HEADMASTER

by Jaimie Roberts

  Of course it would be him. It always is!

  My folder and all its contents go crashing down onto the floor. “Sorry,” I offer, bending down to pick them up. I check the time and can see the lesson started five minutes ago. “Shit, I’m so late.” It was my period that made me late. I thought it had finished yesterday, but apparently not.

  “Here, let me help you.”

  I don’t look as he bends down and helps collect the papers for me. If I do look, my heart will burst. Despite keeping our distance, I still long for him in ways I know I shouldn’t. I still dream of him and all of the things I know his hands are capable of doing to me. It’s amazing to me that almost two full months have gone by since we met at that pub. In some ways, it feels like it was only yesterday, but in others, it feels like it’s been an eternity.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking the papers from his hands.

  Then, I do it. I look at him, and it’s like all the oxygen in my lungs escapes in one heart-stopping second. A set of whiskey-coloured eyes dances across my face like an elegant swan. His hair is a mass of wavy brown curls, and one of them gently swoops down onto his forehead and rests just above his right eye. His strong jaw is just now starting to reflect the consequences of being separated from his razor.

  And his smell. Oh, my God! He smells of cedar and pine, which make my nostrils flare for more. In essence, he smells of man.

  “You’re late,” he purrs as his eyes narrow and scan my face. I wish he would stop looking at me like that. It makes me want to jump his bones.

  “I know. I had a bathroom emergency.” I don’t know why I told him that. Other than the fact that it happened to be the truth, it was just the first thing that came to me.

  “Skitters?” he asks, his eyebrow arching in a playful manner.

  “No!” I screech back. Now I know what that word means I’m horrified.

  Easton chuckles slightly under his breath and starts to move away. “Better get to class. Have a nice break, Sasha.”

  I watch as he walks away like he hasn’t a care in the world. Meanwhile, my heart feels like it’s going to escape my ribcage. Even after he’s disappeared I’m standing in the empty hallway cocking my head as I watch his arse. It’s only when I hear cheering coming from a nearby class and then the teacher’s shrill voice shouting at them to be quiet that my legs start to move.

  My panicked run commences as I make the very short journey towards the end of the hall and into the English classroom. Everyone looks up, including the teacher making my face flame with embarrassment.

  “Sasha, so nice of you to join us,” Ms Bowles snaps sarcastically. I know she hates tardiness because she makes it her case and point every time someone is even seconds late.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late. I had an emergency.”

  I scurry towards my seat and sit down, practically throwing all the paperwork I have in my arms down onto the desk and leaving my satchel pressed against my foot.

  “See me after class.” Her eyes narrow at me, so I nod my head. It’s not my fault my period decided to pop up again. In my confusion, I try to remember if I took my pill this morning. I’m pretty certain I did. I had been taking them regularly since I was seventeen.

  Since after Liam.

  Inwardly, I shiver thinking about him. He is the reason why I’m here. I’ve taken up too much of my time on Liam, now it was my turn.

  Needing to make sure I did in fact take my pill this morning, I hesitantly reach down to my bag, open the zip and peek inside. I ruffle around trying to find the packet, my hand feeling like it’s searching through a ten foot box. Why is it that bags feel a lot bigger on the inside? Shaking my head, my hand eventually comes across the packet. As quick as I can I check it and see that I didn’t forget. I feel the rush of relief come over me. It’s not like me to be forgetful—especially over something as important as this. I guess it must be the stress of school and upcoming exams.

  “Sasha, are you with us?” It seems my teacher has it in for me this afternoon.

  Clearing my throat, I quickly zip up my bag and scoot up higher, so my full attention is now on the teacher. “Yes, Ms Bowles.”

  “Good, because I’m setting you all homework.”

  Everyone groans, especially one girl named Casey. Her mum is some big, hotshot lawyer—a fact she never lets us forget. She seems to thinks it will buy her popularity points that it hasn’t so far. No doubt taking a cue from her mother, she pleads, “Oh, come on, Miss. It’s Halloween!”

  “Only for one day,” she quips, glaring at her. “You have a whole week off. That is plenty of time to read a book. You haven’t even heard what I have to say yet, and you’re already complaining. For those who already read, this project will be a doddle for you. For those of you who aren’t well-read, this is a chance for you to become well-read. I want you to choose a book. It can be any book that interests you as long as it’s not explicit in nature.”

  “So, no Fifty Shades of Grey?” a girl named Mandy shouts, causing everyone to laugh.

  “Especially no Fifty Shades of Grey.” She turns to head back round to her desk, but not before I see a hint of a smile on her face.

  Yeah, she’s read it.

  “As I was saying.” Ms Bowles approaches her desk, turns to lean her hands at the edge, but doesn’t sit. “You may choose any book you wish that takes your interest. I expect you to read it by the time you have your first English class on Tuesday once you’re back from school. Don’t skim, because we will be discussing, and questions will be asked. I have read a lot of books in my time, so don’t try to cheat.” She dips her head, narrowing her eyes before saying, “I will know.”

  Groaning commences, but I’m secretly smiling. To some this is homework, but for me reading is a pleasure. I read almost every night as it is, so this will be easy-peasy. Now, all I have to do is choose a book to read—one that can be discussed in class. I must admit, I do like my erotic romances, so that’s definitely out. This will definitely require some thought.

  “Also, I want you to bring the book in, so no downloading onto those Kandle devices. I don’t like them.”

  “You mean Kindle, Ms Bowles.” I snicker under my breath and all the other girls follow suit.

  Ms Bowles waves her hand in the air like my correction of her is irrelevant. “Whatever the thing’s called. I much prefer something I can look at, turn over, and flip through pages if I wish. Also, there’s nothing better than a new book smell.”

  “What if some can’t afford to buy a brand new book?” Samantha asks. I turn to her nodding my head. She has a valid point.

  “Get one from the library, or pick one up from the charity shop. There are lots of books out there that can be picked up for free or very cheap. I would also recommend a website. It’s called Book Swap dot com. You can advertise a book you’re willing to trade for another.”

  I mark this down as the website sounds interesting. I have built quite a collection of books that are stored in boxes in my closet. Maybe someone would want to read something in there in exchange for something I’d enjoy. I’ll need to think about what that might be.

  After another thirty minutes, the lesson finally ends. All the girls disperse as quickly as possible, the excitable chatter about the half-term holiday at the forefront of their minds.

  “What was it that made you late this morning?” Ms Bowles asks, approaching my desk.

  I look up watching as she folds her arms in front of her. “I went to the bathroom just before lunch was over and found that I was bleeding. I didn’t have anything with me, so I had to nip to the shop down the road real quick. If it wasn’t for that I wouldn’t have been late. I’m sorry about that.”

  She averts her eyes, clearing her throat. “Well, okay then. I think I can let you off this once. In future, please be prepared for any eventuality.”

  “Thank you,” I say, getting up and gathering my things. I pause a moment as she turns to walk back to her desk. “I don’t want sympathy, so thank you
for not treating me any different to anyone else.” She turns around, so I carry on. “All I can say is I am here because I really want to be here. I’m trying hard, and will continue to do so. I will make sure that an occurrence like that won’t happen again.”

  A small sliver of a smile creeps up on her face. “Of course. I can see from the results of essays and tests that you’ve handed in that you’re giving this one hundred percent. In fact, I was going to tell you about this once the new term started, but I may as well tell you now. There is an English Language London Board exam coming up in January. I was hoping you would be interested in sitting this early? You have a chance to sit this in May or June like everyone else, but if you pass this in January, then you won’t have to sit it again when the final exam comes. If you don’t get a good enough grade, then you always have that second chance.”

  My heart lights up. My first GCSE grade could be in my hands at the beginning of next year. Why wouldn’t I jump at the chance? “I would love to sit it earlier.”

  She smiles before walking around her desk and sitting down. “I thought as much. I will get all the information for you for when you start back next term.”

  “Thank you so much, Ms Bowles. I really appreciate that.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Sasha. Have a good break.”

  That was me being dismissed, but despite my earlier mishap, I am smiling now. All I’ve ever wanted was to sit my exams so that I could have those GCSE marks in my hand. Now finally I can at least obtain one—and as early as just over two months time.

  Bullies

  As my smile barely left my lips, I leave the classroom both glad and disappointed that I didn’t see Easton on my travels. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my time off, but tonight I will definitely be browsing that website Ms Bowles recommended.

  As I round the last corner which leads out into the playground, I hear the sounds of girls giggling.

  “Hey, Pigtails, how about we cut your hair? Then we can play a game of pin the tail on the little piggy wiggy!”

  All the girls start laughing, but I’m not. My eyes flit in the direction of the bullies when they land on a very timid, very frightened Samantha.

  “Leave me alone. I’ve done nothing to you,” she shouts, holding onto her folder in front of her.

  The main girl, Lynn—who just happens to be the tallest in our class—walks up to her flicking her pigtails in front of her face. “You’re doing everything to me. Just by existing.”

  “That’s enough!” I shout, marching up to the girls. I notice the sneer on Lynn’s face as I approach. I have been keeping my head down and concentrating solely on my schoolwork since being here, but what I can’t abide by—or ignore—is someone being bullied.

  “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

  Not caring for her language or intimidation techniques, I waltz up to her until we’re a mere two feet apart. “What is your reasoning for picking on Samantha? Jealousy, perhaps? It normally is when people like you bully.”

  She snorts like what I’ve just said disgusts her. She may have an extra inch or two in height on me, but she doesn’t scare me.

  “Why would I be jealous of her?” She tilts her chin in Samantha’s direction. “She’s nothing but a little squirt.”

  Her minions giggle nervously, but I step forward, now inches from her face. “You think you’re so hard, don’t you? Do you like intimidating a girl when she has no one to defend her? Does it make you feel big, huh? How about you try and pick on me? I’m black belt champion in Tae Kwon Do. Do you want to test the theory of just how tough you really are against me?”

  I notice her swallow hard before nervously looking towards her friends. They’re all silent—all watching our little exchange.

  Lynn—noticing she must say something—looks around once more, screws up her face in disgust before saying, “You’re not worth my time. Come on, ladies,” she says, moving away from me. “We have better places to be.”

  I watch as they walk off, shaking my head as they do. Bullies are such cowards. When they’re out of earshot, I turn to Samantha whose mouth is slightly parted. “Are you okay?”

  “Y– yes,” she stutters, finding her feet and moving towards me. “That was amazing. Thank you.”

  I start walking for the exit and Samantha follows suit. “You’re welcome.”

  “Do you really have a black belt in Tae Kwon Do?”

  Turning my head towards her, I smirk. “Nope.”

  She starts laughing and it’s so infectious that I end up joining in. “That’s amazeballs!” she shouts, laughing again. “Hey, can I get you an ice cream to say thanks? I know a great place down Park Road.”

  I shake my head, still walking in the direction of home. “No, thanks. I appreciate it though.”

  I notice she’s stopped walking, so I turn to find her standing on the pavement, a sad frown on her face. “Oh, okay,” she answers. “I guess I’ll see you after half-term.”

  I watch as she walks away, my eyes closing with guilt as she does. I hitch up my backpack further up my shoulder and sigh. I don’t want to get to know any of these students, but I also can’t let her walk away knowing how sad she looked. The guilt will plague me for days.

  “Hey,” I say, shaking my head knowing that I may or may not regret this later. I watch as she turns, her face looking brighter. “Actually, I could really go for an ice cream right now.”

  Her face lights up. I smile, walking towards her, and she links her arm through mine. A bold move on her behalf, but I don’t shrug her off. Instead, we start a steady pace towards Park Road.

  “You don’t mix with people that much, do you?”

  I can see in the corner of my eye that she’s scrutinising me, like she’s trying to work something out.

  “I’m not a social person, I guess. I just want to get this last year of school over and done with so I can figure out what I’m going to do next.”

  Samantha fusses over her bag until she eventually pulls out some gum. “Do you want some?” I shake my head, and Samantha deposits the gum into her mouth, chewing loudly. “Do you know what you want to do when you leave school?”

  I think back to the time I used to read a lot at Liam’s because there was little else to do. I remembered thinking then that becoming a literary editor would be an awesome job. You’d get paid for reading—something I love.

  “I think I’d go on to do an A level in English. It’s my favourite subject.”

  “Mine too,” she beams. When I don’t offer any more she says, “I want to be a trapeze artist.”

  I stop dead in my tracks and at first she doesn’t even notice. Her arm slips from mine and she casually strolls forward, humming Fifth Harmony’s “Worth It.” It’s a good full two seconds at least before she turns her head, notices I’m not there and swivels on her heels to find me.

  “What?” she asks. “Have you seen someone you don’t like? An ex-boyfriend, perhaps?” Her eyes light up at the very idea.

  “Were you joking about the trapeze artist comment?” She shakes her head. “Wow.”

  Tilting her head, she frowns. “Is there something wrong with being a trapeze artist?”

  “No,” I shout, a chuckling slightly. “It’s just not something you hear every day.”

  She shrugs and we then carry on our walk. “My aunt was one—until she retired last year. I used to hang out when they practiced and watched wide-eyed and awestruck. My aunt asked if I wanted to learn and of course, who wouldn’t? I jumped at the chance. I was seven back then. Haven’t looked back since. As soon as I’m done with school I’m going to join the circus and travel the world.”

  I nod my head, impressed. “Power to you, girl.”

  She beams at my comment. “Thanks.”

  We reach the ice cream shop where I opt for vanilla and chocolate sauce. I sit with Samantha for the duration, chatting, and although she’s very young she was not bad company at all. At the end, I thanked her, and she gave
me her number just in case I ever wanted to chat or hook up with her during the week. I was just thankful that she never asked too many personal questions.

  When at home, I immediately get to work switching my laptop on and surfing this website that Ms Bowles had suggested we look up. I sign up and as soon as I put in my location it tells me of all the nearby locations of people also looking to swap books. I scroll through each one, but none catch my eye. Not until I get to someone with the username Nike1991 who is looking to swap a book by James Patterson for any by Dean Koontz.

  I bite my lip thinking of Easton, but it can’t be him. It would be way too much a coincidence. Besides, I know Easton told me he lived fifteen miles out, whether this location is only a ten minute walk away from me.

  Shaking my head, I get on with the task at hand. Whomever he or she is, I have plenty of Dean Koontz to choose from, and I doubt Ms Bowles can really complain about a thriller.

  I shrug my shoulders. What harm can it do? I hit the button to get in touch with Nike1991 and immediately an email style template pops up.

  To: Nike1991

  From: FriendsFan18

  Hi,

  I have plenty of Dean Koontz books if you’re interested in a swap? I will list the ones I have below:

  Watchers

  Strangers

  The whole Odd series

  Velocity

  The Whispering Room

  Final Hour

  The City

  77 Shadow Street

  Life Expectancy

  Sole Survivor

  I take another couple of minutes to look around, but nothing else catches my eye. I’m actually about to give up and shut my browser when I get a ping alerting me to a message.