1400: Part 16

Kristina was rudely awakened by some braying idiot bellowing nonsense into her ear.

She’d been meaning to retune her bedside radio for months now — ever since her favourite morning DJ had moved on to pastures new — but had somehow never gotten around to it. It was one of those things that, while very simple and straightforward to do in terms of effort required, she never quite felt the inclination or motivation to do.

Besides, if the last few weeks were anything to go by, it was rare she’d actually make it to her bed; she’d been sleeping on the sofa almost as much as she had slept in her own bed recently. The sofa was comfortable, and it allowed her to fall asleep to the quiet background noise of the TV, whereas the bedroom was often eerily quiet — an unwelcome atmosphere while she had so much anxiety racing around inside her head.

It was likely to get worse before it got better, too; after all, this was the week that the inspectors were due to come back. It felt like they had only just left, but Kristina knew that was what the Special Measures badge of shame meant; the inspectors would keep coming back, ostensibly to help the school get back on track, but she couldn’t help seeing them as “the enemy”, regardless of their supposedly good intentions.

She lay in bed staring at the ceiling for a little while, letting the irritating noise from the radio just wash over her. She wasn’t listening to the new DJ’s words; it was just a mumbling in the background that was having a faintly soporific effect on her.

Her eyes gradually started to close again. Just another few minutes, she thought. Just a…

 

*  *  *  *

Kristina’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up. The radio was no longer blaring, and she had a sudden, horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Shit,” she said. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

She looked at the glaring red numbers on her bedside radio and it took her a moment to process them. As her brain gradually kicked into gear, she realised that she wasn’t late for work — yet — but it would be a close-run thing, and there would certainly be no time whatsoever to get coffee or anything on the way. She’d arrive, and she’d be thrown straight into work. At least 7C offered a relatively gentle introduction to the week.

Her thoughts turned to Maxine. After she’d called the police at the weekend, all she’d heard from her friend was a brief phone call thanking her, and telling her that she was going to go and stay with her mother for a few days. Since then, she hadn’t picked up her phone, hadn’t returned any of Kristina’s messages and, to all intents and purposes, appeared to have disappeared off the face of the planet.

She didn’t have time to worry about Maxine right now, though, as harsh as it seemed. She didn’t even really have time to sort her bird’s nest of hair out, nor to have a shower.

She clambered out of bed, her joints aching and making her feel about twenty years older than she actually was. She surveyed herself in the mirror on her dressing table and pouted; she looked a complete mess, but there was no time to do anything about it right now. She quickly ran a brush through her hair to get the worst of the tangles out and threw on some clothes that weren’t too wrinkled and didn’t appear to smell too bad.

*  *  *  *

As Kristina had suspected, the inspectors were back in school when she arrived. The team of them were in attendance at the staff briefing just before registration, glaring at the teaching staff with their all-seeing eyes. Kristina couldn’t stop stealing glances at them — so much so that she didn’t hear a word the Head said in the briefing.

The inspectors filed out of the staff room first, followed by the rest of the teaching staff. Kristina waited until most of them had departed before getting up from her chair.

“Are you all right?” said Martin. “You look really tired.”

Kristina was still feeling bitter towards Martin for his behaviour towards her the previous week, but he appeared to have forgotten all about it. She grit her teeth and tried to be mature.

“I am,” she said. “Sorry, just a rough weekend. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he said. “But let me know if I can do anything.”

That was more like the Martin she had come to know when she had first arrived at the school. Just recently, she felt like their relationship had soured somewhat, though now that she thought about it, that feeling coincided somewhat with her growing sense of anxiety and that she was somehow an “impostor” that would be found out at any minute.

She shook her head and stood up fully.

“Thanks,” she said, and walked out of the room, picking up a few papers from her pigeonhole on the way.

The papers immediately went onto her desk as soon as she got into her classroom, but then she caught herself and examined them closely. None of them appeared to be particularly important until they reached the last one, which was a memo from the special educational needs unit.

“Edward Jennings is having some difficulties at home,” it read. “We ask that all members of staff be especially understanding towards Edward at this time. Please report any inappropriate behaviour directly to us, and do not attempt to get into a confrontation with Edward as he has been known to become violent.”

Great, thought Kristina.

She crumpled up the pieces of paper and threw them straight in the bin, then sat down at her desk and rested her head on her hands. She sighed. She really did not want to be here today, but knew that she needed to do her part in order to try and help the school through its difficult time.

It’s not fair, she thought. I know it’s childish to think that, but I don’t care. I’m trying my best, but it’s not good enough. I feel like whatever I do, it turns to shit; how am I going to make it through this?

She exhaled a long breath, then stood up, walked to her classroom’s piano and sat down. She fumbled through the stacks of music laid atop the battered old instrument, and selected a book of popular song arrangements that she always enjoyed playing pieces from.

There were probably more productive ways that she could spend her time, but she didn’t care right now; she wanted to relieve some stress, and music was as good a way as any to do that.

She started playing one of the pieces — a cheesy ballad originally recorded by a girl group from one reality show or another. The song had always been something of a guilty pleasure for her, both to listen to and to play the piano arrangement of; it was predictable enough to be oddly comforting in a strange sort of way. The pleasingly obvious chord progressions felt like they were massaging her brain as they played, and when she reached the end she felt a little better.

So she played it again. And again. And then the bell went for the end of registration, and it was time to begin work.

*  *  *  *

7C arrived in their usual manner — chatty but friendly, and receptive to Kristina’s instructions. Just as she had got them quietened down as they lined up outside her room, a middle-aged woman whom Kristina recognised as one of the inspection team walked up to them, her low heels clacking on the floor as she approached.

“Miss Charles,” she said with a nod. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” said Kristina.

“I’ll be observing part of your lesson today,” she said. “Please, don’t mind me and continue as you always would.”

Fuck, thought Kristina. This is the last thing I need, though I guess there are worse classes than 7C to be observed on.

“All right,” she said, hoping her tone wasn’t too obviously acidic. “Would you like to go in and make yourself comfortable?”

“I’ll follow the class in, thank you,” said the inspector. “Please continue.”

“Miss, who’s that?” said Becky, a young-looking girl who stood at the head of the line and who was secretly one of Kristina’s favourite students.

“She’s come to see how you’re getting on with your work today,” Kristina said. “So make sure you work hard, please.”

Becky smiled. Kristina wanted to pat her on the head and ruffle her hair.

“All right,” said Kristina. “Let’s head in, please.”

*  *  *  *

The lesson proceeded without a hitch; Kristina took great care to tick all the inspector’s boxes by ensuring she had a starter activity to begin the lesson, keeping her “teaching time” down to a minimum and getting the children engaged in practical activities as soon as possible.

But then her door flew open, and she knew everything was about to go horribly, horribly wrong before it happened.

She also knew who had thrown her door open like that long before she looked over.

Sure enough, it was Edward, and the force with which he’d thrown open the door, banging it into the wall in the process, had caused all eyes in the classroom to turn to him.

He looked furious, aggressive and dangerous, and Kristina suddenly felt scared. But she also thought back to the music lesson where she had successfully got through to him the other day, and knew that she had to make a choice.

“Miss!” said Edward, not waiting to be invited in. He stormed into the centre of the room, fists clenched. “I’m coming in.”

Kristina blinked, then looked around the class. All of 7C had turned their gazes to her to see what she was going to do.

“Back to work,” she said, hoping she sounded more assertive than she felt. “Now, please!”

She turned to Edward. “What are you doing here?”

“I got fuckin’ sent out,” he said. “I got angry. I’m still angry. I could… argh!” He swiped aggressively at Kristina’s pencil case that was laying on the edge of her desk, and it fell to the floor, scattering pens and pencils everywhere.

“Edward,” she said, not wanting to provoke him. “Would you…”

She considered asking him to clear up the mess he had caused, but assumed that he probably wouldn’t respond all that well to orders or even requests right now, so she bit her tongue. Instead, she finished her sentence in a different way.

“Would you like to go on the computer and continue with your coursework?” she said. “So long as you’re quiet and don’t interrupt 7C’s work, you’re welcome to do that.”

She knew it was most irregular to allow a student to behave in such a manner, and that she’d probably be accused of “rewarding” Edward’s poor behaviour by allowing him something that he wanted to do, but she didn’t care right now; he was a disruptive influence in the classroom, and she either wanted him gone — which looked unlikely to happen — or at least out of the way — which was at least possible.

He nodded mutely, and walked over to the computer in the corner of the room without another word. He donned the pair of headphones that were perpetually attached to the system, fired up the composition software he’d been using to work on his piece the previous week and didn’t bother the class again.

Kristina looked over at the inspector, who had been sat in the corner of the classroom all this time. She was writing frantically in her notepad.