“I’m excited,” I lie, forcing a smile onto my lips.
* * *
Ispend the morning in Melissa’s office talking through everything, planning observations, the tutor visits I’ll need, and everything else that will ensure I complete the final few weeks of my teacher training successfully.
She tells me about her teaching career and how she found herself as Head of English here at Knight’s Ridge and her hope that my placement here could be the first of many. As much as I want to burst her bubble and tell her that I might be a one-off, my reluctance to talk about my connection to this place stopped me from uttering a word.
All morning, she made sure I always had a coffee to hand, something that only ensured I liked her more. Everything seemed to be going great until she slid a copy of my timetable over her desk as the bell for breaktime rang out around the building both her office and the entire English department resided in.
It showcased the lessons she expected me to be in with both her and her colleagues, and those I was supposed to take over after a week of observations. But it was none of those which caught my attention. No—that was her final lesson of the day today. A year thirteen class.
“I’ve arranged for someone to give you the proper tour of the school next period. She’s going to meet you outside my office when the next bell rings, so you’ve got fifteen minutes to visit the bathroom, get some fresh air, run,” she jokes. “Or if you’re hungry, there’s always food in the staff room on a Friday. If we’re fast, Mrs. Witcher might have a slice or two left of her famous coffee and walnut cake.”
Almost before she’s finished talking, she’s escaping from her office without waiting to see if I’m going to follow. It must be some damn good cake. But no cake is going to make me brave enough to go walking outside while the kids are free.
The second the door clicks closed behind her, I slump down in the chair, let my head hang back and my eyes close.
I should be excited. The opportunities this place could open up to me… even having it on my CV could be huge. If I survive it.
I dig a cereal bar out of my bag and force it down, seeing as my stomach is growling loudly, but I don’t really want it, and I certainly don’t taste it.
Checking my phone, I find a message from Jodie, checking in to see how my morning is going.
I send her a quick thumbs up because I don’t have the energy or the mental capacity to really express how I feel right now.
I swear only three minutes have passed when the shrill ring of the bell cuts through me, making my heart jump into my throat.
Before long, voices ripple through from the hallway and the door swings open, revealing Melissa and a female student in her uniform. Although, I’m very quick to notice that she’s not exactly wearing it as I would expect.
The sleeves of her blazer are rolled up around her elbows, her shirt is unbuttoned enough to tease the horny teenage boys I’m sure she’s surrounded by, and her skirt is entirely too short—listen to me sounding like a judgemental adult.
When Melissa said she’s organised for me to have a student tour, I was expecting to find myself standing beside their most loyal, well-behaved, and polite student. Something tells me that I might just have been gifted the opposite of that.
I can’t help but smile as I continue to study her.
She’s me, just a few years younger.
“Rhea, this is Miss Andrews,” Melissa says, introducing us to each other. “I’m expecting you to take her to every corner of this school and tell her everything you know.”
“Everything?” Rhea quips, a dark excitement glittering in her eyes.
“Anything that won’t extend your time out of PE any longer than necessary,” Melissa says with a smirk.
“She threw the ball at me first,” Rhea states.
“Not the time, Miss Cirillo,” Melissa warns as all the air rushes out of my lungs.
Cirillo.
Rhea Cirillo.
Theo’s little sister.
While my heart rate picks up speed, I can’t decide if this is a good thing or not.
From her ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude and the state of her uniform. I’m thinking it’s probably good. Something tells me she’s not exactly a rule follower, and that she’ll tell me anything I need to know should I ask the right questions.
“Fine. I just need you to know how unfair all this is. Katia is a bit—”