Paula went home, made herself a turkey sandwich, dialed Emily at work, and relayed the morning's events.
"Well, I hate kids," Emily said after a thoughtful pause. "The whining and the bodily fluids just put me off sex entirely."
"Someone's whined about sex with you?" Paula blurted out in the midst of a fit of giggles.
"Er, no," Emily answered with an exasperated sigh. "I meant the whining and bodily fluids from a product of sex. So at any rate, I'm not the best person to seek out for advice on this subject. But if I were you, I'd just watch the Potter lad like a hawk, and set out to be The Cool Teacher. Nobody misbehaves in The Cool Teacher's class, you know?"
"I wasn't The Cool Kid. How in the hell am I going to be The Cool Teacher?"
"Get the popular kids to like you. Then you're The Cool Teacher."
"How do I get on their side?"
"Just be yourself," Emily answered frankly. "And then if that fails, use bribery."
"How am I supposed to control this Potter kid? He's supposed to be some kind of a punk!"
"Hell if I know," Emily answered. "Weren't you in trouble a lot when you were in school? How did they keep you under control?"
"They didn't. I was sent to the Head Office."
"See there. That's your answer!" Emily answered triumphantly. "If he's really, really bad, send him up to the Head!"
"Emily, you don't understand!" Paula wailed. "He turned a teacher's hair blue!"
"So he turned a teacher's hair blue," Emily answered. "Isn't that today's style?"
"Only if you're also wearing a lot of leather and happen to be a rock star. Blue hair is not exactly what I'd call professional."
"You'll be fine," Emily assured her. Paula wished that she could believe it. "Just keep a level head and don't take any of their crap. See you when I get home."
With that, Paula hung up the phone and drove to the neighborhood newsagent's to find the school supplies she needed for the first day.
* * *
Paula hated using public toilets, but her back teeth were starting to float, and the Potholes from Hell on Privet Drive (which was on her way home) would certainly be murder if she didn't make a pit stop before she made her way back.
With a push of her hand, the door swung open.
She heard someone sniffling softly.
"Hullo? Is everything alright in there?" Paula called out.
She heard a startled gasp. She heard a little squeak, and she looked down to find boys' trainers belonging to someone in the second stall and from even the bit that was viewable from Paula's spot, she thought that the jeans might have been big enough for two legs.
Maybe it's a girl wearing her brother's trainers, Paula hoped.
Then she heard a painful-sounding thud and a splash, and someone, a decidedly male someone, loudly whispered, "Gross!"
"Look," Paula said. "I've REALLY got to go, so if you don't mind, would you please be decent and give a girl a little privacy?"
"I can't," came a small voice from the second stall. It definitely belonged to a small boy.
It seemed incredibly odd to Paula to relieve herself with a small boy alone by himself in the next stall. It didn't matter how much she needed to go. She just couldn't allow the boy to hear her.
"I promise, nobody is going to get you if you come out of there," Paula said. "I'll give you a lolly." She fished around in her pocket book. "All right, I lied. I don't have a lolly. I have a piece of gum, though. A very old, linty piece of gum...but...you can have it if you come out of there right now, alright?"
"Dudley will," the boy answered, opening the door to the stall. She noticed he had glasses that had been repaired with tape and the cuffs of his jeans were sopping wet, and he left a trail of water behind him.
"Dudley will what?" Paula asked.
"Get me," the boy answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Who's Dudley?"
"My cousin."
Then Paula asked: "Are you waiting for your mum? Maybe she can sort this out."
The boy's unruly mop of jet-black hair moved with his whole head as he shook it back and forth. It was then that she noticed a red, lightening-bolt scar on his forehead.
Paula frowned. "I know children grow up fast these days, but aren't you a bit young to be a Peeping Tom?"
"I'm not a Peeping Tom!" the boy said, pouting. "I told you!" And then he lowered his voice to the loudest whisper that Paula had ever heard. "I'm hiding from Dudley."
"What makes you think this Dudley boy is going to get you?"
"He and Piers wanted me to give them the money that my aunt gave me to buy the groceries to get me into trouble. They're not far behind."
"Can't you just explain what happened?"
The boy shook his head.
"If I don't come back with the groceries or the money, I'll be stuck in the cup--in my room--forever."
Paula suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with the state of her bladder. It was as if she'd just discovered his dirty little secret
"Why does your aunt send you grocery shopping?" she demanded, when it suddenly occurred to her that this was an odd thing.
The boy, eyes still downcast, shrugged. "I don't mind. The owner gives me lemon drops if he has them about."
"Maybe the owner has some lemon drops. Would you be a lamb and find out? There are certain things that need doing in this room and you shouldn't even be in here in the first place!"
Just then the boy's eyes widened--and then she realized why when she heard the thunder of several pairs of footsteps.
"WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, SCAR-HEAD!" shouted one boy.
She winced as the door to the men's restroom slammed against the tiled wall.
"SHOW YOUR FACE OR YOU WON'T HAVE ONE BY THE TIME I'M DONE WITH YOU!" shouted another one.
Paula tried to say something, but before she could, the boy was gone.
She hoped the boy made it home all right, but she was extremely glad she could finally do her business in peace.
* * *
Paula didn't sleep much the night before the first day of class.
She was surprised she hadn't driven Emily crazy rehearsing her first lecture, but she had to be perfect.
"How do I look?" Paula asked Emily as they headed out to Emily's car.
"Like a teacher," Emily answered distractedly as she dabbed her lipstick.
Paula frowned. "The teachers I knew all wore those frumpy cardigans with cutsie little embroidered things sewn on them."
"Like a cool teacher," Emily revised.
Paula didn't feel like one.
"What if they hate me?" Paula blurted out as they both were getting ready for work.
Emily let out an exasperated sigh. "There are twenty kids in the class. Odds are, one of them is going to like you."
"It's seven already!" Paula panicked. "I have to be there in half an hour! I'm going to be late!"
"The school is three roads away, Paula, but go if you need to. Break a leg!"
Paula gave her friend a weak smile, grabbed her tote-full of school supplies and purse, shut the door behind her, started her engine, and prayed to whatever deities might be listening that day that today would not be a disaster.
* * *
The chalk squeaked against the coal-black blackboard as she wrote her name in giant, uncharacteristically neat cursive letters. She couldn't get her heart to stop pounding in her ears. She took a deep breath as she went to get the textbooks for the class.
She placed a textbook on every desk. It was going to be maths first. She hated maths, but at least it would be out of her way first. Maths were the reason why she wanted the younger children, because all you had to do at that age was count to twenty. But now she'd have to teach them word-problems and fractions. She would be more comfortable teaching cross-stitching to a bunch of apes.
But it was too late to back out now, because they were all filing in. The first parent to arrive was a blonde-haired woman who appeared to be all-neck.
"How do you do? I'm Petunia Dursley," she said hastily, looking around at the classroom.
"I'm Miss Kent," she said in the most cheerful voice she could muster. Paula got the distinct impression that she was going to be graded.
"Oh good. You're not too fat," Petunia Dursley said, almost absently, examining the selection of books on the shelf. "Are you married?"
"No ma'am."
The woman snapped around to eye her suspiciously. "You're not one of those..." she lowered her voice to a conspiratory whisper, "lesbians...are you?"
Paula shook her head as she pretended to cough to stifle a laugh.
"Then do you live with your boyfriend?"
"My college roommate, miss," Paula said with the fakest smile she could muster, and in a saccharine-sweet tone. "I'm sorry, but I don't quite know what that has to do with my ability to teach your child."
"My Diddy-kins deserves the best. Can't have him being taught by inappropriate role-models, you know."
"Diddy-kins?" Paula asked, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.
"Oh! I forgot! He hates it when I call him Diddy-kins at school. I've had him all to myself all summer long, and it just slipped! Dudley is his name. Dudley Dursley."
"Then you must be Harry Potter's aunt, then?" Paula said, remembering the name from the file.
Petunia sighed heavily, and nodded as though Paula had just found out a dirty little secret.
"The headmistress prepared you, then?"
Paula nodded.
"Then I don't need to tell you to keep your eye on that one. Dudley won't give you any trouble at all, but Potter?" She clicked her tongue and gave her a sympathetic nod.
"Mrs. Dursley," Paula said, getting an idea, "perhaps we can enlist Dudley's help in insuring that Mr. Potter won't get into any trouble while he's in my classroom?
Mrs. Dursley gave her a look that clearly indicated Paula was out of her mind. "My husband and I had hoped Dudley would rub off on that boy in the beginning, but it was obvious from day one that the boy is just a...bad seed. He's abnormal, Ms. Kent, no doubt about that."
Just then, a chubby little girl with brown hair and freckles came into the classroom, leading a very harassed-looking elderly woman. "Gran, hurry up! I want to go play outside before class starts!"
"I'm too old to hurry, Laura," the grandmother answered. Paula gave Mrs. Dursley an apologetic grin. "I'm in the right class-room, aren't I? Laura Henderson is apparently one of your students.""I'm sorry, Mrs. Dursley," Paula tried not to sound as relieved as she felt to have an excuse to be rid of the woman. "I've enjoyed our little chat, but the other students are arriving."
"I'll leave you to it, then," Mrs. Dursley said in a sympathetic tone-of-voice.
"Can I come in now?" An oddly familiar voice said just outside the door.
"Very well, boy."
Paula's eyes widened. Who addresses someone like that? She wondered.
"I'm finished here. Just don't start anything, or you'll be paying for it when you get home. Your new teacher and I have worked an agreement out, and I will know about it." Mrs. Dursley gave Paula a pointed look from across the room.
"Madam, I'm sure Laura and I are going to have a great time today," Paula said. Then she happened to look up.
It was the boy from the ladies' toilets the other day.
"I'm sure we're going to have a wonderful time," she said distractedly. Then she went over to him.
"Are you lost?" she asked.
The boy shook his head, as a look of recognition crossed his face, and then he made a study of his trainers.
"I'm Harry Potter," the boy mumbled.
Paula felt her heart drop to her feet.
Collecting herself quickly, she gave him a nervous smile. "I'm Miss Kent," she said gently. "There's a desk in here with your name on it, and I'm sure we're going to have a wonderful time."
Harry just nodded, still unable to meet her eyes, and took his seat.
The rest of the children filed in when the bell rang, including a portly boy with three other children about the same size. They all made it a point to glare at Harry when they saw him at his desk, who stuffed his hands in his pockets and made a study of the wall.
* * *
In an hour, it would be time to go to lunch, and the day was surprisingly going well.
She even managed to get through the day's maths lesson without any troubles. She just let the children who seemed ready with the answers give them. Thank God for know-it-alls, she thought as the children were taking their practice test.
It was time for reading now, and once they got their books out, she nodded at Harry.
"Harry, why don't you read us the section on page three?"
Harry nodded, and began reading the passage. When he stumbled over a few words, one of the know-it-alls, a red-headed girl named Sarah Meade, giggled and scribbled something on her notebook. Paula had the suspicion she was passing a note to one of her friends, who started giggling, too.
Paula marched up to Sarah's desk and confiscated the notebook.
Harry kept reading, showing no outward sign that he had been aware that any of this was happening.
She glanced over to see Harry dodging something coming from the opposite side of the room. He was holding his own pretty well, and he even caught one before it managed to hit him.
"TEN POINTS IF YOU GET HIS GLASSES!" Dudley shouted.
"Thank you, Harry. That will be all," she said curtly, not wanting to put the boy through any more humiliation. Then she directed her attention to Dudley and his friends. "Last I heard this was not target practice," Paula said in her best stern voice. "And Sarah, while I'm thrilled that you have developed a keen interest in writing, this isn't the time for it. You will all write lines during lunch."
Everyone was too busy glaring at Harry to concentrate on the rest of the lesson much.
So much for being The Cool Teacher, Paula thought miserably.