Sorry for the late upload, I've been very busy, and I've only just managed to finish the chapter! I probably should be revising for my Italian speaking assessment but oh well, I have the weekend for that (I am so going to fail XD). Enjoy!
Nicki's Point Of View (again!)
The next day, I'm quite cheerful when I go to work. I have a plan for my revenge, and I have the means to carry out said plan. I'm hoping that this might mark the end of the Clarkson-Boston feud!
I walk into Tom's classroom. The majority of his class is there already, but only a few people look at me when I walk in. They're all expecting me to pick up some textbooks or something. "Miss? Where's Mr Clarkson? Is he okay?" Asks one of the girls.
"Yes, he's alright. But, I'm wondering if you guys can help me..."
Later, I'm in my classroom. First lesson has started, but Tom isn't with his class yet. He's late, I made sure of that- to give us enough time to prepare the trick. Now, every time I hear male footsteps in the corridor, I tense, wondering if it's Tom, but he hasn't gone past yet. Shame, I can't wait for him to come face-to-face with revenge.
Finally, just as I'm getting bored and wondering whether Tom has managed to avoid the trick, he rushes past, holding armfuls of papers. I hold my breath, waiting... and sure enough, several seconds later, the door opens, there is a crash, and the sound of Tom yelling. I pretend to be confused by the noise, and I step into the corridor. Tom is standing in the doorway, papers on the floor, dripping with green slime! Yes! I used his water-on-the-door trick, but I substituted the water for slime that I had made last night (this might be a warning not to try my cooking!). At the sight of Tom, I burst out laughing, and he turns around. Our classes run from the rooms and collapse into hysterics in the corridor. The scene is not dissimilar to a riot.
"Nicki!" Tom hisses, and I stop my laughing fit for long enough to gasp "Ha ha, I win!" "This. Is not. Funny." "Oh, but..." I gestured at both of our classes, who are laughing. "... they certainly think so!" Tom is staring daggers at me, and is just about retaliate, when suddenly Michael shoves through the crowd of students. A very cross Michael. "What on Earth is going on here?"
The students fall silent, and Tom and I both look at Michael. I'm still choking back laughter. "Mr Clarkson, Miss Boston, you'd better come with me. You lot, get inside the classroom. NOW!" Tom and I follow Michael down the corridor, feeling like kids that have been caught doing something they shouldn't have been doing. Tom has finally realised the funny side of my prank, and we're both struggling to keep straight faces.
"Right." Michael says, slamming the door to his office. "What is going on?" "Er..." Neither of us really know how to start. "Well, I take it that it's something to do with the little disagreement you've been having lately." We both nod, and Michael sighs, looking at us seriously. "Tom, Nicki, you are both adults. You are here to teach and inspire young people, and to do this, you need to act in a professional and mature manner. If you're going to act like you are, you may as well join your classes instead of teaching them! You need to put this argument aside and not let it interfere with your work life. We will have no more of this silly, immature behaviour where you are playing tricks on each other. You are not setting a very good example to the students, not at all." "Come on, admit it, Michael, it was quite funny!" I say. Michael smirks slightly. "Ok, it was slightly funny, but it wasn't funny to find two classes having some sort of uproar in the corridor!" "I agree. I think we should let bygones be bygones. This argument ends, once and for all." Tom turns to me. "Deal?" "Deal." We shake hands. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. Anyway, back to your classes- oh, and Tom? You might want to go and clean up." "Yes." We walk out of the room, immediately giggling like naughty schoolkids.
"I'm sorry, Tom, for sliming you." I laugh. "And I'm sorry for drenching you. This really was a petty argument, wasn't it?" "Unbelievably petty." "Oh well. Let's be friends again, Nicki." Tom offers me his pinky finger. "Oh God, SO primary school!" I sigh, but we link fingers and 'pinky promise'. "I feel like a six-year-old now." "Well, you don't look it!" "Thanks, Tom, are you saying I look old?" "Well..." He couldn't finish his sentance because I had shoved him against the wall. "Oh, just you wait!" He said, as we sprinted down the corridor...