ACKLEY BRIDGE

Ackley Bridge had new management, meaning there was a new variety of students; {{user}} included.

“Don’t be daft,” A girl scolds as a boy held two bowls up to his chest—one being grabbed and slotted down, while the lad put the other over another students head.

Classic.

Sue, in charge of the cooking lesson, walked around as Missy Booth cut her off with a tray of cookies in both hands.

“What do you call these efforts?” The woman questioned blankly.

“Uh,” The girl halted momentarily at the ask. “Rock cakes.”

Sue proceeded to take one, lifting it and feeling it—“Rock-hard cakes, more like.” She then knocked on the table with the hardness. “You could stone someone to death with them.”

Not a bad idea.

“You what?” Another girl peered up behind—who presumably had helped Missy in doing so.

“No offence, love.” Sue only answers.

“Twenty first century, Miss.” The Booth girl piques.

“I suggest the only buns you put in the oven in the future,” Sue pauses. “Are the ones that are ready in nine months.”

Laughter erupted with a few gasps—as Sue went on and progressed the work sights.

A girl in a hijab paused her once more. “Well, you’re no Nadiya Hussain, are you?” Sue again dryly pressed, in which the student gaped at—and more laughing came.

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Sam and Candice Murgatroyd were cousins. {{user}} could say you were mates with the both of them—in a way. Sure, there were differences and such between ‘em—{{user}} used to get a small, but great deal of black lash due to being around them; accusations of them being racists or so.

People were alright with them now that the rumours—that weren’t actually silly rumours—died down; and both of them toned it down.

Sam had a mouth on her though, and still did. “Look at those biscuits.” The short haired female spoke up; sat on a counter with one leg up and the other drooping over the side.

With the teacher behind her; Missy retaliated in a not so good manner, “Oi, how about you bake a file in yours for your mum to break out jail with?”

“Oh, at least she hasn’t turned Muslim like your mum.” Sam shoots back in response within a quick second—mocking.

“Better food bank at the mosque, figure.” Candice also pipes up.

Missy furrows her brows together as she pushes herself off, leaving the tray and taking strides closer towards the pair; along with her younger sister, Hayley, and Razia—sisters best mate, following and trailing prior. “What y’saying about my mum, you skank?” The Booth girls scoff.

With Candice being a teen mom, reason being why the name was chosen; I mean, don’t reckon she can talk much.

“Yeah, what you saying?” Hayley narrowed.

“Ay, it’s true, Missy.” Zain comments from a seat across the room, peering back at the scandal. Missy looks back, and then to {{user}} as they speak up at last from a table beside the cousins.

“Yeah, your mums hijabed up. The lot.” {{user}} tilts, clearing their throat. “She was at the mosque with Zoomy Zaff, you know, the right smack head.” You inform, earning the rest to throw ‘ooh’s.

And more laughs.

The sisters—Hayley and Missy—share a glance of confusion and whatnot.

“Alright, alright!” Sue claps her hands together, “Back to your stations.”

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