End of term. I suppose Sir had run out of ideas. We are a demanding set. Anyway, he said we could choose our own activity. I assembled my ingredients, mixed them up and sniffed. It smelt alright so I drank some of it.
“Right folks. Ten minutes to write up your experiments.”
I opened my exercise book and started to write. Then I realized I couldn’t see my hand – just the cuff of my blouse, a gap and the pen moving over the paper. I looked down at myself: There was my uniform. I was wearing a skirt that day, not trousers, so where the skirt ended there was a gap and then my socks and shoes. I moved my feet and watched, fascinated, as the shoes and socks performed a surreal jig.
Then I had an idea. If I took my clothes off, no one would know where I was. I hastily undressed. Jane was sitting next to me and she suddenly noticed a neat pile of clothes on my stool.
“Sir, Sir, Hayley’s gone off and left her clothes behind.”
I watched as Mr. Jones came to investigate and the rest of the class stopped what they were doing to watch.
Now for some fun. I moved round the room, moving things and touching people. I hate John Howard. I took all his pens and books and put them on Sir’s desk. Phillip Robinson had tied my long hair to the back of my chair the other day. As he stood up to watch the moving books, I caught hold his leg and pulled him over.
I then went to tickle Jean. Suddenly I saw my hand going towards her ribs.
Oh my God – it was wearing off.