Page 4 of Life Lessons
“Hottie McLazy? Who the fuck named him that?” I ask, feigning outrage when really I couldn’t agree more with the nickname. Maybe we can fit grumpy in there somewhere and then it will really have him covered. Well, from what I’ve seen so far.
“I did and it kinda stuck two years ago. There’s no denying if he made a bit of effort, which I’m sure he does out of school time, that he will have all the girls flocking to him. Many girls have tried to catch him outside of school time, but he has never been found. I think he is just smarter than all the bimbos that chase after him, quite literally. It’s either that or the depressing thought that he doesn’t do anything fancy on a weekend and instead he hangs around in his staff accommodation and slobs around looking worse than he does now. I’m shuddering just thinking of that. I cannot allow my illusion to be shattered.” The extreme, dramatic voice she uses as she speaks makes me smile. She is even fanning herself with her hand at the distressing thought. When she takes it a step further and pretends to faint from the shock I cannot hold back the genuine belly laugh that is released.
My laugh almost startles me as I realise that I haven’t laughed in a very long time, but with Trix it’s easy. In the short time I’ve known her, I can already tell that we will get along well and for the first time whilst being at this school I actually want to make a friend. Before I can say anything the bell rings to inform us we need to start going to class. I hear Trix loudly tut at the inconvenience the bell caused her.
Standing, I grab my bag and make my way to the door where Trix is standing. I don’t want to be rude, because I really do want to get to know this strange little pixie more, but at the same time I need to get to class.
“I’m so sorry, Trix. I don’t want to be rude but I really have to get to History. I can’t be late. But it really was lovely meeting you. Hopefully I will see you again soon?” I ask, raising my eyebrows and shrugging my shoulders slightly to apologise. Without waiting for her to reply, Trix takes a step to her side and blocks my exit. She has an infuriated look on her face.
“You better not be running out on me, Abs. I need your number. How else am I supposed to have you keep me up to date with all the drama that you are causing here. Who knew that all it took to spice things up around here was a new girl with bright blue streaked hair?” she says, chuckling at the end while holding her phone out for us to swap numbers.
“You already knew all the gossip before you even met me,” I state, but I swap phones with her anyway. I put my number in her phone, careful to only save it as ‘Abbie, The New Girl’ instead of my surname. The longer I can keep that name hidden, the longer I can keep my past separate from everyone.
“Well, now I get to find out the gossip before everyone else. I’m so excited, I can already tell we are going to be the best of friends,” she practically sings before being interrupted by the warning bell. “Shit, we better run. See you tonight in the dining hall for dinner around six thirty?” Trix asks as she opens the door for us to both get out quickly. I agree and wave at her, all whilst we both run in opposite directions to get to our classes before we are late. Maybe this place won’t be so bad after all?
Isit in my classroom long after the last students of the day have slumped out. Usually I leave before they do, keen to make it into the academy’s state-of-the-art gym before the entitled little fuckers do. But not today. Today, I’m too wrapped up in my own head to even think about rushing around or sneaking off campus again tonight. I’ve tried to let it go, to ignore the way she spoke to me. She’s just like all the others, acting out just so they believe they’ve left a mark on this world. So then, why has she got me so rattled?
Sitting forward in my leather chair, I scan through the stack of finished worksheets on my desk without really looking at them. One of the benefits of Advanced Maths is that my pupils seem to have half a brain, educationally speaking. Common sense, however, is a rarity around here. Either way, if they fail, it’s on them and if they happen to succeed, I’m congratulated on my achievement. Scrawling a ‘C’ on all the sheets, I shove them aside and lean on my forearms.
My jaw is tight and my fists balled. No one has ever spoken back to me like that. They wouldn’t dare. If not out of fear for me, then their parents. But not this girl, with her blue-streaked hair and watchful eyes. She thought she could throw her weight around in my classroom and get away with it, well she’s wrong. Dead wrong. Who the fuck does she even think she is? In fact, let’s find out.
Pulling my top drawer open, I shuffle through the stack of papers the Head’s assistant keeps putting in there. Seriously, why the fuck do I need to know who has photo permission or an allergy? If they’re stupid enough to not carry their own epi-pens, that’s on them. My hand lands on the register and I scan through the list of names to the one added in pen at the bottom. A slow smile creeps across my face, a throaty laugh coming next. Oh, this is too good. A Nightingale thought a few baggy clothes would let her slip into my class without being noticed until she tried to sass her way out of a situation. Guess again, Little Bird. I’ve got you in my grasp now and you won’t be able to flap those fluttery wings anymore.
“Sir?”One of Harriett’s minions makes my head jolt upright from my hand. I quickly wipe the drool from my arm, as well as the small puddle on the desk, and snap at Kayleigh to stop staring at me. Checking my watch, I see I’ve lost the last few hours, but that’s fine. I finished preparing for this lesson in the early hours of the morning. Look at me, preparing for a lesson like I did back in my first year of teaching—when I still gave a shit. It’s only Kayleigh in here so far, so I send her on a coffee run and quickly dart into my adjoining bathroom. There’s a stash of clean clothes and toiletries in here for the nights I drown myself in the whiskey in my bottom drawer and pass out across the tables. I go to grab a random t-shirt when my hand lifts a white button down shirt and I smirk to myself. This will be perfect.
By the time Kayleigh returns with a coffee and blueberry muffin—making a mental-note to give her an A on her next assignment—I’ve freshened up and my game face is on. The students filter in just before the first bell sounds, all of them stopping to gawk at me before taking their seats. Jackson is the first to actually approach me, ignoring my warning growl.
“Not like you to be early, Sir. What’s the special occasion?” His cocky face has a thousand sharp curses rushing to the end of my tongue, pure determination holding them at bay. My late night and the lack of alcohol in my system are making me irritable, as opposed to my usual not giving a shit attitude. No one ever checks in on me during class, and the pupils know those who snitch on me will regret it, but I feel like today I may cross an invisible boundary line. I turn away to suppress a yawn, taking my ruler in hand.
“I didn’t want to miss your face when I did this.” With a simple flick of my wrist, the end of the ruler snaps against Jackson’s thigh right next to his crotch. The resulting howl suggests he was hanging a bit too far to the left and as Harriett enters the room reapplying her lip gloss, I can imagine he is feeling rather sensitive too. Jackson flops to the floor, cradling his testicles when Harley runs into the room and dives on him.
“He was with my girl again!” Harley shouts, catching my eye. I rub my temple and tell him he has ten seconds, before turning my back and enjoying my coffee. Actually, it’s a hazelnut latte and Kayleigh just earned herself an A+ instead. It’s been more than ten seconds that the grunts and hollers have been sounding from behind me, but I take my time and crack my neck when ready.
“Three, two, one. Okay boys, that’s enough.” Facing the room, I kick Harley off Jackson just before he lands another punch and that’s when I see her. Wide-eyed, mouth popping open and blocking the doorway. Upon seeing my shirt, her face equally lights up as it sinks at me having arrived before her. Well, technically I haven’t left, but that’s not important right now.
Reaching across my desk, I grab for my geeky specs and push them on for good measure. Principal Thornton gave all the staff a pair of these a few years back, the blue lens meant to help with headaches from computer screens. Too bad they don’t make glasses for headaches from over-privileged brats. All it takes is a simple snap of my fingers to have the class scrambling for their seats, an edge of apprehension in the room. I let the pause drag on, waiting for the first one to crack when Jeremy Limpet pipes up in the second row.
“What page are we on, Sir?” I cock my eyebrow at him and he cowers, although secretively I’m impressed he had the balls to address me so directly. Little Limpet is a five foot four wafer of a redhead, and if he doesn’t follow in his dad’s app-building career, he hasn’t a hope in hell of surviving this world.
“No pages today,” I speak loudly enough to be heard in the back. All the way at the back where Nightingale is pretending to ignore me. “I’ve decided some of you are too complacent in my methods, so I’ve put together a challenge for you today. Anyone who fails can walk their asses down the hall to Lower Math with Mr Brumble. I won’t even let you try regular with Mr Wormald.” A symphony of groans floats through the air, music to my fucking ears.
“But, Sir! Mr Brumble spits when he talks and his breath is another level of halitosis!” Athena moans.
“Well then, you’d better fight for a seat at the back or beat my challenge,” I smirk. The joke’s on her, because I know for a fact all the boys in Brumble’s class fight for the back row leaving the girls to fend for themselves, and Athena will be the first to quit what I have planned. These kids think they know math, but they have no idea what torturous equations I’m capable of. Well they will today, plus I have the potential to lose over half my class in one hit. I should have done this at the beginning of the school year and saved myself the hassle.
Loading up the slide I designed on my computer last night, I can’t hold back a deep rumbling chuckle at myself. The whole page is rows and rows of numbers, symbols and brackets, the answer almost impossible to decipher. Switching on the whiteboard behind me, I take the time to level each student with a hard stare. My low tone is barely audible above their sharp inhales, but they hear me. “Find ‘X’.”
Chairs scrape and feet scurry towards the resources cupboard, an argument breaking out over the old textbooks and fact files which have been gathering dust in there. Fucking fools, nothing in those pages will help with this equation. All they need should already be stuck in their heads, otherwise I’m happy to lose them.
My smirk is starting to ache, but I relish their panic, as a quote from Albert Einstein echoes around my mind. ‘If a cluttered desk suggests a cluttered mind, what does an empty desk suggest?’. Turning away, a flash of blue catches my eye and I quickly freeze, my lips dropping to a scowl. The newbie is sitting at the back, same seat as yesterday with a bored look on her face. Holding my stare, she yawns widely and doesn’t even try to cover it.
“You’d better get to work if you want to stay in this class, Newbie. Or fail, so you can run straight back to your parents and tell them once again, you’re not worth the money they waste on you.” I don’t need to know her backstory to know I’m right, it’s the same as all the others. The sudden stiffness to her posture only proves it. Grabbing her backpack, I puff my chest out, proud to have won a small victory already. Usually this time in the morning doesn’t even exist to me.
I wait for her to stomp out, but it doesn’t come. Instead, she slowly saunters towards me, way too casually for my liking. Her legs are encased in ripped denim, patches of creamy skin visible beneath the baggy hoodie which falls too low. The sudden thought that it must be a boyfriend’s has a growl crawling up my throat before I catch myself. What the fuck was that? You’re her teacher, Jethro, lock your shit down.
“What are you looking at?” I bite out when she stops in front of me. I fight the urge to step back, not wanting to appear like I’m retreating under her bitchy stare. But I need to escape the scent of her vanilla and honey body lotion or scrub or whatever the fuck she’s bathed in. It coils around me, fills my senses, and makes me dizzy. When she finally answers, my eyes are drawn to the nude colour on her smart mouth.
“Mmmm.” She pauses to look me up and down in thought. “I suppose I’m looking at not only a poor excuse for a teacher, but a poor excuse for a human being. You think your position here makes you a God, but I see the truth. You’re nothing.”
