Diana

'Strict? My school? Yup! Mum moved me to this 'posh' school at the end of Year 8, so I could get some 'proper education' and 'achieve something in this dismal world'.
The thing is, I literally can't take one step without a teacher breathing down my neck and telling me to go plait my hair or whatever. The teacher bring out more and more rules all the time- even stupid things like ALL pupils must plait their hair! I mean, come on, who would actually invent that? My least favourite teacher apparently. She's continually on the warpath. Will she ever stop?'

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1. French plaits and no Fringes

It was a Monday. And I can tell you right now, I hate Mondays. If Monday was a person, I would go and slap that person in the face, purely because they were a Monday. Now you can see my love for Mondays. Also, to make matters worse, it was raining. No, scrap that, it was pouring. And I (lucky me) had recived the joy of walking to school in it. I attend St Grace's High School. Yup. It's a super-duper posh school in the middle of nowhere. My mum is always complaing about my education. Just because she practically had no education and was poor until she married my dad, it dosen't mean that I have to go to a super-duper posh high school now, does it? Try telling that to my mum. As I approached the huge black gates, I stopped and stared up. The main gates to our school were coal black and emblazened at the top were the letters 'SGHS', which basically means St Grace's High School. Those letters and been dipped in gold paint.

The thing is, as a pupil, you usually aren't supposed to go through these gates. But hey, I'm a rule breaker. These gates were reserved purely for teachers or visitors. Unfair, right? And, plus, I'm really early today. I bet nobody will notice if I sneak through them. I don't want to go around to the pupil enterance. It takes literally ages and it's pouring. And I just heard thunder. So, I stepped through the gates. I walked up the walkway (also reserved for teachers) when I saw Miss Mangrove- our new, super-duper strict, evil, horrible, you-name-it, go-to-hell-and-die-there teacher. Oh no. She had just spotted me.

"DIANA RICHARDSON!" She yelled,  using all her lung capacity. Oh yeah, and that's me. Diana Richardson. My mum has called all of her children after the royal family. My brother is called Charlie (Charles) and my sister is called Beth (Elizabeth). My mum has some sort of obsession, I think. So anyway, back to the story. Maney (man-ee), as all the pupils like to call Miss Mangrove, was running over to me. Well, she was speed walking. Sort of. It's hard to tell with teachers. They never run, especially a old witch/bat like Maney. So, there I was, frozen, just by the black gates, while Maney ran/jogged/speedwalked/walked/hurried over to where I was.

"What do you think you are doing, honey?" She asked. She calls everyone honey when she is about to get mad. Her face looked gentle, by hey, I knew old Maney better than that.

"Um, walking?" I suggested. Instantly, I knew that Maney had asked one of those questions which you aren't supposed to answer.

"Come with me, now" she grabbed me by the ear and dragged me into the assembley hall. Maney likes a bit of Victorian school tradition. I swear she is a Victorian, actually. As I was dragged by my ear I thought:

Wow, I must be early. Literally nobody is around. Except from Maney.

Turnes out, I am late, as I found out when I was pubically humiliated in front of the whole school when Maney drags me into the assembley hall. Everyone laughed at me. Being the good sport, which I am, I gave them all a death face. They cracked up laughing.

"You may sit down, Diana" Said the Headmistress, Mrs Davidston. I sat down beside my best friend, Zoey, and looked at Maney and rolled my eyes. She did the same. She knew what I was thinking:

DIE, MANEY, DIE!

"And that is why," Mrs Davidston had been talking all this time, and I hadn't caught a single word. Oh well. I want to fall asleep in assemblies, and so does everyone else, I'm pretty sure.
Anyway, I tuned back into Mrs Davidston
"I have decided that it would be best to dress smartley. Every pupil is required to have a french plait and no, I repeat, no fringes."

I felt my ginger fringe. No way was I parting with it. I thought:

Ok, Davidston, If you want to play that game, I'm on. This is war.

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