I turned Jagger back on and poured myself another wine.
***
Helen
You’re not alone.
My heart was pounding with the need to tell Lizzie, but I was scared to. The words felt fragile, a quiet sentiment in the stillness that I feared would shrivel into nothing if spoken aloud. Speculation would be dangerous, a simple scoff from Lizzie could crush my flutter of hope, and yet the opposite was so much more dangerous. The what ifs could pound me into putty.
I held those words tight inside.
You’re not alone.
One little utterance on my chat window had picked me up from the floor. And I was going to paint the panto set. Go Mum and her powers of Dad persuasion.
Maybe I wasn’t so alone after all.
“So, what did you say to him?” Lizzie jabbed me in the arm, smiling her pretty little face off. “I so know you cammed for him last night. Don’t go holding out on me.”
I kept walking, focused on the cloud of my breath in the frosty morning. “Just stuff… art stuff.”
“Oh come onnnnnnn. Seriously?! That’s all you’ve got for me?!”
I shrugged. “It’s a coaching video, what did you expect me to say to him?”
She grabbed me so hard her satchel swung around to thump me on the ass, and her mouth was at my neck, warm against cold skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you, Mr R, let’s play school, I’ll be the naughty little girl, you can be big bad teacher man.” Her mock kisses were squelchy, they tickled.
I pushed her away. “Yeah, right.”
She groaned. “You need to up your game if you’re going to land him anytime in the next lifetime, Hels.”
I stopped in my tracks. “This isn’t a game. I’m not playing at anything, I’m just… talking.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you for real? You have the best opportunity in like, forever, and you’re going to be all puritan about it?”
“I’m not being a puritan, I just don’t want to wreck it.” The thought of blowing it all made me feel sick. I resumed walking. “Being an idiot slut on webcam could ruin everything.”
She matched her pace to mine. “I wasn’t being serious about the teacher game, Hels, I just mean you should seize the moment. Seduce him.”
“Seduce him?” I laughed at the absurdity. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. How the hell could I seduce him? He’s a man. An actual proper man. He’s not Scottie, Lizzie, he’s not going to go all goggle-eyed over a little bit of cleavage and some dirty words.” I looked down at my chest and smiled. “Just as well, too.”
“You have cute tits, Helen Palmer. More than enough to get a man like Roberts all steamy.”
“Thanks… I think.” I squeezed her elbow. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” We halted our conversation as a couple of year seven lads came charging past. Their blazers were too big, and they were still playing at being army soldiers on their way to school. How could I ever seduce a man like Mr Roberts while I was dressed like every other kid in town? I waited until the lads were out of earshot. “How is he ever going to want me when I’m dressed like a child every time he sees me? Why do we have to live in the most backwater place on the planet? Most sixth forms don’t even have uniform anymore.”
She smirked. “But you look so cute in it. Maybe you should get some white socks, put your hair up in pigtails… get some sweet little Lolita shoes… maybe that will get his interest.”
“Can you even imagine the abuse I’d get from the Jennings’ posse? She’d never ever ever ever ever stop laughing at me.”
“Fuck Sarah Jennings and her bitch brigade.”
“It wouldn’t even work anyway.”
We reached the end of Oakfield alley, and Lizzie grabbed my arm to hold me back. She pulled out her cigarettes and sparked one up. “The female of the species is more deadly than the male.”
Sarah Jennings’ bitchy smirk flashed before my eyes. “You can say that again.”
“I mean you, not Sarah bitch-face Jennings.” She offered me her cigarette but I waved it away. “Think about the siren myths, mermaids tempting sailors to their doom and all that. The sailors always go. They totally fall for that shit, every time. You need to be the siren, you need to call him out to you, he’ll totally go for that kind of thing. I mean he’s an arty type, all deep and mysterious and… I dunno…”
“And totally not interested?” I folded my arms. “I can’t be a siren. I’m just a crazy weirdo.”
“You’re no weirdo, Hels.” She took a couple of long drags then stubbed out the remnants with her shoe. “And he totally is interested. How many other teachers do you think are cam-buddying all cosy with their students?”