The School for Scruff: 8.

I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, followed closely by Emily. There we met Lady Arcos in the hall. She was carrying a genuine Tommy-gun.
"Did I wake you up?" she asked.
"What?!"
"Taxman. They turn up late hoping to catch us by surprise. But I always keep a gun handy." She put it back in its place on the wall. I heard Emily laughing.
"So it was YOU?" she asked. Lady Arcos nodded.
"Me. But those guys are always coming round here asking for money!"
We went back to bed.

Scruff here. I got up early, the way schoolgirls have to, even at Pudding Norton College. I saw Lucy was already awake, and she looked like she hadn't had much sleep. Maybe it was the beds, or maybe it was the fact that some of the tough girls who had done their previous education at Pudding Norton had been threatening her.
"Lucy," I went over and sat on her bed. "You look awful."
"You don't."
"I'm tough," I told her. "Come on, you need breakfast! Don't let them get to you, it's what they want."
"That's easy for you to say, Scruff. After you used Judo on them yesterday they won't touch you. Scruff, this isn't the school I thought it would be. It's... Amanda wants me to become a call-girl! And she says that the school wants me to as well! My parents said it would be a nice school!"
"They thought it would be. My sister thought the same." That was a lie, of course, but I wasn't going to admit I was the Girl in Grey's assistant.
"I want to go home..."
"You won't."
The speaker was one of the Pudding Norton girls, a tough-looking girl with bleached blonde hair.
"But..."
"If you went home you'd tell your parents about Pudding Norton College, and you can't do that. So you're staying. And you'll write letters home saying how much you're enjoying it here, or you'll be punished."
"Stop that!" I warned. The girl tried to hit me, but she ended up flat on her back on the floor after a Judo throw.
"Come on," I said, "Breakfast."
One of the great things about being as untidy as me is you can go to breakfast at school in your pyjamas and no-one cares.

Carole met me in the dining-hall and looked me over.
"Well, your legs are okay," she mused. "But you'll never make a call-girl."
"I never wanted to be one."
"I suppose we could train you as a con-girl."
"You could leave me alone. I'm going to work as my sister's secretary."
"If that's all your ambition, kid, I'm going to have to sell you."
"SELL me?"
"Of course! See if anyone else wants to be your mentor. There's quite a trade in mentorees some years."
Well, at least I was getting a lot of information that a detective would find useful.