This is the kind of moment I never imagined when I sat in Geography running my fingers across the graffiti on the desk and watching Ewan write on the whiteboard. I liked his blue tie the best and he was wearing it that day. More formal than the other teachers. Still new. His shirt was always tucked into his trousers. He showed us a video about river courses and erosion. The other girls used to give him a hard time. Stupid answers, messing with Blu Tack and paperclips, dropping pencil cases onto the floor in unison at pre-arranged times. I felt sorry for him. I watched the images from above, the camera panning across flat green fields, the river getting wider, snaking around, looping back on itself. He paused the programme. The screen flickering black and white.

‘Can anyone tell me what these bends are called?’

I liked landscapes. I liked maps and contours and plans. Mum caught me in Baba’s office once. She let me sit in the swivel chair. She pulled the globe across the desk to show me where he came from. Rawalpindi. She traced a curve from Pakistan, across the sea making the sound of a plane flying. She landed it, her finger plunging right into the English Channel. Splash! she said, and then brrrrrrrr. She pretended to shiver. I laughed and laughed until I couldn’t breathe.

‘Anyone?’ Ewan said.

I put my hand up. The diagrams from the textbook were easy to remember.

‘Yes, Afsana?’

‘Meanders.’

‘Good.’ He rubbed out the writing that was on the board and drew a snake-curved river with a blue pen. I looked down at my exercise book. I hadn’t written all of the notes from the board. Not even close. I’d have to copy off Freya again, if she’d let me.

‘And at this stage the river erodes laterally,’ he looked at us, at me or was I imagining it? ‘Outwards, left and right, the neck of the meander gets narrower and narrower until the two sides join up and the water continues on by the quickest route.’ He rubbed out the end of the bend.

‘Does anyone know the name for the horse-shoe shaped bit that gets left behind?’

I put my hand up again. I didn’t care what they thought of me. Someone whistled from the back of the class. A screwed-up piece of paper flew past my ear.

‘Anyone?’ he said, ‘no? Alright then, Afsana again.’ But he was smiling at me when he said it.

‘An oxbow lake, sir.’

‘Yes. Well done. Amy and Khadijah – am I keeping you awake? No? Let’s watch the next section then shall we?’

He asked me to stay behind at the end of class. All the girls laughing and whispering on their way out. Freya put two fingers up behind his head. He shut the door.