Stories & Poems by JuliaPirie

• Secret in the cellar

  Last lesson, Friday afternoon – numeracy. Time crawled so slowly, I thought it had stopped. I liked numbers. They made sense to me. They didn’t slip and slide off in all directions like words did when I was writing. They moved obediently into neat rows and columns so Mrs Taylor could give each answer a bright green tick. I’d finished the sheet, even the extra questions. I wanted the bell to ring. I checked the clock again. It still said 3.15. Fifteen minutes to go. I yawned. Our classroom was hot and stuffy. A trapped bluebottle buzzed angrily against the window pane beside me. The bell of an ice cream van tinkled in the distance. ‘Have you finished, Anna?’ Mrs Taylor’s voice ...

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