Davis Mitchell yawned and stretched. She looked around her dark room. She got out of her bed, her joints clicking as she did so. She opened up her curtains and squinted as she did so. Today was her first day at work. Yes, a proper job.

Her parents hadn't always accepted her choice of career path, but they had come 'round. Now all Davis had to concentrate on was getting through the month without paying rent on her flat; a small amount of rent was already overdue. As soon as payday came, she could pay it off and everything would be sorted.

She got changed and did her hair. She straigtened it out, happily sighing as her blonde locks fell around her shoulders. She put on some eyeliner, mascara and concealer and proceeded to get changed. So, the interview was all 'posh posh smart smart' but what about actually working? She wanted to make a good impression on her first day, but then again she didn't want her colleagues to think she was stuck up. She was an art teacher for gods sake! To be honest she was in luck getting this job in the first place, her only being an NQT. But Waterloo Road's new 'Super-Head' Michael Byrne wanted to breathe new life into the school, so amongst his head hunting looked for the brightest sparks within the colleges. Davis' apparent enthusiasm had won it. But Davis wasn't honestly looking forward to starting. All new people. But this was life.

She settled for some tight-hugging navy trousers, not her preferred choice of colour but she wanted to seem 'professional'. She put on a belt with a guitar pattern on it, and a cream blouse. Well, it was more of a shirt than a blouse. She put her black and white low-top converse all stars on over blue socks and padded down the small stairs of her maisonette to put some toast in the toaster.

Davis had begun to stop worrying about her finances and was now transforming her nervousness into excitement. What were the staff going to be like? Would they welcome her? Or would they deem her as 'incapable' because of her youth and brand new qualifications? Would she make friends, or would she have to sit in her car alone to eat her lunch?

Her thoughts were cut short because of her toast springing out of the toaster. She put it on her plate and spread it with strawberry jam, before reaching for the remote to switch the news on.

Nothing much had happened, so she switched the television off once she had finished her toast and went to grab her hoodie. She flung it on her back before checking her shoulder bag. Many pens, some syllabus related material, sketch pad, pencils, a reading book.

Yep, she was all set. This was it. She flung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her keys, taking one last look around before leaving and locking the door. She smiled at her neighbours as she walked down the stairs and nodded at the guy putting his bins out. Her car was parked directly outside, she could never be bothered to walk very far. Her car was a dirty silver. Not that brand-spanking new upper class kind of shiny silver. Kind of a worn silver. It wasn't small like a Ford Fiesta, or big like either kind of Rover. It was in the middle, which was just how Davis liked it. She unlocked the door and fell into the drivers side, switching on the radio. It was in the middle of a song, 'Build Me up Buttercup'. She hummed along and quietly sung along to the words as she put her bag in the passenger seat. Soon that bag would be full of books for marking. She strapped her seatbelt across her and gently pulled out of her street, still singing. 'I need you, I need you, more than anyone darling...' she needed this to keep herself cheery.

She pulled into the carpark. There were already a few kids there, but not many. Davis took a deep intake of breath and checked her reflection in the mirror. Fine. She picked up her bag and sat for a moment, taking it all in. Then, deciding not to waste anymore time, she got out.

There were a few boys playing football, some just standing around chatting. One in a chavvy designer jacket noticed her as she was locking her car door. "Alright Miss? You new? What do you teach? It dun' matter, you can teach me anytime!" The rest of the boys in the pack laughed and began to wolf whistle. Davis shook her head and made her way into the building.

She passed the science room. She knew where she was going, she'd already been given the grand tour by Michael. So far, he was the only one she'd met. She went up the flights of stairs passing chatting kids as she went. Then, she began the long walk down the corridor to the staff room. It seemed to take forever, although when she finally got to the door she kinda wished it had been longer. She felt like a student again, nervous to knock on a door to a room teachers were in. She was about to knock, when she realised she wasn't a student anymore and walked straight in. She went into the main part. There were shelves, some chairs, some magazines, a little kitchen area. It was just how she had imagined it. Unsure of what to do, she loitered for a little bit. That was when a man came out of nowhere into her line of sight. He'd noticed the look on her face.

"You alright there?" He was short. Taller than Davis, but shorter than most other men she'd met. You could say, 'tall for women, short for men' if that wasn't kinda sexist. He had short, brown hair and brown stubble. He had blue eyes and all in all, his physique was friendly and welcoming. He let out a little laugh. "New I take it?" Davis grinned and nodded. He held out his hand "Tom Clarkson, pleased to meet ya." Davis shook it.

"I'm Davis Mitchell, very nice to meet you too." Tom retrieved his hand.

"Davis?" He seemed to nod in acceptance "Nice name."

"Yeah."

"Sounds quite butch... if you don't mind me saying." Tom regained himself as not to offend the young woman. She just continued to grin.

"I know. Put it down on paper, you'd think I was a man." She shrugged her shoulders. "Still, goes to show you shouldn't immediately assume."

"Too right." He walked over to the kitchen area where a kettle had nearly boiled and Davis sheepshly followed him. After all, she had nowhere else to go. He got out a plain white mug and put it next to one she assumed was his. "Tea or coffee?"

"Erm, tea please. I'd rather not get too hyped up this morning." Tom smirked and made her tea.

"You'll have to bring your own mug in at some point," he said.

"Yeah..." In all truth Davis didn't have that many mugs. Tom noticed her deep in thought.

"Or... I could always get you one? As a welcome present." Davis shook her head.

"No, no. You don't have to do that." She drunk her tea as more and more teachers began piling into the staffroom. "I never asked what you teach, Tom." Davis half-asked.

"Oh, English." She nodded. "And I'm up for Deputy Head this term."

"Ooh, really. Well, congratulations."

"What about you?"

"Oh, Art."

"You into all that foncy-poncy stuff then are you?"

Davis giggled. "Hardly. I'm not bad at other stuff too, but drawing is where I flourish. Why not pass on my talent to other kids?"

"You're not big on yourself at all."

Davis giggled again. "Its just something I enjoy." Tom put his coffee down.

"Yeah well, the last art teacher we had, a supply; he was all down with that kind of stuff. Nature and greenpeace and all that. He was absolutely off his narkers."

"Ooooh, you talking about our irrplaceable Mr. Glowers are you?" An old dinosaur walked over to Tom and Davis and began using the boiled water in the kettle.

"Uh, Grantly. This is Davis. Davis Mitchell. Davis this is Grantly Budgeon, our head of English." Davis stuck her hand out, but Grantly just stared at her before going back to his business with the kettle.

"New blood are you? Well trust me, you'll soon want out. The kids if they can be called that, are little horrors you would not believe." Davis put her hand back around her tea. Tom gave her a look as if to say he was always like that. Tom introduced her to some more teachers, they both also met new staff. Although many were much more experienced then Davis, she felt comfortable. Then Michael came in and gave a pre-registration chat. He introduced people. Tom turned to Davis afterwards.

"You picked up your timetable yet?"

"Oh, no!" Davis exclaimed.

"Well, you better go and pick it up from your pigeon hole." With that, he left. She went and picked up two envelopes from her pigeon hole.

"Great, Year 11 first..." She sighed as she closed one. She opened up her other one. "A Year 10 form..." She must have inherited it from a teacher that left last year. Well, no rest for the wicked. With that, she picked up the formalities from her pigeon hole and left.