8 a bad time for zerelda

during the first two or three weeks of term poor zerelda had a very bad time. although she was older even than the fourth-formers, and should therefore have found the work easy, she found, to her dismay, that she was far behind them in their standard of work!

it was a blow to zerelda. after all her posing, and grown-up ways, and her manner of appearing to look down on the others as young and silly, it was very humiliating to find that her maths, for instance, were nowhere near the standard of maths in the fourth form!

“have you never done these sums before?” asked miss williams, in astonishment. “and what about algebra and geometry? you don’t appear to understand the first thing about them, zerelda.”

“we—we don’t seem to do our lessons in america the same way as you do them here,” said zerelda. “we don’t bother so much. i never liked algebra or geometry, so i didn’t worry about them.”

miss williams looked most disapproving. was america really so slack in its teaching of children, or was it just that zerelda was stupid?

“it isn’t only your maths,” she said at last. “it’s almost everything, zerelda. didn’t you ever study grammar in your school?”

zerelda thought hard. “maybe we did,” she said at last. “but i guess we didn’t pay much attention to the teacher who taught grammar. i guess we played about in her lessons.”

“and didn’t you do any history?” said miss williams. “i realize, of course, that the history you would take would not be quite the same as ours—but miss carton, the history mistress, tells me that you don’t know a single thing even about the history of your own country. america is a great country. it seems a pity to know nothing of its wonderful history.”

zerelda looked troubled. she tried to think of something her school had really worked at. what had she taken real interest in? ah—there was the dramatic class!

“we did a lot of shakespeare, miss williams,” she said. “gee! i just loved your shakespeare. he’s wunnerful. i did lady macbeth. you should have seen me trying to wash the guilt off my hands.”

“yes. i can quite imagine it,” said miss williams, drily. “but there’s a little more to education than being able to act lady macbeth. zerelda, you will have to work very very hard to catch up the work of your form. i am willing to give you extra coaching, if you would like it, and mam’zelle, who is very distressed at your french, says she also will give you some of her free time.”

zerelda was really alarmed. gee, wasn’t it enough to have all these classes and games, and be expected to attend each one and be serious over the work, without having to do a whole lot of extra study? she looked so very alarmed that miss williams laughed.

“well, zerelda, i won’t burden you with extra work just yet, if you’ll really make an effort and try to give your attention to your school work and not—er—quite so much attention to your face, shall we say—and nails—and hair?”

zerelda was annoyed. she was going to study to be a famous film-star, so what was the use of all this algebra and history stuff? just waste of time for a girl like her! she had good brains, she knew she had—it was just that american schools and english were so different. they had different standards. life was easier in america.

she looked down at her long, beautifully polished nails and well-kept hands. she felt that miss williams had shamed her and made her feel small. zerelda couldn’t bear that! she was better than any of these tough little english girls any day! they didn’t know a thing really!

so she looked stubborn and said nothing. miss williams gathered up her papers, thinking that zerelda was really a very difficult girl.

“well, that’s all for now,” she said, briskly. “i shall expect much better work from now on, zerelda—and please do think of the other fourth-formers too. you know that returned work means an order-mark, which counts against the whole form. you have got far too many.”

zerelda thought that order-marks were very silly. she wouldn’t have minded at all getting twenty or thirty a week! but the other fourth-formers minded very much.

the head-girl, lucy, spoke to zerelda about it. “look here, zerelda, can’t you stop getting order-marks? there are two half-holidays given this term, but any form getting over forty order-marks has the holiday withheld. the form will be pretty wild if you make them miss their half-holiday, i can tell you!”

so, what with some serious talks from miss williams and some tickings-off from lucy, and from ellen, a serious, scholarship girl who had gone up from the third form into the fourth, and was very pleased about it, poor zerelda had rather a bad time.

“there doesn’t seem time to do anything!” she thought to herself as she polished her nails that night. “i simply must take care of my hair—and it takes ages to curl it properly and set it—and i can’t let my complexion go—or my nails. i don’t have a minute to myself. but i simply must do something about the work! i can’t bear these english girls to be so much better at everything than i am!”

so zerelda really did try with the work. but her pride would not let her cast off her posing and her grown-up ways. she no longer really looked down on the english girls, but she was still going to show them that she, zerelda, was far, far above them in all the ways that mattered!

zerelda had hoped that she would be able to show her ability for acting in the play the fourth form were going to perform. but, alas! for her, it was a french play, and zerelda’s french did not please mam’zelle at all.

“c’est terrible!” cried mam’zelle dupont, and the other mam’zelle for once agreed with her. both of them were astonished at zerelda and her ways, and spent a few pleasant half-hours telling each other of “zerelda, cet enfant terrible,” that terrible girl.

when zerelda had been awarded fifteen order-marks, had three lessons out of every six returned, and had one day given in no prep. at all because she said she couldn’t do any of it, miss williams went to miss grayling.

“zerelda brass isn’t up to the fourth form,” she told miss grayling. “she’s making them furious because of the order-marks she’s getting. the trouble is they know what a lot of time she wastes over her appearance, and they think if she gave a bit more time to her work, it would be better all round. i’ve told her this myself, of course. i don’t think she’s a bad girl at all, miss grayling—only silly, and brought up with quite the wrong ideas. what are we to do?”

“do you think extra coaching would help?” asked miss grayling. “she is nearly sixteen, you know. she ought to be well up to school certificate standard. she had quite a good report from america.”

“no. i don’t think extra coaching would help at all,” said miss williams. “it would worry her too much. she simply isn’t up to the fourth form—and i really doubt if she’s up to third form standard either! the trouble is she’s got such a great opinion of herself, and appears to look down on the others. they resent it.”

“of course they do,” said miss grayling. “and quite rightly.” she said nothing for a minute. she felt a little disappointed. she had hoped that the american girl would be good for the english girls, and that the english girls would help the american. but apparently it hadn’t worked out that way.

“she must go down into the third form,” said miss grayling at last. “i know it is a humiliation and that zerelda will feel it a disgrace—but somehow i feel that won’t do her any harm. send her to me.”

“thank you, miss grayling,” said miss williams, and went out, really relieved to think that zerelda would no longer be her responsibility. she would now erase all those order-marks that zerelda had unfortunately got for her form. they would be pleased. they were a good hard-working form, and miss williams was proud of them. she was glad to get rid of a girl who had brought them nothing but disgrace.

“but she’s not really a bad girl,” thought miss williams, who was very fair-minded. “she’s just not up to standard in any way. she’ll be better in the third form.”

she sent zerelda down to miss grayling. zerelda, who would have laughed at the thought of being scared of any teacher, when she first came to malory towers, actually found her heart thumping away hard as she went to find miss grayling in her pleasant drawing-room.

she went in and stood in front of the head mistress’s desk. miss grayling put down her pen and looked at zerelda, noting her brassy golden hair, done more neatly now, but still carefully set, her brilliantly polished nails, her carefully powdered face.

“zerelda, i have sent for you because i think you are not up to the standard of the work in the fourth form,” said miss grayling, going straight to the point, as she always did. zerelda flushed bright red.

“i am sorry about this because you are really above their average age,” said miss grayling. “but i think that it will be too difficult for you to cope with extra work, and also i am afraid that the fourth form, which is a school certificate form, will not take kindly to quite so many order-marks as you have been producing for them.”

zerelda blushed an even brighter scarlet, and was angry to feel herself going so red. what did she care about the silly fourth form?

“therefore i think you will do better if you go into the third form,” said miss grayling. “they don’t take life—or lessons—quite so seriously as they will when in the fourth form—so you should be happier there, and able to work better.”

zerelda was shocked. to go down into a lower form! what a disgrace! true, she liked the third-formers, and didn’t get on with the fourth form girls—but she didn’t want to slide down a whole form! whatever would her people say—and her english grandmother would be amazed.

“oh, miss grayling—gee, i wouldn’t like that,” said zerelda, in distress. she undid a button and did it up again, then undid it, not knowing what she did.

“don’t pull that button off, zerelda,” said miss grayling. “i think you’ll soon settle down quite well in the third form. you can go there tomorrow. i will tell miss peters. move all your things tonight.”

“but, miss grayling—don’t make me do that!” begged zerelda, feeling very small and disgraced, and not liking it at all. “this is all new to me, this english school—and the work too. you see . . .”

“yes, i quite see all that,” said miss grayling. “it’s partly because of that that i think life would be easier for you in the way of work, if you go into a lower form. i am convinced you will not get on at all in a higher form. but, zerelda—don’t slide down any further, will you? you belong to a great country, and you are her only representative here. be a good one if you can. and i think you can.”

this was the one thing that could touch zerelda. gee, she stood for america, didn’t she! she was living in england, but she was a bit of america. all right, she’d go down into the third form, she’d not even make a fuss. and if the girls teased her, she’d just show them she didn’t care! but—she would try to get on with the work all right. certainly she wouldn’t slide down any further!

“you may go, zerelda,” said miss grayling, and zerelda went. miss grayling watched her as she went gracefully out of the door. if only she could see herself as a proper little schoolgirl and not as zerelda, the promising film-star, how nice she might be!