Which would you rather prefer? Ezme or Francis?”
“Ezme!” Several voices call out from the seats behind me. The head of Mrs. Lipon (Science teacher and our number one worst enemy) snaps up like an elastic band breaking. Sometimes I’d like to think it really is her neck breaking, that cranky cow.
“Let Ezme-sorry, Francis decide.” I hate to admit it, but she’s right this time. And, for once, the rest of 8-1 Chemistry aren’t trying to deliberately wind her up. I don’t know whose side I am on; I sit on the fence like a lonely child, waiting to be picked up by its mother. The thing is, I don’t know Francis/Ezme enough to say whether she should go ahead with the name change. I don’t see why the rest of the class are so bothered anyway-it’s not like the balance of the cosmos is at stake…
Okay now I see the problems that arise from a name change…like Beelzebub rising from the pit.
Religious Education. 3:25 pm. There’s already been one argument over Ezme’s name, and I don’t think poor Mr. Beech can take can take much shouting in his petite classroom. He’s so young and he’s barely had a year on this job, one would think him unqualified…and yet he still battles on with the rowdy Year 8 bunch. Bless his Dior shirts!