Disclaimer: Not making any money from this...
02
The increasingly callous teacher marched his errant charges the long way round to the Head's office, past window upon window of their classmates, making examples of them before all the gawping faces and gossiping giggles. Laura fought not to blush, uncomfortable with all these eyes on her, knowing that the girls in her class would make her life hell over this. Her palms clenched by her sides, she was distracted by flickering vision she could not explain, orange specks glowing in the corners of her eyes.
Darkness closed in about them, as at last the small group entered the relative privacy of the school's dark foyer. A secretary clacked noisily away at her computer, peering at the dusty screen over her glasses. There was a low buzz of conversation behind the staff room door, as those members of the teaching body without scheduled classes drank coffee and pre-loaded on nicotine. The Head's door was shut, brown enamel foreboding. Without a word, Mr Greenwood indicated they make themselves comfortable, before going into the office to brief the Head.
The exceptionally low-slung 'comfy' chair seemed to want to swallow the redhead up as she sat, considering that for all their attempts to be normal people, teachers really weren't. It had to be some deliberate ploy, having these chairs so near the ground, so any teacher needing an ego-trip could come stand over kids in trouble, and gloat at how much better than the teenagers they were.
Tom was soon impatiently bouncing the football on the floor between his feet, receiving evil looks from the secretary as he did. Danny and Mikey leant back in their chairs obnoxiously, as still Mr Greenwood did not reappear. The two boys folded their arms, and glowered at everyone who passed from under dark eyelashes. Laura didn't dare break the lengthy silence, leaning forward with her hands on her lap. Little footsteps of flames seemed to flicker up her spine, making her shudder, though the sensation was not a hundred percent unpleasant. Her mind drifted improbably, trying to find a place inside her where no worries could trouble her, and where no secrets betrayed her...
The sound of Mr Greenwood leaving the office, and a single authoritative shout of "Enter" from the Head shattered her moment of peace. With dread and heavy limbs all four teens lurched to their feet, but Mr Greenwood's hand on Laura's shoulder stopped her in her tracks.
"Sit Laura, he's not ready for you yet." She was being singled out? How unfair was that? The teenage girl writhed away from the teacher, tutting her disapproval, but sitting nonetheless, and letting her blazer drop to the floor again. She was forced to wait, feeling warmer and more agitated as she heard the Head's voice ranting at her friends. It would do no good, the very next time they were supposed to be in French, the boys would be out playing football again, and Laura had a sneaking suspicion that the Head knew this too.
"Laura!" The Headteacher's call came again from behind the ominous door, as it opened to release her friends. Danny and Mikey shot her conspirative, cocky smiles, but Tom just looked at her sympathetically. Then they were gone, stewarded off to class, where they were supposed to be, by Mr Greenwood. Laura stood, shrugging on her blazer and brushing fine wisps of hair away from her brow.
The Head was sat behind his desk in front of the window, which was masked with mint-green vertical blinds. A balding man in blue shirt and tie, buttons bursting across his front, he didn't look up as Laura collapsed into the seat opposite him. Absently, still not looking at the girl, he fingered his collar away from his neck. Edward Fitzgerald wondered if he was going down with something? How had it got so warm in here suddenly? Reaching blindly behind him, he opened the window, letting in the breeze and the sound of traffic streaming past. A group of cross-country runners jogged by, dressed in the gold of the PE department, chattering, before finally the Head turned to the nervously waiting redhead.
"Laura Williams, Year Eleven, Form Beta, you have your GCSE exams in a few weeks." It wasn't a question, but Laura nodded anyway. She didn't like this one bit, watching the sweat run down her Headmaster's bald brow, her blood slowly boiling. "I see you were one of the top of your year last year, straight A grades." Again not a question, and Laura folded her arms defensively, the dry paper of her permanent file rustling alluringly like tinder. He knew very well who she was, why was he bringing all this up again? "We first met when you were thrown off the girl's football team at the start of term for fighting, am I right?"
"I can't help being competitive..." Laura started stubbornly, but was cut off.
"You nearly put a member of your own team in hospital. You were lucky her parents didn't press charges." Finally he met her eyes, but the anger in her glare was somehow uncomfortable to watch, like staring at the sun. He lasted but a few seconds before he looked back at the file. "And then the slip begins. You stopped taking notes in class, ceased handing in homework. I had numerous complaints from your teachers, but on investigation your grades were still excellent, so we had to the lapse slide, thinking you would grow out of it. You haven't."
"I know what I'm doing. I don't need to take notes. I just remember stuff really, really well." Laura was exasperated, telling the absolute truth. She'd always had an excellent memory, could remember stuff from way back when she had still lived in Ireland, when she'd been less than two years old. She knew, in some small corner of her mind, that the good grades she got at school were in part cheating, and she didn't always understand the things she knew. But if all she was ever asked to do in an exam was write down what someone had told her, she'd get damn near-perfect scores every time. But her answer was not the one the Head wanted to hear.
"It has been considered," He spoke louder, as if Laura were suddenly deaf, pushing his authority. "That perhaps you have been lucky in your friends, that good students may be helping you, for want of a better word, cheat. But we have no proof, and your current crop of associates begs more than one question of that theory."
"What's wrong with my friends?" Laura demanded, scowling, hands gripping the edge of the desk so hard it made her knuckles white.
"Well, if all you ever want to aspire to is alcoholism, and being a single young mother, nothing I suppose. We know all about your recent police warning for underage drinking. With your grades I would have expected more than that..."
"But I thought you said I was cheating to get those grades?" Mr Fitzgerald ignored her comment, adhering to that last ounce of control over her, showing that he needn't ever answer to her.
"Or should that be with the grades you were achieving, for now you have slipped into truanting, the marks you are bothering to turn up to get are fading fast." Laura was abashed a little at that despite herself, it was common sense, she couldn't memorise things she wasn't there for. But the Head wasn't done, eyeing up the redhead for his killer blow.
"You have been warned enough times about your attitude and behaviour. The school has run out of patience with you, Laura. Unless you can come up with a very good reason why your behaviour has disintegrated along with your grades, I'm afraid detention wont be enough of a punishment."
"What do you mean?" Laura stuttered, but her question wasn't clear enough.
"I mean, is there something going on elsewhere, problems at home maybe, that are causing you upset? Often changes in behaviour like this are a cry for help of sorts." His voice softened, and he was suddenly a lot less threatening. "Laura? You would tell us if there was something wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong." Laura answered too quickly, pulling back her hands from the desk, and folding her arms defensively. "What are you going to do to me?"
"I'm afraid I will be ringing your father, and advising him that if you do not wish to attend lessons, then there is no point in you being here. You are suspended from school until further notice."
02
The increasingly callous teacher marched his errant charges the long way round to the Head's office, past window upon window of their classmates, making examples of them before all the gawping faces and gossiping giggles. Laura fought not to blush, uncomfortable with all these eyes on her, knowing that the girls in her class would make her life hell over this. Her palms clenched by her sides, she was distracted by flickering vision she could not explain, orange specks glowing in the corners of her eyes.
Darkness closed in about them, as at last the small group entered the relative privacy of the school's dark foyer. A secretary clacked noisily away at her computer, peering at the dusty screen over her glasses. There was a low buzz of conversation behind the staff room door, as those members of the teaching body without scheduled classes drank coffee and pre-loaded on nicotine. The Head's door was shut, brown enamel foreboding. Without a word, Mr Greenwood indicated they make themselves comfortable, before going into the office to brief the Head.
The exceptionally low-slung 'comfy' chair seemed to want to swallow the redhead up as she sat, considering that for all their attempts to be normal people, teachers really weren't. It had to be some deliberate ploy, having these chairs so near the ground, so any teacher needing an ego-trip could come stand over kids in trouble, and gloat at how much better than the teenagers they were.
Tom was soon impatiently bouncing the football on the floor between his feet, receiving evil looks from the secretary as he did. Danny and Mikey leant back in their chairs obnoxiously, as still Mr Greenwood did not reappear. The two boys folded their arms, and glowered at everyone who passed from under dark eyelashes. Laura didn't dare break the lengthy silence, leaning forward with her hands on her lap. Little footsteps of flames seemed to flicker up her spine, making her shudder, though the sensation was not a hundred percent unpleasant. Her mind drifted improbably, trying to find a place inside her where no worries could trouble her, and where no secrets betrayed her...
The sound of Mr Greenwood leaving the office, and a single authoritative shout of "Enter" from the Head shattered her moment of peace. With dread and heavy limbs all four teens lurched to their feet, but Mr Greenwood's hand on Laura's shoulder stopped her in her tracks.
"Sit Laura, he's not ready for you yet." She was being singled out? How unfair was that? The teenage girl writhed away from the teacher, tutting her disapproval, but sitting nonetheless, and letting her blazer drop to the floor again. She was forced to wait, feeling warmer and more agitated as she heard the Head's voice ranting at her friends. It would do no good, the very next time they were supposed to be in French, the boys would be out playing football again, and Laura had a sneaking suspicion that the Head knew this too.
"Laura!" The Headteacher's call came again from behind the ominous door, as it opened to release her friends. Danny and Mikey shot her conspirative, cocky smiles, but Tom just looked at her sympathetically. Then they were gone, stewarded off to class, where they were supposed to be, by Mr Greenwood. Laura stood, shrugging on her blazer and brushing fine wisps of hair away from her brow.
The Head was sat behind his desk in front of the window, which was masked with mint-green vertical blinds. A balding man in blue shirt and tie, buttons bursting across his front, he didn't look up as Laura collapsed into the seat opposite him. Absently, still not looking at the girl, he fingered his collar away from his neck. Edward Fitzgerald wondered if he was going down with something? How had it got so warm in here suddenly? Reaching blindly behind him, he opened the window, letting in the breeze and the sound of traffic streaming past. A group of cross-country runners jogged by, dressed in the gold of the PE department, chattering, before finally the Head turned to the nervously waiting redhead.
"Laura Williams, Year Eleven, Form Beta, you have your GCSE exams in a few weeks." It wasn't a question, but Laura nodded anyway. She didn't like this one bit, watching the sweat run down her Headmaster's bald brow, her blood slowly boiling. "I see you were one of the top of your year last year, straight A grades." Again not a question, and Laura folded her arms defensively, the dry paper of her permanent file rustling alluringly like tinder. He knew very well who she was, why was he bringing all this up again? "We first met when you were thrown off the girl's football team at the start of term for fighting, am I right?"
"I can't help being competitive..." Laura started stubbornly, but was cut off.
"You nearly put a member of your own team in hospital. You were lucky her parents didn't press charges." Finally he met her eyes, but the anger in her glare was somehow uncomfortable to watch, like staring at the sun. He lasted but a few seconds before he looked back at the file. "And then the slip begins. You stopped taking notes in class, ceased handing in homework. I had numerous complaints from your teachers, but on investigation your grades were still excellent, so we had to the lapse slide, thinking you would grow out of it. You haven't."
"I know what I'm doing. I don't need to take notes. I just remember stuff really, really well." Laura was exasperated, telling the absolute truth. She'd always had an excellent memory, could remember stuff from way back when she had still lived in Ireland, when she'd been less than two years old. She knew, in some small corner of her mind, that the good grades she got at school were in part cheating, and she didn't always understand the things she knew. But if all she was ever asked to do in an exam was write down what someone had told her, she'd get damn near-perfect scores every time. But her answer was not the one the Head wanted to hear.
"It has been considered," He spoke louder, as if Laura were suddenly deaf, pushing his authority. "That perhaps you have been lucky in your friends, that good students may be helping you, for want of a better word, cheat. But we have no proof, and your current crop of associates begs more than one question of that theory."
"What's wrong with my friends?" Laura demanded, scowling, hands gripping the edge of the desk so hard it made her knuckles white.
"Well, if all you ever want to aspire to is alcoholism, and being a single young mother, nothing I suppose. We know all about your recent police warning for underage drinking. With your grades I would have expected more than that..."
"But I thought you said I was cheating to get those grades?" Mr Fitzgerald ignored her comment, adhering to that last ounce of control over her, showing that he needn't ever answer to her.
"Or should that be with the grades you were achieving, for now you have slipped into truanting, the marks you are bothering to turn up to get are fading fast." Laura was abashed a little at that despite herself, it was common sense, she couldn't memorise things she wasn't there for. But the Head wasn't done, eyeing up the redhead for his killer blow.
"You have been warned enough times about your attitude and behaviour. The school has run out of patience with you, Laura. Unless you can come up with a very good reason why your behaviour has disintegrated along with your grades, I'm afraid detention wont be enough of a punishment."
"What do you mean?" Laura stuttered, but her question wasn't clear enough.
"I mean, is there something going on elsewhere, problems at home maybe, that are causing you upset? Often changes in behaviour like this are a cry for help of sorts." His voice softened, and he was suddenly a lot less threatening. "Laura? You would tell us if there was something wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong." Laura answered too quickly, pulling back her hands from the desk, and folding her arms defensively. "What are you going to do to me?"
"I'm afraid I will be ringing your father, and advising him that if you do not wish to attend lessons, then there is no point in you being here. You are suspended from school until further notice."