The Imam's Daughter by Hannah Shah

Author:Hannah Shah [Shah, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Ebury Publishing
Published: 2010-11-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The English Prize

Unfortunately, the English prize was a bright moment in what was becoming a deteriorating school record for me. From the time that I had first worn Sonia’s clothes, my spirit of rebellion grew and grew, and it began to manifest itself in increasingly erratic and troublesome behaviour at school.

One day we were in a classroom that had a walk-in storeroom off to one side. The teacher would go into it occasionally, to fetch books or other school supplies. I had noticed that there was a key in the door, and I had thought idly about locking someone in there.

We had a new teacher that day – a young, fresh-faced woman who had some difficulty in controlling the class. Towards the end of the lesson she went into the storeroom to fetch something. Quick as a flash and without even thinking, I jumped up, slammed the door, and locked it from the outside.

For a second everyone just stared at me in amazement, and then they burst out laughing. I had always been such a good and quiet student, and I was never in trouble. I could see people staring at me in surprise. Wow! What a trick Hannan’s pulled! That’s what they were all thinking. Never knew she had it in her!

At the same time I could hear the teacher inside the cupboard, shouting and banging on the door. I didn’t know what on earth I had done, or what to do next. As time ticked away, I could hear the teacher getting more and more panicked. Just before the bell went for the end of class, I unlocked the door – and everyone ran out in a big crush so as to hide who was responsible.

The teacher hadn’t caught me, and I knew no one would ever snitch. But at the start of her next class she announced that we would all be in detention, unless the person who had locked her in the cupboard owned up. I got up, and admitted what I’d done.

I wasn’t particularly worried about owning up to it. I still thought it was quite funny, as did all my friends. I certainly didn’t want anyone else getting into trouble. It would have stopped being a joke had all my friends got detention because of it. I alone was put in detention, and I had to write five hundred lines: I will never lock my teacher in the cupboard again. I will never lock my teacher in the cupboard again.

Mrs Zorba came to have a little talk with me about what I had done.

‘I hear you locked your new teacher in the cupboard,’ she remarked. ‘That’s not like you. What’s going on?’

I didn’t really know what to say, so I just shrugged. Even I didn’t understand why I had done it. In fact, it was all about me rebelling in any way that I could, but I wasn’t consciously aware of that yet. I had few opportunities to break out of the straitjacket

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