Violet got up early the next morning after a restless night hidden under her sheets and went downstairs to have breakfast. She walked into the kitchen where her father was half asleep over some papers at the table. He quickly sat up and gathered in his notes.

“You’re up early pet,” he said, almost knocking over a cold cup of tea.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied, the words were brief but it was a relief to say something after such a long silence.

“Me either.”

Her Dad smiled warmly trying to hide his surprise.

“What ya doing?” Violet asked.

“Just research for work,” he said, packing the pages away under his notepad.

“Is it for the Archers?”

He nodded and pushed his chair back from the table.

“Would you like some cereal pet?”

“Dad,” Violet said, “do you like the Archers?”

“Of course pet. They’re my bosses.”

“It’s just well there’s something strange about them and this place. Don’t you think Mam is being a bit weird?”

“Violet, don’t say something like that about your mother. It’s just the stress of the move. You’ve been hard on this place since we got here. Give it a chance!” he suddenly snapped.

For the second time in not even a day there was anger in his voice. What was it with adults, last night he sounded like he wasn’t sure about the town either.

“I hate it here Dad, I hate this place, I never wanted to move here. You made us and now everything is gone strange even Mam and you!” Violet roared, storming from the room.

“Violet get back here this minute!”

His tone was terrifying and even though she wanted to be brave and walk away, she turned around and edged back into the doorway.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again. I am trying to make a life for us here. I know it’s difficult, it is not easy to move at your age but you have to give this place a chance.”

“At my age! I’m ten Dad, I’m not a baby. I have given this place a chance but I hate it, I HATE it Dad. Even last night I couldn’t sleep because there was someone in my room. I wasn’t even going to tell you because I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“What do you mean someone in your room?”

“I heard voices Dad. It was a boy, he talked to me!”

“Violet it’s just your imagination. It’s a new house. Look pet we’re all trying to find our feet here. You’ll make lots of new friends today and you’ll forget we ever had this fight.”

“No I won’t Dad. You never listen to me. I wish I never started talking to you again!” she screamed and ran from the kitchen.

This time she didn’t turn back though her Dad called her name. She sprinted up the stairs, slammed her door and flung herself onto the bed. For a while her Dad banged around in the kitchen below, then the front door clattered, the car roared to life and he was gone.

Violet cried into her pink cotton sheets loud enough so her mother would hear. She wanted her Mam to give her a hug and whisper that everything would be okay. First her Mam changed, then her Dad. Now Violet had nobody. She was alone. Her Mam never came and she got ready for her first day of school by herself.

“Were you fighting with your father this morning Violet?” her mother asked when she joined her in the kitchen.

“No,” Violet answered, her voice teary.

“Are you okay pet?”

She raised her red rimmed eyes to meet her mother’s.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh good,” her mother smiled, “I’ve made you ham sandwiches for lunch and a bun. Now brush your hair Violet, don’t want you looking a mess in front of all the other mothers.”

They walked in silence to school. The playground was full when they got there and some of the kids waved at Violet as she passed through on the way to the principal’s office. After a quick introduction she said goodbye to her mother and followed the principal to her classroom.

She stood nervously at the front of the class as the principal whispered something to her new teacher. In her old school the minute teacher was distracted, they would talk, pass notes and sometimes even switch seats. Here it was different, the students sat in silence. They didn’t even smile.

The teacher Mrs. Moody was short, round and granny old. She wore the usual glasses, a blue skirt, red cardigan and a white shirt. She had the shine.

“Violet dear,” she said as the principal left the room, “take a seat. There is one free at the back.”

Violet walked to the end of the room and took a seat between a girl with pigtails and a curly haired boy. They both smiled as she sat down.

“Now class, say hello to Violet.”

Like a choir everyone responded, giving Violet the loudest “Hello” she’d ever heard. Then the teacher got her to stand up and tell the class about her life before Perfect. Every student listened. No one chewed a pencil, chatted, fidgeted or did anything normal. When she’d finished talking about herself, teacher gave the class some work and came down to Violet.

“Violet dear,” she whispered, “We have a few tests here that each new student has to take. It’s so we can tell where you fit.”

“What do you mean?” Violet asked.

She didn’t fit in anywhere.

“It’s nothing to worry about. We just like to assess all our students. To tell what standard you are at and if you have any defaults, I mean problems we should be aware of.”

“Oh no teacher, I don’t have any problems,” Violet smiled as nicely as possible.

“I don’t mean problems as such dear. It’s just in this school we have a certain student we nurture, the perfect student. Not all our pupils are perfect when they come to us. Take Michael over there,” the teacher said, pointing to a blonde haired boy busy doing his maths problem, “he was quite excitable when he came to us, couldn’t sit still for a minute but we soon worked that out of him and now he’s picture perfect.”

“Oh I can sit still,” Violet insisted, disliking her new teacher’s tone.

“I’m sure you can Violet dear but there are all sorts of afflictions students are burdened with. We have had some here that made up stories, some that doodled all day, others like Michael that couldn’t sit still. The list goes on. I am sure you are not burdened with any such problems dear but we do need to know. Now it won’t take long.”

Swiftly Mrs. Moody put a piece of paper onto Violet’s desk and held a pencil out in front of her. Violet looked at the pencil then back at her teacher who nodded towards the object in her hand.

“Take it dear,” she smiled.

Violet reached up and took the pencil.

“Ah left handed. Thought as much,” the teacher tutted as she walked away.

Confused, Violet looked down at the paper on her desk. Question one: What is your name? She tried not to laugh as she filled in the empty box. The questions got stranger. Have you ever had an imaginary friend? Do you ever day dream? Have you ever felt the urge to run away from home? Do you question adults? She didn’t know what to write and had only filled in a few lines by lunch time.

She followed an orderly line out of the classroom and into the concrete playground. The sun was shining but everything looked grey. There was no life in the yard, no screaming, shouting or laughing which was normal in her old school.

Nobody ran, there was no football, no tig, nothing. She tried not to think about her old friends and what they were doing right now as she sat down on a bench by the wall.

“Hello Violet.”

She looked up from her lunch. It was a red haired girl she recognised from class.

“I’m Beatrice. Would like to join us for a game of skip?”

“Oh em...yeah I’d love to,” Violet replied.

Beatrice smiled and Violet walked with her new friend over to a group of girls standing around a long skipping rope.

“Who’d like to hold first?” Beatrice asked.

Violet stepped forward but the red haired girl held up her hand.

“Not straight away Violet. You have to learn how to swing the rope first.”

Violet blushed and stepped back into the comfort of the crowd. She didn’t know there were skipping rules. When the game started, each girl stepped into the rope and jumped exactly three times. There was no laughing or joking and the game was held to strict rules. When it came to Violet’s turn she jumped nervously in, the first two skips were great and she relaxed.

To liven the group, she decided to try a trick she’d practised at home for her third skip. The rope came round and she crossed her legs as it passed beneath her. Immediately the skipping stopped and everybody turned towards her.

“That’s not in the rules,” Beatrice barked.

“I’m sorry,” Violet stuttered.

“It’s not in the rules Violet,” Beatrice repeated again, “If it is not in the rules then you can’t do it. What do you think rules are for?!”

Violet didn’t know what to say as she looked around at the disgusted faces. Suddenly Beatrice began to swing the rope once more.

“It’s okay Violet,” she smiled as though nothing had happened, “maybe you should sit this round out to watch.”

She did what she was told, found a spot a little back from the game and watched. The girls jumped like robots until the bell rang. Immediately everything stopped and the pupils filed back into their classrooms. Violet had never seen anything like it.

This town definitely wasn’t perfect for children. Back inside she started filling out the rest of the strange questionnaire. Why would the school need to know her first pet’s name and if she visited her grandmother a lot. She was just writing that she didn’t have a grandmother when the pencil slipped from her hand onto the wooden floor. It was out of reach so she slipped off her seat in under the desk. As she stretched for the pencil she noticed something etched into the bottom of her desk.

William Archer was here, full of life and nothing to fear. 1965

She turned awkwardly in the small space and ran her fingers over the roughly scrawled words. It was that name again, William Archer. Weird that the Archers or her parents never mentioned William. He was definitely the coolest brother. Edward or George would never scratch their names into a desk, no one in the town would. No wonder William left. She crawled back out and took her seat. Just as she was about to start writing again, she sensed the silence and looked up. For the second time that day all eyes were on her.

“You’ve decided to rejoin us I see,” Mrs. Moody smiled.

“Oh I em... I dropped my pencil,” she said, holding it up.

“And you didn’t think to ask permission?”

“Oh I em...”

Permission to pick up a pencil sounded silly.

“Rules Violet,” the teacher snapped, “Beatrice told me about the skipping incident and now this. I’m afraid I will have to call your parents.”

Her parents called for a skipping trick and a lost pencil!

“But...I just...”

“No buts Violet. You are on thin ice as it is my dear. Now class back to work.” Mrs. Moody smiled.

Violet sat shocked for a while before resuming her questions. She had to get out of Perfect. Angrily she scribbled down the colour of her favourite pair of socks. William Archer must have gotten away and if he could do it she could too, parents or no parents.