Magic at Silver Spires

Secrets, hopes and dreams… School friends are for ever!

Being Italian, it was really hard for me coming to a boarding school in England. But now I love it – I can't imagine being anywhere else!

Then just when I was really settling in, something terrible happened – and now Papà doesn't want me to stay at Silver Spires any more! If he makes me go to school in Italy, I won't see my friends again. I have to change his mind – but how?

Per le mie care amiche, Alex Hiller e Carolyn Bruce

About This Book

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Antonia's Favourite Recipes

Sneak Preview of
Success at Silver Spires

About the Author

Want to know more about the Silver Spires girls?

Collect the whole School Friends series

Copyright

“Don't let me see it!” squealed Emily, covering her eyes dramatically.

“Oh sorry!” I said, quickly whipping the mask I'd almost finished painting away from my face, and hiding it behind my back.

Maybe this was another English thing I didn't know about. Perhaps there's a – what do you call it? – yes, a superstition that it's bad luck to wear a mask inside a building or something.

My best friend, Nicole, quickly reassured me. “Don't worry, Antonia,” she said. “It's just that Emily likes surprises.”

Across the room I could see Mr. Cary, the art teacher, shaking his head at Emily as though she was mad. But his eyes were twinkling.

“It'll be tons more fun when it comes to the Italian evening if we haven't seen each other's masks before,” Emily added.

I agreed with Emily really, and that was why we six friends had been quite secretive when we'd been making and decorating our masks so far. But I just hadn't been able to resist showing mine off, which was stupid of me when I already know how exciting it is to see a mass of masks and have no idea whose faces are behind them. I can so clearly remember the thrill I felt when I set eyes on all the thousands of people dressed up in their masks at the
Carnevale
I went to with my family last February. The word “
carnevale
” is Italian for “carnival”. And for Italian people like me, the one that takes place in Venice is the best one, not only in Italy, but in the whole world. Mamma and Papà and my two brothers and I had what I think you would call “the time of our lives” when we were there last year.

It feels so strange thinking about it now, here in the art room at Silver Spires Boarding School for Girls. Of course, I had absolutely no idea back then that I'd be coming to a school in England in September.

“Why don't we each just show our mask to our best friend so that they can check it's all right?” suggested sensible Sasha.

The rest of us thought that was a brilliant idea, except for Emily, who had nowhere near finished hers. But all the same, we went off in pairs with our masks into different corners of the art room.

“Hey, that's brilliant!” Nicole said when she saw mine properly.

Her eyes were all shiny and I could tell she really liked it, which was a big relief, as I was the one who came up with the idea of making masks in the first place. It all started when we came back to school after the spring half-term holiday, and Mrs. Pridham, our housemistress, announced that Forest Ash boarding house (which is where we live and is definitely the best boarding house, by the way) was to have an Italian evening during this half of term. I know she chose Italy because that's my home country, and I feel very – how do you say it? – yes, very touched.

“I'd like you to take a leading part in helping to organize the evening, Antonia,” were Mrs. Pridham's exact words, spoken with her usual bright smile. “I need to pick your brains for ideas.”

Then we'd both laughed, because I'd wrinkled my nose in disgust at the thought of her picking my brains. I'd never heard that expression before. There's still so much English for me to learn, but at least now I can understand most things and I can usually manage to say whatever I want to say.

As it happened, I was bursting with ideas, because we love parties and festivals and carnivals in Italy, especially in my own family.
Mio papà
– sorry, my dad – owns a restaurant. He employs two chefs to do all the cooking there. Papà is a very well-known TV chef in Italy, so he doesn't have much time to cook at our lovely Ristorante Alessandro himself. He only does it on special occasions – usually when we're celebrating a birthday in our family or something like that, and then we decorate the whole restaurant and often dress up in fancy dress, and play Italian folk music, so the atmosphere is
brillante
– sorry, brilliant!

When I first came here last September at the beginning of Year Seven, if ever my mind slipped off into thoughts about my family and our lovely house in Milan, I would feel so homesick it was almost unbearable. But then Nicole and I became best
best
friends and that changed everything for me. I didn't feel alone any more. The other four girls in the dormitory – Izzy, Sasha, Emily and Bryony – had been very friendly and kind to me, but Nicole just hadn't seemed to like me at first. It all turned out to be a great big misunderstanding, thank goodness, and from the moment we got it all sorted out I felt like a new person. A person who could cope with all the differences between my old life in Italy at a day school and my new life in England at a boarding school.

When I came back after Christmas I realized I truly loved Silver Spires. Nicole taught me the expression
It's like a home from home
, and that's a good way of explaining how I feel now.

Nicole was touching the braid that I'd stuck on my mask around the holes for the eyes. Then her fingers moved to the part on one side that I'd painted gold. The paint was all dry because I'd done that bit first. “How did you get it to look like real gold, Antonia?” she asked me, frowning.

“By using many layers of paint,” I told her.

“Lots of layers,” she corrected me.

“Lots of layers,” I repeated, feeling grateful, as I always do, that I've got someone to help me get better and better at English. I could hardly speak it at all last September, because Mamma and my grandparents on Mamma's side are all Italian, and Papà is half-Italian. His mum is English, so he speaks both languages, but we only ever speak Italian at home.

“Anyway, show me
your
mask, Nicole,” I said, feeling excited as a sudden picture of the whole of Forest Ash wearing masks at the Italian evening flashed through my head.

“It's quite boring compared to yours,” she said, quietly.

But it wasn't. For a start, her mask covered more of her face than mine did
and
it was in the shape of a cat's face, with whiskers and everything.

“It's totally fab!” I said. Then we both burst out laughing, because I'd only just learned that word and I was so proud of it I couldn't stop using it. “Fab, fab, fab!”

“That's the tenth time today!” Nicole said, giving me one of her teacher looks. “
Sei pazza!
” she added.

That means “You're crazy!” in Italian. Nicole wants me to teach her as many words as possible in Italian, and she's a very fast learner because she's so clever – definitely the cleverest in our group of friends.

“Right, everybody!” said Mr. Cary. “Looks like you've had a good lunchtime session. But let's have a bit of a clear-up, yes? The bell for afternoon school will be going in a minute.”

He was right. And we all had to rush around tidying everything away, because the first lesson of the afternoon was PE and it's quite a way from the art room to the netball courts, and we all needed to get changed.

As we hurried off, with our school bags hanging from our shoulders and bashing against our hips, we changed the subject from the Italian evening to the bike ride that was coming up. It was Izzy who started it off.

“I can't wait till Sunday,” she said. “It's going to be so cool going on an outing all together.”

“Aren't we lucky that we've got two things to look forward to in this half of term!” said Sasha, who's Izzy's best friend. Then she pulled a face. “Well actually I'm not totally over the moon about the bike ride, to be honest. I mean, I used to go out on my bike quite a lot when I was younger, but I haven't done it for ages, and I can't imagine I'll be fit enough.”

“You'll be fine,” said Izzy. “Mrs. Mellor said we'd be stopping roughly every half hour for a break, remember.”

“Yes, they're called ‘pit stops', those breaks,” said Bryony, who is definitely the fittest and the most adventurous of us all. She and Emily are best friends because they both love to live outside. Oh, that's not very good English. Let me think… Yes, they both love the outdoor life – that's better. In fact, Emily's family have got a farm in Ireland, so she's used to being outside most of the time. She told us we were very honoured to have her with us in the art room at lunchtime, when she really wished she was gardening in her special patch of land behind the school kitchens where she's starting to grow vegetables. We all knew that was true but not one of us took offence, because Emily didn't mean it horribly. She just speaks her mind and we're used to it.