1389: Untitled etc. etc. Part 7

“He did what?”

Maxine was agog at Kristina’s description of what had unfolded with Edward earlier in the day. Kristina felt a little bad for sharing what should probably be private information, but Maxine was her best friend, and after all, how likely was it that she would come into contact with anyone who had anything to do with either the school or Edward himself?

Kristina also felt a little bit bad for having built Edward up to be some sort of demon when she last told Maxine about what was going on at work. The incident earlier in the day had shown that Edward was, despite appearances to the contrary at times, a human being with a lot of raging, conflicting emotions.

That hadn’t stopped her from sharing what had gone on earlier, though.

“He just started crying,” Kristina said again. “I don’t know why. He wouldn’t explain, even after I went and got the deputy head. He just kept saying that he didn’t want to go home, he didn’t want to go home.”

“Huh,” said Maxine. “That’s odd. And he wouldn’t say why?”

“Nope,” said Kristina. “Which makes me think that it’s something… you know, serious.”

Maxine sat back and placed her coffee on the table in an exaggerated gesture of concern.

“Yeesh,” she said. “Heavy. Poor kid.”

Kristina took a sip of her coffee and gazed into the middle distance.

“Let’s talk about something else,” she said absently. “The whole thing is a bit… you know. And I probably shouldn’t talk about it too much anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” said Maxine. “Sure. Hey, did I tell you about Mark?”

Mark was a guy who worked with Maxine. Maxine liked him a lot, but rather than actually telling him, she’d settled into a routine of flirting with him, always stopping short of actually asking him out on a date. He reciprocated in the same way — so much so that the pair had now been working together for over a year and built up a considerable degree of sexual tension that, so far, had no hope of ever being released. Or did it?

“No,” said Kristina. “Have you asked him out yet?”

“Yes!” said Maxine. “I did!”

Kristina’s eyes widened, and she placed her coffee cup down on the table.

“What? No!”

“I did!”

“And? Come on, don’t keep me in suspense!”

“He said no.”

“What?!”

Maxine giggled.

“He didn’t really. We’re going out tomorrow night. Dinner and a movie. A classic.”

Kristina smiled.

“That’s great, Max,” she said. “I hope you two get on well after all this time.”

“I think we’re probably all right,” said Maxine. “I doubt we’d have kept going the way we have been if there wasn’t something there. We were just at a bit of a, you know, stalemate. Neither one of us was sure if taking it further was the right thing to do.”

“Well, there you go,” said Kristina. She couldn’t help feeling a little jealous, since there was no-one even slightly on her radar at the moment, and very little time to actually go out and meet people. Not that she’d ever been particularly good at meeting new people, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” said Maxine. “I don’t want to sound like I’m gloating.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Kristina, realising that her face had fallen somewhat since Maxine’s good news. “I’m just… distracted.”

 

*  *  *  *

Kristina liked Tuesdays for the simple fact that they were her quietest day, and that they started with a free period. Today she had finally resolved to do something about the ever-growing stack of paper on her desk. She’d started making two piles — one for “keepers” and one for the bin. She’d only got through about ten sheets in total when the door to her classroom opened without knocking. Who she saw when she looked up was the last person she expected to see.

“Miss,” said Edward. “Can I play the drums?”

Kristina wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this. She shuffled her feet uneasily, looked around the room in the vain hope that someone would show up and tell her what to do, then back to Edward.

“Um,” she said. “Where are you supposed to be?”

“Dunno,” he said. He plunged his hands into his pockets and kicked at the floor.

Silence hung heavy in the room for a moment. It was Kristina who eventually broke it.

“I’m fine with it,” said Kristina. “But I’m going to have to let Reception know where you are. Your teacher from wherever you’re supposed to be is probably looking for you.”

Edward grunted. She took it as an acknowledgement.

“Come on, then,” she said, picking up her bundle of keys from their customary spot on her classroom’s piano. “Let’s get you in a practice room.”

She led Edward to music room 4, one of the department’s smaller rooms that was used for practicing and instrumental lessons. Tuesday was the one day of the week when there were no instrumental lessons running, so Kristina felt confident that Edward would be safe in there without distracting anyone. She waited until he sat down at the drum kit, then closed the door behind him, momentarily tempted to lock it behind her, then immediately feeling guilty at the thought of it.

As she heard Edward starting to bang out some unsteady rhythms on the drum kit, she made her way towards the Reception desk. Janice was there waiting for her, and greeted her with a smile.

Janice was the school’s receptionist, and the face of the school to the public. She was always friendly and professional, regardless of how whoever was talking to her was treating her, and knew how to remain calm in a crisis. Kristina envied her somewhat; she seemed completely unshakeable, and Kristina figured that she’d probably make a good teacher.

“Hello, Miss Charles,” said Janice. She always addressed teachers in the same way as the children, mostly to set a good example. “What can I do for you?”

“Um,” she began. “It’s Edward…”

“Oh,” interrupted Janice. “Mr Smith was looking for him. Do you know where he is?”

“Yes,” said Kristina. “He’s in one of my practice rooms right now. He seems to be… comfortable there. Someone can come and get him if they want, but I get the impression he might need to let out a bit of stress.”

“Okay,” said Janice. “I’ll let Mr Smith know. Please call through if he causes any problems and we’ll get someone to come and remove him.”

“All right,” said Kristina. “Thanks.”

She wandered back towards the music department, and could hear Edward thumping away on the bass drum long before she got back. He was unambitious with his rhythms, sticking to a slightly unsteady four-on-the-floor pounding bass drum rhythm, alternating with high-hats. She wondered if this might not be a good opportunity to try and engage him with something.

She opened the practice room door, and Edward turned to face her, stopping his thumping for a moment.

“Edward,” she said. “Would you like me to teach you some simple drum rhythms?”

“Okay,” he said in a monotone.

*  *  *  *

Kristina was surprised to discover that Edward was actually quite a fast learner when he put his mind to it. By the end of first period, he’d successfully got his head around a basic rock rhythm and fill, and was now trying to up the tempo a little.

Kristina was inwardly quite pleased with herself. She wasn’t a drummer by trade, but she’d dabbled a little in the past, and her first instrument of the piano had helped her with the coordination necessary to play at least some simple, straightforward rhythms. She was also quite pleased at the fact that somehow, she’d managed to get through to Edward. She didn’t know if it was her, the fact that he was getting some one-on-one attention or if he was simply doing something he enjoyed, but he was responding positively to her teaching, and although his face still wore a perpetual scowl, the energy he was putting in to his practice suggested that he was enjoying himself, much as he was probably loathe to admit it.

Then the bell went, and it was time for Kristina to teach a lesson, and thus time for Edward to go.

“All right, Edward,” said Kristina as assertively as she could manage over the noise of his drumming. “That’s the bell. It’s time for you to head off to your next lesson, I’m afraid, but you’ve done really well this morning.”

He stopped his drumming abruptly, but didn’t look at Kristina.

“Don’t want to,” he said.

“Now come on, please, Edward,” said Kristina. “I’ve been understanding this morning — you should have been in your lesson with Mr Smith, but instead you’ve been allowed to be here. Now it’s time for you to go.”

“Don’t want to,” he said, more forcefully.

“Edward,” she said.

“Don’t want to!” he yelled, flying into a rage. He leapt up from the drum kit’s stool, kicking it aside and lunging at Kristina. Adrenaline suddenly flowing through her body, she darted out of the way and he slammed into the wall; unfortunately, she had dodged in the wrong direction, putting a now-furious Edward between her and the door.

She was suddenly scared. Edward was armed — only with drumsticks, admittedly, but she figured he could probably do some damage with them — and he certainly looked dangerous. She didn’t know what to do now — trying to stay calm had only provoked him further, and now she was trapped in the room with him. What should she do?

He took a step towards her, his scowling face now contorted into a furious-looking snarl. She stepped backwards, and found herself bumping up against the wall of the tiny practice room. There really was nowhere to run. She could feel her heart pounding fast; her breathing was ragged and she was starting to feel sick. How on Earth was she going to get out of—

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door to the practice room suddenly swinging open forcefully, and Mr Rhodes stepping in, his normally jovial face looking thunderous.

“Edward!” he bellowed. “Out! Now!”

Edward roared an incoherent, wordless yell, flung the drumsticks up in the air, then barged straight past Mr Rhodes into the corridor. The drumsticks hit the ceiling, then clattered back down to the floor via the drum kit’s toms.

“Sorry,” mouthed Mr Rhodes to Kristina as he ducked back out of the door. “I’ll be back.”

Kristina couldn’t move. Her heart was still pounding and she still felt short of breath. Her legs and hands were shaking, and it felt like it was taking all of her strength to keep standing up.

What had gone wrong? It was all going so well, and then she’d lost him. She didn’t think she’d been unreasonable or aggressive or anything; he’d just exploded. And she didn’t understand why. How could she help him like she was supposed to if he just responded with aggression and violence?

And what would he have done if they hadn’t been interrupted? She swallowed. She didn’t want to think about that, but knew beyond a doubt that pretty much every one of the unpleasant possibilities would be whirling around her head tonight when she wanted to get to sleep. She wasn’t looking forward to that.

She wanted nothing more right now than to run away and hide. But she had a class waiting. And so, despite the fact she could barely breathe, and that her shaking legs made walking a lot more difficult than she had anticipated, she prepared to put on a brave face, push all her anger, fear and uneasiness beneath the surface and try her best to be a “satisfactory” teacher.

It wasn’t the first time she’d had to do this. And it probably wouldn’t be the last.