More than a story

Haley Cavendale's first English assignment in a new school is about Edward Scissorhands. A tale of love and loss, no more. But elements of the film soon become apparent in Haley's life when she befriends an outcast who shows her a different side to the story...


2. New Girl

Let me set the scene; it's my first day at a new school in the middle of nowhere, I'm twenty minutes late and it's pouring with rain. I lost my umbrella ages ago, so the rain has seeped through to my bones. I pulled my jacket tighter round my shoulders and grimaced as I pushed open the main door.

The hallways were silent, so I assumed everyone was in registration. First impressions count; get it right. My mother's words echoed through my mind as I gabbled an apology to my class teacher and took a chair at the back of the class to avoid the stares. I was drenched and exhausted, and according to my timetable I had English first lesson. Could this day get worse?

Well, it did.

I managed to find my way to the English classroom without any major difficulties, and had already set my sights upon a lonely chair at the back of the room. But the sight of a seating plan on the board made me groan. I searched for my name. And there it was - Haley Cavendale, who must sit right at the front next to Riley Montague.

I slumped into my seat and waited for my neighbour to take his place beside me. But he never did. Riley Montague was suspiciously absent. 

I chewed at my fingernails as the teacher rambled on about a 'new, exciting project' for what seemed like an hour, but when he switched on a miniature television in the corner of the room, I began to pay attention. Until he explained we would be watching Edward Scissorhands.


This was Mr Davenport's idea of a gothic thriller, but I had seen Edward Scissorhands several times and I knew it was lame. I liked watching proper gothic movies, not soppy stories about love at first sight and a guy who doesn't fit in. I don't believe in love at first sight anyway.

The opening credits rolled onto the screen and I stifled a yawn. The door opened suddenly and a figure strolled into the classroom. I couldn't see his face (Mr Davenport has insisted on dimming the lights and drawing the blinds 'to set a proper gothic atmosphere') but the teacher's stern voice told me the answer.

"Late again, Mr Montague?"

"Sorry sir," he replied, with no hint of apology in his voice. "I find this sort of film incredibly boring." He said the last part matter-of-factly, and I couldn't help but smile. He sat down next to me and winked. Closer up, I could see he was handsome. Very handsome.

Maybe I would enjoy English after all.

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