1433: Search This

In the absence of anything particularly interesting to talk about today, I once again braved the pit that is this blog’s search terms to see exactly how people are finding me.

Yesterday’s search terms were less than enlightening, consisting of one instance of “your minge smells”, one instance of “ayakashi ghost guild hot girls” and twenty-two search terms that the search engines in question didn’t pass on to WordPress.

I’m not entirely sure how the first one led someone here, since actually searching the site itself for “your minge smells” reveals that, as I suspected, I have never used that particular combination of words in any of the 1,498 posts I’ve written on here since July of 2008. I can’t think why I would use that particular combination of words on a post here, save for the fact that it’s an amusing way to tell someone they have an unpleasantly fragrant vagina. That said, there aren’t all that many people I feel comfortable enough with to comment on the scent of their lady-parts, so I don’t honestly see myself breaking it out all that often.

As for “ayakashi ghost guild hot girls”, I can only assume this was a reference to the time when I briefly tried to understand the Japanese card-battling phenomenon by spending a bit of time with Zynga’s take on the genre, the aforementioned Ayakashi Ghost Guild. While noting that most of these card-battling games are full of hot girls in various provocative outfits isn’t entirely inaccurate, it’s not something I commented on in my original post, nor is it a game that I’ve returned to or deemed worthy of further discussion since then. So to the person who came here searching for the hot girls of Ayakashi Ghost Guild, I can only apologise and send you on your way. (And if you’re after sexy pics of anime girls, believe me, there are a lot better places to look than a mobile card game. Uh, apparently.)

What about those mysterious hidden search terms, though? I kind of want to know what they are now, though there’s no real way of finding out as far as I can tell. I do know that for some inexplicable reason the top search term on my blog of all time is “BioShock”, a game I didn’t like all that much, closely followed by “teaching sucks”, a viewpoint I still very much stand by.

But then “monster cock” is pretty high up the list too, so I don’t really know what to think any more.

Anyway, I’m getting tired and slightly delirious so I think that’s a good place to leave that.

1432: They Don’t Look Like That Any More

Hello.

Video games today look like this:

Or this:

Or, indeed, many other things besides.

So why, then, any time some switched-on young advertising executive wants to, for some inexplicable reason, make use of the idea of “video games” to advertise something completely different — like, say, shoes — it ends up looking like this?

I have… quite a few issues with this campaign. First of all, why the hell does it even exist? It sort of looks cool, I guess, but it has nothing to do with Schuh’s stock in trade which is, unsurprisingly, shoes. I get the impression that someone just thought “hey! Video games are cool and popular! Let’s do something with them to advertise our product!”

Actually, having inadvertently stumbled across the agency that came up with this bizarre marketing effort, it seems that, unless “Isobel” isn’t telling us something, that pretty much is all there was to it.

“Schuh’s ‘Start Xmas’ Christmas campaign was inspired by the retro theme of 1st Generation arcade games,” Isobel explains. “We won the creative pitch against several other agencies earlier in the year.”

Um. Well done? As I say, it looks cool but has absolutely fuck all to do with shoes. The main concept appears to be the word “start”, which is a button commonly found on video game controllers and arcade machines, and then they’ve just gone and run with it. “Start” Xmas. Geddit?

The problem is, though, that as I mentioned at the beginning, video games don’t look like that any more, with the exception of some indie games that are deliberately channelling the super-pixelated styles of yore. This style of video game is not something that is massively culturally relevant to the sort of person who would fall for a marketing campaign based around video games — namely, a young and rather stupid person. A young and rather stupid person who likes video games probably plays stuff like Halo, Battlefield, Call of Duty or FIFA — no judgement on older, wiser people who also play those games, naturally — and not Space Invaders.

Ultimately the whole thing comes off as a bit desperate. It caught my eye when I walked past the store earlier today, but it certainly didn’t make me want to buy shoes. It did, however, make me want to write this blog post, so well done for that. It also made me feel that the people from “Planarama” behind the campaign haven’t actually played a video game ever. Can you name any games that actually say “game on” when you start them — even games from the ’80s? I can’t.

I guess it’s sort of cool that video games have reached a sufficient degree of cultural penetration for a mainstream shop like Schuh to attempt to use them to peddle their wares, but it’s also indicative of the fact that the average person in the street likely has very little clue that video games have advanced significantly in the last 30 years — to such a degree that they’d be all but unrecognisable to someone from the ’80s.

Still, I guess the super-pixelated art style is a convenient shorthand for “video games” but that doesn’t really address the core problem I have with this campaign: it’s for a shoe shop’s Christmas sale. No amount of pixelated Christmas puddings or aliens in Santa hats will hide the fact that it’s a campaign completely irrelevant to the product it’s trying to sell, and just, in fact, looks rather foolish.

On the other hand, it compelled me to talk about it and mention Schuh several times, so perhaps it is doing its job after all.

1430: Step Into My…

As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve been watching the US incarnation of The Office recently. And I have to say, I’m a big fan — even more so than I liked the UK original, in fact. And I liked the original a lot — the three DVDs that made up the complete UK series in its entirety joined Spaced and Black Books as titles that were in my regular “rotation” for a while — things I’d watch over and over again when I just wanted to zone out and not really do anything.

I watched the first episode of the American The Office mostly out of curiosity. And the first episode disappointed me a lot, as it was little more than a word-for-word recreation of an episode of the original series.

However, clearly the team behind the new American version understood that this wasn’t good enough, because by the second episode, there was enough new stuff to distinguish it significantly from the original. And by partway through the first series, it’s a completely different show that never looks back.

For my money, it’s a better show, too. It still has the same kind of uncomfortable humour as its UK counterpart does, but it carries off better and more consistently. It makes better use of the “docudrama” format, with a lot more in the way of sidelong glances to the camera and otherwise acknowledging that the characters are being filmed going about their business, rather than gradually drifting into a relatively straightforward “comedy drama” format.

Michael Scott, the David Brent equivalent, is a much more sympathetic character, too. At least part of this may be due to the fact that he’s not played by Ricky Gervais. I personally have no issue with Ricky Gervais, but it’s sometimes difficult not to see him as just Ricky Gervais rather than David Brent. Perhaps it’s just because I’m not particularly familiar with Steve Carrell and there’s none of the associated baggage that comes with Ricky Gervais — whatever the case, I think Michael Scott works much better as a character than David Brent does, since although he’s obnoxious, stupid and utterly, utterly tone-deaf, there are numerous occasions when you will find yourself feeling genuinely bad for him.

The Tim-Dawn equivalent will-they-won’t-they romance between Jim and Pam is explored in much greater depth, too. The fact that nothing was ever really quite resolved in the UK version was one of its hallmarks, and indeed so far in the US version, nothing has become particularly “conclusive” as yet, but it’s already gone further than it did in the UK version. Their relationship is interesting, depicted — and rather familiar, too.

A real highlight is the supporting characters, though. In the UK Office, I’d be hard-pressed to name many of the supporting characters other than the fantastic Keith, of Scotch egg-eating fame. In the US version, meanwhile, each of the other characters is fleshed out rather nicely; we perhaps only see each of them for a few minutes in most episodes, but we start to get a sense of who they are and what they’re all about over time — and each of them has their own little story arc, too, which is nice. The focus is still very much on Michael Scott’s troubles as a boss and the relationship between Jim and Pam, but this bit of extra detail just helps to flesh everything out that little bit more.

I’m about into the third season or so now, I think, and I’m looking forward to seeing where it goes next. There’s certainly plenty of it to enjoy!

1425: An Open Note to @Twitter

[Note: Since I wrote this post this morning, Twitter has reversed its policies on blocking. That was fast!]

I’m not normally one to jump on the controversy du jour and add my voice to the throngs of people yelling about a particular issue, but in the case of Twitter’s recent changes to its “block” system, whereby blocked users are now effectively “muted” in only one direction rather than truly blocked, I feel it’s important I share my experiences.

Earlier in the year, I suffered an organised campaign of harassment that was enough to drive me from the Twitter service and completely close my account. I only returned a while later for professional reasons — in my occupation of online journalist, Twitter is a convenient means of both getting in touch with people and promoting content. Were it not for my job, I doubt I would have returned.

The harassment stemmed from a single word in my profile: “Brony.” Lest you’re unfamiliar, this term describes an adult-age fan of the TV show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic by Lauren Faust and her team. The “Brony” community is a large and active one on the Internet, and for the most part a hugely supportive one, with its creed being “love and tolerate”. It accounts for a significant proportion of creative derivative works such as fan fiction, artwork and music videos, and is a fascinating cultural phenomenon. I always considered myself somewhat on the periphery of this fandom, since although I liked the show I wasn’t so deep in that I was making these creative works; I included the word in my Twitter bio as a means of showing my support for the community, however, and acknowledging something I found to be enjoyable.

What I wasn’t aware of until my harassment incident was the fact that there are people on Twitter — and the Internet at large — who specifically seek out self-professed “Bronies” and torment them, usually through repeated and public accusations of paedophilia. In my case, this began as a series of Twitter @mentions that grew in frequency and intensity over the course of several days; I quickly blocked the main instigators without engaging with them, but more and more people came as the situation escalated and the group responsible for the harassment — known as the GNAA — came together against me.

I changed my Twitter username in an attempt to deter the attackers, but all this achieved was causing them to take over my original username, pose as me and post links to pornographic content.

The harassment went a step further than just Twitter @mentions, however. My Twitter bio also linked to the Twitter account of my brother, and to the video games website I was, at the time, managing editor of. The instigators of the harassment followed these links to my brother’s personal website and the site I worked for, trawled the WHOIS records to find the phone numbers of the owners — my brother himself and the person who was paying for the hosting of the games site respectively — and then called them to make further accusations of paedophilia against me.

These calls continued for several days, and prompted me to contact the police to find out if there was anything I could do. Unfortunately the police were unable to do much save for keep the incident on file, and recommended that I work with Twitter to resolve the situation.

I contacted Twitter to explain the situation and point the support staff in the direction of the accounts that had been instigating most of the trouble, and which had hijacked my original account name to pose as me. After several days of waiting, during which the harassment continued, Twitter’s response was that those responsible were not in breach of Twitter’s terms and conditions because it was a “personal dispute”. It took another round of contacting them to convince them to suspend my original username, at which point I decided to leave the service entirely, and had no intention of returning unless I absolutely had to.

Without Twitter’s Block function allowing for forced unfollows and true blocking of troublemakers, this incident would have been even worse than it already was. Moreover, Twitter has shown itself to be either incapable or unwilling of dealing with persistent and organised harassment that spills out into the non-online sphere.

I am not the only person who has suffered such abuse at the hands of online bullies, but everyone who has has something in common: all they are doing is attempting to be their true selves, unashamed of who they are, what they do and what they like — and attempting to engage with like-minded or supportive people. Harassment on the grounds of something that you are — or, in my case, something that you like — is completely unacceptable, and it’s not at all appropriate to just brush these levels of personal attacks off as personal disputes, then do nothing about them.

The changes to the Block policies do not encourage a change in behaviour on the part of the bullies. If anything, they punish the victim more by forcing them to take their account private when they may wish to remain public in order to meet new friends. Twitter is taking its policies with regard to harassment and bullying in the wrong direction — and these policies weren’t in a particularly good place to begin with, as I can say from first-hand experience.

I would encourage Twitter to rethink how it is handling this situation, and to ensure that more robust solutions are in place for blocking and reporting persistent offenders. Twitter is an enormously useful online communication resource, and the means through which I have come to know a significant number of friends a lot better. But it needs to be a safe place; for marginalised and vulnerable groups, those who have suffered previous harassment or those who simply suffer from social anxiety, these new changes are not a step in the right direction.

Please consider the good of the community that has been built and not just the supposed needs of the business. When you build a social network, both aspects are important; without the former, the latter simply ceases to exist.

1424: わたしはいぎりすじんです。(Or Something.)

Last Japanese class before the Christmas break this evening. I’ve been quite pleased with my progress to date, though there are still things I struggle to remember — and the second half of the hiragana table continues to elude my memory. I’ll get there in the end, though, particularly if I make some time to revise over the Christmas break.

One thing that’s really struck me after each session is how much I get into the “other language” mindset when I come out of the class. Immediately after finishing a session, my brain is still in “Japanese” mode and I find myself having to stop myself saying ありがとう rather than “thanks” when someone holds the door for me, or attempting to respond to someone’s initiation of a conversation with some random Japanese phrase. (“So, how did you like that?” ”スミスさんのほんです。”　”That’s… nice. See you later.” ”おやすみなさい！”　”Yeah, whatever.”)

This is a positive sign, I guess. And more and more phrases are coming readily to mind, too. Not necessarily enough to make a conversation flow particularly naturally, mind, but enough to be able to state some basic things and ask some basic questions.

Japanese is a challenging language to learn for sure, but the fact is it’s perhaps not as challenging as its crazy non-Roman alphabets might suggest. In fact, grammatically speaking, it’s a lot simpler than English, and its pronunciation — reading kanji aside — is very straightforward, since there’s only one way to pronounce each hiragana/katakana character. Once you get your head around the correct pronunciations of the vowel sounds in particular, it becomes very easy to read Japanese words and phrases out loud — if they’re in romaji, anyway; deciphering hiranaga and katakana takes a little longer to learn, but once you get your head around it, it should be reasonably straightforward.

I have no idea how long it will take to get my use of the language to a functional standard for something useful, such as going to Japan, speaking to a Japanese person without the aid of an interpreter or even seeking a career that makes use of said knowledge.

Actually, the latter point is an interesting one; I’ve mentioned a few times on these pages that over the years I’ve realised I don’t have a whole lot of “ambition” to be a particularly successful, well-known or famous person. I have accomplished one personal goal by becoming a professional games journalist — and believe me, there are days when that isn’t all it’s cracked up to be — but beyond that? Who knows.

Well, that’s not quite true; since getting considerably more interested in Japanese entertainment — video games, anime and other related material — I’ve found myself thinking that a career in translation and localisation would be something I’d really enjoy doing. I’m under no illusions, of course; I follow a few localisation specialists on Twitter, and they put in long hours, do hard work and regularly have to deal with some of the more idiosyncratic aspects of both English and Japanese… but that’s the sort of challenge I think I’d enjoy. I can see myself poring over the script for, I don’t know, a Legend of Heroes game and mulling over the best possible translation of a particular idiom; arguing with fellow localisers about whether or not it should be a straight translation that keeps the Japanese character intact, or an Ace Attorney-style localisation that transplants the overall narrative thread to a situation that’s a bit more “Western”.

Anyway, that’s at least a few years off yet, but it’s something to potentially aim for, anyway. And in the meantime I can satisfy myself with starting to understand more and more of the unsubtitled battle callouts in JRPGs and fighting games, or recognising particular common words and phrases in anime.

わたしはうちにかえります。

おやすみなさい！！

Or, you know, something.

1421: APPLAUSE

One of the things I find quite interesting when watching my favourite comedy shows from over the years — something I like to do over dinner, or when I just want to switch off my brain and zone out for a bit — is how the role of the “audience” has evolved. Specifically, how we’ve gone from prominent canned laughter, applause and other reactions to, in many cases, the complete opposite — the total absence of audience noise.

I say this because it took me nearly eight seasons of How I Met Your Mother to notice that that show has a laugh track in the background, albeit a very quiet one. It’s nowhere near as pronounced as in, say, Friends, which, in turn, was less pronounced than shows that were very proud of the fact that they were filmed in front of a live studio audience such as The Cosby Show. (I’m probably dating myself somewhat there, but eh. Whatever. The Cosby Show gave us the word “zurbit” to describe the act of blowing a raspberry on someone’s stomach, so it clearly had an important impact on culture at large.)

I remember back when I still lived at home and we started to get the first wave of new comedy shows that didn’t have laugh tracks in the background. They were often described as “comedy dramas” rather than sitcoms, and initially they made somewhat uncomfortable viewing because it was never quite obvious whether or not you were “supposed” to be laughing. I remember the first time I saw Spaced on TV, for example; it may be one of my favourite shows of all time now, but when it was first on TV and there was no easily recognisable prompt that you should laugh here, here and here, it was a little confusing.

This may sound strange to those of you reading this who have never known anything but shows without an audience track in the background, but it’s true. Nowadays, I’ve adjusted to the norm of there not being a laugh track — so much so that it’s jarring when you do notice it in shows like How I Met Your Mother.

That said, while the absence of a “live” audience has worked well for sitcoms and “comedy dramas,” it doesn’t work universally well. Game shows that unfold without a live studio audience are a curiously lifeless experience, for example, as anyone who has ever watched Eggheads or Only Connect will tell you. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the format of either of these shows (though the combination of smarmy presenter and the titular “eggheads” on Eggheads infuriates me beyond belief) — they just feel a bit “wrong” without, say, applause at the end of a round, or people laughing when someone cracks a joke.

I remember for a while some video games experimented with having a laugh track. The strangest one I remember was the N64 version of Mystical Ninja Starring Goemon, which was extremely Japanese and rather poorly translated, which meant the moments when the canned laughter kicked in were often… bizarre, to say the least. (Still, it was a great game; I recall enjoying it more than Zelda at the time.) It’s not something that ever really took off, though, and now that laugh tracks are the exception rather than the rule in other forms of media, it’s something I don’t really see games going back to any time soon — unless they’re specifically trying to capture the feeling of ’80s or early ’90s sitcoms.

Anyway. I didn’t really have a point to make with all this. I just thought it was mildly interesting.

1414: Epilogue

Things weren’t perfect, but she was happier.

Christmas had come and gone, and she’d gone back to the doctor in the new year to review her situation, but found herself in tears before she’d even started speaking. Taking this as a sign that she wasn’t ready to go back to the classroom, Dr. James had no qualms about signing her off for a longer period. When she got home, she’d immediately drafted her resignation, and gone back and forth between a simple, to the point letter and a lengthy one explaining in great detail why she was leaving.

Eventually she settled on the latter, and when she received an email from Thompson on the same day explaining that he completely understood how she felt and certainly didn’t begrudge her wanting to get out and do something that didn’t have such a negative impact on her mental health, she felt like she’d done the right thing.

Time passed. Her sick note had signed her off until the end of her notice period, so she took some time to rest, recuperate and recover, and gradually began the process of looking for work. It was hard going; her specialist qualifications made her overqualified for a lot of entry-level positions, but the only job they would really help her jump into would be another teaching job, which was the last thing she wanted to do.

The business with Mark resolved, Kristina had been using her new-found freedom to hang out with Maxine much more than she had been able to in the past. Maxine, meanwhile, was doing her best to find Kristina a position in her office; it took some time, but she eventually managed to convince her bosses to bring her on for a probationary period.

Kristina took to the work quickly, and began picking up new skills easily. The work was deathly dull, but it paid reasonably well and, most importantly, she could just leave it behind at the end of the day and not have to think about it again until she got into the office. In comparison to the nights of anxiety and nightmares, it was heaven.

Winter changed to spring, and the days got longer and hotter as summer arrived.

Kristina hadn’t seen much of Sian for about a month, since her young friend had been busily preparing for her exams. An occasional text message revealed that she was getting on well, though, and had even managed to repair the rift between herself and her friends. She didn’t mention Edward though; Kristina found herself wondering how he was doing.

* * * *

“Hi, you made it!” Sian exclaimed, running up to Kristina and throwing her arms around her. “Sorry I haven’t been around much. Busy, you know!”

“It’s okay,” said Kristina. “Thanks for inviting me. Are you ready?”

Sian glanced down at the envelope in her hands.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I think so. But hold on a minute. Wait there. I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared inside the school for a moment. Kristina looked around at the other Year 11 students milling around, talking to one another. Some looked ecstatic; others less so. One girl over there was in tears; another was comforting her and clearly trying not to grin too broadly.

School’s a boiling, simmering pot of emotions and hormones, thought Kristina. It’s no wonder it was difficult to deal with. Everything’s so intense; everyone’s forced together to work on things they might not want to do; emotions run high. For these kids, it must feel like they’ve got their whole lives ahead of them. They have, I guess.

She sighed at the thought. Oh, to be young again.

Sian came back out pulling a familiar figure with her.

“Hello,” said Edward, smiling. There was no trace of the anger and resentment Kristina had seen in his eyes the last time she’d seen him. “How are you, Miss?”

“You don’t have to call me that any more, Edward,” said Kristina with a laugh. “Just Kristina or Kris is fine.”

Edward looked her in the eye and his smile broadened, then he looked over at Sian.

“You ready?” Sian asked, holding up her envelope.

“Ready,” he said, holding up his own, identical envelope.

“Then… go!” she cried, tearing into it before she’d finished speaking. She withdrew several sheets of paper and made an exaggerated show of reading them. Edward, meanwhile, tore the envelope open more methodically, withdrew the papers and glanced them over.

“Well?” said Kristina. “Don’t keep me in suspense any more. How did you do?”

“Take a look,” said both Edward and Sian together, offering their respective pieces of paper to Kristina. She looked down at the sheets.

A moment later, a spot of water plopped onto the top page on Edward’s stack. Kristina handed them back and turned away from her former students.

“Congratulations,” she said. “I’m really happy for you both.”

She felt an arm around her waist from her right, then another from her left. As she blinked away the tears that had sprung suddenly to her eyes, she looked down either side of herself and realised that both Edward and Sian were hugging her.

“We couldn’t have done it without you,” Sian said.

“Thank you,” said Edward. “Thank you.”

1413: Part 27

The smell of antiseptic filled Kristina’s nostrils. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but it was a familiar, immediately identifiable one. The smell of medicine.

Kristina had never been a sickly person, but she had oddly fond memories of going to the doctors as a young child. It was a simpler time, when she felt she got along better with her parents, and felt like she could trust “adults” to do the right thing to help her.

Now she was an adult herself, and she knew all too well that adults’ motivations weren’t always particularly simple, nor did everyone just want to help each other and make a better world. But neither was it so simple that some people were just outright evil, either; Mark was clear and living proof of that. She’d grown to think of him as a monster, but it had become apparent that he was a broken man responding poorly to an unfortunate hand that life had dealt him more than anything else. She still wanted nothing to do with him, mind, but she at least pitied him rather than hated him now.

Kristina looked around the waiting room. No-one was talking to one another. The atmosphere felt awkward.

Behind the reception desk, the receptionist was chatting to a nurse who was rifling through some files. Kristina couldn’t make out the details of the conversation, but the pair of them seemed to be getting along well with each other, laughing and joking as they went about their workday. She felt suddenly envious that she had never really felt that way about her own job; she’d always felt isolated, even though she was supposedly part of a team.

Still, it wouldn’t matter much longer. Today, she hoped, would be the first steps towards a new beginning. She knew it was probably going to be a tough road ahead, but it was for the best. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

“Miss… Kristina Charles?” called the receptionist. Kristina raised her hand politely and stood up, then walked over to the desk. “Dr. James is ready for you. Room 3. Do you know the way?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Kristina. She hadn’t spent much time in this surgery, but she had seen Dr. James several times in the past, and knew the way to his room. She passed through the double doors next to the reception desk, followed the corridor around the corner to the left, and came to the door of room number 3.

This is it, she thought. Are you ready?

She rapped three times on the door, heard a cheerful-sounding voice call “Come in!” from within, then pushed it open.

Dr. James was sitting in his large leather chair at his computer. He motioned for Kristina to sit down in the chair across the room from him.

“Hello, Kristina,” he said with a familiar tone. “What can I do for you today?”

“Um,” said Kristina. “I’m not quite sure how to bring this up, really.”

She’d been running over and over in her mind how she was going to explain her situation to the doctor, but now she was here, she felt embarrassed; like she was committing some sort of fraud. Did she have any right to do what she was about to do? Wasn’t she just letting everyone down, giving up?

“It’s okay,” said Dr. James with a sympathetic smile. “I can see that you’re distressed. In your own time.”

Kristina closed her eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath. She suddenly felt like she was about to start crying, but held back the tears, because she knew if she started, it would be very difficult to stop.

“I am… having some trouble,” she said. “A lot of trouble, in fact.”

The floodgates opened. She explained how she had been feeling; how it was difficult to motivate herself to get up in the morning, how it was hard to summon up the enthusiasm to do her job, how she felt guilty that she didn’t feel better about what she did for a living.

She talked about how she suffered nightmares; how she was kept awake most nights by images of things that had happened in the day.

She talked about the times she’d suffered nosebleeds when she felt she couldn’t take any more pressure; how she felt constantly overwhelmed and unable to cope with everything that was going on around her, even the most mundane things.

She started to explain her breakdown in front of the science class, but the doctor stopped her.

“I get the picture,” he said gently. “And it’s okay. I understand how this sort of thing can be embarrassing to admit. It’s not easy to contemplate the fact that the course you thought your life was on might not be the right one, and it’s even harder to admit that something you once clearly felt passionately about is now causing you real problems. Because these are real problems; it’s not all in your head, if that’s what you’re worried about.

“What you’re describing to me, Kristina, is stress. Serious stress, likely coupled with depression. Now, I could prescribe you some medication and send you on your way, but I’m hesitant to do that right now. Instead, what I’m going to do — and what I suspect you were hoping I might do — is get you some time off to collect your thoughts and determine what it is you might want to do, because I feel it’s something you’re struggling with right now. The year is getting on, and Christmas is coming up; I’ll sign you off until the end of the year, and when the New Year is coming up I’d like you to make another appointment, come and see me and determine what you’re going to do. Does that sound good?”

“Yes,” said Kristina meekly. “Thank you.”

“All right, then,” said Dr. James. He turned to his desk, pulled out a pad of paper with red lines on it from his desk drawer, then began to write. A moment later, he was done.

“Give this to your employer,” he said. “And then get some rest. Lots of rest.”

* * * *

She’d done it. She’d admitted that she’d had a problem, and she’d bought herself some time to deal with it. But now she had to determine how she was going to handle it.

She didn’t feel like she could really face going in to school right now — not while all the children were still there — but she felt it was probably better to give the note in sooner rather than later.

For the rest of the day she sat watching the clock, wondering if now would be a good time to go, but she still worried that there would be people hanging about. She wanted to be sure the school would still be open, but minimise the risk of actually running into someone, because now she had gone through with this, she was starting to feel scared and ashamed again.

She watched some television to take her mind off clockwatching, but her thoughts were too preoccupied to take anything in. She was grateful for the noise if nothing else, though; it proved to be distraction from her anxiety.

Nearly there, she thought, as the time approached six o’ clock in the evening. And then I can be free.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, sighed, then stood up. She opened her eyes and felt resolved. This was for her own good. This was the right thing to do.

She threw on her coat and left her home before she could convince herself to do otherwise.

* * * *

She was happy to see that the school was still open when she arrived there, but the number of cars in the car park had thinned out somewhat. A few lights were still on, and she could see a couple of her colleagues in their rooms, probably getting things ready for the following week. Friday afternoon was a good time to tidy up and get things ready, but it was also the time when a lot of people — Kristina included — just wanted to get out and leave the work behind for a couple of days.

Kristina grimaced as she thought that it was more than a couple of days she’d be leaving the work behind for; it was, in all likelihood, forever.

She pushed open the front door of the school and looked around. The corridor was quiet — no children, no staff, and no-one on the reception desk. Kristina tried the door to the reception booth and found it unlocked; she fished the doctor’s note out of her pocket, left it prominently in the middle of the desk, and then made to leave.

As she put her hand on the handle, though, she had a sudden crisis of confidence; she reached for the receptionist’s pad of sticky notes, scribbled a quick note that read “Sorry — Kristina” on it, then stuck it to the doctor’s note. Then she removed it and stuck it to the desk next to the doctor’s note. She wanted to ensure that it was seen, and that she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone about it, even though she felt sure that would probably be unavoidable in the long term.

Then she departed the reception booth, trotted out to the school’s front door and broke into a run as soon as she was outside again.

She didn’t look back.

1412: Part 26

Sian was nervous.

She didn’t bring friends home often, and she hadn’t brought many different people home. Jasmine and Nicola had both been over a few times, of course, but with them still not talking to her, it looked unlikely that they would be coming over again any time soon.

She had certainly never brought a boy home. And while she knew that there was nothing going on between her and Edward beyond simple friendship, she also knew how her mother liked to take things out of context and blow them out of proportion. But Sian was putting her own distaste at being interrogated by her mother aside for now, because her friend needed her.

The day after Parents Evening at school had been a peculiar one. Sian knew that Kristina wouldn’t be there, because she had received a text to that effect, though Kristina hadn’t gone into detail as to what had happened. When she met up with Edward at breaktime, however, things started to become a little more clear.

Edward explained the awkward situation that had occurred, but managed to remain calm while he was doing so. He sounded frustrated, but for once he didn’t seem to be outright angry. Sian wondered if she had had anything to do with that, but doubted it; she wasn’t so confident in herself as to believe she could “fix” emotional scars as deep as those Edward had in such a short space of time.

She wanted to help, though, so that’s where the invitation had come from. It had come out of her mouth before she could stop herself; she’d invited Edward over at the weekend. As soon as she said it, she realised she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do with him once he was there, but she felt it was important for him to get out of his house for a while. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what his situation at home must have been like after the confrontation at Parents Evening; she didn’t even know if he was staying at home, given the revelations that had come out.

“What time’s he coming?” asked her mother with a wry grin. Sian could tell she had already misunderstood the situation.

“Mum, listen,” she said. “I need to explain some things.” She could feel her hands shaking as she spoke up. She normally tried to avoid difficult conversations like this, but she felt it wouldn’t be a good idea to bring Edward into her house without warning her mother about what the stakes were.

She took a deep breath and explained everything: who Edward was, what his background was, why he needed to be treated with a certain degree of care, particularly after last night. By the time she had finished, her mother’s face didn’t look anywhere near as cheerful as it was before.

“Oh,” she said. “Um, is he going to be… all right?”

“I think so,” said Sian. “Just… don’t provoke him, okay?”

“I wasn’t planning on it!” said her mother. Then she smiled. “But I’ll be careful.”

* * * *

A couple of hours later, the doorbell went. Sian, who had been sitting in the living room, raced to the door to be the first to answer it, though she could hear her mother heading to the hallway.

“I got it,” called Sian.

She opened the door. There was Edward, standing on her doorstep. He’d brushed his hair, making him look a little tidier than usual, though he appeared to be wearing his white school shirt and trousers beneath his usual coat. He’d left the tie off, at least. Sian looked him up and down.

“Hello,” said Sian, who now felt rather underdressed in her jeans and t-shirt. “You look very smart.”

“I, uh, don’t have that many smart clothes,” said Edward. “This is the best I could do.”

“You didn’t have to dress up!” said Sian with a gentle laugh. Edward looked a little embarrassed. “It’s okay though. I’m happy you made an effort.”

He looked up at her, and smiled. It was still such a rare sight, it made Sian’s heart flutter to see it. She was glad that she was someone who could make him smile, but it made her a little sad to think that she was probably one of the few people in the world who was able to do so.

They paused like that for a moment, neither moving. Then Sian caught herself, stood aside and motioned for him to come through the door.

“Come in,” she said. “Please. Oh, would you mind taking your shoes off?”

“Sure,” he said, stepping into the house. He removed his shoes, and Sian noticed that his socks were threadbare, with a couple of prominent holes.

“Sorry,” he said, looking sheepish. “Like I said, I don’t have many smart clothes.”

“It’s fine,” said Sian. “Here, let me take your coat.” He removed it and Sian took it from him, hanging it up in the cupboard beneath the stairs. “Come on through.”

She led him to the living room, where the television was still on. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, and her father was sitting upstairs browsing the Internet, as usual. She was grateful to them both for knowing to stay out of the way; perhaps they had a bit more sensitivity and consideration than she gave them credit for, she thought.

Edward sat down on the couch; Sian sat in one of the armchairs. They both stared at the television for a few minutes.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” said Sian, indicating the TV.

“Not really,” said Edward. Then he sat forward. “We could watch a movie or something?”

“Okay,” said Sian. “What do you want to watch?”

“What have you got?” he asked.

Sian smiled, and switched the channel on the TV, then pulled up her favourite video-on-demand service. “Pretty much anything you want,” she said. Her smile widened at Edward’s open-mouthed expression of wonderment. Apparently he had never encountered this sort of service before.

“That one,” he said, indicating a movie starring a popular action her. It looked like a distinctly testosterone-fuelled movie to Sian, which wasn’t normally her sort of thing, but she was willing to give it a shot. Today was about Edward, after all, so if sitting through some blood-splattered action movie would make him happy, that’s what they’d do.

She set the movie playing and moved onto the couch next to him so she could see the screen better. Edward looked like he didn’t quite know where to put his hands, or whether he could relax. Sian just sank back into the soft cushions of the couch with a sigh.

Five minutes into the movie, there was a tap at the living room door, and Sian’s mother poked her head around.

“Would you two like a drink?” she asked quietly.

“Please,” said Sian. “Edward, do you want anything?”

“Yes,” he said. “Please,” he added, correcting himself. “Whatever you have.”

Sian’s mother disappeared, then returned a moment later with two large glasses of Coke. She passed one to Sian and one to Edward, then quietly left the room, closing the door behind her. Sian was grateful for her keeping out of the way, but felt slightly embarrassed at the assumptions her mother was probably making about her right now. She was probably going to go upstairs and have a good laugh about this with Sian’s father right now.

Sian shook her head and took a sip of the Coke. It was cold and still super-fizzy, so it tasted good. It had obviously come from a new bottle. Edward followed suit and took a big gulp, then belched thunderously.

“Sorry,” he said, looking faintly embarrassed. Sian just laughed.

“It’s fine,” she said. Impulsively, she took a big gulp, felt the bubbles rise up inside her, then burped and giggled.

“Heh,” said Edward, not quite laughing, but that smile coming to his face again. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard a girl burp.”

“We’re full of surprises,” said Sian. “Hey, do you want anything to eat? I can make some popcorn if you want.”

“Sure,” said Edward. He turned his attention back to the movie. Sian wasn’t really following it, but Edward seemed to be enjoying himself, and she was glad about that.

She went into the kitchen, reached into the cupboard and drew out one of the bags of microwave popcorn. She placed it into the microwave, set the timer and waited. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then pop… pop… pop pop pop. She listened carefully until the popping slowed down again, then took the bag out and emptied its hot, popped contents into a bowl and took it back into the living room.

Edward was right where she’d left him. She sat down next to him and laid the bowl of popcorn between them, then reached in and grabbed a handful. Then she turned back to the movie.

This isn’t so bad, she thought. This almost feels like a normal life. I wonder what Edward’s thinking right now?

1411: Part 25

Kristina didn’t quite remember how she got here; it had all been a bit of a blur ever since Mark had walked in. Stormed in might have been more accurate; regardless, she felt dazed, confused, and not really up to whatever was about to happen in this small room.

She was sitting in a small chair next to the Head’s large, comfortable-looking swivel chair. Across the room from her was Edward, Mark and Edward’s mother, whose name Kristina didn’t know. The Head had stepped out for a moment, leaving the four in uncomfortable silence. Mark still looked as if he might snap at any moment, though he was leaning more towards “emotional breakdown” than “jealous rage” right now, and Edward’s mother’s face was unreadable. Edward, meanwhile, stared at the floor, his cheeks flushed.

Eventually, the Head walked back in, relieving some of Kristina’s tension. She was just starting to think she ought to say something to break the silence, but had come to the conclusion that she really had nothing to say right now.

“Hello,” said the Head. “I’m Mr Thompson, the headteacher here.”

Thompson was only a year older than Rhodes, but he looked about twenty years older. While Rhodes looked like a kindly uncle coming gracefully into middle age, Thompson’s worn face and greying hair made him look more like a world-weary grandfather. Right now, he looked particularly tired. Kristina found herself wondering what he spent his days doing, since his door was usually closed and it was pretty rare the staff would see him at all; most matters of school business, be they discipline or dealing with parents, went through Rhodes rather than Thompson.

This must be serious to involve the Head, thought Kristina. She shook her head. Of course it’s serious. A man burst in to Parents Evening yelling and screaming, and collapsed on the floor in tears. What a silly thing to think, Kristina.

She felt oddly detached from this whole situation now she wasn’t the centre of attention. She almost felt like she could float right out of her body and watch the meeting unfold from outside; she wasn’t even sure what she was doing here. Although the incident in the main hall had involved her, she didn’t quite know how she could contribute to this meeting, whatever it was.

“We have a problem,” said Thompson. “There is obviously some sort of… history here.” He gesticulated in the general direction of Mark and Kristina, then continued. “I take care not to involve myself in the private lives of my staff, but when something spills over into the professional space, I cannot help but pay attention. Would anyone care to explain the situation, please?”

Silence. Kristina felt like she was a naughty child being admonished for a major misdemeanour, even though she knew she hadn’t really done anything wrong. She glanced over at Mark, who didn’t look in any fit state to talk right now.

Eventually Edward’s mother spoke up.

“There’s a bit of background we need to talk about,” she said. She looked from Edward, to Mark, to Kristina. “And then we need to figure out how we’re going to resolve this.”

Thompson nodded. No-one else said anything.

“As I’m sure you know, Mark and I are no longer together,” she began. “We tried to stay together for the sake of Edward, but it simply wasn’t working.” She sighed. “I knew that Mark wouldn’t be capable of taking care of Edward by himself, but he insisted. He insisted so much he spent more money and time than he had fighting me for legal custody of Edward. There was nothing I could do; even though I knew the situation wouldn’t be good for anyone, Mark was too stubborn to give up.”

Kristina looked over at Mark as Edward’s mother said these things. He was tapping his feet and wringing his hands, but still he said nothing.

“Edward occasionally contacted me in secret,” she continued. “He told me how Mark was neglecting him; how he was angry and frustrated; how Mark would hit him in anger; how Mark would lock him in his room when he didn’t want to deal with him. I wanted to help him, but the first legal battle against Mark had cost me almost all the money I had; I couldn’t afford to fight him again.

“But Edward kept contacting me. He wouldn’t give up. He wanted to escape so badly, and I felt so bad for not being able to help him. But I was living in a one-bedroom flat and struggling to get by, so my situation would have barely been better than what Mark could offer, though I would have at least treated him better.”

“I’m confused,” said Thompson. “If the situation at home was so bad, why didn’t this get reported to Child Protection?”

“It was an irrational fear on my part,” continued Edward’s mother. “I worried that if they took Edward away from Mark, they’d look at my living situation and deem me unfit to take care of him, either. I didn’t want him to end up with some foster family he didn’t know; that would just make his emotional problems even worse than they already are. At least in my mind. I know now that I should have done something sooner, and I regret that I didn’t.” She turned to her son. “I’m sorry, Edward.”

Thompson turned to Kristina, who was shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

“And I’m not clear how you’re involved, Miss Charles. Would you care to explain?”

“I—” Kristina began, but before she could start mumbling her way through an explanation, she was interrupted.

“It’s my fault,” said Mark with a cracked voice, sounding utterly defeated. “I… used to work with her friend. We had been flirting at work for a long time, and eventually we agreed to go out. But I had been such a mess ever since she left…” – here he gestured to his ex-partner – “…that I was having trouble dealing with… being normal.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I thought things were going well. I craved intimacy, both emotional and physical, and I thought I had found it in Maxine. But I went too far, and when she resisted, I became angry and… did some things I regret.”

Kristina was surprised he was being so open about what had happened. She had expected him to lie, cheat and become aggressive, but seemingly the simple presence of the woman he had once loved had reduced him to little more than a shell of a man. His voice was cold and emotionless; there was no sadness, no anger, no bitterness; nothing.

“Very well,” said Thompson. “Can I please ask you to wait outside for a moment? I need to speak with Miss Charles privately for a moment.”

Edward’s mother nodded, and was first to stand. She ushered Mark out of the room ahead of her. Edward trailed along, still staring at his shoes, his feet kicking the floor as he walked.

Thompson closed the door after them.

“Anything else you can tell me?” he said, standing in front of the door with his arms folded.

Kristina felt a little uncomfortable.

“Not about this situation,” she said. “I can tell you that Edward seems to have been responding well to music lessons, and has actually been doing quite well.” She hesitated a moment before continuing. “He has also been getting on well with Sian Beaumont in the music class. She’s been helping him out a lot, and they seem to have made quite a friendship out of it. Unfortunately that seems to have had a negative impact on Sian’s own friendships, as we’ve seen recently.”

“Hm,” said Thompson, stroking his chin. “Anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she said. She paused. “Err,” she began. She considered whether or not now would be the right time to reveal her plan.

“Yes?” he said.

“N-no, nothing,” she said. “Would you mind if I… if I just went home now, please? It’s been a difficult day.”

“Of course,” he said. He stepped aside from the door and opened it. She passed through, not stopping to speak to Edward and his parents on the way past. She just wanted out, right now.

* * * *

The following morning, Kristina woke up late. She could have probably made it in to school if she threw on her clothes and ran, but all motivation had left her.

She fumbled around on her bedside table for her phone, but when she pressed the button to wake it from sleep, it became apparent its battery had gone flat. Groaning, she reached down beside the bed to grab the charger cable — why did they make them so damn short? — and plug it into the phone. Then she lay back and closed her eyes for a moment, hoping she wouldn’t fall asleep.

A few minutes later, after successfully remaining awake, she grabbed her phone, which now had enough charge in it to wake up. She dialled the school’s number; she knew that, given how late it was, she’d have to actually speak to someone rather than leave an answerphone message, but it was better than leaving them high and dry.

“Hello,” she said with a cracked voice. She didn’t clear her throat to fix it; the more ill she sounded, the better. “It’s Kristina, I’m afraid I’m not very well today so I won’t be coming in.”

It was technically a lie, but she really didn’t feel like she had the energy to face school today. She tried to avoid pulling a sickie if she could possibly avoid it, but today she felt like she had earned it.

The inevitable question came. Did she have any cover work for her classes?

“I’ll email some through to Martin,” she said. She had no intention of doing so, but it was easier to say that she was going to send something. Then she hung up before there could be any more questions.

She lay back, closed her eyes and this time allowed sleep to claim her once again.

* * * *

She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept when she awoke again; her mind had been bounced around by some truly peculiar dreams. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a while, not wanting to move. All her joints ached, and she just wanted to lie still for hours.

She stared at the ceiling for a while, closed her eyes and felt herself falling asleep again. But she forced herself awake again, rolled over and pulled one leg out of bed, then the other, sitting up groggily as her feet hit the floor.

She grabbed her phone. There was a missed call from school on it, and another from a mobile number she didn’t recognise. Probably Martin asking where the cover work she promised was.

She dismissed the notifications and opened up her contact list. She scrolled through until she found the number for her local doctor’s surgery.

“Hello,” she said as the receptionist answered on the other end. “I was wondering if you had any appointments today.”

There was a pause as the receptionist checked.

“There is?” Kristina said. “Okay, I’d like to make an appointment, please. Thank you.”

This was it. There was no turning back from here, but she no longer felt any regrets or hesitation; this was the right thing to do.