1391: Part 8

[Normal business will now resume. Will I catch up two days’ worth of stuff? I doubt it, but let’s have a go anyway.]

The bell went, and school was over for the day, but Sian didn’t want to go home just yet. Her parents were out for a few hours yet, and she didn’t feel like being in the house by herself. So she decided to partake of her usual after-school activity: shutting herself in one of the music practice rooms, banging out some show tunes on the piano and singing her heart out.

She knew that Mr Bilton was the head of department, but it was usually Kristina she turned to to ask for permission for this sort of thing — even before the two of them had struck up their friendship agreement — and so it was her classroom she headed for rather than the departmental office.

She tapped lightly on the door and pushed it straight open without thinking; instantly, she regretted it.

Kristina was sitting at her desk, reams of paper scattered all around her, and she had her head in her hands, sobbing. At the sound of the door opening, she looked up and frantically tried to organise herself, but only succeeded in creating more mess.

“Miss… Kristina, are you all right?” said Sian, her voice full of concern.

“No,” said Kristina. She didn’t elaborate, and Sian didn’t ask. Instead, she moved closer, and started to pick up some of the pieces of paper that had fallen to the floor. She put them back on Kristina’s desk, then laid a hand on her teacher’s shoulder.

“I’m worried about you,” said Sian.

“Isn’t that my line?” said Kristina, trying to laugh through her sobbing.

“Not if you’re the one who’s hurting,” said Sian. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” said Kristina, sniffing. She reached into her handbag, which she had been keeping beneath the desk, and pulled out a tissue before blowing her nose noisily. “I mean, it would probably help, but would also probably be unprofessional, too.”

“Right,” said Sian. “Of course. I… wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

All was silent for a moment. Kristina sniffed. Then it was quiet again.

“Um,” said Sian. “I was wondering if I could use a practice room? It’s okay if you’re… busy.”

Kristina closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then looked at Sian.

“Why can’t everyone be like you, Sian?” she said. “Why are people so complicated? Yes, of course you can use a practice room. I’ll just be here. Let me know if you need anything.” She turned back to her desk and half-heartedly began shuffling papers. Sian didn’t move.

“Um,” she said. “If you’d like, we could… do something together?”

Kristina paused, then turned back to Sian.

“Actually, that might be nice,” she said. “What did you have in mind?”

Sian smiled, reached into her bag and pulled out her battered show tunes book.

“I’ve been working on these,” she said. “I can play and sing at the same time, but it’s much easier if someone else plays the piano part. Could you help me?”

Kristina wiped her swollen eyes and took the book from Sian, flipping through it.

“Sure,” she said.

“Shall we go to a practice room or…?” Sian began, but Kristina interrupted her.

“We’ve got a decent enough piano here,” she said. “The acoustics aren’t quite as good, but I’d rather stay in here for now, if that’s all right with you.”

“That’s fine,” said Sian.

“All right,” said Kristina. “Where do you want to start?”

 

*  *  *  *

An hour later, Sian’s voice was starting to crack.

“Whew,” she said. “I think that’s probably enough.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” said Kristina. “We don’t want to damage that voice of yours.” She sounded a lot more upbeat, and Sian was thankful for that, but she was still incredibly curious about what had gone on earlier. She didn’t push her luck, though; she got the impression that Kristina either didn’t want to or wasn’t sure how to talk about it just yet.

She took the book back from the piano and stuffed it into her bag, then made for the door.

“See you later,” she said. “I hope you have a nice evening.”

“Thank you, Sian,” said Kristina. “You too.”

Sian walked out of the door and into the corridor, and instantly wished she had done more, but also felt like it would be inappropriate to turn back now. She’d already barged in on Kristina’s moment of apparent grief and upset and she felt a little guilty at having denied her the opportunity to stew in peace, but at the same time knew that being alone at a time of great difficulty like that would often lead to dark thoughts, so felt she had probably done the right thing.

What had got her in such a state, though? She knew that Kristina had been struggling, particularly when it came to dealing with difficult students like Edward, but she was feeling genuinely worried for her teacher — her friend — now. She hoped things wouldn’t get any worse.

*  *  *  *

“Kristina, have you got a moment?”

It was Martin. Kristina had been expecting him to show his face at some point, and she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.

“Yes,” she said. “Come in.”

Martin came inside the door and let it shut behind him, but he didn’t approach Kristina’s desk.

“We need to have a talk about what’s been going on,” he said. “I heard about what happened today.”

“Yes,” she said. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again just contemplating talking about it. “It was horrible and frightening.”

“I’m sure it was,” said Martin. “But you need to be careful, Kristina. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t done what you did.”

Kristina was about to respond, but realised she had no words. Her mouth hung open for a moment before she caught herself.

“Wait,” she said. “What?”

“You know the policies and procedures,” said Martin, without a hint of emotion in his voice. “You should not have engaged with Edward in the way that you did. You should have immediately informed the leadership team, and they would have dealt with him. It was not your call to make, and it led to unfortunate consequences.”

“Hold on,” said Kristina. She could feel her feelings of fear and upset being replaced by anger. “Let me get this straight: you’re saying the fact that I was almost assaulted by a child with some serious, serious anger management issues is somehow my fault?“

“You have to understand, Kristina,” continued Martin. “The school is in Special Measures. We can’t afford to do anything other than ‘by the book.’ If the inspectors had come back today to see how we were getting on and saw how you had handled that situation, the department would be in big trouble.”

“You’re… what… I can’t believe this,” she said, standing up. “You’re seriously saying this to me? Do you not give a shit what nearly happened to me?”

“I do,” said Martin. Kristina was unconvinced. “But the point is, it could have been avoided, and, as I said, we have to play things very carefully while the school is in the state it’s in.”

“It ‘could have been avoided?'” she said, mocking him. She immediately felt bad for doing so, but it was too late to turn back now. “Forgive me for trying my best to engage a difficult child with my subject — and succeeding for a short while, I might add — and not being able to anticipate that he might try to jump me and do fuck-knows-what?”

“Kristina,” said Martin, his voice remaining calm. “I understand it’s frustrating…”

“You’re fucking right it’s frustrating!” she said. “This is just par for the course, isn’t it? Always the teacher’s fault, never the kid’s! We’re done here!”

She stormed out, her heart racing and her hands shaking. She didn’t like getting angry and tried to avoid it whenever possible, but Martin’s attitude had just infuriated her beyond measure. She stomped through the corridors, her shoes clacking on the hard floors, and headed for her car. It wasn’t until she reached it that she realised she had left her handbag — and in it, her keys — in the music room. How could she possibly go back now?

*  *  *  *

More Maths homework. Sian’s heart really wasn’t in it tonight, but she idly scribbled down what she thought were the correct answers anyway, then tossed her books aside and lay down on her bed.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the sight of Kristina sobbing into her hands. For most of her life, she’d always thought of teachers as somehow superhuman, immune to the thoughts, feelings and quirks of regular people. And yet there Kristina had been, more vulnerable than anyone she’d ever seen. Her faith was shaken; teachers were human after all.

She’d always known this on some level, of course; her pleasant, friendly nature had always endeared her to most of the teachers she had known over the years — so much so that she was often treated with a lot more respect and a lot less “distance” than many of her peers. But it was somewhat sobering to discover that teachers like Kristina were subject to negative emotions such as fear and sadness as much as they could be friendly, jovial and casual.

She rolled on to her side, and pulled out her phone.

Hey, she tapped out in a message to Jasmine. What are you up to? x

She felt like she needed some sort of conversation, but didn’t really feel like going downstairs and talking to her mother — least of all while she was cooking dinner. Jasmine wasn’t the most sparkling conversationalist in text form, but she’d do for now.

She contemplated phoning her, but then remembered how much she disliked talking on the phone. The ease and convenience of mobile chat messages was her preferred method of communication — it gave her time to think, and helped alleviate any occasional feelings of awkwardness. She often wondered how someone like her would have coped in the ages before mobile phones; would she have simply learned to cope with talking on the phone, or would she have been doomed to a life on the social sidelines?

not much, came the reply from Jasmine. what abt u? xx

Just finished my homework, she typed back. Felt like a chat. Hope you’re not busy.

nope, came Jasmine’s reply. what u wana tlk abt? xx

Nothing in particular, she wrote. Just had a bit of a weird day.

u wana tlk abt it? xx

I’m not sure what there is to say, to be honest.

did u get in truble??! xx

No, no, nothing like that.

She paused, wondering how much information she should share.

wel then wat? xx came Jasmine’s impatient reply.

Eventually, Sian decided to explain everything that had transpired recently. It was a long message, and several messages from Jasmine arrived in the meantime, mostly admonishing her for apparently typing a “wall of txt”, but she pressed on regardless. As she typed, it felt like there was a weight lifting from her; it felt good to share these things… but as she placed the final full stop at the end of her lengthy message, she hesitated over pressing the “Send” button.

She scrolled up, read through her complete message, pondered a moment, then deleted all of it.

Nothing, she typed. Never mind.