Kensy glanced at her watch. She could hardly believe it was almost three o’clock. School had never gone this quickly before – except for Wednesdays last term, back in Australia, when they would head to Thredbo for sports. Having grown up on ski slopes around the world, though, downhill race training was mostly just fun for the twins.
After Science, they’d had Mathematics. Their teacher, a tiny waif of a woman called Miss Ziegler, zipped about the classroom like a flea in a bottle, checking that everyone knew exactly what she was talking about.
Kensy loved Maths and had no trouble with any of it. At the start of the lesson, Miss Ziegler had pointed to a puzzle on the board. There was a buzz around the room as the kids all offered their opinion on who would be the first to solve it. The hot tip was a rakish boy named Graham, but he seemed to spend a lot of time scratching his head, which made Kensy wonder if he might have nits – which then caused her to spend an inordinate amount of time scratching her own head. Kensy thought she was just about to solve it when Max stood up and walked to the front of the room to write his answer. There was a groan as the children realised he was right. He was rewarded with a bag of red frogs that his sister Kensy made sure he shared with her and their new friends at lunchtime.
Their History lesson was interesting, to say the least. Mr Reffell entered the classroom dressed in full colonial costume and assumed the character of Admiral Horatio Nelson. Kensy had never even heard of the man, but by the end of the lesson there wasn’t much she didn’t know about the Battle of Trafalgar and the defeat of ‘that upstart Frenchman Napoleon Bonaparte’. She’d held her breath when Mr Reffell had drawn a very large sword and lunged at one of the boys, the tip connecting with the flushed skin on the lad’s neck.
Kensy had been thrilled to find out they were studying French as both she and Max were fluent speakers. Their teacher, Madame Cosette Verte, had the most welcoming smile and her long brown hair swished about her shoulders as she spoke. She wore a dress covered in pink flowers with matching lipstick and Kensy soon decided she was one of those people who simply radiated joy. Madame Verte had beamed at Kensy and Max when they initiated a conversation in French that she joined in with great enthusiasm.
The twins’ English teacher, on the other hand, was a bit snippy. Although her name made Kensy think of someone round and squishy, she was all bones and angles. Miss Witherbee was tall and had the sort of frame fashion designers preferred to dress, like a walking coathanger. It quickly became evident that the woman had no patience for anyone in the class who didn’t ‘get it’ straight away. Then again, Kensy couldn’t stand it when teachers had to go over and over things either, so she felt the woman’s pain when a pallid boy called Winston made her explain their homework at least three times. Kensy noticed a little vein pop out on the side of Miss Witherbee’s temple each time the lad said, ‘But I still don’t get it.’
While Kensy and Max remained together for all of their lessons, Autumn and Carlos and the rest of their new friends attended extension classes for a couple of periods. Kensy was nothing but determined that she and Max would join them soon.
Their friends had met them in the dining hall for lunch, and enjoyed a meal of roast chicken, vegetables and gravy. It was different to school in Australia, where they’d usually taken a packed lunch from home. The head dinner lady, Mrs Trimm, had given Kensy an extra serve of sticky date pudding with butterscotch sauce and vanilla-bean ice-cream, which was delicious. Kensy had watched Mr MacGregor devour his. It was comforting to know that Mrs Trimm’s cooking met his exacting standards.
The last lesson of the day was PE and involved a vigorous game of football on a pitch at the back of the school. Max scored two goals, well and truly cementing his legendary status. But it was Kensy who booted three balls into the back of the net, and was beginning to accumulate her own legion of fans – but only from their class.
Their teacher, Mr Nutting, let the kids get changed and go to their lockers before the bell. Kensy was just working out what she needed to take home when Max tapped her on the shoulder.
‘I’ll meet you at the front gate,’ he said. He was still being high-fived and patted on the back by just about every student, which Kensy was starting to find quite irritating.
Luckily, Autumn appeared at the locker beside her, lifting her mood.
‘Hey,’ Kensy said brightly, ‘what lesson did you come from?’
Autumn glanced at her and smiled. ‘PE,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘My worst subject.’
‘That’s funny,’ Kensy said. ‘I didn’t see you out there.’
‘Oh no, I’m in a different class to you. We were doing theory today – um, resuscitation,’ Autumn replied, hurriedly shoving books in her bag. She zipped it closed and shut her locker door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Oh, okay. I thought you might like to …’ Kensy stopped, realising the girl was jiggling about as if desperate to rush off. She had been planning to invite Autumn over after school, but perhaps it was better if she asked Song first. ‘Never mind. See you tomorrow.’
Autumn waved and grabbed her bag, saying something about a singing lesson before racing off down the hall.
Kensy finished putting away her things. She double-checked she had everything she needed to complete her homework then closed her locker door. As she turned to leave, Kensy spotted Autumn at the other end of the corridor talking to Harper. They were joined by Carlos and seemed to be deep in conversation. It was a bit strange for someone who was in such a tearing hurry just a moment ago. Kensy felt a pang in her chest. Had Autumn made up an excuse not to invite her along? Oddly, Mrs Vanden Boom appeared and together the group walked through a doorway and out of sight.
A hand on her arm jolted the girl back to the present.
Kensy whirled around to find Inez standing beside her. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to jump,’ she said. ‘Do you know if Autumn goes to singing lessons with Harper and Carlos?’
‘I don’t think so,’ the girl replied, her eyebrows knitting together. ‘Carlos doesn’t have a musical bone in his body, and Harper plays the cello and has lessons in Chelsea on Thursday with the same teacher as me. I don’t remember Autumn ever saying anything about singing, though, sorry. Why – do you sing?’
Kensy bit her lip. ‘Yes,’ she lied, immediately regretting it.
The word was out of her mouth before she had time to think. Music was probably the one part of her and Max’s education that had been sadly neglected. Fitz had taught Max some chords on the guitar, but Kensy had never been that interested in learning an instrument. She could barely remember the words nor hold the tune to every new school’s song she’d had to learn.
‘I can ask my cello teacher to recommend someone if you’re looking,’ Inez offered.
But singing lessons were the furthest thing from Kensy’s mind. Was Autumn just pretending to be her friend? Kensy racked her brain for something she might have said to upset the girl, but nothing sprang to mind. She thanked Inez and said goodbye, then rushed off to find her brother.