Page 43 of Life Lessons

As I open the door, I am shocked to see Mr Thornton sitting behind his desk looking a lot older than normal. He generally just looks tired, his face ashen, with sweat beads dotted across his forehead. He looks stressed and like that has aged him by several years. Not that I’m surprised. Running a school like this is hard enough, but then add on the stress of a scandal and I bet he has a fair few hours of sleep over this one. So, while his appearance doesn’t surprise me, his otherwise absent office does.

I take a seat in the chair he is pointing towards and catch a glance at the clock on the wall. I am most definitely on time, but what is surprising is that my father isn’t. I may not like the secretary he is sticking his dick into, but she is organised, I will give her that. If she says my father is going to be somewhere, he is. No tardiness, or no-shows. I look poignantly at Mr Thornton for answers.

“Miss Nightingale, as you know this should have been a meeting between yourself and your parents. I contacted them to make it clear that we needed to discuss the accusations that are being thrown your way and just generally what to do about it. Earlier this morning, your father called me to say that they wouldn’t be coming in for the meeting,” he explains, wiping the sweat from his brow at the same time.

“Does that mean we are rearranging?” I ask, my voice deflated. I don’t know why I feel so let down by his comment, but it just hits me. Maybe I was hoping this meeting would put an end to the abuse and I could just exist long enough to graduate. But now I will have to wait until my father can find the time.

“Unfortunately, no. Your parents have made it very clear they will not be coming in to discuss this matter. What they basically said is that you allowed your secret to become public knowledge with no regard for the impact it would have on your family and their name. Apparently your father’s business has had some issues when their customers didn’t want to get involved in a family with such a history. What they have asked me to do is try to minimise the spread of this rumour as quickly and as efficiently as possible, without drawing more attention to you. They also feel you should be punished for this.”

His words slowly sink in, and for the first time in a week, I feel anger and rage bubbling up under the surface and I can’t help when it finally releases through my shouts. “Are you fucking kidding me? I have spent the last week being called names, had things thrown at me, drinks poured over my head, and I’ve been spat at, all because of a rumour that was started because of a breach in your office. Yet, I’m the one you want to punish. What the hell?” I yell, pushing myself up onto my feet at the same time. I can’t help but pace around the large open space in the centre of the office.

“Language, Miss Nightingale. I understand your frustration, I really do. And I can see your side of the story. I have had reports this week of behaviour that is not befitting of someone from Willowmead Academy, and I will put out a generalised announcement that I want it to stop. Unfortunately, as your parents have asked me not to draw any more attention to this than is needed, I can’t punish anyone who is involved, as it would need to be clearly documented why they are being punished and their parents informed. As your parents don’t want that, I am limited. However, I have also heard stories of your behaviour this week. Being kicked out of class is one thing, but getting into fights in the hallway, or shouting at students that is a completely different—”

Before he gets the chance to finish his sentence, I cut him off. “Who said that? Yes, I got kicked out of Maths, but Mr Wormald agreed I could join Lower Maths, which I have attended all week. But for the rest of the week since that incident, I have kept my head down. I have dealt with all the bullying and the attacks and still kept quiet. I haven’t once fought back.” I stress, trying to make him understand how hard I am trying.

“Look, Abigail. Unfortunately, as much as I would like to take your word for it, I have to trust my teachers. Miss Springfield, whilst she is a new teacher, she is still a trusted member of my faculty. We are very lucky she was available at a moment’s notice to take over from Mr Caine’s abrupt exit. She says she caught you in these incidents and I have to believe her. So-” I try to interrupt him again, but this time he holds his hand up to silence me. “Enough. No interrupting. The decision has been made following a discussion with your parents. For the next four weekends you will do six hour shifts with the janitorial team. You will report to the supply closet on the main corridor at eight tomorrow morning. You will be working litter picking tomorrow I believe, so dress appropriate for the outdoors. Failure to report to any of these detentions without a doctor’s note will result in instant suspension. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I say as I shake my head in despair. Sitting down in the seat I have not long since exited, I feel my body relax into a heap consumed by defeat. “What will happen to Harriett?” I ask in a final last ditch attempt to see some justice.

Mr Thornton releases a big sigh before he finally speaks. “Harriett provided me with evidence to say she was provoked into behaving the way she did. Almost as though it was self defense. Her evidence was overwhelming and incontrovertible, and before you ask, no I will not show you what it was. Your parents were made aware of the evidence and they feel Harriett’s actions were justified, therefore there is no reason to punish her. Although I did give her a warning about misusing the information she gains whilst working for this office. She has guaranteed confidentiality once more. So, as far as all the parties are concerned, this matter is closed. Your parents told me to remind you that they expect you to take your punishment, do the work, and concentrate on graduating. Nothing more. They will not tolerate you shaming their name any further.”

I give him credit, even he looks like it pains him to say the words out loud. Like he knows my parents are dicks for saying that to their child, but to get my Headteacher to do it for them is even worse. It’s no wonder he looks stressed. I don’t argue, what is the point? So I just agree and ask if I can leave. After signing some paperwork I don’t even bother to read and grabbing the detention slips I need to get signed, I practically run out of the door.

Looking at my watch, I see that it’s time for me to meet Trix at dinner, but I can’t. Not yet. I haven’t had the release I was planning, the session with Thornton took longer than I planned. I need that time. I can feel it scratching away under the surface, like my skin is on fire. Or like there are millions of tiny insects all scurrying about under my skin, just desperate to get out. That’s what I need to do, I need to let them out. Dinner can wait.

As soon as I reach my room, I quickly go through my normal ritual, getting everything set up how I like it. I’m in a rush, so I waste no time, I just slice across the lower part of my wrist. I make sure to do it to the side of my arm so as to not catch the major blood vessel. But when the blood pours out quicker than it ever has before, I know I was closer to it than I should have been. But I can’t even bring myself to care. I just let the blood fall onto the towel I have placed on the bed and I watch as the drops spread out when they hit the towel. I can’t even begin to describe how much of a cathartic experience it is. It’s literally like seeing my pain and heartbreak oozing out of me, like watching my heart and soul spill out onto a towel.

I think when you have physical pain there is a visible injury. So, if I said my arm hurt, they would be able to see the cut and the blood, and that would justify the pain. But when there is no visible scar or wound, when your pain is soul deep, how can people possibly understand.

I don’t know how long I sit there just letting the drops fall, and trying to drag out every last drop when the wound begins to heal naturally. But, I’m pulled out of my moment, and my blissful trance by a pounding on the door. At first I just ignored it, this is more important than whoever is outside. But the banging continues.

“I know you are in there, Abbie. Let me in,” shouts Trixie through the door.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself, as I leap off the bed clutching the towel to my wrist in an attempt to help slow down the bleeding a bit quicker. “Just one sec, I’m coming,” I shout towards the door.

Pressing my arm against my body to sandwich the towel between me, it allows me a much needed free hand that I then use to hide all the stuff I got out of my hiding place. All my memories of Jett and Tillie that I like to have with me, so they can be with me in my moments where I finally find peace. I don’t want Trixie to see them and jump to conclusions. So I quickly pack them back into their box and throw them under the bed.

Checking the wound, I see it has finally slowed down enough that it’s only oozing gently now. So I throw the towel under the bed too, and pull on the nearest hoodie I can find. Luckily it is black, so any blood that seeps through won’t be visible. I don’t even think about how odd I look wearing small booty sleep shorts, and a big oversized black hoodie. All I know is I need to answer the door before the scary little pixie on the other side breaks it down.

I can tell Trix is mad the second she opens the door, but the problem is, I’m mad too. She interrupted my time. The time I get to allow myself to feel and to be with Tillie and Jett. So her combative behaviour will not be as well tolerated today as it usually is.

“What the hell, Abs. You were supposed to meet me in the dining room like forty-five minutes ago. I texted, I called. I know your meeting finished an hour ago. So what was more important? What distracted you so much that you couldn’t even find the time to tell your best friend you were busy?” Trixie yells as she barges into my room. She stands bolt upright, her hand on her hip and she really does look pissed. But I’m not in the mood.

“Look, I had a migraine and so after the meeting I came straight home and crashed. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you but my brain feels like someone is drilling into it,” I explain half heartedly and I can see she doesn’t buy it.

“Don’t lie to me.” Her eyes bore into mine, like she is willing me to trust her and tell her what is really eating me up inside. I wish I could, but some secrets are meant to stay hidden. It’s better for everyone.

“I’m not,” I reply, much to her disgust.

Trix throws her arms up in the air and flops down onto my sofa, looking more lost than she did a moment before.

“Look, I wanted to wait for you to bring this up, but it looks like you would rather lie to me than trust me. So I will need to do it instead, but just know you can trust me with this. You have been trusting me without even realising it. I know there was more to you and Mr Caine’s relationship than just teacher and student. I saw the way you looked at each other, and I also know how scared he was when you went missing. He knew to find you in the music room, and he knew that he would be the one you needed to lean on, not me. He was right and I must admit a part of me was jealous. You clearly have feelings for this man. So much so that you trusted him with secrets you couldn’t share with me. You leaned on him, when you couldn’t me. And now he is gone. I have no idea why, but I can only imagine how you must be feeling. I know this happened at the same time as all that murderer shit, but I’m not sure which problem you are struggling with most. So, I want you to know that I know, and know that you can always talk to me.”

As she finishes, she finally raises her eyes to meet mine and I can see a sincerity there that I should have always seen. She has never let me down before and has always been on my side, so of course I believe her. The only problem right now is that because I like her so much, I don’t want her in my life. I am a sinking ship and I want to make sure every viable person gets off before I drown them. Trixie will only get hurt if she carries on trying to be my friend. Look at my past. I have a track record of losing the people who mean the most to me. I can’t do that to Trixie. It’s better to let her go now than pull her down with me.

I have never sank this low before, yet I can’t seem to care. My brain is saying I’m doing a good thing, but my heart knows I’m wrong. Sadly, my heart is a crumbling mess right now and I can’t trust it one bit. My words spew out like hateful vomit and I feel revulsion from the first syllable. “You knew. You fucking knew this whole time? What were you doing, spying on us? Collecting all the evidence you needed to get him kicked out? Are you the reason he is fucking gone? Jealous that I trusted him more than I trusted you, so you got rid of the competition. Are you seriously that fucking shallow?”

I watch as the beautiful pixie-like girl in front of me with the brightly coloured hair to match her bright personality crumbles. Her face distorts into sadness and tears pool in the corner of her eyes next to the heavily painted black liner.

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