Ingrid's secret part 3

Ingrid Iverson burst through the swinging doors, only to find she was late. Again. The teacher didn’t even look up as she arrived, but simple remarked, “Ingrid, do I have to remind you that you only had one more chance to be late without getting a detention? Come here now.” She did as she was told, and Mr Greenwell began to write on the dreaded pink slip. “I will be seeing you tonight at four.”1

“Okay sir. Sorry I’m late, sir.” Ingrid shuffled across the classroom, taking her seat next to Alicia.2

She risked looking at the clock, and yes, she had already missed half the lesson.3

Her best friend, Alicia Jones quickly smiled at her and revealed a pink slip of her own from a book.4

“Mine’s tonight as well.”5

Ingrid and Alicia had known each other for little over a year now, and were already the best of friends. Over the past week, though, something had begun to bother them. Okay, they did get quite a few detentions for being late, but no-one else would understand why this had suddenly started happening. The two girls didn’t even need to ask each other what the problem was, because it always came down to one thing. Dreams, or should I say, nightmares. Most people would laugh at them when they said this, but they could never get more than a few hours sleep. 6

Since then, most of their time had been spent in dull green or yellow classrooms, completing work and helping the teachers.7

In the English department, the girls were usually respected for high grades on their work, but now people were beginning to worry. Mr Greenwell was one of Ingrid’s favourite teachers, but even still, a few things would test his patience greatly. One of those things was being late for class. Most other children knew the boundaries and wouldn’t dare push him too hard. Only a couple of people would receive detentions on a regular basis, and Mr Greenwell didn’t want Ingrid and Alicia to join them.8

Ingrid was just about to put pen to paper, when he stopped the class to check on their progress. He didn’t often do this; he would simply walk about and lean over your shoulder, remarking on your work. But the only way to stop him choosing you would either be: answering a few questions at the beginning, or looking normal, not standing out from the crowd.9

“So, how far have we all got? Sam,” Mr Greenwell said to a boy in the second row,” Read out your first paragraph please…”