A/N: First spontaneous attempt at a multi-chaptered story. I love the atmosphere of schools; the characters, the colours, the antics but not the bullies. Hence, where I've drawn my inspiration from. The limerick (rhyme) I've used was told to me by an Uncle now long gone and the Author is unknown to me, but full credit goes to them. Your reviews would be greatly appreciated - hopefully you will enjoy.

The boy stood on the burning deck his pocket full of glass, someone pulled the deck away and he landed on his…

Oh NO! What was I thinking?

My mind was blank. Gone was my speech on the ship Endeavour, replaced with this ridiculous rhyme. It was my hour of truth, the moment I'd practiced weeks on end for. All forgotten. The making or breaking of my life – all 14 long years of it and all I could think of was this senseless twaddle. My life would end here; year 9 at high school.

… Don't be mistaken, don't be misled, someone pulled the deck away and he landed on his head!

Stop it, STOP IT! I felt my face ignite. My ears were now ablaze and their flames licking my hairline. Burning now, singed from the heat. Soon the class would be left with a pile of carbon in front of them. Here is all that remains of Billy Gump. Not remembered for his brilliance, purely his powerful incineration. One minute he was here, the next minute "poof" – gone.

Connie Mitchell was now staring straight at me. Please no, not her! She was pure evil and now gloating. Mean is the kindest word I can think of for Connie.

I gasped for air. I could feel my voice box vibrating. My saliva had all but dried up and my mouth had shrivelled to the size of a pea, as if I'd eaten a clove of garlic. All those little things on the top of my tongue had now wilted. Flat and dry. Crisp like an old towel that had been left in the sun too long. Water, water! My head was ready to explode.

The heat was turning inwards. My voice had started to break last year and I'd gone from a baritone to a soprano pretty much overnight. It's been going forward and back ever since. I could sense that if I opened my mouth I would have absolutely no control at all…

Mrs Fredrickson, our English teacher stared questioningly at me, her mono-brow moving like a Mexican wave. It always happens like that when she gets angry. The dark hairs were like one of those black caterpillars that I've seen at my Nan's place on her mulberry tree. Big and fat with the odd hair sticking out at right angles that serve as a tail or an antenna or something?

"Billy!" Mrs Fredrickson screeched. Her nose was thrust forward leading the way as she squinted, examining me through her bottle-top glasses. Inching closer, I could see that it was more like a 2B pencil than a nose and ready to poke any unsuspecting victim without a moment's notice.

"2B or not 2B" I blurted. Soprano, Baritone – I quickly said a silent prayer. Dear God please don't let them hear me. Help me through…

Too late. There was an awkward silence for a couple of seconds, then the class exploded – banging on tables and bouncing on chairs, holding their stomachs and rolling around on the floor.

They looked like a huge family of cockroaches that had just been sprayed with pesticide - all their legs and arms thrashing around erratically as they screamed hysterically. Their roars of laughter were deafening my already numbed senses. Even Connie's death stare had turned to tears of joy.

The class joke about Mrs' 2B nose had been broken and revealed to the world. It was first period and the week had only just begun. This was definitely NOT going to be one of my better days…