Free Hopes and Dreams by Cathy Cassidy Page B

‘Forget the formal introductions, let’s explore!’
    We find the common room and burst in, an unruly group of giggling, chattering girls. It’s huge – an airy, wood-panelled room with a parquet floor and an antique Persian rug. There are four mismatched sofas, a scattering of beanbags and a big, polished wood table by the window. On the far side of the room, a woodburning stove is smouldering gently, giving the whole room the smell of beach bonfires and possibility.
    And lounging on armchairs and beanbags in front of the woodburner are four students who stand out from the crowd of slim, elegant girls I’ve met so far this afternoon.
    They look up at us, grinning.
    ‘Oh. My. Days,’ Tasha whispers. ‘Boys!’
    It looks like Rochelle Academy isn’t girls-only after all …
    7th October
    Dear Summer,
    I hope you got my last letter. I know you’re not well, and that replying might not be your number-one priority, but I hope the silence is not because you’re upset about me being here at Rochelle. I’m pretty sure it’s not, but … well, I worry. You know how it is.
    I’m settling in, getting to know my classmates pretty well, but my closest friends so far are a couple of girls called Naomi and Tasha, and a boy called Sparks. Yeah, I know … a BOY!!! I just sort of assumed that Rochelle Academy would be girls only, but there are twenty-six girls and four boys in our year … can you imagine? There’s Sparks and Josh and Matt and an actual French boy called Sebastien Dubois who is Sylvie Rochelle’s godson. How cool? This place is a crazy hotbed of hormonal madness, I am telling you! But Sparks … well, a few of the girls fancy him, but he’s not interested in girls, if you catch my drift. He is SO funny and really good fun, and I think he keeps me sane … so, yeah. That’s my news.
    I’m loving the classical ballet classes but I don’t understand contemporary dance at all … the teacher must think I’m hopeless. It’s all about ‘feeling’ the music and interpreting things, and I feel really out of my depth without set steps to follow. I bet you’d like it, though!
    Only a couple of weeks until half term and we can catch up properly … talking is easier than writing letters, I guess! Shall I ring you first or just turn up? I hope things are going well with you and that you’re feeling better. Maybe you can audition next year and we can still be here together!
    Love you lots,
    Jodie
    xxx

2
    Sparks is sitting on my bed, backcombing his wavy blond hair until it sticks up at all angles, like some kind of punk porcupine. He is grumbling about his maths homework.
    ‘Fractions and equations and square roots are kind of pointless,’ he argues, blasting his hedgehog hair with a cloud of borrowed hairspray. ‘I won’t need any of this once I’m a famous dancer, so why torture me with it now? It’s cruel. Possibly even an infringement of my human rights.’
    ‘Rubbish,’ I tell him, working through yet another page of equations. ‘Maths is a basic skill. You’ll need it one day to negotiate your fees when you’re dancing for the Royal Ballet!’
    ‘I wish,’ Sparks says.
    The door opens and Grace comes in, her face registering annoyance when she sees Sparks.
    ‘What’s
he
doing here?’ she asks, rudely. ‘Boys aren’t allowed in the girls’ dorms, Jodie, you know that. I could have just been in the shower or anything! It’s totally against the rules!’
    ‘Hello?’ Sparks says, waving his fingers at Grace. ‘I am actually here, y’know! You can talk to me directly, like everyone else does. You weren’t just in the shower, so I won’t be fainting clean away at the sight of your naked ankles. And before you get your knickers in a twist, we are just chilling, and doing a bit of recreational maths homework, none of which is illegal or dangerous or threatening to the fabric of society. Don’t go stirring up trouble where there is none …’
    ‘Sparks is just a mate,’ I say, trying