Children Of The Crucible

Sami Part 2

I woke up in the morning with a song stuck in my head. Brilliant start. And of course it had to be one of the most annoying, repetitive songs in the world, didn't it? Just my luck.

I turned on my tv as I made my bed, hoping it would block out the sound of the song in my head. The news automatically came on, talking about political stuff that I'm too dumb to understand.

I straightened my duvet and tucked it under my pillow. Perfect. It has been about a week since we moved in to the new house and we have finally got some order. My room didn't need too much decorating seeing as I liked the purple walls and the carpet anyway. I simply had to unpack my things and arrange my furniture and my room was finished.

Sadly, my family weren't keen on the decoration in the rest of the house, apart from the upstairs bathroom, and so the house has been what I can only describe as complete chaos for the past few days. There were ladders everywhere, and you had to watch where you stepped because there were open paint cans littered all over the floors. For some reason, instead of working their way through the rooms one by one, my parents decided to do the whole house all at once. Everywhere I looked, there were plumbers and decorators and a bunch of other people who didn't seem to be doing anything. My mum took charge of painting which she made a really nice job of. However, my dad and the floors didn't seem to get on as nicely. We just try to overlook the gaps between the boards and the peculiar angles they have been placed at. My dad says it gives the house more character or something.

Anyway, most of it was finished yesterday apart from the central heating which will get properly fixed later today. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to get it all done in one go. I suppose if we had gone through each room one by one it would have taken much longer to finish. My parents were definitely ambitious with their deadlines, but at least they got it finished so how can I complain.

My sister's room was probably the most difficult, seeing as she insisted on having three of her walls painted the perfect shade of magenta with one feature wall of wallpaper. My parents happily took this on as a challenge and spent ages making sure everything was 'perfect'. But with Lottie, there is always a fault and I kid you not this is what she said:

'But mummmmmmm, the magenta is half a shade too dark and there is a fold in the bottom corner of the wallpaper. I can't have a room that looks like this. How do you expect me to live in a room with such massive design flaws?'

I laughed for a solid ten minutes at this temper tantrum. My mum shared a look with me, then brushed her off dismissively, saying that if she wanted it lighter then she should have done it herself. That is not at all what a ten year old wants to hear, and so when my parents went out the next night to one of the neighbour's houses to get to know them better, Lottie told me she was going to be doing some painting. I thought she meant on an A4 sheet of paper not on her flipping wall. My parents were NOT impressed when they came home. They were particularly narked with me since I was in charge. But, come on, how was I supposed to know she was painting her walls?

Now the bottom half of her wall is covered in a very patchy coat of bright pink. When Lottie saw the state of it the next morning in the daylight, it was totally worth the trouble I got into, just to see her face.

Ok, it was ten past seven- that was enough reminiscing for one morning. Time to get ready for school.

I turned off my TV and rushed downstairs to grab some breakfast. Lottie and my parents were sitting at the kitchen table having some toast. Deciding that I couldn't be bothered to make myself a slice, I tipped some cereal into a bowl, dumped in some milk and joined them at the table. My parents were in some deep conversation about politics.

'I still can't believe they won the referendum.'

'I know, with quite a big majority too, I can't remember the exact percentage.'

'They won by 62%.' I say, surprised at myself for remembering the figure from the news this morning.

'Yeah, that's right' came my dad's voice, 'I didn't know you were interested in political stuff. You always said it bored you.'

I shrugged and continued eating my cereal.

I got to school five minutes before the bell. I sat down at one of the tables and brought out my maths books. Thanks to that stupid tutor last night, I didn't even get any time to do my homework. I hurriedly scribbled out the working and the answers, thankful that there were only three questions to do. I finished the last question just as the bell rang. My first class was business. Terrific.

I listened to the teacher drone on and on about databases and websites but I wasn't really paying attention. I didn't even realise she told us to pack our stuff away until I noticed everyone around me shoving their folders into their bags. We still had ten minutes until our next class so I was confused as to why everyone was putting their books away. It was then I noticed the teacher handing everyone a sheet of paper.

"There's ten questions in this test so write one to ten down the side of your paper."

Urgh, a test. I started to panic since I hadn't paid any attention to what the teacher had been saying throughout the lesson. She handed out the test paper and let us begin.

Question 1: What is a wireframe?

Crap. I had never heard that word before in my life. Considering the question, I contemplated just packing up and leaving the class. I mean, it wouldn't make much difference if I did the test or not- I was bound to get 0/10 anyway. I was just about to reach for my bag when I heard a voice. I looked up, confused. Who was speaking to me? Suddenly I realised it was coming from inside my head, a definition I had never heard before. Huh. Well, I thought, I might as well write it.

"A wireframe shows the basic layout of a web page and shows where headings, text, images and videos will be placed on the design."

Hmm. Maybe I was cleverer than I thought. I mean, it sure sounded like I knew what I'm talking about.

Question 2: Why is a flat file database inefficient?

What did flat file mean? As I racked my brain to come up with something vaguely smart-sounding, I heard it again. I recognised it. It was my teacher's voice, telling me the answer to the question. I scribbled it down before I forgot what she was saying.

This continued for the rest of the test. It was like I could replay what the teacher had said during the class. But how I could do this, I didn't know, but I didn't really care. The only thing that mattered to me was that I could do it, and that it was gonna save my grades.