Free Influence by Stuart Johnstone Page B

his pockets. ‘I dunno, I guess
there’s not that much pressure on me, I haven’t even decided if I want to go to
uni next year. Everyone’s so focussed waiting to see how amazingly Rob does
that I just sort of glide under the radar.’
    ‘If not uni
then what?’ Lizzie was a little taken aback by this, and she wasn’t sure why
they hadn’t discussed it before, although she suspected he didn’t want his
brother knowing.
    ‘I’m not
sure, get a job, get out the house.’ This, at least, made sense to Lizzie. As
unconventional as her own life had become since her mother’s death she could
not picture living in the Adams household, it made her shiver just to imagine it.
    The
classroom clamoured with a dozen different conversations, Lizzie and Vic took
their places at the back row of the class.
    ‘Alright,
settle down,’ announced Miss Abrahams tapping her pen on the desk. Order settled
and Miss Abrahams continued, ‘If you haven’t yet handed in your final draft
stories, I need them today. You’ve been warned that this is the final deadline
so I don’t want any excuses.’ English was the only subject Lizzie and Vic had
together. It had been her favourite subject at her previous school and had
always been one of very few classes she would look forward to.
    ‘Today’s
class will be a revision session,’ said Miss Abrahams and a drone of
disappointment sounded. ‘I want you to pair up and practice close reading, discuss
your answers but try to keep it down to a roar if you can.’ Miss Abrahams began
making her way down the rows collecting bundles of paper from students.  She
stopped at the desk in front of Lizzie to collect Amy Schuster’s final draft.
‘You two should pair up for this exercise,’ the teacher suggested much to Vic’s
disapproval. Amy turned to Lizzie and smiled. ‘You two have a lot in common, if
your stories are anything to go by, both cheeky and rather brilliant,’ said Miss
Abrahams leaving the girls a little embarrassed and in a slightly uncomfortable
position. If Lizzie was considered quiet then Amy was, by comparison, a mute.
They had exchanged the occasional greeting when entering the class, or in the
corridors, but little more.
    ‘Do you
mind pairing up?’ asked Lizzie.
    ‘Not at
all,’ answered Amy spinning her chair round to face Lizzie. She released her
dark ponytail from her hairband as it was becoming loose. She gripped the band
in her teeth while she reassembled her hair and bound it again. Amy looked a
little like Lizzie, same height and same frame, but her hair was long, and she
had a prettier face than Lizzie, high cheekbones and kind eyes.
    ‘You were
cutting it fine with your story weren’t you?’
    ‘Not
really,’ said Amy, ‘I handed it in a few weeks ago but I wanted to make a small
change so I asked for it back. So what did you do your story on?’ Lizzie had
achieved high praise for her writing at her previous school, it was something
she enjoyed, and something she needed. There was a catharsis to writing that
Lizzie had become reliant on since her mother had passed. It made having few
friends tolerable. It was with excitement and pleasure that Lizzie embraced the
news that their English class required a folio of writing to be assessed
externally and would form part of the students’ overall grade. Lizzie also
loved the remit of one of the folio pieces to be produced. The students were
required to take a fairytale of their choosing and re-write it or re-boot it
with either an alternative viewpoint or with a modern take on the theme. Most
of the class had groaned at the prospect but Lizzie thought it was an inspired
idea.
    ‘I actually
took three different fairy tales and meshed them together. The idea is that you
have the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk, the troll from The Three Billy
Goats Gruff and Rumplestiltskin all sitting in a holding cell awaiting trial
after their respective stories had ended and you sort of get an alternative
view of the