Your Wish COme True (revised): Chapter 13 - School Days free porn video

Your Wish Come True by Pol Roger Chapter 13 School Days Making friends MANDY was up early for a run up to Hyde Park, across to the other side of the Serpentine, and back for her bath and breakfast. She said hello to both the night and day porters who were changing over shifts when she got back. A different porter came on duty at three o'clock in the afternoon and worked till eleven when the night porter came on, who worked until seven o'clock in the morning. About six different men shared the role in the course of a week, with different porters on weekends. "Hi, guys!" she greeted them, breathing heavily and wiping perspiration from her face, neck and arms with a small towel. "Hi, Mandy," they both said without any formality. Mandy had insisted when she first moved in that all the porters call her Mandy, and she usually stopped for a friendly word with whichever one was on duty. They ogled her fit young body rather openly. Mandy noticed their stares, and did a few stretches in front of them to warm down. She had discovered since she moved in to the new apartment that she rather liked it when any of the porters looked at her like that. And not just the porters; she quite enjoyed the sensation of anyone admiring her. It made her feel good about herself, she had discovered. "Had a good run, then?" said Kameel, the night porter. "Brilliant!" Mandy answered, "I feel really pumped." The two porters exchanged a quick look between themselves. She chatted for a few more moments, then said goodbye, walking over to the door of her apartment with a backward look and a smile. She had a quick shower and then spent a bit of time putting some makeup on, nothing very obvious but enough to make a difference. It made her eyes look much more expressive and dramatic. She packed a few cosmetics in her schoolbag in case she needed to make adjustments. When she headed off to the station she had a gym bag full of her dancing gear as well as her usual backpack. It was quite tiring carrying it all. Once again the Underground was very busy, but Mandy had got a seat by the time the train was coming into Hammersmith. She sent a text to Sam saying: "next stop hamsth front car. M." Mandy saw him on the platform and waved furiously. His face brightened as soon as he saw her and he scrambled into the front compartment and made his way down to where Mandy was sitting. She jumped up when he reached her and gave him a hug, and they sat down together. "I nearly got on the train before this," he said. "It came in after I got your message, but I couldn't see you in the front car so I decided to wait for the next train. Then I thought perhaps you were on that train and I'd missed you. You look great!" "I'm glad you waited," Mandy said, smiling happily. "Thanks for the e-mail last night." Soon they were at Ealing Broadway Station and once again they caught a bus the rest of the way to school. It was another bright spring day, a little cool and windy but sunny. The crowds of students were converging on the school but Mandy felt less intimidated today by their size and youthful rowdiness. A group of girls Mandy recognised from Performance Studies were just outside the main school entrance. Mandy and Sam were walking towards them. "Hi Mandy," a dark haired girl said, "I'm Gemma. Gemma Winkler, and this is Helen Darley and Katrina Parkes. You were great yesterday. I loved the dancing especially. Hi Sam," she added, turning to Mandy's companion. "Thanks," Mandy said, flushing slightly with pleasure. "I'll see you later, Mandy," Sam said, and headed abruptly inside. Mandy watched him go with some surprise, but the others seemed unconcerned. "So are you, like, a professional dancer?" Helen asked. "Professional!" answered Mandy. "Not at all! I suppose I just enjoy it." "You're really good," said Gemma. "You could be professional. Is that what you'll do when you leave school?" "I don't know," Mandy said. "Maybe. I'm not sure I want a career in dancing." The girls asked Mandy about herself and Mandy began to tell them the official story. They were amazed Mandy had never been to school and wanted to know about her life in Malta. They're really nice girls, Mandy thought to herself. She felt they were making room for her in their group and she was grateful for this. She found she wanted to be one of them. "We're going shopping at the Broadway after school," Katrina said, "do you want to come?" "All right," Mandy said happily, "That'll be great." The bell sounded for the beginning of school, so Mandy rushed to get her gym bag to her locker before she headed to Biology. The class had been studying Genetics for the last two terms, and the teacher, Mr Thwaites, expected Mandy to have to do some catching up. The class had been studying evolution and genetic development, and how although an embryo might have its DNA altered, it seemed beyond possibility that a complex organism like an adult human being could ever be anything beyond a few unpredictable mutations other than what was determined by its DNA at birth. Mandy interrupted the discussion. She had been listening with growing impatience. Human beings have far more genes than they ever actually use, she said, including millions of genes that lie dormant. It should be theoretically possible to turn genes on or off in a living individual, which could radically change a person's entire genome. The signal to switch the genes could be transmitted through a retrovirus. In fact, this was probably how actual leaps in evolution, as opposed to straightforward natural selection, actually occurred, she said. Mr Thwaites looked at Mandy with a serious expression. "This is Biology, Miss Vero," he said, "Biology is a branch of Science, not science fiction." Mandy was stunned when the class burst into laughter. She felt her face and ears burning, and tears beginning to prick her eyes. She bit her lip in an effort to avert the disaster of bursting into tears. She gave her head a shake. She knew she was right, but Mr Thwaites didn't seem to realise it. Perhaps she had received some misinformation from the School File on her computer. Perhaps she had dreamed or imagined the idea. "Sorry Sir," she said, still wondering at her feeling of certainty. Mr Thwaites didn't answer. He seemed to be preoccupied with some problem. Finally he spoke, in a rather distracted voice: "Not at all, Miss Vero. If you have a moment at the end of class I'd like a quick word, please." "Yes Sir," Mandy answered. She sensed a frisson go round the class. She could feel her face reddening and her hand trembled as she took her pen and tried to write notes. The rest of the lesson passed in a daze of anxiety and dread of what might be coming, and the embarrassment of yet another classroom humiliation. She wanted to shrivel up and disappear. And--blast it!--there was that feeling again of being on the verge of tears. Why did things have to go wrong all the time? All she wanted was to fit in and for people to like her. At the end of the lesson Mandy waited behind to see Mr Thwaites. She was expecting him to be annoyed with her but he smiled at her kindly. "Miss Vero, what made you think that genomes can be changed by signals passed through a virus?" "I'm sorry, Sir. It's probably just a theory," Mandy answered, wanting to get away as soon as she could. "That's not what I asked, Miss Vero. What made you think of it? Was it just a silly comment?" "It wasn't a silly comment!" Mandy flashed. "It can be changed! At least, I'm pretty sure it can," she added, a bit more uncertainly. "Yes, but why do you think so?" Mr Thwaites was becoming impatient, which made Mandy panic a little. What did he want her to tell him? She racked her brains frantically. She desperately wanted to give him the answer he wanted. "I suppose I read it somewhere," she added. "It was in The Lancet or something." "You read it in The Lancet?" Mr Thwaites asked incredulously. "I think so," Mandy replied. She had never read The Lancet or any medical journal that she could remember, but somehow--she supposed from the downloaded computer files--she knew (or believed she knew) there had been an article in The Lancet. "It was in last month's issue, or perhaps the one before," she added. She hoped this was right. It would be easy for Mr Thwaites to check it. "And what did it say? Do you remember what it said in the article?" Mr Thwaites persisted. "Just what I was saying," Mandy replied. "We already know that viruses can fundamentally change DNA, by triggering cancer for example, or causing skin cells to change (stopping producing melanin for example, or producing too much), or sudden baldness--there are many things. And it's different to genes mutating, which can also cause cancer and such." "Go on," Mr Thwaites encouraged. "Well, the DNA isn't necessarily being damaged by the virus; it's just that some genes have been deactivated, or a dormant gene--or genes--unexpectedly activated by the virus. By reacting to some signal, or impulse when the virus penetrates the cell's nucleus. And it can work the other way. Cancers have been reversed in mice by a virus. A retrovirus to be exact." "This is very basic," Mr Thwaites said impatiently. "At least, it's basic for undergraduates," he added more thoughtfully. "Go on," Mr Thwaites urged. Mandy furrowed her brow in concentration. "The virus itself stores its nucleic acid, in the form of a genome and serves as a means of delivery of that genome into cells it targets as an obligate parasite, and constitutes the infection. Once in the host's cell, the RNA strands undergo reverse transcription in the cytosol--that's, like, the internal fluid in a cell--and are integrated into the host's genome, at which point the retroviral DNA is referred to as a provirus. Eventually the new genome will completely take over." "So in theory, any gene could be activated or deactivated by a signal sent through a retrovirus, thus fundamentally altering the behaviour of an organism's DNA, in effect writing a new genome. If you knew which genes to manipulate, and how to do it without adversely affecting other genes, you could genetically alter people." "Isn't that what I was saying?" Mandy ventured. Mr Thwaites looked at her sharply, but decided she wasn't being sarcastic. Actually she was looking quite distressed, he noticed. "Miss Vero, I must apologise for speaking too hastily earlier. I think the comment you made showed remarkable intelligence. In fact it was I who was showing his ignorance. Just in this particular matter, you understand," he added hastily. "I hope you won't be discouraged from making comment in my class in future. I promise to take whatever you say very seriously." "Thank you, sir," Mandy said with relief. "And are you hoping to study medicine after you finish school?" Mr Thwaites asked. "Medicine! Me? Oh no, I shouldn't think so!" Mandy almost laughed at the idea. It was the first time since the beginning of her biology lesson that she felt light-hearted. "Research then, eh?" Mr Thwaites suggested. Mandy screwed up her mouth doubtfully. "Really?" said Mr Thwaites, slightly deflated. "Well, I shouldn't rule it out too hastily, Miss Vero. I hope you are setting your sights high, whatever you choose to do. I look forward to seeing you at our next biology lesson." With that, he gave Mandy a thin smile, and walked off up the corridor. Pompous, but nice, Mandy thought to herself. Her sense of fear had evaporated and she now felt quite warmly towards her biology teacher. In fact, he seemed to have a good opinion of her, and she felt quite flattered. She was going to try hard in biology, she decided. Mr Thwaites said he was looking forward to his next lesson with her, and she discovered she was, too. He had promised to take her seriously. Not too seriously though, I hope, she smiled to herself. "SO, are we going for a coffee after school?" Sam asked as he and Mandy took their seats with their lunch trays. "Well, I said I'd go to the Broadway for a bit with Gemma Winkler and a couple of others. I'm sure you could come too. Why don't you?" "No, I'll give it a miss, thanks. Maybe we can have a coffee or something tomorrow," Sam answered, looking rather disappointed. "You don't seem to like Gemma very much. Or is it one of the others?" asked Mandy. Sam seemed to be hesitant about responding. Eventually he said, "Gemma and I went out a couple of times about a month ago. I don't think I'm her type," he added. "Really! Tell me all about it!" Mandy leaned forward eagerly. "Nothing to tell, really," said Sam. "We're just different people." "You didn't take her to the opera, did you?" Mandy ventured playfully. "That was going to be the third date," said Sam. Mandy's jaw dropped. "You're kidding! I think I see it all! So she wasn't thrilled to be going to the opera?" "My assessment is no," said Sam philosophically. "She actually agreed to go. Said she thought it might be fun and so on. So I talked to Mum and she got us tickets and everything. Then she rang me the morning it was on and said she was sick and couldn't come." "Well, that doesn't sound too bad. Anyone can get sick, you know," Mandy said encouragingly. "True. Anyway, I decided not to go myself either and gave both tickets back to Mum--they were house tickets so it didn't matter--and to go for a pizza with Arthur, Dave and Charlie instead." Sam paused. "Would I be correct in saying you somehow discovered Gemma had made a remarkable recovery?" "Remarkable and I should say complete," said Sam. "What a bitch!" Mandy laughed. "So what happened?" "We saw her and some of her girlfriends coming out of the pub across the road with these guys. Older guys. These men. They were in their twenties, probably." "You're kidding! Mind you," Mandy continued, "it could be she just really, really hates opera." She grabbed Sam's hand and gazed dramatically into his eyes. "Oh Sam, it's not you, it's Puccini!" Sam smiled a little. "Anyway, it's her loss, isn't it?" Mandy continued. "You don't need to go around avoiding her." Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Wait! You weren't going to see Traviata were you? That's got lots of drinking and courtesans and picking up guys. She'd have loved that one. Tell me it wasn't La Traviata." "It wasn't," Sam answered. He shifted slightly in his seat. "It was Fidelio." Mandy gaped at Sam. Then she began laughing again. Sam started to laugh as well. They were wiping tears from their eyes. "Fidelio!" Mandy gasped out at last, "an opera about unswerving female faithfulness! If you ask me it's just as well you didn't take her," laughed Mandy. "I don't think she'd get it!" They both laughed some more. "Well, you can take me to either of those, anytime," Mandy said finally, recovering. "I hope I will," said Sam. He was looking at Mandy with a rather soupy expression. Mandy couldn't fail to notice. She felt a little surge of satisfaction. But there was also a warning being sounded somewhere. It was an alarm not for herself--which is quite interesting, she noted briefly in passing--but for Sam. The truth was she felt a very strong sympathy with Gemma after hearing of her perfidy. She was now really looking forward to making friends with Gemma. "But seriously, Sam," Mandy began, "you mustn't let it get to you. Just because things didn't work out between you two doesn't mean you can't still be friends with Gemma. You shouldn't put girls on a pedestal. They're only human and they stuff things up sometimes. You're not perfect, and you can't expect them to be," she lectured. "I never said I was perfect," Sam interjected, rather bemused. "Well just remember, you're not!" Mandy warned. "Not perfect. There. I'll remember," Sam promised. "Good. So, are you coming then? After school?" Mandy asked. "I don't know. I'll think about it. Maybe." "Good," said Mandy. In fact she now felt she wouldn't be too disappointed if Sam decided not to come. She didn't want to be the meat in the sandwich of Sam's and Gemma's unfinished business, and she didn't want to jeopardise things with Gemma. During lunch Mandy noticed that Genevieve Riley, the tall blond girl from her English class, was looking at her. She was sitting a few tables away with Stacey Murphy and Danielle Foley, who always seemed to follow her wherever she went. Three boys, big fit sporty types, were also with them, obviously their boyfriends. It was clear which one was Genevieve's boyfriend: he was the best looking of the three, and Genevieve seemed very possessive of him, keeping hold of his arm and wiping crumbs from the side of his mouth or adjusting his tie. He accepted it passively, seeming to revel in the attentions of such a hot chick. Why was Genevieve looking at her without any expression she could interpret? Mandy was unnerved that Genevieve didn't look away when Mandy caught her looking at her. Instead she gave Mandy a strange smile. It was Mandy who looked away. She took care not to look back, though she was sure she could feel Genevieve continuing to study her AS it turned out Mandy needn't have worried. Sam caught up with her as she was heading towards the gates and told her he really had to get some homework done that night, and hoped he'd see her after school tomorrow. She agreed to meet him then, and headed off to keep her appointment with Gemma and her friends. "Hi Mandy," said Gemma. Helen Darley and Katrina Parkes were also there, as well as a fourth girl. She was a tall black girl and was introduced as Vanessa Okaro. Although the same age she looked much older than the rest of them with a very mature-looking face. They walked down the hill to the business district, at one point near the town centre passing a beautiful stone church with a stone spire set in a lovely well-kept churchyard. A young woman was just coming out while another man was going in. Mandy noted the sign: Christ Church, Ealing, Church of England. She would pop in for a look some time. Dom Aelred had said it was okay. She had been chatting to the other girls as they walked. They seemed very curious about her, and wanted to talk a lot about her dancing. Then they were curious about her growing up in Malta, but when her answers didn't seem particularly sensational they soon lost interest. "You and Sam seem friendly," Gemma had remarked as the two of them lagged behind the others for part of the way. "He was the first friend I made at St Greg's," Mandy responded. "I like him a lot." "Is that "like" like or just like?" Gemma pressed. "We're not going out or anything. I only just met him. I think he might be on the rebound, though," Mandy ventured. "Really? Why do you think that?" Gemma asked. "Oh, I dunno. He seems all vulnerable and wounded and that, like he's been hurt and hasn't got over it." This wasn't quite accurate, but it was near enough to the truth, Mandy thought. "Hmm," Gemma said thoughtfully. "I think it might be my fault." "You?" said Mandy, sounding surprised. "What happened?" "Well, we went out a couple of times, just the two of us. Like a date or something, I guess. Don't get me wrong, I really like him. But he rabbits on a bit about opera and literature and it gets a bit boring is all. And he's really into Gilbert and Sullivan, which is, like, my Nan's taste in music. And he doesn't seem to snog or anything. It gets to be a bit of a strain, doesn't it?" "Did you ever try snogging him?" Mandy asked with concern. "No, I suppose not. I didn't want to make the first move, did I? Anyway, we were supposed to be going to this opera he wanted to see, and it wasn't costing anything so I thought why not? But I could already see things weren't going anywhere, and I--well I sort of stood him up." "Oops! Go on." "Well I didn't actually stand him up. I said I wasn't well enough so it was all cancelled and everything." "That's alright then," said Mandy reassuringly. "No, but me and some mates went out that night down the pub and someone told me after that Sam saw me. He's been all cold ever since." "You could have just told him you were feeling better and got talked into going out. That's not so bad, is it?" "That's right. But we got drinking and these guys chatted me and Nessa up and we went off with them." "Went off! Did you do anything?" Mandy asked curiously. "I don't think so. Not that time. Just snogging and that. I was pretty gone, but not that gone. I can't remember much about it. I woke up at Nessa's so not much could've happened, could it?" "It doesn't sound like it," Mandy said doubtfully. "Anyway, I'm sorry about Sam. I didn't want to hurt him. And I was really hoping he'd accompany me for my clarinet exam next term." "Accompany you?" "On piano. You have to have an accompanist and Sam's really good. He's lots of fun about music and everything--apart from Gilbert and Sullivan. I don't know what to do now. Mum doesn't want to have to pay someone." "I play piano. I could accompany you if you think I'm good enough," Mandy answered. "Really? That'd be a big help. Thanks Mandy. And if you want to go out with Sam I don't mind. I'd be really happy actually." "Thanks, Gemma. I don't know about Sam and me. I'll wait and see what happens. He seems really nice." "Too nice," said Gemma ruefully. "I know what you mean," Mandy added. Gemma shot Mandy a quick look. "Mandy, there's a party on this Friday at a mate's. Beginning of school break sort of thing. Would you like to come? Her parents are away for the weekend, so it should be great." "Sounds good," said Mandy. "I'll just have to check with my guardian, but it should be okay." "Guardian? Don't you live with your parents?" By now they had arrived at the shops, and the other girls had joined their conversation, so Mandy had to go over the story of the fire and her parents" supposed deaths and how she had to have a guardian, and so on. They were all very solicitous. "By the way, Sam Delaney really likes you Mandy," said Katrina Parkes. "Sorry Gemma," she added. "It's okay, Kat," said Gemma, "we've been talking all about it. I'm to'ally cool about it, actually." "But I bet you didn't know Louise Lonnergan likes Dave Hardacre," added Katrina. "No she doesn't," said Gemma. "She hates him." "How do you know?" asked Katrina. "Because she doesn't. She told me," Gemma said with upward inflection. "She said, "I really hate Dave Hardacre and I can't stand him and he makes me puke," and stuff like that." "Then why did she say she was going to ask him to her party then?" Katrina persisted. "She probably wanted to upset Maria Grearly," said Helen Darley, joining in. "She hates Maria Grearly." "Hmm. You could be right," said Katrina. "I'd better ring Joanna Huxtable. She's calling everyone with the news. I'd better warn her." She pulled out her mobile phone. "Joanna? Hi, it's Kat. Listen. Louise may not like Dave after all ... You already know?... That's all right then ... Really? ... How embarrassing! ..." They went into the shopping centre and continued their conversations, visited shops, tried on clothes, phoned other girls on their mobiles, commented on other people in the shopping centre, talked about all the boys in their year and generally just hung out together. Mandy tried not to miss anything. It was very interesting hearing about all the different relationships and all the gossip about everyone. The verdicts about people, whether for or against, were always so strong and clear: it was all so emotional and chaotic but wonderfully exciting. It was better than watching soapies, because it was real, she reflected. There were lots of other school students in the crowded shopping centre, from many different schools. She noticed one pair of rather attractive schoolgirls--taller than her but the same age or perhaps a bit younger, perhaps sixteen--in an entirely black school uniform. One had teased black hair done up on her head and the other had teased almost white bleached blond hair arranged in the same rather dishevelled up-do style. Both wore very dramatic makeup, dark mascara and dark red lips, and black nail polish. Their black skirts were unbelievably short and tight around their hips, and their black-stockinged legs seemed to go on forever. Their white shirts were untucked underneath really tight black pullovers (with the school crest embroidered in white on the left breast), and black neckties were tied loosely around unbuttoned collars. They looked incredibly skanky as they walked through the shopping centre holding hands, and Mandy wondered how the school ever let them get away with it. On the other hand, as a look it was fantastic, and she decided to try to alter her own school skirts (already quite short) to make them a little shorter and tighter over the Easter break to see how much she could get away with. She'd already noticed that a lot of the students at the school took small liberties with the uniform, and seemed to get away with it. She gave the two girls a smile as they walked past her, but they almost sneered back. Not friendly, then, she thought. Pity. They visited a few more shops, bought some chips which they ate in the courtyard, and visited the Ladies' Room, all together. They stopped outside a jewellery shop to look at the items in the window. After a while they all moved off together. Mandy hung back for a while, looking in the shop. The two girls in black school uniforms she had seen earlier were coming back the other way, still holding hands. They stopped outside the jewellery shop right near where Mandy was and were looking in the window. "You two look great," Mandy commented. They turned together and regarded her coldly. "You sort of match, don't you? It looks really good. I can hardly keep my eyes off the two of you. The way you've adapted the school uniform, I bet it drives them crazy." They were silent for a while, and Mandy began to feel rather anxious. Eventually the dark-haired one spoke: "Thanks," she said. "But don't you find us intimidating?" she added in a rather flat accent. They both had tongue piercings, Mandy noticed. Perfect touch! "Yeah, you are!" Mandy gushed. "I didn't think I'd be brave enough to talk to you. I'm Mandy." They regarded her in silence for a moment or two. "Hi. I'm Trish," said the dark one, finally. "Angela," said the blond one. "Hi." "I'd think I'd like to go punk some time," Mandy said. "I'd be punk Goth, I think." Trish and Angela regarded her. "That'd work," said Angela. "You're not pale or dark enough to go vampire Goth. What bands do you like?" "Oh, I like all sorts. But I do quite like, you know, Bloody Dead and Sexy, Black Ice, Antiworld. They're great," Mandy answered. "You like Emo?" asked Trish. "Well, yeah actually. It's okay," Mandy answered. "Thought so," said Trish. "We might go Emo soon." "So you're not, like, purists?" Mandy ventured. "Nah. It's just a laugh. We'd like to try being Goths though, wouldn't we Ange? You have to really get into it, though. I dunno really. It might get boring." "Well, you both look dead sexy," Mandy told them. "Thanks," they said together, their pretty smiles rather spoiling their severe style. Mandy noticed the other girls standing some distance away, looking back at her aghast. "Oh," said Mandy, "I think my friends are waiting. I'd better go. Be seeing ya." "Bye," they said as Mandy left them. "Were you talking to them?" Katrina asked in amazement. "Just saying hello," Mandy answered. "They seem quite nice," she added. "They look a bit rough to me," Helen said. "That's 'cos you're a chav," Vanessa said teasingly. "I am not a chav!" Helen replied indignantly. "I hate chavs." They wandered out of the shopping centre arguing and laughing and chatting, and Mandy took her leave once they were near the tube station, warmly hugging each one. Within minutes her mobile phone rang. "Hello?" she said. "Mandy? It's Kat. Did you get a seat on the train?" "Yeah, straight away," Mandy answered. Ealing Broadway was the terminating stop, so it was a safe bet she'd get a seat since she was one of the first on the train. "That's good," said Katrina. "See you tomorrow. Bye." "Bye," said Mandy. She took out her iPod to listen to some music. It should be Goth music, she thought. Black Ice first, then some Cinema Strange. There was only so much of that she could put up with, however. What should she play next? She played some Gregorian chant. Now that's really gothic, she smiled to herself. Sloane Square was the next station.