see, you have an essay due for next Monday. You will also see the coursework tab. If you press that,” Miss Sullivan waited as they each navigated to the correct area. “You’ll see a comprehensive list and detailed notes for each of your lessons, you’ll also notice suggested links for further help and information. Every subject has the same facility, everything is there for you.”
“This is fantastic,” Tom said to Lela as he flew through the pages.
“I must, however, emphasise that although you have all your coursework to hand, do not underestimate how much work will be required and how hard the courses are going to be. The school planners are using you as guinea pigs and have opted for the hardest option this year.”
A bell sounded signifying that it was 8.55 a.m. and time for their next class. Nobody moved.
“Well, everybody, time to go to your first class,” said Monsieur Becherand from the stage.
Everybody in Tom’s class looked at each other, they had no idea where to go.
“It’s OK, I’m your Physics teacher and your first lesson is with me. I’ll take you to the lab,” announced Miss Sullivan to Class IH.
The class breathed a sigh of relief and followed Miss Sullivan to the Science Wing. The rest of the day was really an induction day, to get to know their teachers and the other students in their class.
There were four students of oriental origin. Lela, Chingmei, Mia and Chen. There were two South Americans, Diego the son of the Paraguayan President and Elena the daughter of a Brazilian industrialist. There was one student from the West Indies, Amy, the daughter of the President of Dominica, a tiny Caribbean island. There were five European students, Tom, Tristan, Oleg, Alysia, the daughter of a Greek shipping tycoon and Princess Madeleine of Sweden. There were two students from the Middle East, Jamal the son of the Syrian President and Ahmad. Three North Americans, Thierry, the son of a Canadian businessman, Heather, the daughter of an American financial family and Zach. There were two Africans, Thabo and Hassan, the Crown Prince of Morocco, one Australasian, Holly, the daughter of a very successful designer in Australia and one Indian student, Devesh or ‘Dev’, the son of the richest family in India.
At the end of a rather long and tiring day, Tom and Lela collapsed on Lela’s bed. Neither said anything for a while, they had just finished another five course dinner and were both mentally and physically exhausted.
Tom spoke first. They had not had a minute alone all day.
“So what do you think?”
“Amazing…you?”
“Amazing.”
“What about the people in our class?” asked Lela.
“Very cool, they all seem really nice…you?”
“Yeah, everybody is great and really friendly.”
They continued to discuss the other students, their teachers and their timetable. An hour later, at 9.00 p.m., Tom realised the time.
“Isn’t your father due to dial in for your lesson?”
“No he gave me the night off as it was my first day at school. But we should give them a quick call and let them know what happened.”
“Good idea. It’s 6.00 p.m. back home but if we wait an hour we’re more likely to catch my dad.”
“OK. Let’s stick the TV on while we wait.”
Tom was amazed at how cool the TV system was. It could tap into any service around the world. The menu allowed them to select a continent and sub menus allowed them to drill down to individual TV stations across the world. Tom selected the latest episode of The Apprentice. He loved the American version and unfortunately, his father had declined to be ‘the Boss’ in the UK version, along with a number of the best British businessman. The BBC had ended up running the show with a third-rate entrepreneur and a bunch of no-hope contenders. It was dreadful and cringeful compared to the very slick American version.
An hour later, they phoned home and spoke to Rachel and Saki and just as they were about to hang up, Donald arrived home. They repeated everything they had already said and eventually hung up. Everyone was extremely happy with developments. Tom had some work to do on proposals and thought it best to knock them on the head before he started having homework to contend with. He said goodnight to Lela and headed back to his room.
Their first day at school had gone as smoothly as they could possibly have hoped for.
Chapter 33
Reaper heard the ping which announced that a new message had arrived. He moved across to the PC and looked at his inbox. It was from Ling, she had been filing a report every night for the last week and each one read exactly the same, nothing to report. He was beginning to think the Ling card was not a master stroke afterall. Another message arrived and he opened it straight away. It was just an update from Leo, he had visited a couple of the camps, everything was going well.
Reaper returned to the note from Ling and clicked on it and immediately revised his thoughts. Ling may have been the best master stoke he had ever pulled. She may just save him and the world a lot of hassle. He called Pieter, one of his lieutenants, and told him to get Mozambique.
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday had passed like a blur, the pace of their classes was intense, no sooner had they discussed a topic before they moved on to the next. The only way to learn the subject was in their own time. How Lela was able to do her training with Saki as well as all the classwork, amazed Tom. He was knackered, it seemed he was permanently tired and was not the only one. Every one of their friends was the same, classwork, homework, dinner, homework, bed. They all hoped it was just the first week and they would get into a rhythm.
Etiquette was their last class on Friday and class 1H was looking forward to what they expected to be a bit of a laugh and light relief at the end of what had been a very hard week. Tristan had been the only one to have looked up the detail of the lesson and told them all at lunch that it was a Miss something or other, he couldn’t remember exactly her name but it was Scandinavian and he was very excited.
Their Accounts teacher had been called away at 3.15 and had decided to let them go early rather than wait for him to come back. They had therefore arrived early for their last class and Tristan was still going on about the young Scandinavian teacher.
“She’s going to be really hot, afterall most Scandinavian women are you know,” he said as they took their seats in the very strange classroom. It had a huge dining table at the front instead of a blackboard.
“Exactly how many Scandinavians do you base that assumption on?” asked Tom.
Tristan thought for a second.
“100 % of the Scandinavian women I know are hot!” he said triumphantly.
Zach had seen him look across the room.
“That would be one, Madeleine,” he said.
Nobody argued however, every one of the boys in the class fancied Princess Madeleine from Sweden, bar one, Ahmad, who only had eyes for Lela.
The girls had begun to look around interested at the conversation and how it would develop. The boys went quiet, blushed and hoped the teacher would arrive soon.
The door opened and a tray full of bananas entered the room. All that could be seen were the teacher’s legs, her body and face were obscured by a huge quantity of bananas.
“Nice legs,” whispered Tristan.
The bananas were laid down on the large table and the face revealed. Lela, Tom and Chen froze.
“Oh God,” whispered Tristan sitting back into his seat. “That face would give you nightmares and look at the moustache!”
Tom kicked him.
“Anderson wouldn’t be the Scandinavian name would it?”
“Yeah, why, do you see her?” he asked not realising she had arrived.
“Yes,” Tom winced, bat ears would have heard every word. Etiquette had just become the worst class of the
