|Datum||16. Februar 2011|
|Quellen||BBC - Offizielle Webseite|
Christa hat ein Profil von Brandy Mulligan (früher Crompton) erstellt.
NAME Brandy Mulligan/Crompton
APPEARANCE Bimbette. Blonde, probably dyed. "The best looking girl in school" according to Toilet Wall Monthly.
ATTITUDE Unnervingly sweet with a well hidden bitchy underside. If she were a chocolate it would be a hard centre. With a razor blade hidden in it.
SOCIAL CIRCLE The Perfect Plastics. That's my name for them anyway. Gum chewing gossips with the highest text per minute rate in the school. Their thumbs are a blur when anyone dumps anyone else.
REASON FOR SUSPICION She saw Matt letching at her then ran out of the room. Five minutes later, he's dead. She also trains in martial arts and has been cautioned for excessive use of force. And last but by no means least, she's a Crompton. From both a nature or nurture point of view, she should by rights be making a drum out of our skins.
OTHER COMMENTS Every school has its own mythology, and the legends about the Cromptons are definitely a big part of ours. For as long as I've been here there have been stories circulating about them, to the point where they've become a kind of short hand for any kind of excessive or outrageous illegal behaviour. If a car is found burnt out anywhere within five miles of school, someone is bound to blame the Cromptons at some point. Usually in a whisper, after looking around for witnesses first. And then running off.
And I am aware that it's mostly utter nonsense. I realise that for the Cromptons to have done half of the things that people say they have, they would all currently be strapped to trolleys wearing hockey masks in some prison somewhere. But something must have started it all. Way back when. You don't get that kind of name without reason. No smoke and all that.
And Brandy, our lovely perfect Queen Bee Brandy, is one of them.
I know it's fairly rich for us to talk about someone hiding another side to themselves, but on a personal note, can I just say how gratifying it is to discover that little miss perfect has such a juicy secret. I mean this is HUGE. This dumps all over the time someone spotted Michaela Slade's sixth toe in the showers. Or Lindsey Fallow's 'affair' with the married man she was babysitting for. (How anyone could call that twisted business 'an affair' is beyond me. It was six months shy of being illegal and wrong on so many levels I lost count.)
And there's this weird bit of me that empathises with her. To walk around all day, smiling happily, putting out one face to the world, with this big dark secret eating away at you. It would change everything if people knew. People that once smiled and chatted would now look away. Or cross the street. Or run screaming.
What must she think when she hears the stories about her dear old Dad? How many times has she bitten her tongue as some new story circulates? Does she ever snap, let the Crompton side out? Did she snap that day, when she saw Matt lurking?
Ladies and gentlemen, we may have a monster among us.
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