Page 5 of Life Lessons

Quiet falls over the room and explodes in my ears. My jaw ticks as my teeth clench together, my hands turning to fists on the table. The urge to launch myself at her and lock my hands around her scrawny neck is riding me hard, and had I been drunk I might not have been able to hold myself back. Just how fucking dare this girl turns up weeks later than the start of the school year, walks into my classroom, and disrespects me in front of my students. And most of all, how dare she be right.

“Say that again,” I dare in a deadly tone. The rest of the class remains frozen, not even breathing loudly enough to interrupt our stare off. Her crystal blue eyes pierce my exterior, glimpsing directly into my being and seeing out all the shadows that lurk there. I fight a squirm, refusing to be rattled. She will bend and she will break for me before she graduates, mark my words.

“You’re nothing.” She leans forward to whisper in my face.

“Headteacher’s office. Now!” I bellow, my throat feeling rough at the action. I haven’t so much as coughed too loudly in years, lacking the general fucks to raise my voice beyond a casual murmur. Not now though. Now I’m pissed and her wide smile has me bordering on furious.

“Yeah, no. I don’t think that’s going to work for me. I’m going to the study hall, so I can keep up with these lame ass challenges some reject of a Maths teacher might give me. And before the vein in your temple bursts, ‘X’ equals 3n + 1.” I watch in a stunned silence as she snatches the interactive pen from my desk and scrawls the answer, including the long working out, onto the whiteboard for all to see. Spinning on the heel of her army-style boot, she swaggers out of the room with a brief pause in the doorway to look back and wink at me. Game on.

Iget to history just in time to slide in before the final bell rings, indicating that anyone arriving after that would be late. Granted, I shouldn’t have stopped by the cafeteria to tell Trix all about my morning, but my heart had been thumping with exhilaration and I just needed to laugh about Hottie McLazy with her. What a dick. But the gossip turned into coffee and time seemed to fly by.

I drop into my chair, breathing deeply to try to get control over my racing heartbeat and gasping breath. I hadn’t really even run that far, and I’m definitely not unfit. Instead, I blame it on the fact I was running backwards, shouting at Trix, and laughing at the same time as trying to slalom around crowds of students still standing in the corridor to ensure I got to class in time. I am definitely going to be adding running back into my schedule from now on. I can’t get out of breath running less than two hundred meters between classrooms.

Just as I’m getting settled, I feel a buzz coming from the phone I had just placed back in my left pocket. There is only one person it could come from and that’s Trix. It’s a new phone, and none of the people I was friends with at my old school have my new number. I just don’t want them to be a part of the new life I am trying to build. Nothing from my past that can send me spiralling.

Another buzz pulls me out of my own head. I quickly acknowledge that it could be my parents, but that is highly unlikely. It was my father’s secretary who texted me last night to apologise for my father’s absence when I left, stating he was busy working hard. Which is code for fucking her hard. After getting that stupid idea off the table, I discreetly look at the message and see it’s from Trix.

Trix: Made it in time, thank God. BTW you are fucked. McLazy is on the warpath looking for you.

I read the text several times but didn’t get a chance to reply as the old, balding, and abnormally round history teacher, Mr Walters, waddles into the room. He goes to close the door behind him but a foot stops him. Mr Walters doesn’t tolerate people who are late. The guy who was one minute late yesterday got a week’s worth of after school detention. While the girl who was ten minutes late, claiming that the bus she catches from town to bring her here was delayed, she feels the full force of his wrath. He shouts, berates her for interrupting his lesson, makes her apologise to the whole class, and then he kicks her out and tells her to return exactly five minutes before the end of class so he can give her the work she missed and her homework. I already have him noted down as one of the teachers to avoid all contact with where possible.

I’m drawn back to the present day by the foot pushing his way into the room, and I quickly realise the text was a warning, one I should have been better prepared for. Hottie McLazy has a face that barely contains his rage. His eyes are scrunched together and frown lines are pulling on his face. He looks furious and instinctively I squirm in my seat. I don’t want this kind of attention. I promised myself that I would be different, that I would keep to myself and just be content being a wallflower. But the second he started talking to me, I became wound up and I forgot about everything except holding my own against a guy who thinks he is better than me.

“New girl, outside, now,” he shouts, completely ignoring the way Mr Walters keeps trying to address him. I slowly pack my bag again, dragging it out this time as I’m in no rush to go anywhere right now.

“Excuse me, Mr Caine.” Wow, okay...at least I know his name now. Not sure what I was expecting, but it suits him. “This is my classroom and you can’t just barge in here and take one of my students with no explanation at all,” Mr Walters splutters, clearly afraid of standing his ground, but surprisingly he does it anyway. He’s making direct eye contact, and holding his head high. His hands, that are fiddling together, and the wobble in his voice are the only indication that anything had happened. I do notice that McLazy’s eyes open wider as he takes in the sudden unexpected braveness and I can tell he appreciates it. He has obviously been walking over these students and teachers for too long and now people are starting to stand up to him. Did I start this? I can’t help but think to myself.

“I’m sorry to bother you. The new girl left my class half way through after being rude to me and I told her to go to the Headteacher’s office, but she never went. So I will be personally escorting her there now. Is that okay?” he asks, clearly straining to be overly polite and formal with his colleague, who most definitely does not appear to be his friend. I laugh at the idea of these two being friends.

“Are you kidding me? You kicked me out, how is that my fault?” I shout back, refusing to move towards the front of the room. I am almost tempted to sit back down in a huff but I can see Mr Walters twisting his head between the two of us as though we were playing a very fast game of tennis. He looks at McLazy, but he is too busy staring daggers at me with his arms crossed to notice. He looks like he is one step away from leaning against the door frame to stop himself from falling over. The little smirk he has on the corner of his lip is aimed just at me and I can’t help but sneer at his behaviour.

“Abigail, please do not argue. Just go now to the Headteacher, get it over and done with, accept your punishment, and then return back here ready to work. Understood?” he asks politely and normally I wouldn’t even bother to answer that. They would know I understood by the fact I left the room. Instead, I see this as a prime opportunity to wind up Mr Hottie.

“Of course, Sir. I will be good, I promise,” I say in my best cheerleader voice, that annoyingly sounds a lot like Harriett’s. But while my sickly sweet voice may be aimed at the hapless History teacher, the rest of my body is all directed towards Mr…Caine. Shit, using his name now feels weird. It’s not like he introduced himself during class, and it didn’t say his name on my timetable, or any teachers’ name for that matter.

As I said the wordSir, I made sure my gaze was completely on him and I could see the confusion in his words. I know he is no stranger to students hitting on him. From what I heard, Harriett is his number one fan and lets him know that at every opportunity, much to his annoyance. In fact, disappointment is exactly what I see on his face right now. He clearly didn’t think I would be the type of girl to hit on him, and suddenly my actions feel childish and immature. This is confirmed when I see Harley adjusting his crotch and all the other guys in the class are shouting about how much they want me to be a bad girl, or how I can call them sir anytime I want. I guess my plan did work, just on the wrong person.

Walking forwards, I bow my head and try to ignore the fool I just made of myself. He directs me out of the classroom, holds the door open before he walks out and closes it behind him. It’s just the two of us in the corridor as everyone is still in class. It feels as though we are both frozen on the spot, looking at each other, trying to work out the enigma that we are to each other. I feel like maybe I’m going a bit insane because I’m sure I can feel the air around us sizzle and I have an overwhelming desire to take a step forward. The need to be closer to him is baffling to me, but it is quickly set right when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Get moving, Little Bird. We need to get to the Head before his meeting starts. Believe it or not, we don’t all work around you and your bullshit,” he spits before starting to stomp towards the office. He doesn’t even check that I am following him. I don’t want to, but somehow he already knows that I am.

As I’m walking behind him I feel my phone buzz, so I stop briefly to check my phone.

Trix: Doing the walk of shame on only your second day. Tut Tut. P.S. You will be paying for my therapy after I just heard you said the words ‘good girl’ seductively to Mr Walters. I hope they were meant for Mr Hottie instead.

I giggle and am about to put the phone away when it vibrates again. So I figured I’m halfway there already, I may as well check what it says. I soon wish I hadn’t.

Mother: Call me tonight at 8pm sharp. I have received a behavioural complaint about you from your school and we need to discuss it. I will not have you ruining the Nightingale name. Be warned, Abigail. I will disinherit you if you don’t get your shit together. Until tonight.

I’m at a complete loss for words and a little bit shaken. The rapid change in my mood from happy and having fun with Trix, to feeling alone and hated by my own family is just too much for me. I start to feel dizzy and I lean against the wall, clutching my stomach that feels as though it is tumbling more than a gymnast, and is making me nauseous. Of course, he chooses this time to turn around and thinks I am trying to push my luck.

“Are you fucking kidding me? The office is only two doors away, are you really telling me you are so unfit you can’t walk the last few steps to the Headteacher’s office, Little Bird.” I have my hand over my eyes, mainly to block them if any tears should go rogue and escape. I can feel them betraying me and starting to form in the back of my eyes. But I don’t want this asshole to see them and think the tears are for him, he definitely doesn’t deserve my tears.

Clearly, he doesn’t like that I have my hand covering my eyes when he is trying to talk to me. But it’s not really a two way conversation, he just wants to berate me and make me feel like shit for standing up against him. I can’t believe he would be childish enough to report me to my parents for something so stupid. His hand reaches up to pull mine away from my face and initially I pull back against him to keep my arm in place, and of course he responds by pulling harder. What starts as a weird type of hand wrestling quickly changes and it suddenly feels as though he’s holding my hand.

The warmth from his large hand completely encompassing my tiny hand feels almost protecting, particularly during a time where I am feeling very vulnerable. My heart is racing and I want to look up at him, see if he is experiencing the same feelings. I must be crazy and just emotional from my mother’s text. There’s no way this man is capable of lighting me up and warming me to the core, just from holding my hand. At least that’s what I tell myself, discreetly ignoring the way I am shuffling my thighs to dissipate the ache I feel. He did not cause this, I keep repeating, but it doesn’t work. I realise that in order for me to stop the feelings I have, I need to get angry.

“Why do you keep calling me Little Bird? I have a name if you even bother to learn it. I can’t believe you have made such a big deal of this. You are the one that kicked me out before I had even done anything. Then you have the audacity to call my fucking parents, how childish are you?” I shout as he crowds me. He is about to speak but is interrupted by the Headteacher stomping out of his room.

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