The Secrets of Drearcliff Grange School Read Online Free PDF

Grange.
Comprenez-tu
, Amy?’
    ‘I think so,’ said Amy.
    ‘
Bonne
,’ smiled Gryce, with a flash of steel in her eyes. ‘These are
mes amies
and fellow prefects. Beryl Crowninshield…’
    One-Eye.
    ‘Dora Paule…’
    White Streak.
    ‘… and Henry Buller.’
    Pimple Face.
    ‘You will address us properly as Head Girl, Prefect Crowninshield, Prefect Paule and Prefect Buller.
Comprenez-tu
?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Gryce reached over, smiling, and slapped her face, then gave a ‘go ahead, try again’ nod.
    ‘Yes, Head Girl.’
    Gryce bent over and butterfly-kissed Amy’s stinging cheek, then made a stroke-it-better gesture without actually touching her.
    ‘You see,
mes filles
, a perfect demonstration of the Method Gryce in action. Gentle Discipline. Firm Encouragement. Deserved Praise.’
    ‘Can I Encourage her, S-s-sid?’ said Buller, leaning over and putting her blotched face close to Amy’s. Her breath was sweet, like violet pastilles.
    ‘Not now, Henry,’ drawled Crowninshield. She gave a shoulder-twitch which briefly lifted her hair – revealing her other eye, which was brown – before it fell back in place.
    ‘Prefect Buller’s
enthusiasm
is School Spirit,’ said Gryce, waving the big girl away. ‘Do you have an
enthusiasm
, Amy?’
    Amy was not forthcoming.
    Crowninshield made a flutter with Amy’s book, flapping its covers like wings, flying it around the room like a trapped moth.
    ‘I am a moth,’ Crowninshield said, lips shut but throat moving. ‘I’m… drawn… irresistibly…
to the flame
!’
    Crowninshield fluttered the book into Paule’s hair. The Witch who hadn’t spoken batted it away with her hands.
    ‘I repeat: do you have an
enthusiasm
, Amy?’
    ‘Yes, Head Girl. It’s…’
    ‘Did I ask you what your
enthusiasm
was?’
    ‘No, but…’
    The hand went up.
    ‘No, Head Girl,’ she corrected herself.
    ‘See, you
can
learn. Now, let us
guess
your
enthusiasm
. Henry?’
    Buller made fists, and leaned close again.
    ‘Is it bleeding? Bleeding, while trying not to b-b-blub? Bleeding from something that can n-n-never be fixed?’
    ‘No, Prefect Buller.’
    ‘Beryl?’ asked Gryce.
    ‘It’s not butterflies, is it?’
    ‘Yes, it’s not butterflies, Prefect Crowninshield.’
    Crowninshield thought a moment and was pleased. ‘Do you hold the position that butterflies are a separate phylum of lepidoptera, as opposed to a sub-species of moth?’
    ‘Yes, Prefect Crowninshield.’
    Lepidoptera are not a phylum, but an order of insects, which are a class of the arthropod phylum. Strictly, Amy acknowledged moths were what remained of the lepidoptera once butterflies were excluded. She kept that to herself.
    ‘The taxonomy is not uncontroversial, though, is it not?’
    Amy couldn’t unpick the contradictions, but intuited her inquisitor couldn’t either, and answered ‘No, Prefect Crowninshield’ with confidence.
    ‘Paule, Paule, wisest of us all?’
    ‘I can’t bear moths,’ said Prefect Paule in a tiny voice.
    ‘That’s not a question,’ said Gryce. ‘That’s a statement.’
    ‘It is all I’ve to say on the subject. Moths are too Thursday for me.’
    Crowninshield tossed Amy the book, which she caught before it hit her in the face. She held it shut in her lap.
    Crowninshield tapped her own head. Amy realised what was being asked of her. She balanced the book on her head. At her old school her form mistress was a fiend for deportment, so Amy knew how to keep the book level.
    Gryce smiled on her. She began to rock back and forth in Light Fingers’ chair, as if daring it to fly into splinters and give her cause to inflict severe Encouragement.
    Frecks and the others were out in the corridor, watching. A crowd of Thirds gathered. Had they all been through this? Amy was probably getting an extra helping for being a new bug in the middle of term.
    ‘If the book falls,’ said Gryce, rocking faster, ‘you’ll be marked down as Not School Spirit.
Une vraie salope
!