But She Is My Student

by Kiki Archer

  Kat cursed herself and quickly deleted her message folder. The front door flew open and a buffeted Jess and Gary ladled with warm white bags shuffled into the apartment amazed that the noisy tantric workout had not yet finished.

  The evening turned out to be a late one for a school night with the five of them sat chatting and gauging themselves on crispy beef and chicken balls, each smiling privately and feeling a warm personal glow deep inside. Kat would have attributed hers to the great news from Jess and Gary regarding their new wedding date – March 29 two years time - a long engagement, but an engagement all the same, with the desire to marry and raise a family and ‘live the dream’ as Gary had so lovingly declared; things were on the up. But Jess had noticed Kat’s glow before their news and was determined to repay her very best friends constant kindness with a listening ear, an ear that had been absent for the past two horrific weeks.

  Chapter 19

  Intentionally or unintentionally Kat had spoken with her eyes, tenderly and lovingly, gently conveying to Freya a message that her tongue would not let her speak; and it was glaringly obvious they both felt it. The words were not important; the pauses, gazes, and drawn out breaths were what mattered. Freya understood and the memory of their emotional conversation in the classroom helped her cope with the fast deteriorating week. Bea was sitting separately in lessons again, Jodi was away in Ibiza and Chantelle Mann was sniggering at her each time they passed in the corridor. She had returned the money to Bea and doubled checked once more that the video had been deleted, to which Bea replied, ‘It’s gone, just like us.’ She was annoyed by Bea’s petulance but understood her motive and realised that with her every denial, Bea was getting a slap in the face; a personal condemnation.

  So tonight, as Freya looked across Tom Wood’s pumping, flashing living room, complete with disco ball, mixing decks and Limoges wall plates, she decided to make a mends. Bea looked incredible; naturally sexy, every outfit hanging perfectly, just like it had on the mannequin and tonight’s dark grey tribal print dress with floaty chiffon was no exception. It accentuated her womanly curves and looked absolutely divine. It was Tom Wood’s 18 and most of the Sixth Form were crammed into his two bedroom semi. Freya watched as Bea chatted to Poppy Jones, reminding her of a glitzy celebrity visiting an orphanage and talking to the shabby malnourished child. Bea’s personality was fascinating and alluring and Freya envied her ability to express her feelings with passion and fervour, but worried about her recent volatility. She stepped over a shiny blue eighteenth balloon and made her way towards the blanket covered three piece suite, ‘Hi, can I join you?’

  ‘If you must,’ sniffed Bea deliberately angling her body in the other direction.

  Poppy shuffled along the sofa dragging half of the woolly blanket with her. ‘I thought you two were friends?’ She sipped her drink and decided to be brave, ‘In fact if the rumours are to be believed you two are more than just good friends!’ The homemade punch seemed to have quite a kick and Poppy felt unusually confident. She saw Bea’s glaring face and quickly tried to back track, ‘Not that I believe the rumours!’ She didn’t want to ruin her new friendship with the schools resident supermodel.

  ‘Oh shut up Charity Shop Pop!’ snapped Bea. ‘No one wanted you here anyway.’

  Poppy could not believe that someone had actually called it her to her face. She had know for the past six years that it was her nickname but in all that time no one had ever been cruel enough to shout it right at her, at such a short distance as well. She was close to tears. ‘Tom invited me,’ she whispered.

  Bea bit back, ‘It’s his eighteenth! He invited the whole Sixth Form! Look, whatever Poppy. Can we have some space?’

  Poppy slid off the sofa and crept out of the pumping house; no one noticed her absence, but then again no one had really noticed her presence either.

  ‘That was so mean!’ Freya was incredibly tempted to chase after Poppy, to comfort her, and knew deep down it was the right thing to do, but Bea’s pull was just too strong.

  ‘I have been stuck with her for the past half hour and she has been going on about her incredibly interesting Biology Coursework and the fascinating way that molecules alter when they are hot and cold or something like that!’ Bea’s frown relaxed and her face suddenly transformed, ‘I will find her in a bit and apologise. It’s just that I feel lost. I feel lost without you.’ She looked down at the blue balloons scattered around the floor. ‘I love you Freya.’

  The pumping bass coming from the black oversized speakers seemed to fade and the multi coloured lights blazing out from the rotating ball seemed to slow and Freya felt disoriented. No one had heard; in fact most people were out in the garden huddled under the large rusty patio heaters, or standing in the kitchen adding their stash of booze to the table, or upstairs going into the rooms that said Definite No Entry; but she had heard. ‘Oh Bea, can we talk now then? All I have wanted to do this week was talk but you have been so cold towards me.’

  ‘I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make you love me.’

  She frowned, ‘You can’t make someone love you.’

  ‘So you don’t?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. I just think we need to talk, and talk properly, and then maybe kiss and make up?’ Freya’s eyes twinkled and she dropped her head to meet Bea’s downcast eyes. ‘Please?’

  ‘Will it have to be illicit? Will we have to go into the toilet and do it?’ She was still playing moody.

  Freya moved closer and pleaded quietly, ‘I just need time.’

  ‘But I want you now,’ she whispered reaching for her hand.

  Tom bounded into the room with his blue pointy party hat lost on top of his huge head, his clean shaven face grinned from ear to ear, ‘It’s my party and I’ll dance if I want to, dance if I want to, you would dance too if it happened to you! Come on Freya, dance with me!’ He went to grab her arm and haul her off the sofa but stopped when he noticed their closeness. ‘Oh no. Please no. Freya I thought they were joking?’ He pleaded, ‘You are not like that are you?’

  ‘Like what?’ she smiled, stepping up and away from Bea and all that she entailed. ‘Come on let’s dance birthday boy.’

  As Tom twirled her round the living room Freya saw the empty sofa. Bea had gone.

  He grinned, ‘Come on let’s have a chat. Follow me.’

  Tom and Freya had been reserves for the last two years ever since the first house party took place. All of the girls would have a list - only known by them and their closest friends - of the boys they wanted to kiss. Number one would be their ideal, the one they really wanted but knew they had little chance of enticing. Number two would be a possibility, as long as someone else didn’t get in there first. Number three would be a probability, someone you knew liked you and you knew would be interested; they weren’t great but they would do. And then if all else failed you had your reserve. The one that by ten o clock, if no one else had bitten the bait, you knew you could turn to for a good old snog. Freya looked at her watch, it was only eight thirty.

  Tom held her by the hand and guided her up his stairs stepping over two kissing couples who had clearly hit the jackpot and bagged their number ones. ‘This is my room.’

  Tom could pass for twenty five but still had a Thomas the Tank Engine duvet cover and road print rug on his floor. ‘It’s nice,’ she said lying.

  He made his way over to the single bed and tapped Thomas’s funnel, ‘Sit down.’

  She followed his instructions.

  ‘Please tell me you are not a lesbian.’ He looked worried, ‘Only I heard some people talking about you and Bea making out in the common room or something like that. It could have been the car.’ He had heard the rumours but instantly dismissed them, he knew Freya too well and knew her more intimately than he knew any other girl, there was no way he could have turned her gay – what would his mates say?

  She shook her head in disgust, ‘As if!’ Freya realised in that moment, with that simple denial, she was not
ready for the truth.

  ‘Ok then, Phew! I was worried she had got her teeth into you. I mean she is foxy as hell, but you’re not gay are you, so she has no chance.’

  She messed with her hair and turned to Tom, her wide eyed bewildered act coming all too easily, ‘I know. Just because we are friends I guess people are making stuff up. I am not bothered. People can think what they like.’

  Tom grinned, ‘Come here then.’ He moved heavily towards her and pulled her close, kissing her roughly and moving his large hands clumsily up her top.

  She was crying inside.

  ‘Here, touch me here.’ He grabbed her reticent hand and shoved it on top of his bulky jeans.

  Freya burst into tears. ‘I can’t.’

  Chapter 20

  Freya couldn’t handle it anymore, she had drawn so much attention racing from Big Tom’s party that the rumours had escalated and she felt suffocated, terrified; she needed to talk and Kat was coming towards her, marching her way down the chaotic pale blue corridor, asserting herself in a fashion that was simply awe inspiring. She was confident and firm, never turning a blind eye for the ease of a swift journey, but stopping and correcting and insisting and caring; Freya found it breathtaking. Kat could spot a loose shirt a mile off and chewing gum in the mouth with x-ray vision. As they finally met in the middle of the corridor Freya laughed, ‘Am I up to standard?!’

  Kat smiled eying her white polo shirt and perfectly faded skinny blue wash jeans, ‘Definitely.’

  Freya smiled, pleased with the hint of mischief in her tone, ‘Have you got a minute?’

  ‘Of course, but I have my Year Elevens next and if I am late there is bound to be at least one incident to file!’ It was the one lesson of the week that she had a slight apprehension about.

  ‘I was wondering if I could come and see you later for a chat? You know our lesson is cancelled right? It’s that stupid confidence building day and I have already had to make a ten foot tower out of cotton buds and I have transferred water from one bucket into another without using my hands and anyway...’ Freya realised she was rambling ‘... I have that judo session this afternoon instead of our lesson.’

  ‘I know, any Sixth Form staff that had lessons today have been put on supervision, and I have got...’ Kat pulled the piece of crumpled paper, recently retrieved from her jammed pigeon hole, from under her arm, ‘...Judo.’ They smiled; their secret smile thought Freya.

  Kat noticed the bleach blonde hair first and the huge cleavage second.

  ‘Well I will see you there...’ Freya paused, ‘... but I was wondering if maybe we could ... maybe go somewhere later after school and have a proper talk. It’s really important.’ The noise in the corridor was deafening and Freya hadn’t heard Miss Pity’s stilettos coming to a standstill directly behind her.

  ‘I don’t think that will be possible sorry Freya. Let’s talk about it in the lesson on Thursday.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said confused, ‘this is personal and I really need your advice.’ She reached for Kat’s arm, ‘You told me I could come and talk to you whenever.’

  Kat stepped backwards, ‘Yes you can, but like I said, we will discuss it on Thursday.’

  Freya suddenly realised how Bea must have felt, ‘You know what, don’t worry about it.’ She stalked off leaving Kat and Diane silently eyeing each other like fighting cats oblivious to the carnage surrounding them in the B Block corridor.

  The gym smelt fusty as Kat walked barefoot over the squeaking floorboards. She sat in front of the wooden wall bars on a knobbled bench at the back of the hall, relieving Leery Old Lester - who looked like he had been enjoying proceedings far too much - from his cover. She lifted the first of many exercise books out of her yellow plastic box, tapped her red pen on the bench and glanced up. Kat recognised most of the students trust up in heavy cotton judo whites and was shocked at how vicious the current move seemed to be. There were about twelve Sixth Formers attempting the basic hip throw, pretending they were being attacked from behind and grabbing their assailant roughly by the arms, flicking their left hip out, pulling the attacker over their right hip and hurling them onto the ground. The bald headed instructor whose tattoo’s covered most of his neck kept shouting: ‘Maintain your grip, maintain your grip,’ but the students didn’t and bodies were slamming onto the blue dog eared school gym mats left right and centre. Kat winced and returned to David Haverley’s drawing of Tintern Abbey, A+ Merit.

  ‘Right, you are going to have to take over. Here is your jodogi, just put it on over your trousers and shirt.’ The barking continued, ‘Good you’re shoeless, you just need to take your necklace off and tie this belt around your middle.’

  Kat looked up at the scary bald instructor, ‘Excuse me?’

  He pointed at Poppy Jones sat in the corner, ‘That one has had enough; doesn’t quite cut the mustard as far as I’m concerned.’ He stuck his thick thumb over his right shoulder, ‘That pretty one needs a partner and you’re it.’

  Kat picked up her red pen, ‘I am just here to supervise. I have books to mark. Can’t you do it?’

  He looked down at the book resting on her knee, ‘Looks more like pictures to me love. No, can’t pair up male and female, you’re up. That sweaty old geezer got involved, show a bit of spirit love!’

  ‘I bet he did,’ she muttered calling Poppy over. There was no persuading her, and Poppy left to join the Library’s embroidery session instead.

  The instructor glared at Kat. She had no choice so stepped into the massive judo whites.

  ‘Right we’ve got ourselves a new volunteer, because some people can’t stand the pace!’ The loud scary instructor shouted in Poppy’s direction, possibly not aware that this session was meant to improve confidence and teamwork skills. A couple of the group cheered as Kat took a nervous little bow. She lifted her blonde hair in one sweeping movement onto the top of her head, and wrapped her bobble in place - she always kept a spare one handy for book marking. Kat twisted the band and pulled her silky hair in a tight knot, displaying by consequence her long and elegant neck in all its splendour.

  ‘If you just stand here love,’ he almost lifted Kat into position in the centre of the blue mats. ‘Right, we’re going to look at some mat techniques now. You’ve got them down,’ he threw Kat over his right shoulder and lowered her onto the mat, she still thudded. ‘So what do you do with them now?’

  ‘Maybe let go?’ she choked.

  ‘No, you do the Makura-Kesa-Gatame, or as it is also known the Pillow Scarf Hold.’

  He proceeded to spin to the ground sliding his bent right leg under her right shoulder, locking her head with his right arm and keeping her fixed by holding onto his own knee. Their heads were millimetres apart and he smelt of garlic.

  ‘Can you move?’

  Kat shook her head.

  ‘No didn’t think so. Right watch it again.’

  In one swift action he had lifted Kat from the floor, thrown her over his wide shoulder, clattered her onto the thin blue mat and pinned her into submission. The couple of efforts Kat could see from her squashed position on the ground weren’t exactly matching the one just demonstrated, but she could hear whooping and giggling and wails of help from the group who were actually having a fantastic afternoon.

  ‘Right, I’ve just done it to you, now you do it to her.’ He signalled to Freya and shouted at the noisy group. ‘Keep practicing, I will want a demonstration from everybody in ten minutes.’ The bald instructor ushered Kat and Freya to the blue mat near the door, ‘Right, your turn.’

  Kat held her breath and stood in front of Freya.

  ‘Grab her lapels’

  She reached for Freya’s lapels and gently lowered her right shoulder, nudging her over the top and sliding her pathetically onto the ground.

  ‘Get a grip woman! Show me the hold!’

  Kat adjusted her stance and knelt down. She slid her knee under Freya’s shoulder and locked her head lightly.

  ‘Bloody hell woman, you would
be dead by now! My goldfish could have done a better job! Get up!’ He turned to Freya, ‘Right you, pretty eyes, your turn.’

  Freya looked at Kat and smiled sweetly before jabbing her hip fiercely and hurling her over her right shoulder and onto the map. She dived into position, pinned Kat down and locked her head tightly.

  ‘That’s my girl! Now show Miss Prissy Pants here how it’s done!’ He turned to the hall. ‘Group demonstrations in ten! Bloody hell! Better make that fifteen looking at the piss poor state of you lot!’ He marched off shouting insults at the grappling pairs he passed.

  They looked at each other and laughed. ‘Is he for real?’ Kat was rubbing her neck.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you; well maybe I did a little bit!’ The last thing Freya wanted to do was appear childish, but their conversation in the corridor had really got to her.

  ‘Right madam,’ giggled Kat, ‘no more Mrs nice guy!’

  Kat did the move again more powerfully this time, but still one of the few in the hall who actually kept hold of lapels and lowered their partners to the floor instead of letting go and watching them thud. She moved into the hold and immobilised Freya’s head, ‘Is this better?’ she whispered literally centimetres away from her mouth.

  ‘Yes,’ Freya was staring up remembering the image of Kat’s beautiful face moving into hers for their very first kiss, ‘but you forgot to hold your leg!’ She spun onto her stomach, threw her legs around, rolled Kat onto her back, keeping her hands under Kat’s shoulders, and pushed her head onto Kat’s chest. They filled the length of the mat, Kat on her back with toes at one end and Freya on her stomach with toes at the other.

  The instructor could not even see Kat’s head; it was hidden under Freya’s body. ‘Well you are the gold star pupil aren’t you pretty eyes! Can you remember what it’s called?’

  Freya lifted her ear from Kat’s warm soft chest, ‘The Kami Shiho Gatame.’ She returned her head and listened to Kat’s heart racing.