Chapter 2

“Please,” said Gibbsy. “You mustn’t tell anyone. You won’t, will you Amy?”

Amy was a little taken aback: the girl from what she could recall always called other pupils by their last name. Being called Buck—which naturally became ‘Fuck’— was too tempting to avoid. Now Gibbsy was using a first name, but then Amy concluded she was pleading for something. Probably her reputation as being a ‘hard case.’ Any news or even a rumour she was doing something naughty with a teacher would make her life hell: there were enough people at the school who didn’t like Pauline Gibbs who would delight in her humiliation. The girl’s damaged standing would spread beyond the school gates, too and Gibbsy’s enemies would be lining up to stick the boot in.

For Amy, the question was if she was one of those enemies. Her old, or former, version would have delighted in making Pauline Gibbs the object of universal derision. ReVerse had given Amy another chance, and now she understood it might be useful to apply a mature head. Was getting Gibbsy on Amy’s side better than seeing her wallowing in distress? It was an intriguing question. There was also the possibility of Mrs Barker being useful in some way, persuaded via Gibbsy to help Amy improve her future life. Amy had no idea whether or not such a move would open can of worms or present exciting opportunities. Right now though the issue was Gibbsy.

“Lift your skirt,” Amy said slowly (she had learned in her pre-ReVerse state that speaking slowly tended to demonstrate power). “Show me your stockings.”

“Why?” The black-haired girl frowned.

“Because if you will do that for a cow like Barker, you’ll do it for me.”

Gibbsy studied Amy’s face. It was as if she could see a difference but couldn’t work out what it was. For a moment Amy wondered if the girl had something up her sleeve, though Amy couldn’t be sure what it might be. Had she forgotten some indiscretion of her own from all those years ago, and thus was vulnerable? Is so, would it come down to a trade?

With a grunt Gibbsy said: “You look older, somehow.”

Amy gave a sort of dismissive laugh, but that was to hide her reaction: the last thing she wanted was to look like an old dear in a schoolgirl’s outfit. Amy decided it was better to still be on the offensive. “Maybe just a sign that I am tired of the crap I get from people like you. Time I grew up.”

Pauline Gibbs gave a small nod, but didn’t look convinced. Amy made the statement that if Gibbsy so much as even thought about trying to hit out Amy would be very angry, and could and would look after herself.

“I won’t hit you. Promise,” came the assurance.

“No, you won’t. Now, skirt up.”

Gibbsy looked round and satisfied they were still alone among the empty classrooms she hoisted up her skirt. Nothing to see that any schoolgirl of the time didn’t expect: full navy blue school knickers though with the white straps of a plain suspender belt and the dark welts of her stocking tops. The boys of 3B would have collectively killed for a moment like this.

Amy might have accepted it all but she detected a hint of something else. “Wait ... You’ve got two pairs of knickers on, right? I can see some lace. What’s underneath those school ones?”

Gibbsy blushed a little but didn’t drop her skirt. “It’s not me, it’s her. Charlotte. She makes me wear them for when ... when I have to let her put stockings on me.” The girl went to explain how the teacher insisted on clipping the stockings on her young legs, then she had to lower her skirt. But that was only so the girl would then lift her school skirt, ordering the teenager to use one hand to hold her skirt up and the other to tug the top of her school knickers down so the pink nylon knickers—with a touch of lace at the top as well as the legs—could be seen. Then Gibbsy had to ask if ‘Miss’ liked what she saw.

“I see,” said Amy. “Well, do it for me too.”

“You a lezzie too?” Pauline asked, warily.

Amy snorted a laugh. “No, but I take it Barker is, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking.”

For the first time ever, she saw Gibbsy smile a little. The girl recalled from her first time round as it were she had been familiar with the usual Gibbsy grimace and sneer, but this was a genuine smile. She looked surprisingly human, and Amy felt an unexpected warmth towards the girl she used to hate. Perhaps, she thought, there was something in the bully that warranted further investigation via little kindness and understanding.

“You could be lez,” said Gibbsy, softly, focussing on Amy’s eyes. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you were. Charlotte is.”