomorrow was the second day at school.  She wondered if all her days at school were going to be like this one…and secretly, she kind of hoped they would be.

It was Agatha Bartholomew all along!