A Place Called Perfect Read Online Free PDF Page A

heard. Then the teacher got her to stand up and tell the class about her life before Perfect. Every student listened. No one chewed a pencil, chatted, fidgeted or did anything normal. When she’d finished talking about herself, teacher gave the class some work and came down to Violet.
    “Violet dear,” she whispered, “We have a few tests here that each new student has to take. It’s so we can tell where you fit.”
    “What do you mean?” Violet asked.
    She didn’t fit in anywhere.
    “It’s nothing to worry about. We just like to assess all our students. To tell what standard you are at and if you have any defaults, I mean problems we should be aware of.”
    “Oh no teacher, I don’t have any problems,” Violet smiled as nicely as possible.
    “I don’t mean problems as such dear. It’s just in this school we have a certain student we nurture, the perfect student. Not all our pupils are perfect when they come to us. Take Michael over there,” the teacher said, pointing to a blonde haired boy busy doing his maths problem, “he was quite excitable when he came to us, couldn’t sit still for a minute but we soon worked that out of him and now he’s picture perfect.”
    “Oh I can sit still,” Violet insisted, disliking her new teacher’s tone.
    “I’m sure you can Violet dear but there are all sorts of afflictions students are burdened with. We have had some here that made up stories, some that doodled all day, others like Michael that couldn’t sit still. The list goes on. I am sure you are not burdened with any such problems dear but we do need to know. Now it won’t take long.”
    Swiftly Mrs. Moody put a piece of paper onto Violet’s desk and held a pencil out in front of her. Violet looked at the pencil then back at her teacher who nodded towards the object in her hand.
    “Take it dear,” she smiled.
    Violet reached up and took the pencil.
    “Ah left handed. Thought as much,” the teacher tutted as she walked away.
    Confused, Violet looked down at the paper on her desk. Question one: What is your name? She tried not to laugh as she filled in the empty box. The questions got stranger. Have you ever had an imaginary friend? Do you ever day dream? Have you ever felt the urge to run away from home? Do you question adults? She didn’t know what to write and had only filled in a few lines by lunch time.
    She followed an orderly line out of the classroom and into the concrete playground. The sun was shining but everything looked grey. There was no life in the yard, no screaming, shouting or laughing which was normal in her old school.
    Nobody ran, there was no football, no tig, nothing. She tried not to think about her old friends and what they were doing right now as she sat down on a bench by the wall.
    “Hello Violet.”
    She looked up from her lunch. It was a red haired girl she recognised from class.
    “I’m Beatrice. Would like to join us for a game of skip?”
    “Oh em...yeah I’d love too,” Violet replied.
    Beatrice smiled and Violet walked with her new friend over to a group of girls standing around a long skipping rope.
    “Who’d like to hold first?” Beatrice asked.
    Violet stepped forward but the red haired girl held up her hand.
    “Not straight away Violet. You have to learn how to swing the rope first.”
    Violet blushed and stepped back into the comfort of the crowd. She didn’t know there were skipping rules. When the game started, each girl stepped into the rope and jumped exactly three times. There was no laughing or joking and the game was held to strict rules. When it came to Violet’s turn she jumped nervously in, the first two skips were great and she relaxed.
    To liven the group, she decided to try a trick she’d practised at home for her third skip. The rope came round and she crossed her legs as it passed beneath her. Immediately the skipping stopped and everybody turned towards her.
    “That’s not in the rules,” Beatrice barked.
    “I’m sorry,” Violet