DAY 18,200

Bad Education

Clara

It was a good thing they arrived at school a damn sight earlier than any pupils did, because Clara didn't even want to imagine the reaction they would get from juveniles as they pulled into the staff carpark in a bright white, pristine Ferrari 458. Now, Clara didn't know a lot about cars, but she did know that this car was very expensive and very fast, and she was having to pay her brother-in-law a lot of money to make sure she was insured for it, after what had happened to the last one. Which was entirely the Doctor's fault, she might add.

"I wish it was summer, then it would be like when we went to Los Angeles," Thirteen said wistfully, getting out of the car to the awe of one of their colleagues. It wasn't like two people on teaching salaries could afford a Ferrari, and last week they had definitely been driving around in a battered sedan that was at the bottom end of the market for used Vauxhalls.

"We've been to L.A. loads of times, which one?" Clara asked, making sure the car was parked properly and that it didn't have any scratches. It was beyond her why Adam Mitchell kept buying cars, he still lived on the TARDIS and barely needed any of them. She narrowed her eyes at her wife every time she so much as brushed her fingers on the car. She did not want a repeat of Saturday's events.

"The first time! Honestly, Clara, it was the hottest thing I've ever seen, and it was July. There's never been a more amazing sight than you in those stilettos and that leather jacket with those bomber shades, showing up with your cigarette and your gum, in your stolen candy apple green convertible*. If it was summer right now, we could have a repeat of it, summer dresses and sunglasses and this Maserati." She said this while Clara opened the boot and got their things out. Sports cars were always skimpy with the sizes of their boots, though, and the few things they had only just fit. The Doctor just watched and leant on the car.

"It's a Ferrari, it has a horse on it," Clara told her, putting the car keys in her mouth to hold them while she had her hands full. Perhaps Clara, too, wished they were in Los Angeles in July in 1947. But they weren't. They were in England in February, 2022, on a freezing Monday morning, outside of a grim high school.

"Whatever it is. The focus of my anecdote was you, not the car." Clara gave Thirteen her stack of books and shut the boot with her elbow, biting down on the lock button of the keys. The lights flashed and the doors clicked, and Clara wondered about the likelihood of the thing getting nicked before the day was out. "I've always loved the Forties, though. For the aesthetic, I mean, not the oppression and the war. And the cars – it's beyond me why Adam wouldn't lend us that Hudson Commodore!"

"Because it drives like crap," Clara said, balancing her books (with the sneaky aid of telekinesis) and managing to put her car keys in her coat pocket, "The clutches are always way too stiff on any car built before 1980."

"Speaking of 1980s cars, we also could have borrowed the DeLorean. Or the Batmobile. Or the Ecto-1." They talked as they walked towards the double doors into the school, few other teachers milling around. It was just gone eight, and they were due for a meeting in the staffroom. One scheduled to be fifteen minutes longer than the morning briefings usually were, not that either of them knew why yet. She hoped it wasn't going to become a regular part of McWatt's 'new initiatives.' He was only acting head teacher, he didn't have the authority for this sort of stuff, not until the board chose a replacement. God knew when that would be, though. Clara pushed the door open with her shoulder and held it for Thirteen with her foot.

"And then we could have looked even crazier than we already do, great idea," Clara remarked, having to keep holding the door a few seconds longer than she would have liked as Evelyn rushed to get in, carrying all manner of art supplies. The crazy thing was that Evelyn Stark, head of art, couldn't even draw. It was an irony Clara never failed to point out to the Doctor when they were alone and Evelyn had annoyed her, though the Doctor usually made a quip back about being nice, and things being 'abstract,' and said that art was all a matter of opinion. And then she would say that there were loads of analytical texts besmirching Clara's poetry, but Clara maintained that that was only because the great academics of literature didn't know a thing about 'C.O. Smith,' because time travellers using pseudonyms were utterly untraceable, and they were bitter about it.

"Where did you two get that car from?" Evelyn asked. She didn't thank Clara for holding the door.

"Ours got written off on Saturday, so our brother-in-law is lending us this one for an as yet unspecified amount of time," Clara explained, all of them walking together now to get to the staff room to see what McWatt had in store. Nothing good, most likely.

"What? Someone is just lending you a Ferrari?"

"Thank god my sister married a multimillionaire," she commented.

"What happened to your car that it got written off?" Evelyn asked.

"Well-" Thirteen began.

"The Doctor crashed it," Clara said. At the school, they were Dr and Mrs Oswald. Yes, people did think it was weird that Clara called her wife 'the Doctor' all the time, and never by her 'first name' that wasn't actually her first name. But it had been almost six months, and people were over their weirdness. There was always plenty of that in a school anyway.

"I did not crash it, they ran in front of me," she argued.

"Well, you weren't actually insured to be driving it, because you don't have a driver's license," Clara said, "And what do you mean they 'ran in front of you?'"

"They came out of nowhere!"

"'They' were a tree!"

"The circumstances were complex."

"There were no circumstances. You were driving a car you weren't legally allowed to drive, meaning we can't actually claim any compensation, and I could press charges against you for grand theft auto," Clara said. This was a reprise of an argument they had had many times over the last two days. The only thing that had stopped the arguing on Sunday morning was Adam Mitchell's generous 'donation.'

"It was all very ambiguous, darling, I think it's best not to talk about it," Thirteen said, opening the door to the staff room for both of them. Clara scowled at her when she walked past. The Doctor only called her 'darling' when she was being passive aggressive or patronising.

"This is why I don't drive," Evelyn said, "It's bad for the human psyche. Nothing makes you age more than road rage, it's a top cause of cancer." Bullshit, Clara thought. "And it's terrible for the environment, humans are destroying this planet."

"Bad for the trees, isn't it?" Clara quipped at the Doctor.

"Shut up, Clara." Thirteen went to dump her things on one of the tables. For a brief second, Clara almost went and sat somewhere else, before resigning herself to her wife's company. They would be fine as long as they just didn't talk about the car.

However, she wasn't happy that the Doctor had sat on the same table as Graham. Evelyn didn't go anywhere near him, nobody did except the Doctor, because Graham was a pariah. He must be in his late sixties, he was borderline senile, he barely knew anything about updates to the Geography syllabus and all he ever did was rave about his dire home life. Again, though, if Clara ever brought that up, Thirteen pointed out that she was going to be seventy-five in November. Thirteen really didn't like gossip was what Clara had learnt.

"So! Graham. How is the morning treating you?" the Doctor asked brightly. Clara didn't know why she made any effort with the man, he was decrepit, and he was an arse. He grunted. "What do you know about this meeting Douglas has called, then?"

"That bastard thinks he can do what he likes now Norris snuffed it," Graham complained, "Celia reckons he had something to do with it. It's suspicious."

"Yeah, well, Celia still thinks you should beat children, and her knowledge of the life cycle of a star is basic at best," the Doctor grumbled, "I could teach Physics better than her." Celia Frost, head of science, was over by the kettle making tea and pinching biscuits that belonged to one of the other English teachers. Tom Miller, Clara thought. Thirteen glared at her. Honestly, Clara thought pointedly while looking at her wife, and you say I'm immature.

"It's not suspicious, Graham, she had an aneurysm," Clara reminded him.

"That's what McWatt wants you to think. He's got access to all sorts of tools, he could have done anything. Chopped up the body, covered up the crime."

"For god's sake, the funeral was open casket. We all miss Elaine – me especially – but Douglas probably didn't murder her," Clara argued.

"Oh, please," the Doctor began, "She smoked in her office all day and didn't do anything."

"Exactly, she let me smoke in her office too if I shared my cigarettes. Now where am I supposed to smoke? I can't stink up the car, or go down by the gates, that's where the kids smoke," Clara said.

"Well perhaps somebody should have an assembly about the dangers of smoking, hmm?" Thirteen questioned sourly.

"You're just jealous of me and Elaine."

"It's 'Elaine and I,'" Thirteen corrected. Clara scowled.

"You know," Evelyn said, leaning over the back of her chair, earwigging on them, "Smoking is actually very good for the soul."

"I'm sure the tumours enjoy it as well," the Doctor muttered.

"You two are having a good Valentine's Day, then?" Celia said coldly, smiling in that nasty way, coming to stand in between the two tables with a cup of tea in her hands. Clara tried to ignore her, but she had some sort of rivalry with the Doctor. Clara thought the Doctor was more to blame for this than Ms Frost was, because she kept arguing with her about Physics when it came to things the human race weren't even supposed to know yet.

"Valentine's Day is a farce," Graham declared, "It's the corporations."

"Thank you! I keep trying to tell my wife that," Thirteen said, "She just won't listen though."

"Just you wait until you've been married as long as me. Thirty years. And for what? Nothing. We hate each other. You'll hate each other too, one day, mark my words. When you get to my age, you'll hate everything," he complained bitterly.

"Thirty years? Wow, that's… a while…" Clara shared a look with the Doctor. It wasn't like that year had been their fiftieth wedding anniversary, or anything. In truth Graham often said things like this to them, that their honeymoon period would end soon. The ruse was that they had just been married for five years, and they didn't mention the whole eloping-in-Las Vegas thing. In a twisted way, Clara thought it was funny how much Graham O'Connor whined about being old. She was in her seventies, and the Doctor's age wasn't even worth mentioning.

"I take it that means you two aren't having a good Valentine's Day?" Celia continued.

"We're having a perfectly adequate one, thank you very much, Frost," the Doctor said.

"I still think it was bad of Elaine to hire a married couple to teach. The two of you are always doing collaborative lessons – I dread to think what they entail. Completely unorthodox."

"Historical context is a vital part of English Literature," Clara defended Thirteen, "Her input is important."

"Well I'm sure she's always inputting things where they don't belong," Celia commented. Clara frowned.

"I can't tell if that's actually homophobic or not…"

"It's fine, sweetheart, she's just upset because the History results far surpassed the Science results in the December mock exams," the Doctor said smarmily.

"There won't be any pet names in my staff room," the angry, gruff voice of Douglas McWatt, interim headmaster and teacher of Product Design declared, coming in finally to explain to them all why they had an early morning briefing. "If I had my way you two wouldn't be allowed within five paces of each other. Maybe with that old bag Norris gone I can have my way, so you'd better watch out. One more slip up like that and I'll have the board fire one of you." It was an empty threat, but Clara could see why people thought McWatt had killed the headmistress now. But, for the record, she had just died of a tragic brain aneurysm. At least if he was around, Celia would shut up.

"You know, Douglas, waking me up earlier than usual disrupts my chi. If I'm not my usual energising self, the children may suffer," Evelyn told him in her breathy, haughty way. She was one of those women who wore too many scarves. It was like she was wearing only scarves, things which were thin and trailed off her to make her look spectral. Evelyn Stark was weird.

"Chi doesn't exist, woman," Celia snapped at her.

"You can't silence my beliefs, Celia," Evelyn said.

"Stark, she's right, shut up," McWatt ordered her. Clara had never once seen McWatt smile, she didn't think he was biologically capable of it. Clara then noticed a young man lurking behind McWatt by the doors. He was wearing a suit and tie, so he definitely looked like a teacher, but he seemed very confused. Just sort of stared about the place. "First things first," McWatt looked over his shoulder at the newbie. None of them had ever seen him before. "What are you doing, boy? Get over here. This is Cole Campbell, he's Mr Boyd's permanent replacement after the incident with the glue last term."

"The man's a coward, it was only a Pritt stick," Celia began, "It can't have stuck him to the chair at all. Just shows the History department is severely lacking in mettle." The Doctor scoffed in response and Clara rolled her eyes.

"Try not to let them put glue on your chair," McWatt advised Cole. New History teacher, that would give Thirteen some excitement in her day. Clara wondered what the first impression of her wife would be, especially since her wife had already consumed three cups of coffee that morning. "Moving on. Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day means kids finding excuses to have sex, and have it everywhere. All over the school. In their houses. Behind the bike shed." He stopped speaking then for dramatic effect. "It needs to be stopped. We don't need another teen pregnancy, we already had two last year."

"But the year before we had three, so the numbers are going down," Evelyn pointed out. McWatt grimaced. Well, he was always grimacing, but he grimaced a little more at that.

"Abstinence is the key to happiness, trust me," Graham grumbled.

"Exactly," McWatt agreed with him, "This afternoon will be off-timetable. Sex education, in forms." There were resounding groans from the members of staff in the room.

"That's not fair, I had this whole lesson planned about Chamberlain's foreign policy being a work of genius before the Second World War," Thirteen argued with him.

"Chamberlain was a failure," Celia said.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Thirteen snapped.

"There was a Second World War, so clearly he failed."

"That man did what was best for this country."

"You're not even from this country. I'm surprised you know anything about what happened before Pearl Harbor was bombed."

"Hold on," Cole interrupted quietly, "There was a Second World War?" Everyone silenced.

"You do teach History, don't you?" McWatt said. Cole nodded.

"But you don't know about World War Two?" Thirteen questioned him.

"There was one after the one with Hitler?" Cole asked her. She frowned.

"Uh…"

"Right, enough of that. First day nerves, everybody's been there. Except me. I haven't been nervous since I came off tour in 2003. Can't afford to be nervous in the battlefield," McWatt said. Nobody spoke, and then he sniffed quite loudly and resumed, after they were all notably harrowed. "Don't care about your lessons, we can't afford another teen scandal. I trust you'll all cover the basics?"

"Remind us of the basics again?" Clara asked.

"Why don't you just try and convince them to play for the same team, Clara? Can't get pregnant that way. Tell them about AIDS. Then they won't have any kids. They need to be prepared," McWatt said, "On the subject, I need you to speak some girls in Year 10 about homophobia – they've been saying 'dyke' again. But don't worry, this time, they weren't talking about you. Meeting dismissed." McWatt left the room as quickly as he could. He never stuck around in the staff room.

"Brilliant," Clara muttered, checking the time on her phone. It was ten to nine. "Do you want a cup of tea?" she asked the Doctor, standing up.

"I'll have coffee."

"You're not having more coffee, it's tea or nothing."

She pouted, but then said, "Fine. Tea, if you'd be so kind."

"Will you be alright with the sex ed, Clara?" Celia inquired, "Since you have to sleep with a man to get pregnant, I was wondering if you knew how to do that? To warn the children away from it?"

"I'm not actually a lesbian," Clara pointed out, "I'm bisexual, and yes, I do know, but I was wondering the same thing about you, Celia." Celia glared at her, and Clara smiled back as she filled the kettle. Cole Campbell had stolen Clara's seat and was talking to the Doctor now, Clara could hear them.

"So you teach History as well?" Campbell asked her.

"Oh, yeah, I love History. Anything old."

"Are you the head of department?"

"Nah, Vaughn is the head. He's not here, he's always late. I'm Dr Oswald, by the way. Everybody calls me 'the Doctor.' And I mean everybody calls me it," she said.

"Not your first name?"

"Well no, see, that's a funny story – my name is actually Thirteen. Crazy, huh? It's because my parents were totally in a deranged cult," she said while beaming, which threw him off guard. It threw everybody off guard, but this Doctor had been oddly adamant about her alias being 'Thirteen.' "But don't call me that."

"So are you American? Canadian?"

"What I am is late," she told him, picking up her things. She met Clara halfway back to the table and took her tea, "Do you need me to show you to your classroom?" she asked Cole. He told her he did, because Douglas hadn't shown him where anything was. Typical McWatt.

"I'll see you for lunch, then?" Clara said to her, "Meet you outside my room?"

"Sure thing, like always," Thirteen smiled as she left with Cole in tow. In five minutes the doors would be open and the corridors flooded with kids, it was best to get out of the way before that happened. Unless you were tall, then it wasn't so bad. Clara Oswald, however, was anything but tall.

"He seems odd, doesn't he?" Evelyn said to Clara after Cole and the Doctor had left.

"Most people seem odd if you give them enough time, trust me," Clara replied, taking her tea and going to pick up her books, carrying her coat draped over her arm, holding her tea in the other hand.

"A History teacher who doesn't know there was a Second World War, though?" Clara thought to herself, is it any different than an art teacher who can't draw? "It's not good for the school to employ people like that."

"Then take it up with Douglas. I have to go mark mock exams from Friday, anyway, I didn't get a chance to over the weekend, what with the car crash," Clara said on her way out. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck with Evelyn Stark during her free period.

"You gave them a mock on a Friday? They only just had mocks in December," Evelyn said.

"It pays to be prepared. Don't make fun of my teaching methods."

"I'm sure the kids make fun of them plenty, and you, if you give them mocks on Fridays," Evelyn pointed out, but by that point Clara had gotten sick of her and left the staff room. As if that was even true. There was no way the kids didn't like her because she gave them mock exams every other Friday. Was there?

*chapter 306

AN: What would you guys think of me doing another crossover storyline with The X-Files? It just seems like the sort of thing I'd need to do before this is over, would be Mulder and Scully and the TARDIS crew. And by TARDIS crew, I basically mean Whoufflé. If I was gonna do that, it would definitely be with those two.