Safer to have them smoking at school than sneaking off the grounds during breaks and at lunch. Teachers don't approve, but they turn a blind eye most of the time. He has to sit there, looking like a schoolboy himself, shuffling his feet and saying he didn't know this was going on and he'll launch an investigation and put a quick end to it. She wants to know if the head's aware of this, of what the pupils in his school are getting up to. I've been seen smoking behind the bike shed (the oldest clich¨¦ in the book!). Mum's ranting and raving about cigarettes. I groan, roll my eyes and mutter under my breath, "Bring on the corpses!" Then I see Mum's face, white with rage, and I know she's here to punish, not comfort. Please don't let anyone be dead! Please! Please! Please! Ple. Her shining flesh, having to kiss her forehead, the pain, the tears. Now stiff and cold, tongue sticking out, a slab of dead meat just waiting to be buried. My immediate reaction - please don't let anybody be dead! I think of Dad, Gret, uncles, aunts, cousins. Either somebody close to you has been seriously injured or died, or you're in trouble. When a parent turns up at school, unexpected, it means one of two things. But when there's a knock at the door, and it opens, and I spot my mum outside, I realise - life can always get worse. Double history on a Wednesday afternoon - total nightmare! A few minutes ago, I would have said I couldn't imagine anything worse.
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