As soon as she had put her key in the front door, her father was on at her with the ‘little talk’ routine again. Wanda knew exactly what this was about: she had failed to top the maths class again and the truth was, frankly, she didn’t give a damn. According to Mr Weinwitz who’d been in her father’s ear again, her ranking had now dropped down to a lowly sixth in the form after the last maths test; hardly the sort of ranking for a girl with Wanda’s talent for figures. While both men agreed it was sometimes the case that students had off weeks, Wanda had had an off term and at this critical juncture of her life, something had to be done to stop the rot. ‘Can you imagine the disappointment I had to see in Mr Weinwitz’s face?’ said Mr Hong, following Wanda down the hallway into the lounge room, his arms crossed against his chest. ‘He’d been counting on you to represent the school at the regional Maths Inn and now his plans are in ruins. Why? Because you can’t be bothered studying.’ ‘I’m so glad you’re concerned about Mr Weinwitz’s disappointment,’ said Wanda, dropping her school bag, her school tunic showing the splashes of the Berry Berry shake Mannigan had sent flying.
