by Carys Jones
The title for the task was neatly written on the whiteboard in Miss Havishorn’s tidy handwriting:
My Goals for This School Year
Tilly took her time writing down the title. Beside her she could see Kate and her friends eagerly scribbling down long paragraphs. Tilly looked back out the window, at the bleak world which she’d have to inhabit five days out of the week. It felt like she had journeyed into some deep, dark world far removed from the one she knew in her beloved tower. She should be on some fabled quest to destroy a tainted ring or vanquish some evil queen. Why else would she have to venture to such an oppressive place?
The bleak, rain-stained school walls were no place to house a princess. Tilly drummed her pen against her notebook and wondered what Josephine’s school was like. It was private. Did that mean that she’d have bright walls and classrooms bursting with colour?
‘Five minutes and then you’ll be sharing what you’ve written with the rest of the class.’ Miss Havishorn’s voice blasted through the room, over the heads of her students and into Tilly’s thoughts.
Blinking, Tilly looked down at her blank page. What were her goals for the school year? She didn’t feel like she had any. She was just trying to make it through her first day, not even thinking about the year ahead. But everyone else was scrawling away in their notebooks, clearly brimming with ideas for their future.
Taking a quick intake of breath, Tilly wrote down her main goal in one simple sentence.
‘OK, let’s go from the back,’ Miss Havishorn gazed expectantly through her glasses towards Tilly’s table. ‘You thought sitting at the back would spare you; think again.’
Tilly’s shoulders slumped and she sank as low as the stiff plastic chair would allow.
‘I’ll go first.’ Kate smiled vapidly at the teacher.
‘Very good.’
‘My goals for this school year are to join the netball team. To learn French …’ Kate paused and flirtatiously caught the eye of the some of the nearby boys, which Miss Havishorn didn’t seem to notice. ‘… To make new friends, and be the best student I can possibly be,’ Kate concluded as she flicked her hair over her shoulder and shrugged with faux modesty. Tilly wasn’t sure if it was her words or the overpowering stench of Kate’s cheap perfume but she suddenly felt nauseous.
‘Great goals.’ Miss Havishorn nodded in approval though she did not smile. Tilly was starting to wonder if she ever did.
‘And you …’
‘Tilly.’
‘Tilly?’ Miss Havishorn frowned as she repeated Tilly’s name. She scrunched up her plump cheeks as though she’d eaten something unpleasant.
‘What’s that short for?’
‘Matilda, Miss.’
‘Matilda, that’s a lovely name. That’s what you should be known as at school. It’s the name your parents gave you and you should be proud to use it.’
Tilly blinked. What was wrong with her regular name, Tilly? It was a part of who she was, of her identity.
‘So, Matilda, what did you write?’
Tilly felt words trying to push their way out of her mouth, words that weren’t written down in her notebook. She wanted to tell Miss Havishorn that it was Tilly, not Matilda. But instead she politely read the sentence she’d penned.
‘My goal for this school year is to survive.’
Miss Havishorn drew her eyebrows together and stared at Tilly.
‘Is that it?’ she demanded.
‘That’s it.’
‘But my dear girl, you don’t want to just survive whilst you are here; you want to thrive!’
Tilly opened her mouth to object. She was more than happy to merely just survive, but then the school bell rang out, stealing her words.
‘OK, off to your next class. I’ll see you after lunch for afternoon registration.’ Miss Havishorn had to shout to be heard over the excited chatter which now rumbled through the classroom. Tilly stood up and hurriedly put her notebook and pencil case back in her backpack. According to her timetable she now had French, and the language block was on the other side of the school. She had no idea how long it would take her to find it.
Tilly quietly followed Kate and her friends towards the classroom door, but just as she was about to cross the threshold to the bustling corridor, Kate spun around.
‘FYI, Matilda,’ her eyes gleamed with pleasure as she overly pronounced Tilly’s full name, ‘little girls don’t survive here, so it looks like you won’t be making your goal for the year.’
Kate was laughing as she linked arms with Sophie and Claire and sauntered down the corridor. Tilly watched them leave, imagining them as wicked witches.
‘So, how was school?’ Tilly turned as she closed the front door in the direction of the voice and saw her mother peeling potatoes by the kitchen sink. Beneath the garish glow of the strip light on the ceiling, her skin looked almost translucent.
Tilly did her best to remain glued together, but she could feel the seams coming unstuck. She dropped her backpack to the ground with a soft thud and looked longingly at the staircase.
‘Tilly?’ Her mother had put down the potato she was holding, her voice warm with concern.
Tilly bolted up the stairs, bounding up two at a time despite her little legs. She ran straight for her bedroom and climbed into her tower. She could feel the wolves – which were Kate, Sophie, and Claire – snapping at her ankles. Once safely within her tower, Tilly breathed a sigh of relief. She could hear the gentle lilt of birdsong instead of the urban soundtrack of car engines and horns.
Her heart began to calm. Tilly buried her head in her pillow and screamed, letting the fabric absorb the sound.
‘Tilly?’ The door opened and her mother stepped inside. The borders of the tower had been breached but Tilly didn’t care. She remained face down on her bed.
‘Hey, Tilly.’ Her mother was tall enough to reach the top of the tower. She lifted a hand and nudged her daughter’s side.
‘Was it really so bad?’ she asked gently.
Sniffling, Tilly rolled over to look at her mum. She wiped a hand across her eyes and nodded.
‘It was really bad.’
‘Oh, sweetheart.’
The bunk bed groaned as her mother climbed the tower. Once at the top, she could only lie down. She nuzzled up beside Tilly and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘No.’ Tilly didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. But the worst part was that the next day she had to live through it again. It was like she’d unwittingly walked into some never-ending punishment. She kept telling herself that all princesses go through troubled times but they aren’t left beneath the ocean or scrubbing floors forever. They eventually earn their happily ever after.
‘It’ll get better, Tilly.’ Her mother stroked her head. The soothing sensation made Tilly’s eyes feel heavy.
‘My form tutor wants to call me Matilda,’ she muttered softly.
‘But you’re Tilly,’ her mother instantly objected.
‘I know.’ Fresh tears dropped down Tilly’s cheeks.
‘It’s just a name,’ her mother continued. ‘A Tilly by any other name would be just as sweet.’
Tilly smiled as her mum kissed her forehead again.
‘Do I really have to go back?’ Tilly wondered forlornly.
‘I’m afraid so.’ Her mother was getting up now, wincing as she manoeuvred her long body back over the side of the tower.
‘I’m making fish and chips for dinner – your favourite. Will that cheer you up?’
Tilly nodded eagerly as her stomach gave a long growl. In her distress she had failed to notice how hungry she was.
‘Sounds like someone needs feeding,’ her mother laughed. She was at the bedroom door when she paused and glanced back up at her daughter.
‘You know, no matter what anyone says to you at school or anywhere else, you’ll always be Tilly to me, sweetheart.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’
Tilly clung to her mother’s words whilst she tried to ignore the ever-present terror of the school day that awaited her.
All I Want is Your Voice
The periodic table glared out at Tilly from across the room.
Her tall, bearded science teacher was directing his marker pen towards the table. ‘This, you must commit to memory.’
Tilly’s eyes widened. The periodic table was huge, containing an assortment of abbreviations Tilly knew she’d never be able to fully memorise, not if she stared at it for a hundred years. She could sense the apprehension of her fellow students in the room, so at least she wasn’t alone in her thoughts.
‘You each have a copy.’ Tilly’s teacher lowered his pen to adjust the ill-fitting waistcoat he was wearing. ‘Every night I want you to get it out and study it.’
Tilly looked down at her own miniature version. The amount of information she needed to absorb seemed even more daunting when shrunk and crammed on to a sheet of A4 paper. But as her eyes scanned the boxes she recognised some of the elements, like gold and silver. She ran a finger over them. Crowns were made of gold because it was precious, and in her Kingdom the tips of arrows were dipped in silver so when they were fired they glinted majestically in the sun, seeking to blind their opponent.
‘Your homework this week is to learn the table by heart.’ Her teacher’s voice grew louder as he had to fight to be heard over the shrill of the bell.
Blinking, Tilly came back to reality. All thoughts of gold and silver dissolved and she was left in the grey of the science lab, the only source of colour provided by her bright backpack. Students were already heading out the door, eager to escape in to the bustling corridors. Tilly packed away her belongings before hurrying out after them.
Tilly ate her lunch alone. Most people brought in money so they could go to the canteen and buy something hot for dinner but Tilly preferred to have her packed lunch. It was what she’d had back at junior school.
She’d tucked herself away at the far end of one of the long plastic tables which lined the dinner hall. A cacophony of sound bounced around the large space as children chattered. Tilly zoned them all out. She carefully pulled out her pink princess lunch box and cracked the lid. The smell that wafted up was full of a thousand pleasant memories.
Lunch consisted of a cheese sandwich on brown bread, a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, a banana, and a carton of orange juice. As Tilly looked at her carefully arranged items she gave a wistful sigh. If only Josephine was here. They would swap items and stories about their morning. But without her friend by her side, Tilly was very much alone. She reached for her sandwich and as she lifted it from the lunch box she noticed the slip of paper folded beneath it. Tilly unfolded it, instantly recognising her mother’s neat handwriting.
Have a good day, sweetheart. Things will get better at school, I promise..
I love you.
Mum xxxx
Tilly re-read the note over and over until her vision threatened to blur with tears. Then she carefully folded it back up and placed it back into her lunch box before biting into her sandwich.
‘Are you actually eating out here alone?’
Tilly smelt Kate before she saw her. The sugary scent of her perfume was so overwhelming that Tilly struggled to take in a clean breath of air. She dropped her sandwich back into her lunch box and hastily wiped her eyes in case any tears had fallen without her noticing.
‘Look, girls.’ Kate was gliding up towards Tilly, wearing her standard supercilious smirk. ‘This is what it looks like to be a total loser.’
‘Pretty pathetic if you ask me,’ Sophie commented, folding her arms across her chest.
‘Don’t have your buddy Josephine to sit and giggle with now, do you?’ Kate asked, each word dripping with spite.
‘Little Matilda is all alone.’ Kate tilted her head to the side and wiped away fake tears.
Taking a deep breath, Tilly thought of the note. Even though she felt alone, she wasn’t. There was someone back home who loved her dearly and she clung to that.
Growing bored of the conversation, Kate flipped her hair over her shoulder and began to walk off.
‘See you later, loser.’ She tossed the goodbye to Tilly with a brief backward glance. Tilly watched them leave and when she was certain they were out of sight she quickly retrieved her mum’s note and re-read it half a dozen more times.
‘Oh my God, could you believe Mr Rogers in maths this morning?’ Kate was talking loudly to her friends as they walked into registration. She always talked loudly to ensure everyone could hear her.
‘I know,’ Sophie instantly agreed. ‘He is totally lame.’
‘Right?’
Tilly drew her arms around herself and looked out of the window. The last thing she wanted was to engage Kate and her friends in conversation. She was still feeling fragile.
‘And to think he threatened me with detention,’ Kate scoffed as she sat down, bringing with her a cloud of sickly sweet air. Whatever perfume she wore, it was much more offensive than what Tilly’s sisters doused themselves in each morning.
‘He’s lame!’ Sophie insisted again, stretching out her long legs beneath the table.
‘Completely lame.’ Claire spoke up from the end of the table.
Tilly was still staring out of the window. She imagined a white steed galloping in to the school yard, its hooves clattering noisily against the sun-bleached tarmac; its mane glistened in the sunlight, as did the armour worn by the knight riding it. As the horse reared up majestically he’d lift up the metal visor and find Tilly staring out through the window. He’d beckon to her with a gloved hand. At first Tilly would resist, but then he’d remove his helmet to reveal a tumble of thick, dark hair which fell over his bright green eyes. He’d beckon for her again and the horse would bay and Tilly would know they were there to save her. She’d throw on her backpack, dash outside and never look back.
A dreamy smile pulled on her lips as Miss Havishorn began addressing the class.
‘What are you smiling about?’ Kate asked, her voice now a sharp whisper.
‘Huh?’ Tilly pulled her gaze from the window and looked at Kate, who was frowning at her. She glanced quickly back towards the now-empty school yard. The steed and her rescuer were gone.
‘You’re smiling like a weirdo,’ Kate hissed. ‘Why?’
Tilly could feel her cheeks starting to burn.
‘I wasn’t smiling,’ she whispered back, aware of how lame her response was.
‘Liar,’ Kate seethed.
‘I’m … I’m not lying,’ Tilly felt like she was being unwittingly backed into a very tight corner. She wanted to place her backpack protectively against her chest.
‘Girls!’ Miss Havishorn was staring them down from the front of the classroom. ‘This is not the time for a chat. That’s what your lunch break is for.’
‘It was Matilda, Miss,’ Kate declared smugly as she folded her arms and lifted her chin. ‘I told her to be quiet but she wouldn’t shut up.’
‘That’s not true!’ Tilly was appalled at how Kate could lie so blatantly.
‘It is. You’re always talking!’ Kate was smirking, savouring the sensation of all eyes being on her. ‘You’re a blabbermouth.’
‘And you’re a liar,’ Tilly told her contritely.
‘Enough!’ Miss Havishorn’s nostrils were flared as she began advancing towards them, her large frame struggling to fit between the aisle created between the desks. ‘Get your school diaries out now, both of you!’
Tilly blanched. She knew why teachers requested a student’s diary – it was either to offer them a Merit stamp for work well done, or the much less appealing Detention stamp for when they had behaved badly. Tilly had only seen one Detention passed out so far, to a boy called Stuart who had muttered an expletive about his teacher not quietly enough.
‘It was Matilda’s fault!’ Kate declared in a shrill, alarmed tone.
‘School diaries, now,’ Miss Havishorn
demanded.
Tilly quietly reached into her backpack whilst Kate continued to protest.
‘I don’t see why I should be punished,’ she lamented. ‘I was only telling Matilda to be quiet.’
‘If you don’t give me your school diary this instant I’ll be giving you an after-school detention rather than a lunch time one.’
The mood in the room became icy as Tilly felt her entire body freeze with fear. She was getting a lunch time detention. This couldn’t be happening. Detentions were something her sisters collected for wearing too much make up or back-chatting a teacher. It didn’t happen to Tilly – she was a good student.
‘Diaries.’ Miss Havishorn was growing increasingly impatient. Sheepishly, Tilly handed hers over, as did Kate.
‘Let this be a lesson to you both,’ Miss Havishorn was saying as she found the relevant week in their diaries and issued the detention. Tilly swallowed nervously as she watched the stamp get pushed down onto her pristine page. She hadn’t even earned a Merit stamp yet. The first imprint was a negative one. She suddenly felt like a giant D had been branded onto her forehead.
Once the detentions had been issued for the following day, Miss Havishorn returned the diaries to their owners.
‘You’ll pay for this,’ Kate whispered when she was certain that Miss Havishorn was far enough away not to hear.
Tilly was hurriedly putting her diary away. She would indeed pay for receiving a detention on her second day, but it wasn’t Kate’s retribution she feared. It was what would happen at home.
As the bell rang, Tilly couldn’t leave her chair fast enough. She darted into the hallway, her mind an indecipherable collection of panicked questions. Kate didn’t make any efforts to follow her, instead flanked by her friends, who were already offering words of consolation – most of them barbed comments about Tilly.
Head down, Tilly ran down the corridor, ignoring the school’s no running policy. She didn’t care any more. She already had a detention: a giant black mark against her name. She was about to head down the stairs towards the English Block when a firm hand gripped her shoulder.
