It didn’t seem too bad. It was neat and clean, brighter than her old school, even in the gloom of late January. Her father hadn’t looked pleased, but nothing pleased him these days. A classroom door opened and a boy came out. He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. She could hear a raised voice from inside the room. The boy looked Amita up and down. ‘Nice,’ he said loudly. ‘Very tasty!’ Amita was glad her father had already left. She blushed and turned her face away. The teacher glared at the boy. ‘I’ll talk to you later,’ she said as she went through the door. The boy pretended to shake as if he was afraid. Amita followed her into the room. ‘This is Mrs Soames, your form tutor.’ She looked at the teacher. ‘You’ve had all the information, haven’t you? Amita will be in top sets for English, Maths and Science.’ Amita looked round the class.
