It's never a good idea to start by apologising, but I just really wanted to write a romance with a happy ending & where else are you going to find that but one of those sappy teen romances? And then I remembered the High School, all full of teenagers... The apology is because in my musing over school stories (by rights the British version of H G Wells really should be some weird, mysterious boarding school, you do know that?) and discovering that the 'proper' years for the British version correspond to no actual UK school years that I may have taken slight liberties. Plus, I *still* can't do non- Who characters. *** Then Do That Over: Redefinition Alistair just wants to ask out the quiet girl in the corner, but when a typical fluffy (US) High School romance storyline is attempted at (British-side) H. G. Wells, things start to get *really* weird. With sundry Autons, amorphous grey blobs and too much homework, but absolutely no dates of any sort. Oh, and Jo Grant fails General Science at A-Level while Zoe gets an new admirer. *** If Alistair had known that his plan to ask out Elizabeth Shaw would not run as follows: a) Find out more about Liz b) Get Jon Doctor out of the way c) Ask her out but would, in fact involve trouble even getting from a to b and never actually reach c, he probably would have gone ahead anyway, since he wasn't one to give up easily, but he might have thought twice about it first. * Monday The week began with an announcement from Assistant Head Mr Maxil that, in line with requests from disturbed inhabitants of Nameless, who still had some things that they baulked at, the school uniform, British side at least, would be traditional white blouse or shirt and grey skirt or trousers, plus tie and blazer with embroidered TARDIS emblem. They could wear whatever nonsense they chose when States- side, of course, but the combined tastelessness over here was giving residents nightmares. This, he explained, was due to the fact, that there were some things the current author absolutely refused to picture when writing the story and they would have to put up with it for the duration or be sued for final and irrevocable loss of sanity, which the school budget did not run to, particularly not after they'd had to replace 100 windows only last week. Most of the school seemed to be fairly relieved at the prospect, although less so when Maxil ruminated on the possibility of getting them some kind of hat with different coloured feathers to distinguish the various years... It didn't concern the Sixth Form / Year 12 / Year Eight / Whatever, who had the privilege of wearing their own clothes in any case, so Elizabeth Shaw spent the assembly thinking. For once, there were no complicated formulas running through her head. Instead, she was beginning to feel fed up. Why did she have to spend her whole life studying? Who decided that? She thought that it must have been her somewhere along the line, but it was hard to tell. This school year was barely halfway over and it seemed to have been going on for an infinity at least. Currently, she was coaching some of the slower members of her year in maths (Harry), science (Jo), and English Literature (Harry), doing science homework for almost everyone in the same class and taking an extra A Level. (Or extra two AS Levels, depending on exactly how up- to-date H G Wells wants to be). Plus, she had to attend Oxbridge meetings every month, where Barbara Wright told them how impossible it was to get into either Oxford or Cambridge, unless some mad lecturer took a liking to you at the interview. Liz was bright, enjoyed her work and planned to continue studying physics at university, but even so, she was beginning to feel rebellious. The others left her out when it came to social events. They had got too used to dumping their homework on her and having their invitations refused on revision grounds. Well, she was going to change, she thought, and they had better watch out! She walked down the corridor, heading for the library, still lost in her decision. Yes, she would finally get her hair cut and probably start wearing skirts as short as Jo's and -. Liz and Alistair walked into each other, Liz's folder and pens falling over the corridor. "So sorry," he said and helped her pick them up, as she blushed with embarrassment. * Watching, Tara turned to Dr Holloway. "It looks as though someone's committing cliché. Should we do something?" "What?" said Grace, who was busy. "Leave them. It's cuter than the usual, that's for sure. As long as there's no mess for me to deal with after." Tara chewed her lip, but realised that David Doctor and his class were waiting for her lesson and if the most hyperactive and youngest Doctor hadn't taken his medication this morning, there was no telling what she might find, but it would almost certainly involve calling on Grace, who wouldn't be appreciative. Still, she thought, it was an oddly conventional storyline for H. G. Wells. What was more, as she knew from her own experience, it was a distinctly US storyline and last time she'd looked anyhow they'd been in the British version. But what could she do? * "So why didn't you come with everyone to the party last week?" Alistair asked. "I was looking for you and you weren't there. You weren't there last month, either." Liz clutched at her folder and blushed again. "I'm surprised you noticed," she said, and, to her dismay, it came out far more acidly than she had intended. Luckily, he didn't take fright, but only started walking beside her along the corridor. "Well, I only started going recently and I was hoping you'd be there." "Oh," said Liz, breathlessly. Inwardly, she was cursing herself. She had the highest IQ of anyone in this year, barring the Doctor brothers, who were geniuses and she often topped them in the class lists, since both had spates of truancy and / or refusing to work. She should be able to talk to a boy, especially Alistair, who she'd always thought was not as bad as the rest. However, she suddenly found that this wasn't the case. He looked across at her curiously. "So what is it you do instead?" "Homework," she said with a sigh. "But you must be able to whiz through most of that stuff in an hour or so!" "Yes," she agreed wryly. "That's the problem. I've always been able to get on quickly, so I've been doing a lot of other people's homework for them." He stopped abruptly, causing a passing Year 6 / Top Junior / Year One to fall over with a squeak. "Whose homework, exactly?" he asked. "That's cheating!" "Well," she began and then thought that he had a point. She rather liked that he looked annoyed on her behalf, even though she of course, did not need anyone to do so. "Um, I've always done it," she finished lamely. "How do you think Jo passed her science GCSE / O-Level?" "I see," was all he said, and walked off, leaving her wondering anxiously if her encouragement of such dishonesty had given him a sudden disgust at her behaviour. Then she frowned. There was a problem now. She would have to leave her hair and clothes as they were, or he might - horror of horrors - think that she was doing it because she *liked* him. * Alistair chose the hour when Liz was doing her remedial coaching with Harry Sullivan and gathered the tutor group together. "What is this about?" demanded Jon Doctor impatiently. "Roger and I have fencing lessons in quarter of an hour, so you'd better be quick!" He folded his arms. "Look, I want to know how many of you give Elizabeth Shaw your science homework every week." "What?" said Jon, as everyone else in the class barring him, Roger and Alistair, put up their hands. He stared around. "Well, really!" Jo opened her eyes wide. "I had to!" "Why?" he asked. She blushed and looked down. "I'll explain when they've gone for their fencing lessons." Cliff Jones flicked a ball of paper off his ruler, hitting her. She let out a small squeal. "You are so lame," she told him and stuck her nose in the air. "Anyone would think you were twelve." He grinned widely. "Aye, but at least I know that a Thesaurus isn't a carnivorous dinosaur, dimwit." "Ooh," said Jo furiously. "That was a joke!" Alistair glared at Mike and Benton, who, he thought, should certainly have known better. "Right, well, it's got to stop! The poor girl doesn't have any time to herself. If I catch any of you doing it again, you'll have to answer to me!" "And me," added Jon, taking over as always. He shook his head. "I had no idea that such corruption was going on all around us." Everyone else glared at him. * "Is Liz upset?" asked Jo in concern. "I didn't know she was doing everyone's homework. I just had to get into A-Level science!" He sat on the table and looked at her. "Why?" She sighed. "Well, I have to be with Jon Doctor. And I'm in the lower set for almost everything else - and when Liz helps me with the science, I can keep being his lab partner and hold his test tubes for him." She leaned in conspiratorially, "And I can keep an eye on what Roger Master is up to. It's bad enough the rest of the time, but all those weird experiments - someone has to look after Jon." Alistair patted her head. No one could be angry at Josephine Grant for long. He only smiled and suggested that she try asking Jon for help next time, rather than Liz, who was obviously being stretched beyond her limits. "You like her, don't you?" said Jo with a wicked twinkle in her eye. "I think she likes you, too!" He coloured. "What makes you say that?" "Aha," she said and tapped her nose. "I just know!" * Tuesday brought more surprises. Alistair's announcement had unfortunately had an unintended effect, besides no one hurrying over to dump their latest science homework in Liz's lap. Alistair walked over to his usual seat, next to Jon and decided that it was obviously too soon to ask her out and that he should wait till Wednesday. Or Thursday. Then he glanced across at her, only to see that an unconvincing shop dummy was sitting in her seat. It turned and its hand dropped in half -. "Get down everyone!" he yelled and, used to this kind of thing, they all flung themselves under their respective tables. The lesson being English, Borusa merely sighed and shook his head at the Auton, which immediately hung its head and drooped over the table. "All right, what's happened to Liz?" demanded Alistair of the rest, once they had finished the lesson. Nobody stopped Borusa's lessons for anything, even his frequent regeneration changes. (And as for his law classes - well, at this stage, these were optional and only Jon, Tom and Roger were left, aside from Leela, who had chosen her A-Levels somewhat randomly.) Roger laughed to himself and abseiled out of the nearest window. "I take it we know who's responsible, then," said Alistair, who did wish that the Masters and the Doctors could keep their feud to themselves. However, being Jon's other best friend, often led to Roger deciding that made him a legitimate target. After last night's intervention, he'd obviously reached the same conclusion as Jo and extended that to Liz. Jon said, "Hurry - we need to find her!" "I'm coming," announced Jo. Alistair turned to tell her that she was a girl, so she should stay here and keep out of trouble, but she fixed him with a determined stare and said, "And don't try and tell me I'm a girl and should stay here and keep out of trouble, because that's kind of the point." "Is it?" She nodded, both of them watching her. Then she laughed. "Well, come on - who does the Master *usually* kidnap? And so who knows where all his little hidey-holes are?" "Of course," said Jon, speeding off with Jo close behind him. "You're right. He's probably just locked her in the cleaner's cupboard again." "Or the stationery cupboard," suggested Jo. "Or that funny little shed in the garden. Or -." And that was that. There was little point in running after them, since he wasn't getting any chance to be the heroic rescuer if Jo and Jon had got there first. And it would have been such a perfect opportunity. * "Have I got this right?" asked Roger Master later, slightly taken aback. "You want me to lock Elizabeth Shaw in the stationery cupboard again, but this time only to let *you* know...?" This was a really bad idea, he knew, but it was too tempting. After all, Roger would probably have done it without being asked. "Yes, but hurt her in any way and I'll beat you over the head with a cricket bat!" They were both busy to see the grey blob that was slowly appearing on the filing cabinet behind them. * Wednesday Alistair unlocked the cupboard only to be hit over the head with a heavy object. * In Dr Holloway's room, Liz leant against the wall and said crossly, "Well, I thought it was Roger Master coming back!" He put a hand to the lump on his head that he supposed he deserved if she had only known it. "Why? You didn't attack Jo and the Doctor yesterday when they rescued you!" "Yes, but I could hear them coming a mile off," she explained. "'Liz, are you all right in there?' and 'Oh, Doctor be careful!' and 'I'll just use my sonic screwdriver on this lock and we'll have you out in a jiffy, Liz'." He folded his arms. "So I should have announced that it was me?" "Yes," she told him. "So what will you do next time?" "Leave you in there?" * Liz left the room at a run, in tears. First she thought she'd killed him and then he was angry with her for trying to kill him. She had ruined everything and -. She stopped, bumping into two strange girls. One was blonde, thin and beautiful and the other was a beautiful, thin, brunette. Both were tall enough to look down on her and neither seemed quite real, although she could not have said why. "Oh, here she is," said the blonde, in an American accent. "The geek who thinks she's good enough for *him*!" Liz blinked in confusion. "Are you new here?" They almost never got new pupils in Sixth Form / Year 12. And why were they so ...plastic? And not in a way that suggested anything to do with the Nestene Consciousness. What was a geek, anyway? The brunette giggled. "Yeah," she agreed. "Who are you kidding?" "And what are you wearing?" added the blonde. "I thought I must be seeing things, but you've really got your hair in a plait, haven't you?" The brunette nudged her friend. "Is that your grandmother's outfit?" "He's *never* going to ask you out, weirdo," said the first. "As if!" Liz was already upset and finding two unnaturally perfect girls who wanted to tell her what she already knew as spitefully as possible was the last straw. She did what any other seventeen year-old girl would have done, whatever their IQ, and ran for the girls' loos to cry her eyes out. Behind her, the newcomers looked suddenly a fraction more real. * Once Dr Holloway was satisfied that no real damage had been done ("Well, no more than usual round here...") she let him go and he ran into the two girls, still in the hallway. He stopped, surprised to find someone unfamiliar in the Sixth Form / Year 12 / Whatever, but said, "Excuse me, but have you seen Liz Shaw come this way?" The brown-haired girl gave a giggle. "Oh, you don't want *her*," she said, as her blonde friend put a hand on his shoulder. He backed away in alarm. "Get off me! Now, who exactly are you? Are you aliens?" They both opened their mouths in surprise and two grey blobs floated in the air for a moment before vanishing. "I'll take that as a yes," said Alistair. "Have they done something to Liz?" He decided that he had better tell Jon at once. Weird was the order of the day at H. G. Wells, but this was something new. * "Look," said Jon Doctor, who was coaching Jo at chemistry and tearing his hair out and not prepared to pay him any attention, "you've got to get over this ridiculous prejudice against aliens. Everyone's got a right to exist you know, especially here." He tried Tom Doctor next, who was being interviewed by Sarah and Harry regarding his unconventional intervention at the last sporting event. "So there I was, in goal -." Harry coughed. "Doctor, it was a *rugby* match!" "Ah," he said, "so that was where I went wrong... You know, that explains a lot!" Alistair backed out of the door. He'd better sort it out himself, but he needed the help of the cleverest human he knew - and unfortunately, he'd managed to upset her about an hour ago... * "Elizabeth," he said, finally discovering her in the library. "I need to talk to you." She kept her head down, determined not to let him see that her eyes were still slightly red from crying. "Well, I don't want to talk to you." "I'm sorry," he said, sitting beside her. "Listen, Liz. This is really important - and I've got an idea!" Liz looked up cautiously. * "So," she said, a few minutes later in an empty classroom, "those two girls really weren't human. What were they?" He shrugged. "They turned back into these grey blobby things when I spoke to them - and then they vanished. But there was something I didn't like about them." "I didn't like *anything* about them," said Liz vehemently and then had a thought. She looked at him. "How's your head?" He laughed. "Oh, it wasn't that bad." "I was only wondering," she said innocently, but she decided that Doctor Holloway might have noticed if he'd started hallucinating. "So what do we do?" Alistair sat on one of the tables. "Well, I thought we ought to form an investigative agency and sort it out - you and me. What do you say?" "I'm not sure I'd have the time," she said. He grinned at her. "Nonsense. You're getting a lot less homework than you used to." "Was that *you*?" she asked, suddenly shy again. "You did that for me?" He said, "Well, yes and no. It was partly for selfish reasons. I think you ought to have some free time, or how am I ever going to get a date with you?" "Did you say-?" She had gone red again. This was so awkward. "What do you think?" She took a deep breath. "I don't know - it's all so sudden." "No, about investigating this thing together," he reminded her. Liz nodded. "We'd better. Whatever those things were, they don't belong here." * Thursday Things got weirder. While Liz and Alistair argued about what to call their new investigative agency, more grey blobs appeared and disappeared throughout the school and Liz found herself being continually followed by interchangeably perfect American girls, who had far too much to say about her clothes, her work and her chances with Alistair. She ignored them, but they were forever hanging around corridors with her, turning up in the toilets and sneering at her, or hounding her out of the library. It was enough to drive a girl mad. * Alistair found a stranger - another oddly perfect American, a boy this time - sitting next to him at the table, claiming to be his best friend Cooper. "I've never seen you before in my life," he said, pulled him out of his chair. "I don't think you're real at all." He punched him and 'Cooper' resumed life as a grey blob. * "We have got to do something about this!" fumed Liz. "How come you can get rid of them and I seem to be stuck with them?" He frowned. "I don't know. Perhaps you should try hitting them?" "Violence isn't always the answer," she said piously. Alistair raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't the impression you gave yesterday when I tried to let you out of the cupboard!" She flushed. "Oh." "Yes," he said, grinning widely and caught hold of her teasingly. "So don't preach at me. How about I hit them for you?" Liz thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. "No, we need to know why." She paused and then said, in a smaller voice. "Um, you should let go of me now." "I don't think I will," said Alistair and neither of them did much more work on the alien invaders for a while. * Friday "I've got an idea," said Liz, who was sitting at a table with notes all around her. "I think I might be on the right track at last." Alistair picked up a piece of paper and looked at it quizzically. "What does this say?" "That?" said Liz, swiping it off him. She glanced at it and swallowed in sudden embarrassment. "Oh, that's not anything to do with this!" She screwed up the notepaper and put it in her pocket hastily. "I tried singing when they started on at me yesterday, mostly out of desperation - and they vanished!" He shook his head. "None of it makes any sense to me. I did try asking Jon again, but he seems to think I've developed a prejudice against grey-skinned aliens and he suggested I should see the counsellor, not him. I think trying to get Jo through her A-Level is proving rather taxing for him." "Oh, dear!" she laughed, when there was a knock at the door. Zoe Herriot, from the year above, poked her head round the door. Zoe was one of the few students who might possibly be cleverer than Liz. She was also chief pupil librarian here. "Is this Shaw Investigations?" "Yes," said Liz swiftly and then gave Alistair a sidelong glance, waiting for his reaction. Alistair frowned. "What? Liz, I thought we agreed -." "If we put your name on it as well, it sounds as if there are three of us," she retorted. "I said yesterday and -." Zoe coughed. "You're trying to find out about these amorphous grey blobs, aren't you?" "Yes," said Liz, recollecting herself, fun as arguing with Alistair was. She said, "Well, I think we can help each other." She called back out to the corridor to Jamie and then looked at the others. "It's time you two met Gwendoline." * Monday Mr Maxil announced at the weekly whole-school assembly that there would be a special presentation this afternoon concerning the grey blob infestation of the school, run by Elizabeth Shaw, Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart and Zoe Herriot. * Monday afternoon, School Hall Elizabeth Shaw got up from her chair and made her way onto the stage, followed by the eyes of half the school. Over the weekend, she had paid a visit to the town, lost her plait and bought a new skirt that proved to the world she had knees, which she wasn't entirely sure was a good thing. Alistair switched on the OHP and Liz began. "Everyone's been wondering what these strange grey blobs are. Well, we've been investigating the matter - and we have the answer." She glanced up at the slide of a small, grey blob, drawn in felt tip by Alistair earlier. Perhaps they didn't really need illustrations, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. "I'm going to explain the theory and Alistair will give us some ideas on how to get rid of them." She paused. "The problem seems to be that whatever we like to think, we are still science-fiction characters - mostly - and just because we've been randomly placed in a school setting, it doesn't mean that we fit into the school story genre happily." Everyone was looking bored. Thank goodness the more insane half of the school had already declined to come to an extra lecture when they could be outside causing chaos. Liz shuffled her notes, feeling panicked. Someone had their hand up. She stopped, gratefully, and said, "Yes, Sarah?" "Are you really going out with Alistair?" she asked, reporter's notebook in hand. Liz blushed yet again. This teenage romance thing was hard work. But, actually, that was the lead in she needed. She smiled graciously at Sarah. "That's part of what happened. The current story tried to play out along a typical US High School storyline, but we don't have some of the stock characters required to do that and it created small holes. These then leaked energy that manifested themselves as these amorphous grey blobs and then as the 'missing' characters. "We've called them Generic School Characters or GSC's and they're a complete nuisance. Alistair and I were being followed around by US High School GSCs, but Zoe has had an encounter with a British GSC, so be on your guard if you run into any oddly enthusiastic younger pupils who want to plan a midnight feast." The entirety of Year 6 / Year One / Top Juniors present turned to look at David Doctor, who sulked. "You see, our typical stories revolve around -," she faltered, suddenly realising that she was attempting to describe the indescribable, "well, generally bizarre events and not the New Girl or Boy, which is what all types of school stories tend to use as a catalyst." Charley, who'd recently had an abrupt promotion to Colin Doctor's year, said, "Oh." Suddenly, a lot of very odd things made sense... Liz saw that everyone's eyes were glazing over and that she had better ditch her essay on genres and stereotypes. "And now Alistair will tell you what you can do to get rid of them," she said hastily and left the stage, shaking at the ordeal. Alistair took her place now and she manned the OHP. To her annoyance, he didn't look in the least bit nervous. "Now we've established what these GSC's are and where they come from, but I'm sure what you all want to know is: how do we actually get rid of the wretched things?" Bill Doctor stood up. "Hitting them over the head with a spade works wonders, I can tell you." "Thank you, Bill," said Alistair. "However, Liz th - er, *we* - thought that something less drastic might be better. Firstly, we found that reacting as the characters expected strengthened the GSCs. If you're being bullied by some mean students, the last thing you should do is get upset or angry." Liz put up a cartoon drawing of a crying stick girl being laughed at by a group of stick people. Then she put it up the right way round. "That sort of thing gives them more of a foothold. The trick is to do something that a Generic School Character would not be expecting as part of a typical school storyline. It doesn't matter whether it's singing, telling jokes, throwing a fish at them or offering them a cup of tea. Just do the unexpected." Everyone was nodding. Liz thought that if the energy had any sinister agenda, other than the obvious, it should have been more devious. At H. G. Wells, it was only a really unusually normal student who did the expected. "So," summed up Alistair, "no need for violence, or spades. There is another method of dealing with them, but we're not sure at the moment whether it's a good or a bad thing, so I'd better hand over to Zoe, who will tell you about her experiences last week." Zoe took the stage, looking even shorter than usual as she passed tall Alistair on the way back down. She didn't seem to be bothered by public speeches, either. "I think what I'd like to say is that it pays to be careful what sort of unexpected thing you do. We were being followed around by a British GSC called Gwendoline - a classic boarding school snob, who kept saying I was just a scholarship girl and I shouldn't have any friends. Pointing out that no one would want a scholarship to H G Wells made no difference, so we let Jamie try out his idea. As usual, we should have known better." "Hey!" muttered Jamie from the audience. Zoe continued. "He thought kissing her behind the bike sheds would make her vanish, but it didn't and then he kept hiding from her. So I've spent the last few days being followed round by Gwendoline sobbing about her broken heart and how she wants to start a spite campaign against Victoria, stealing her pens and silly things like that. We think -." Alistair coughed meaningfully. "*Liz* thinks," Zoe corrected herself, "that Jamie's mistake - sorry, did you hear me at the back? - we thought that JAMIE'S REALLY STUPID MISTAKE was involving any emotion. The moment the two-dimensional stereotype starting having real feelings, she took a step towards becoming a genuine character. So we seem to be stuck with her. Like I said, she's still a bit of a snob, girly - and the practical jokes -." "Zoe," said Patrick Doctor gently. She paused. "Well, I've been *trying* to teach her how to play practical jokes, but she's a bit wet, to be honest..." "Hey," said Jamie to Ben in a loud whisper, "d'ye think this TCE thing explains how we got Zoe?" The carefully prepared lecture descended into a riotous squabble. * Mike turned to Benton on the way to the football pitch. "So, next time one of these fake gorgeous girls appears, d'you reckon we ought to try kissing them - just in case?" "I suppose it wouldn't hurt," he said. "Probably turn into frogs or something next, though." * "Well done!" said Jon Doctor grandly, to Liz and Alistair. "Of course, if you'd only asked me, I could have told you all that." They looked at each other, speechless. "Now, excuse me," he said, "I've got to find poor Jo. She's upset - I think she's failing her General Science A-Level." * Later, in the empty classroom that they had appropriated for their HQ, Liz and Alistair were sitting together on one of the tables, Liz swinging her legs idly. "We didn't do too badly, did we?" she said. He had his arm around her. "I thought you did splendidly. What shall we investigate next?" "Yes, there's no shortage of weird things around here," she agreed. "How about why we're all stuck here, staying in the same year? That's something nobody knows the answer to -." "No," he said, pulling her nearer. "No that - not yet. I like it here." She kissed him on the cheek and smiled. "That reminds me - aren't you *ever* going to ask me out?" "I thought I had..." *** Epilogue: Educating Gwendoline (or Everything I Needed to Know About Life I Learned From Zoe) "So," said Zoe sternly, "not many of us really knows who their parents are. You don't go around asking and then looking down your nose when they say that it's complicated." Gwendoline nodded. She was a fair, pretty girl, but there was something weak about the set of her face. "Who are your parents, anyway?" returned Zoe. "Some posh lord or lady?" She coloured. "Actually, I don't know. I don't have any background yet." "Hobbies? Favourite food? Anything?" Gwendoline said, "Not really. I just come into the room, mess up the story and go out again." "Oh," said Zoe, "well, we *all* do that. And, like I said, half of us haven't been given much background, either. It'll come to you, or you can make it up. Now, go off and find something to do - I've got some calculations I want to check. I'm sure the school computers are making mistakes." Gwendoline blushed and said shyly, "I'd rather stay with you, Zoe." "Ohhh," said Zoe and bit her tongue. "I'm going to *kill* Jamie!" The blonde girl went bright red and said, "Oh, but you can't - not poor Jamie!" "Oh dear," said Zoe and tucked her chair back under the table. "Listen to me Gwendoline - you've got some very important lessons to learn before we go *anywhere*, but I think we'll begin with Rude Names to Call Jamie and work from there." She reflected that it wasn't all bad to have a devoted shadow, who knew nothing about the world and believed everything she was told... *** TTR was created by Tyler Dion; Then Do That Over by Paul Gadzikowski. Doctor Who is copyright of the BBC. And I realise now that my Generic School Characters were probably influenced by a similar idea in Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next series. And Gwendoline was of course a nod to Gwendolen (and Alison & others) from Enid Blyton's Malory Towers - that weak, spiteful, snobbish girl, who you still feel sorry for at the end... * Okay, do you want an essay? (From a children's librarian) I thought I could write a high school story based in H G Wells Memorial High. It was impossible, so the grey blobs literally came out of the writing process, as to write a stereotypical teen high school romance, you can't do without the popular crowd. Who (and the other) characters just didn't work that way. Plus, while US High School stories are almost a genre in themselves and a setting that comes up with the same characters (in varying degrees of dimensionality, to invent a word), this just isn't the same for UK secondary schools, which usually feature where necessary as a setting, unless it's an issues book about bullying. Stories that feature the schools we all actually go to tend to be family/real life/issues or humour and school is pretty much only there in passing. (I bet people will think of examples now...) The UK school story is boarding school, even though hardly anyone goes to one - recently reinvented by J K Rowling. (Who even does classic things like the Nasty Replacement Head etc.) So the UK H G Wells really should be a crazy, weird, mysterious boarding school, probably in the middle of Exmoor, or the Black Mountains or somewhere. ;-) (Hogwarts has already nicked a remote Scottish location.) And all this only says a lot more about my reading matter than I really should admit. I'm sorry about the whole Liz/Brigadier obsession. I'll finish Anarchist Sprites next and pretend to still be sane, but there is some more non TTR to come, I'm afraid, but not too much more.