Of course. He might have guessed. Fashion. Well, it wouldn’t be chess.

There’s a congratulatory rattle of applause from the girls (except for Beth Beeby who stares blankly ahead with the constipated look on her face that means she’s worrying about something). The boys whistle and cheer, and someone shouts out, “Way to go, Gab.”

Gabriela beams, pushing back a wayward strand of hair, pleased yet modest. When the display of support dies down, she picks up where she left off. “You know, to discover the designers of the future?” Given the way he dresses, Gabriela isn’t sure that this is something Mr Sturgess can understand, but she gives him a hopeful smile. “So anyway, this weekend they announce the winners at a big presentation. In LA. They’re putting us up at this totally fabulous hotel, The Xanadu? And there’s going to be a real fashion show where they model our clothes, and we’re meeting designers and retailers and all kinds of professionals, and we’re visiting this hot studio.” She pauses, briefly, for air. “It’s going to be awesome.”

“Well, congratulations, Gabriela. That’s—”

“So you see, Mr Sturgess, I’m like not going to be able to do the homework for Monday. You know, because I’m going to be so busy?”

“I see.” Gabriela is far from stupid, but she is pretty much the poster child for lazy. Mr Sturgess doubts that she’s ever read one of the assigned books from cover to cover. (Assuming, that is, that she’s ever read more than the cover.) She looks up plots and critiques on the Internet, and watches the movies. And she is possibly the least motivated student he has ever taught. Gabriela has less interest in her academic subjects than a leopard has in playing the harpsichord, and the only reason she does as well as she does is because she gets everybody else to help her. Especially the boys. There was a time when it was the Three Rs that were important, but all that Gabriela cares about are the Three Cs – Cosmetics, Clothes and Celebrity.