"Fifteen percent," Abbie said mournfully, staring at her returned Maths test with more red ink than pencil on it. "It is Tragicke. How can I live with myself? I will have to slit my wrists with a ruler."

"Want a compass?" Wilhemina-who-liked-to-be-called-Bill, Abbie's neighbour, offered, fishing in her pencil case. "It might be more effective." Bill's favourite word was 'effective' because all the English teachers hated it. She was constantly looking for opportunities to say it where it could be effective.

Abbie considered. "Nah. Rulers slice. Compasses stab. Stabbing is out this season. You're, like, totally uncool. You're totally clueless when it comes to manic depression."

"Whatever you say," Bill said, and attempted to draw a circle on her not-quite-so-red Maths test. The point slipped at the last moment though and the pencil created an ugly streak. It looked really rather effective.

"You can borrow my scissors," Colin-from-across-the-room offered.

"Nah, it's ok," Abbie said, "I couldn't bear to see you deprived of them." And so Colin happily started eating them again.

Colin liked eating his possessions. He had eaten the cardboard covers of three ring binders since the start of term. Therefore people thought he was rather strange, so they mostly stayed away from him. A girl named Denise used to sit next to him; she wasn't scared, merely curious. "Why do you eat stationery?" she had asked. "Are the school meals that bad?"

Colin had taken the pencil out from between his teeth. "Didn't your mother ever tell you 'waste not, want not?' There are starving children in the third world; they'd love a tasty ring binder. So I can't let anything go to waste."

"But surely stationery isn't particularly nutritious?" Denise enquired.

"It's never been proven not to be nutritious," Colin said, taking an experimental nibble at his Maths exercise book. "After all, paper comes from trees and trees are a plant of sorts and plants are good for you."

Denise accepted this. But when Colin started trying to eat HER ringbinder, she decided it was time to swop seats. Now she sat next to Eric the Spaceman. He was not very happy, but he couldn't exactly tell her to move.

Eric wasn't called the Spaceman because he wanted to be an astronaut, but because he was always conscious of space. He never had enough of it and anyone who came near him was "invading his personal space." In reality, Eric didn't need any more space than anyone else did, and he was able to make efficient and effective use of what he did have. But he was always flustered, and saying, "Can I have a little more space?"

On Eric's other side sat Fiona. Fiona had once wondered, if Eric got married, how long would his marriage last? He and his wife would sleep in a bed big enough for ten people, and he'd constantly be saying, "Look, can you give me a little more space?" even when his wife was several metres away. Then again, he'd probably do better than Colin, who wouldn't even have an opportunity to kiss his bride, because he'd be too busy eating the hymn books.

Such thoughts didn't cross her mind often though; sexual relationships with either boy were the last thing she wanted to think about. She was more interested in the lad on her right, Graham. He was always asking if he could borrow her eraser and then not giving it back until they had argued for about five minutes.

"Please can I have it back?" she said, when she'd made a mistake.

"No. I need it. It is part of me. I can't let it go."

Eventually he would relent, and Fiona would give an exaggerated sigh. Thirty seconds later, Graham would say, "Fiona? Can I borrow your eraser again?"

"Why don't you just keep it?" she asked after a few of these borrowings.

"Oh no, I couldn't do that," he said. "Property is theft."

"Then I'll just steal it back," she said, reaching for it. But she wasn't quick enough; his fingers had already wrapped around it. A fight ensued, and eventually she let go when she caught the teacher staring at them strangely. Not that he would punish them or ask them to stop or anything.

"Please?" she said.

"I'll give it back if you give me your phone number."

That Fiona had not expected. But why on earth not? Anything to erase her mistake. And indeed, when she told him, he gave the rubber back. Next time, he asked to borrow it, its retrieval was not as easy.

"Bra size?" Graham asked hopefully.

"My eraser is completely flat-chested," Fiona told him.

"Yes, I can see that, but what about you?"

Dilemma. Which was more important: her principles or her grotesque error? The problem was that the maths teacher went absolutely berserk when he saw crossings out or tippex, so the only way to work was with a pencil and eraser. He was usually such a calm man - he would let the class get away with murder - and suicide for that matter - but not crossings out and tippex.

She looked to her left, but Eric and Denise were involved in a power struggle. "34B," she said. In reality she was more like a 35C+, but she didn't particularly want to get into a discussion about it, so it was best to say something remotely sensible.

And he gave her back the rubber.

The next time, he asked for her weight. In order to avoid revealing anymore of this sort of information in the remainder of the lesson, she started got him into a conversation about the Internet, so neither of them could do any Maths and need the eraser.

That night he phoned her and they chatted for nearly half an hour. Fiona's mother teased her about having a boyfriend, but Fiona denied it totally. Secretly, she quite liked Graham, but it wasn't the sort of thing you could tell anyone about. Even her mother who didn't know him. Especially her mother. Besides, they weren't going out. (Fiona and Graham, that is, not Fiona and her mother, or Fiona's mother and Graham. Syntax has always eluded the author.)

The next morning, when Fiona was packing her schoolbag, she put an extra eraser in her pencil case. However, it didn't fool Graham for a moment. When she didn't ask for it back after he borrowed it, and he saw her using the other eraser, he was most put out. After all, it was a brush-off, wasn't it? Her maths was clearly more important than his eraser-needs, which were always a source of conversation. But never mind. He threw the eraser he was using at Colin. Colin started eating it, as only could be expected.

"Fiona?" Graham said, "can I borrow your other eraser? The one you lent me seems to have misplaced itself."

From then on, eraser borrowing and non-returnal became a way of life, as did the telephone conversations the two of them had every night, and the teasing from the parental units that resulted from this habit. But Fiona was happy. She was also falling in love.

"Fiona," Graham said, bringing her back to the present. "Can I borrow your eraser?"

"No," she said. "We're not even doing any work. We're going over a test." It was a bit of an overstatement - the teacher was trying to go over the test, but no one was paying much attention to him, as usual. "You can't possibly need to borrow my eraser."

"Yes I do," Graham said. "I've got this question wrong and I want to write in the correct answer."

She sighed, handed over her eraser, and watched as he corrected his mistake. "I think I already know the answer to this question," she said, "but can I have my eraser back now?"

"Nope," he said, cheerfully.

"Abbie," Fiona called across the room, "I think you had the right idea. Slitting your wrists, that is." She rooted through her pencil case in search of a suitable weapon.

"Thanks," Abbie said. "I'm a trend setter!" she said happily to Bill, who was trying to draw an Olympic flag.

"I knew it would be quite effective," Bill commented.

"Ah ha!" Fiona said, coming up with a protractor. She started sawing away at her wrist, without much success.

"Don't commit suicide," Graham pleaded. "I wouldn't have anyone to borrow an er- I mean, I love you!"

Fiona coloured slightly, although it was obvious that he didn't mean it. "I've left it to you in my will," she said, "the eraser, that is. You don't care about me at all. You just want me for my eraser."

"I don't!" he protested. "Well, I do, but only because your eraser's special. I could have gone out to the shops ages ago, and bought one, but it wouldn't be the same. Nor would it be the same if I just kept yours. It's only special because you love and treasure it so greatly and it loves and treasures you too, so I'm just trying to keep you two apart because I'm a jealous beep."

"But who are you jealous of?" Obviously, of her.

"Both of you." And what was that supposed to mean? "Will you both go out with me?"

"Hmm," Fiona said, trying to stay calm, "I'd be happy to, but my eraser has had a few problems with inter-species dating in the past. It got engaged to my pop-a-point pen once, then found out it was having an affair with an ink cartridge."

"I see," Graham said gravely.

"But it'll agree if you give it back to me now and don't borrow it again for the rest of this lesson."

"Deal," he said, handing it over. "How could I refuse a date with the brilliant beautiful amazing eraser?"

And so Fiona tried hard to control her happiness for the rest of the lesson. She and Graham and her eraser were finally going out!

When the bell rang, they all left the classroom. Denise, who was on the verge of changing desk again, since Eric needed at least two desks, fell into step with Fiona.

"Are you going out with Graham?" she asked, "I couldn't help overhearing."

"Yes," Fiona said, "on the grounds that I bring my rubber."

"Surely the first date is a bit early in the relationship for THAT?" Denise asked.

"Ah, not that kind of rubber," Fiona said, "my eraser. Graham has a fetish for it."

"I see," Denise said, and walked away wondering if she was the only remotely sane member of her maths class...