I shrugged and was just about to think of something to say when Jo started hitting tree trunks with her bag.

“Oh, it’s all about Tallulah’s knees! Or Tallulah’s corkers. Or talking or something! Shut up about Tallulah, what about me? This is about me! Phil is going to phone me!!!”

And she started doing run-run-leap around us. Then we heard the assembly bell ring in the distance and we all tore off up the drive to Dother Hall.

We went on running through the main doors, into the cloakroom, running on the spot as we took our coats off and then ran straight into the main hall.

I wish I knew why we were running.

We’d just scrabbled to our seats panting and were doing sitting-down running on the spot because we were so excited, when the stage door opened and Dr. Lightowler appeared. I stopped my legs immediately and got them under control.

Dr. Lightowler said, “Settle down, girls,” and swished her cloak about. It was made of black velvet and looked like it had fun fur on the inside.

I said quietly to Jo, “She’s grown a winter cloak.”

Even though you would have had to be a dog to hear me, her beady eyes swiveled round and fixed on me. And not in a good way. Not in a “hello, Tallulah, how lovely to see you” way.

“And when I say settle down, girls, I particularly mean you, Tallulah Casey.”

Jo said, “Boy, does she hate you.”

I don’t know why she does. It’s something about my legs. She thinks I have grown them extra long just to annoy her. And that I do Irish dancing on purpose. She doesn’t know about having Tourettes of the legs.

Dr. Lightowler went on, “The principal is away on urgent business today. In the meantime, as you know, our winter project is a reworking of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I expect you all to fully participate. Keeping notebooks, doing lunchtime performances, etc. I don’t think all of you understand the great honor it is to be at Dother Hall. But can I remind you that this is not Liberty Hall. You have come to work. And work hard. Those of you not up to the mark may well find yourselves, quite literally, as in the Bard’s play, being Bottom.”

What is she talking about? And why is she looking at me?

Monty and Gudrun were trumpeting with laughter at “being Bottom.” In fact, Gudrun got hiccups and had to leave the hall.

It was only half-past nine in the morning and I was already tired. And confused. Having my bottom felt by a serial hugger and then the serial hugger saying, “we need to talk about stuff.”

What did “we need to talk” mean? What does “stuff” mean?

We need to talk about forgetting about stuff? What was stuff?

For our first lesson, Monty turned up with a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and wearing green corduroy trousers to the knee and a cap with a feather in it. He said, “Girls, good morning, and especially good morning to Honey. Welcome, my dear, welcome back. I hope to hear your lovely voice in our production. Perhaps as the Queen of the Fairies?”