Scarlett - Cathy Cassidy [28]
‘Work,’ says Dad. ‘If you won’t go to school, we’ll home-school you – for now, at least. I’ve been looking into it on the Internet.’
I blink. If school is a prison sentence, home-education must be solitary confinement.
‘I don’t want to be home-educated!’ I protest. ‘It’s bad enough being stuck here in the middle of nowhere, without being holed up in the cottage all day with just you two for company!’
‘We have to educate you, it’s the law,’ Dad says. ‘And I’m afraid Miss Madden isn’t too keen to have you back after last week.’
‘Good, because I’m not going back!’ I huff. ‘You can forget the home-education thing too. I don’t want –’
‘What do you want, Scarlett?’ Clare asks.
I frown, because what I want is something I can’t have. It’s long gone. A happy family, a proper home, a bunch of friends, a way of waking up in the morning without feeling like there’s a cold, hard stone lodged in my chest in the place where my heart should be.
‘Listen,’ Dad says. ‘Your mum is upset about all this, as you know. She’s been looking at boarding schools on the Net, and found a good one, all girls, not too far from here. Is that what you want?’
‘No!’ I choke out. ‘Why are you all trying to get rid of me?’
‘We’re not, Scarlett,’ Clare says softly. ‘Your mum is just worried. She wants what’s best for you, and Kilimoor National School clearly wasn’t it. Won’t you give the home-education idea a try?’
Clare looks at me steadily. She’s on my side.
‘Suppose,’ I sigh.
Dad lets out a long breath, and Clare breaks into a smile so wide her whole face shines. ‘Good girl, Scarlett,’ she says. ‘Good girl.’
That’s something I haven’t heard in a while.
‘You need to do maths and English,’ Dad says, loading up his plate with bread, cheese and salad. ‘They’re basic. I’ve bought books that seem about right for your age, so you can do a page from each every day Otherwise, study whatever interests you. You’ll be working because you want to.’
‘What makes you think I want to?’
‘You’re a clever girl,’ Clare says. ‘You’ll like this way of learning.’
‘Think of a project,’ Dad suggests. ‘Something that covers several subject areas. You can use books and the Net to find your information, and Clare and I can help, of course.’
I munch my bread and cheese. ‘I could study anything I wanted to?’ I ask. ‘The lough? The woods? The hills?’
‘Yup,’ Dad grins. ‘That would be geography, with a bit of science thrown in if you made a study of the trees, plants and animals. There’s history too – and all kinds of local legends, of course, like the one about the hazel at the lough…’
I think of the wishing tree with its red rags fluttering, and a boy who rode out of the sunset on a horse called Midnight.
‘I wouldn’t have to be stuck in the cottage the whole time, would I? I could go out?’
‘Sure,’ Clare says. ‘You could draw, write, map, measure, record temperature and rainfall, compare place names in English and Irish…’
I chew my lip. No teachers, no classrooms, no uniforms, no rules – it’s appealing. I’d still be stuck in the middle of nowhere, but maybe even nowhere can be cool if you know the right people. People like Kian.
‘Start with what you are interested in, Scarlett,’ Clare says lightly ‘It’s up to you.’
I can give the idea a try, or I can mess it up. I can choose to stay prickly, or I can let the anger go. Suddenly, letting it go actually seems like an option, like it’s a skin I can step out of, walk away from.
I try for a smile, and Clare grins back. Even Dad is looking hopeful.
‘I know,’ I say slowly. ‘I know what to start with. Home economics. I’ll make fairy cakes for when Holly gets back from school!’
‘Flour and sugar are in the cupboard, butter’s in the fridge, eggs you’ll have to hunt around the garden for,’ Clare says. ‘Make plenty!’
‘I will!’
An hour later, I arrange slivers of golden sponge like butterfly wings in the yellow buttercream on top of each little cake. They look cute, and they smell wonderful. Holly’s going to love them.
‘Learning at home’s not so bad, is it?’ Dad says.
‘It’s OK. And term still ends in a fortnight,