Page 10 of Life Lessons

“Sounds to me like someone who works in the office got there early enough to take the detention slip off the Head’s desk just to get her in more trouble. If only the gothic princess was a bit nicer to people, and knew her place, then maybe she wouldn’t have it so tough.”

When the very last word left Harriett’s mouth the whole classroom descended into silence. Typically, she had been loud enough for everyone to hear, which is exactly what she wanted. She may not have admitted to it fully, but everyone knew she volunteers in the office. It’s her way of being able to go through the student files whenever she gets the chance. I keep praying she wouldn’t get into mine, I have no idea what she could find in there.

On a normal week I would have let this low level bullshit fly, except this week was not one of those weeks. I’m already not sleeping properly, and my emotions are extra heightened. All of which explains why I stop what I’m doing, turn until I’m standing directly in front of Harriett, and I slap her across the face.

The crashing sound of skin on skin fills the room and if possible people were even more silent, until the chaos begins and it starts with a howl from Harriett as she uses her hand to cradle the cheek that is quickly becoming red. People who aren’t a fan of her start whooping and hollering, finally glad to see the Queen Bitch get taken down a peg or two. Her cronies throw themselves out of their chairs and are practically stroking her and asking her if she’s okay. Mr Caine is looking on in shock.

He deals with fights nearly everyday but this is not a fight, not one that Harriett stood any chance of winning. There’s something about the look in his eyes, it’s like he can see the pain I feel. Maybe he can see that this is not the time to push me, which is why he didn’t try to kick me out. He looks like he is about to talk, but Harley beats him to it.

“Holy freaking shit, gorgeous. That was hot.”

“You are fucking right there, Brother. I wanna throw some water on them and then we have a real cat fight,” adds Jackson.

“Will you two shut up. In fact, everyone, get back in your seat and silence, now. I will get this lesson started if it kills me,” shouts Mr Caine. I feel his eyes follow me, trying to work me out as I stomp back to my seat. I guess I’m lucky he hasn’t kicked me out yet. Maybe I’m not the only one behaving oddly this week?

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Sir, she just assaulted me. I want her gone. I want to speak to the Headteacher right now. In fact, I am calling the police,” shouts Harriett as she stands waving her arms around for dramatic effect before pulling her phone out in class. Mr Caine closes the gap between them, but leaves an appropriate amount of room, unlike when he crowds me.

Before she has even had a chance to press the first number, Mr Caine swipes the phone off her and puts it in his pocket. She is about to start screeching, everyone is bracing themselves but the look he gives her stops her dead.

“You know I have a phone ban in my classroom, Harriett. You can get it back at the end of the lesson. Now, if you want to speak to the Head, I am happy to bring him in here to discuss what you know about someone taking things from his desk without his knowledge. But with regards to the assault you claim happened, I didn’t see anything, and I feel certain that nobody else did either. So, would you like to leave and we can discuss this later in detention, or would you like to sit your ass down so I can start the lesson?” he asks and I can feel my mouth drop open. As Harriett looks around the room for people to support her claims, people casually avoid eye contact by looking the other way. I don’t know how Mr Caine has so much control over his class. Maybe it’s respect? Whatever it is, right now, I’m very grateful.

The rest of the lesson passes by in a blur and I am once again grateful that my lack of social life and desire to keep my brain active, means I am already proficient in the equations that he is teaching us at the moment. But I try not to let my mind wander too much. Before I know it class is over and I take my time packing my things. I don’t know why but I feel like I need to have a minute alone with Mr Caine. He obviously doesn’t feel the same way as he is barrelling out of the classroom just as quickly as the students. As he reaches the door, he stops and turns his head to face me.

“See you in detention tonight, Little Bird. Don’t forget!” he says with a wink before rushing out of the classroom and I can’t help but smile. I didn’t know the detentions were with him. Plus, after what I just did to Harriett, I kinda deserve them.

The rest of the week passes by spectacularly slowly and uneventfully. I went to all my lessons and tried to pay as much attention as I could, but the nearer I got to the weekend, the harder it got for me to concentrate. I looked forward to Advanced Maths because I knew that the banter I had with Mr Caine would be enough to still my over-active brain, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. After the first day of the week where he sided with me over Harriett, he has been treating me almost like a Leper. No matter how much I sass him, or even just talk to him normally, he is standoffish and very matter of fact. He is behaving like every other teacher, and it’s doing my head in.

I can still feel it whenever his gaze moves to me, when he thinks nobody is looking. Why he is all of a sudden trying to act like he’s the world’s best teacher, I will never know. What I do know is, he has picked the worst possible time. Even in our detentions he has me sitting in silence, doing his best to look at the newspaper he brings with him each day, instead of talking to me. No matter how many times I try, he avoids me. Fuck him.

When the weekend rolls around I don’t know what to feel. My phone beeps reminding me of the appointment I have. If it wasn’t for that appointment, I would be staying in bed all day, moping and feeling sorry for myself. But I made a promise to the most important person in the world to me, and I fully intend on keeping it.

I don’t even bother looking in the mirror after I dress in my usual jeans and t-shirt. I leave off the hoodie, as it’s quite warm again which is weird for October. I use a bit of mascara to make my face look more alive than I actually feel and then head out the door. I use the secret entrance I learnt from Mr Caine to sneak off campus. Students are allowed to leave during the day on a Saturday as long as they sign in and out, and for safety reasons we have to say where we were going. I don’t want that much attention on me right now, and so I silently thank Mr Caine for creating this secret passage.

I walk slowly, in my own little world, heading towards the nearby town. Normally I would put my headphones in to enjoy the walk, or grab a taxi if I wasn’t in the mood to walk, but today I don’t want either. I want to walk but I don’t want to enjoy it. Nothing about today, other than this appointment, should be good. I don’t deserve to have a good day, not when I’m this alone.

Arriving just in time for my appointment, I open the door and the jingle from the bell above echoes around the clean, white sterile environment. This place would be very clinical, even the smell is antiseptic, except for all the graphics adorning the walls tell a very different picture. There’s not an empty section of wall that isn’t covered in the tattoo designs. The bright white tiles that adorn the other part of the wall, and the white and grey marble floor, contrast it so much. A friendly face rushes out from the back and before I know it, arms surround me in a bear hug and I’m being picked up and spun around.

“How’s my favourite little doppelgänger?” asks the very large man as he sets me down firmly on the ground. Mike is a large man, over six feet tall with broad shoulders. He looks like a typical bouncer would look like in a club, with black jeans and a tight black top. He is in his forties, but is starting to go grey at the sides of his hair and also on his beard. He is also covered, pretty much everywhere that is visible, and I assume most places that are not visible too, in tattoos. His body is literally a work of art, since he designed most of the tattoos himself, I knew from the minute I decided to get a tattoo over three years ago that he would be the only one to touch my skin with a tattoo gun. He is probably the best tattoo artist in the country, which is why when I first found him I had no issues traveling almost two hours to see him, but now he’s on my doorstop.

“Not too bad. What’s up with you? You are going grey!” I laugh and he joins in with my laughter as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Mina has just turned thirteen. If I thought her terrible twos were bad, I was seriously under prepared to have a teenage daughter in the house. For half the month she looks like the child of Satan, and the other she is cuddling me and asking me for chocolate to make her feel better. I am getting whiplash in my own home,” he says with mock outrage. We both know that no matter how much of a terror Mina becomes, she will always be daddy’s girl and he will give her what she wants. It makes me a little jealous that I don’t have that kind of relationship with my own dad. Though, I used to.

We banter back and forth for a while as I give him tips for how to handle Mina and he just laughs and looks more grey by the second. Then, as we are about to go back to get started on my tattoo, he stops and a serious look I’m not used to seeing on Mike’s face halts me in my tracks.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come today, kiddo. I wouldn’t have blamed you. You and Tillie have had this tradition for the last couple of years, coming together on your birthdays to get matching tattoos. I know I have tattooed you since, but this is the first birthday you have done without her. I didn’t know if you would be with your family?” he asks softly. Much softer than you would think a man who looks like him is capable of, but Mike really is just a nice guy. He even came to Tillie’s funeral, which I never expected.

When I came to get my first tattoo without her, he inked it with precision and then told me it was on him, and when I decided on the perfect one to honour Matilda, that would be on him too. I still haven’t found that design yet. How do you find a design that fully represents your other half, the better half?

Taking a deep breath in, I try to control my emotions, not wanting to cry right now, but I can’t deny that my eyes are becoming misty just hearing her name. At Willowmead, nobody knows about Tillie, which is both good and bad. I get to move on and live my life, but not having anyone who mentions her is heartbreaking. Our parents didn’t even acknowledge our birthday.

Todd, the lanky streak of piss that dated my sister for a couple of years, breaking up just a couple of months before her death, excelled himself. He decided that today, rather than dedicate it to the girl he professed to love, and whose death he milked for a very long time, instead he chose to announce he has proposed to his new college girlfriend in a whirlwind engagement.

The whole world is moving on and it’s like she was never here. But she was, she was my life and no matter how much it hurts me, I vowed that today, on our birthday, for one day of the year I would celebrate it like we used to. And that starts with a tattoo.

As I explained this to Mike and got myself comfortable on the couch, he asked me what we were doing this year. I told him what I wanted and where and then let him get started. I love that he respected my wishes to talk about Tillie, and so that’s what we did. We talked about what she would think of the tattoo, what we might have gotten if we were here getting matching ones, and even what I miss most about her. It’s hard to talk about her, but I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. I also can’t deny that when I’m not pretending she never existed, it’s the happiest I’ve been in a while, but I know it won’t last. The darkness always comes.

Today we are focused on the happy side, the way she lived and loved with all her heart. But there’s always a dark side. The one that is filled with pain and heartbreak. The one that has me waking up at night screaming as I hear glass smashing and I see her head lying at the wrong angle, covered in glass. I’m hanging upside down by my seatbelt, but even if I wasn’t, I couldn’t move. I can feel that my leg is trapped. But that doesn’t stop me calling out to Tillie. Begging her to wake up and to talk to me. Screaming for help but then refusing to let anyone help me until my sister was okay. I can still hear it all, and when I close my eyes, I see it. The wreck that changed my life. The one I walked away from, while my sister died on impact. Right there in the middle of the road, glass slicing up her beautiful face, and blood dying her blonde hair red. Her life spilled away like the blood dripping from her head and I was left all alone, except for the guilt and the knowledge that it’s my fault my sister died and that’s something I can never learn to live with.

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