Hangman

Chris was sitting next to me in English giving me the lowdown.

As far as I can make out he’s not seeing anyone. So you can go for it.

The joke’s an old one, Chris.

Loosen up, mate. Miss Assistant Head of Green, do you know her name?

Not her first name, I think I heard him call her Miss Zefferelli.

Yeah, well, I do … full name and status.

Andrews looked up from his desk.

Chris, Will, be quiet.

We put our heads down.

Tell me her bloody name! I whispered.

You heard Sir. He said we had to get on with our work. I can’t spoil my excellent reputation.

Actually he told us to shut up, not get on with our work. A major oversight on his behalf.

This time Andrews put down his pen and made direct eye contact with me.

William, talk again and you’ll be moved.

Yes, sir.

Chris smirked at me. See? he mouthed.

I then resorted to what any resourceful student throughout the centuries would have done—I passed Chris a note.

So tell me her bloody name.

It’s not that easy, my friend. Chris scrawled nine dashes. I challenge you to a game of hangman. Work it out and her name shall be revealed.

Finally we had a result. E-l-i-z-a-b-e-t-h.

Mr. Andrews had a very straight face as he spelled out the letters aloud but his eyes were belly laughing, I swear.

I can only conclude that as we are not currently studying Pride and Prejudice, this Elizabeth has nothing to do with English literature at all.

I had no idea how long he’d been standing there and it was too late to try to cover it up.

The class went mad. The usual chorus of Woooooo sounded from all corners of the room. I threw a pleading look at Chris, who could normally talk his way out of any tricky situation.

No, sir, you’re wrong. I was just helping Will find a … ahh … find an appropriate name for one of the female characters in his narrative.

Hangman, quite a unique method, Mr. Holden. You must excuse me, I thought you were discussing another Elizabeth. If my memory serves me correctly, there is an Elizabeth who has one of the lead parts in our school musical. Isn’t that right, Will?

He looked down at me. The room filled with hundreds of noises that translated to Will Armstrong, loser. I could feel that fire-engine red beginning to burn again. Only this time the alarms were ringing and the smoke was coming out my ears.

I was beaten and Andrews and I both knew it.

All right you lot, as interesting as Will’s life is, let’s get back to work.

I sat staring at my blank page. Humiliated. Someone was bound to know someone who knew someone who … And she was going to hear. That was how the rumor mill worked. I was a dead man.