Robin Jarvis-Jax 01 Dancing Jax Read Online Free PDF Page A

bony knees for all I care.”
    Owen hitched his trousers up and sat down noisily, slinging his bag on the desk before him.
    Martin Baxter groaned inwardly. He didn’t mind what cultures the kids tapped into. It was normal and healthy to seek for an identity, but in recent years he’d become aware just how homogenised that identity had become. Was it any surprise though when just about every other television programme was fronted by presenters with forced mockney accents, as if working-class London was the centre of the cool universe and nowhere else mattered. It made him wince whenever he heard the kids here in Felixstowe trying to mimic the cod East End accents that grunted around Walford. Whatever happened to quirky individuality? Sadly he reflected that, like the coast here in Suffolk, it was being eroded.
    The maths teacher felt it was going to be one of those days. Thank heavens it was Friday. He had no idea just how bad that day was going to become. No one did.
    When the shuffling and unrest had subsided, he sat at his desk and pulled a sheaf of papers from his battered leather briefcase.
    “Before we start,” he said. “Let’s have a look at last week’s test.”
    One of the three huddled girls looked up in alarm.
    “You’re not going to read the marks out, Sir?” she asked in exaggerated dismay.
    Martin beamed again. “Oh, you betcha!” he said brightly. “Let’s all have a laugh and see who the thickies are – as if we needed reminding.”
    “That is so not fair,” she said, covering her face.
    “Shall I start with you then, Emma, and get it out of the way? Here we are, 23 per cent – that’s a new record for you. You must have actually been awake during one lesson. Now Ashleigh and Keeley, 19 and 21 per cent respectively.”
    “No respect about that!” roared one of the boys, slapping his desk. “That is so shaming!”
    Martin smiled at him next. “Kevin Stipe, a whopping 17 per cent! Who’d have thought chatting to your pals and larking about instead of listening to me would produce such lame results? There can’t be a connection there, surely? Coincidence? Nah…”
    Kevin Stipe sank into his chair while Emma and her cohorts shook their hands at him and jeered.
    “Quiet!” Martin called. He read out a few more pitiful scores before looking across to the side of the class where a thin-faced, pretty girl, was hiding behind her hair.
    “Sandra Dixon,” he said, this time with a genuine smile. “Ninety-four per cent. Well done, Sandra. Now who would have thought that paying attention and getting on with your work in class could produce that result? You know, I really do think there’s something in that theory. Take note, the rest of you.”
    Emma and her cronies pulled faces at Sandra’s back and Ashleigh scrunched up a scrap of paper to lob at her head.
    “You just dare!” Martin growled at her. “You’ll be in the Head’s office so fast, your shoes will leave skid marks on the corridor floor.”
    “Skid marks!” Kevin guffawed.
    Just then the door opened and a tall, fair-haired lad with a sports bag slung over his shoulder came ambling in. Without so much as a glance at Martin Baxter, he headed for his empty seat. Keeley and Ashleigh whistled through their teeth at him. They had recently decided his was the best bottom in the school.
    “Conor!” Martin said. “Where’ve you been? Why are you drifting in here so late?”
    The boy looked at him insolently. “I was helping Mr Hitchin, Sir,” he said.
    “Then you’ll have a note from him for me to that effect.”
    “No, Sir.”
    “OK, you’ve just earned yourself some extra time here tonight.”
    “Can’t do that, I’ve got football.”
    “Conor, you’ve been here long enough to know how this place works. If you come to my lesson late, without a valid reason, then it’s automatic detention.”
    “But there’s a match on!”
    “If that was so important to you, you’d have made sure you were here on time and not