Someone needs to tell her that it’s inappropriate. That person, however, is not going to be me. Just imagine the accusations that could get thrown my way if I have a conversation with a girl about how her knickers are on display under the table. I’d be persecuted just for noticing what is impossible not to notice.
The best decision I could make is to ignore it.
The bell goes after a very long hour, and the students shuffle out for lunchtime.
Destiny does not.
She lingers behind, waiting for everyone else to leave, pausing as a straggler finally finishes packing his bag and goes.
She saunters to my desk and I immediately check that my classroom door is still open.
She stands there, smirking at me, a sultry smirk like the kind Natalie once used on me.
I look again to the open door, wishing she would use it.
“Hi, sir,” she says. “Thanks for the great lesson again.”
“No worries, Destiny.”
She doesn’t leave. She just stands there. Still staring at me.
“Can I help you with anything?” I ask.
“I was wondering if we could meet after school one day? I’m a bit worried about how I’m doing, and the exams are in a few months so it’d be really great if you could help me.”
I would normally say yes, but in this situation, I am going to do everything I can to avoid this happening.
“I’m not sure I can accommodate that, I’m afraid, but I do know Mrs Jennings does a revision class after school, she’s two doors down.”
“But I don’t know Mrs Jennings. I was hoping it would be you, sir.”
“I’m afraid not. But, again, I can recommend some tutors if—”
“Oh, I forgot!”
She puts her bag down — a red handbag with a bow on it — and reaches inside. She pulls out a box of chocolates, expensive ones, not the kind that you’d buy from a supermarket, but that you might order from Thorntons.
“I bought you these,” she says, holding the box out, beaming at me.
I do not reach out to take them. In fact, I ensure that my hands go nowhere near them.
“That’s really kind of you, Destiny, but I’m afraid I can’t.”
“Of course you can, sir. I got them to say thank you for being such a great teacher.”
“Really, there is no need.”
“Please, sir, I bought them especially.”
“That really is very kind of you, but I’m not in the habit of accepting gifts from students.”
“But I’m not just any student.”
I wonder what she means by this but, before I can ruminate too much, she places the box on the keyboard of my laptop; somewhere I cannot help but touch them.
“I’ll just leave them here, then.”
“Please, I really don’t think it’s appropriate,” I say, lifting the box and handing them back.
She puts her hands in the air and backs away.
“I’ll see you later, sir,” she says, and reverses out of the classroom, gives me one last lingering stare, then walks away.
I am sat here, holding a box of chocolates I determinedly did not want to be holding.
15
Harper
I sit alone in the canteen, but I don’t feel alone. I’m at an empty table, but it feels like Danny is right beside me.
Even when the girls laugh and make comments I don’t listen.
Because I have something they don’t.
Those boys that hang around their table and show off are only interested in their short skirts and faces plastered in make-up.
Danny is interested in so much more.
So what you up to now?
Oh, just at school. At lunch.
I’m not stopping you from being sociable, am I?
Don’t want to take you away from your friends!
I pause. Consider what to say. Whether to lie, and say they don’t mind and they are understanding and I’ve already spoken to them enough already.
But then I think… why lie? Why not just be honest?
Why do I need to be anything but who I am?
I don’t really have much in the way of friends.
Really?
That surprises me.
Why?
You just seem really nice.
I’d have thought you’d have lots of friends.
Afraid that’s not the case.
I feel a bit uncomfortable. I change the conversation.
Do you have any siblings?
Nope. Only child.
You?
Same.
Parents divorced five years ago.
Not really too miserable about it.
Things are a lot better now I’m not having to drown out their shouting with music.
My parents aren’t divorced.
They probably should be.
How come?
I don’t know if this is a conversation I want to get into.
Right now, he thinks I’m perfect. He likes who I am. If I tell him about my horrible homelife who knows if he’d still be interested?
But Danny is not like the other boys. He talks to me. He understands.
And it sounds like he’s been through something pretty similar.
They barely talk.
I mean, they fight a lot, but then they stay silent for days, and it’s almost like I wish they would fight again.
I get what you mean.
It’s like the silence is worse than the arguing.
Exactly
Like when they fight it’s like they still actually care enough to fight.
When they are silent, it’s like they aren’t even bothered enough to shout at each other.
Like there’s nothing left.
Wow. Totally.
How did you know all that?
I’ve been there.
Sounds like you really know what it’s like.
Tell me about your dad.
My dad?
Why?
Just curious.
He’s a loser.
Tries to talk to me like it makes up for being a shit parent.
He lets my mum just walk all over him.
Perhaps he loves her.
What do you mean?
Perhaps he lets her get away with stuff because the alternative is to let her go, and that’s even worse.
I never thought of it that way.
Still, it is pretty pathetic.
He should still have some standards.
The bell goes for next lesson.