Georgina Philpott

March 28, 2020, 9:57 a.m.

Nothing fishy about this

If the school didn’t want a third year Aquila to stuff tiny little prawns into every crevice of the lecture hall she could find, then the school shouldn’t serve tiny little prawns at mealtimes.

Georgina was bored, but that was nothing new. Routine was crippling, and sitting still for long periods of time when there wasn’t anything to watch on the television didn’t agree with the Brit. Swinging her Beater’s bat at anything that moved near her was a great way to kill time but the mysterious magic that controlled RMI’s weather decided that never-ending downpours of ice cold rain was the way to go today. Bludgers inside were out of the question and Gigi suspected that clubbing people’s heads wasn’t actually all that fun in reality. There would be a good solid impact but then concussion and maybe blood and probably detention. Pineapple that.

But a girl had to entertain herself somehow. So when she saw a dish of freshly peeled baby prawns in the Diner she swiped it. She shrugged her black jacket from her shoulders and slung it over her arms, folded together in front of her, to conceal the food as she made her way out of the Diner and along the corridor.

Arriving at the lecture hall, Gigi poked her head around the door and found the room empty. She grinned, shoving the door further open with her shoulder, and slipped gracelessly through the gap.

Georgina dropped her jacket on the first chair, careful not to upend the fishy-fragranced food onto her chunky-heeled black laced pumps, black leggings with red lipstick kisses prints, or red and black striped oversized shirt, pulled into her waist with a wide black belt. Humming to herself, Gigi set about pushing little pink crescents into inkwells, joins in the furniture, and cracks in the floor. She bet she could get some into the window frames and bookshelves too, but the sound of the door opening put a temporary halt on Gigi’s mischief.

She ducked down between the rows of seats, a bowl of shellfish in one hand while she used the other to steady herself, hiding just in case it was a member of staff coming in. She didn’t mind being caught, but she hadn’t even finished yet. She wanted that chance.

Only as the door opened fully did Gigi realise her jacket was still draped over that first chair. Pineapple.

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