Chapter 4 - Pushing the Senses

     The NQT left the classroom.

With her left the small chance of her having a decent lesson. As Miss Bunty flung open the door �" for nothing more than photocopying worksheets �" she invited in all the most treacherous features of the jungle to come and play with the kids.

Jake felt sorry for her. She still had a lot to learn, but even an NQT should be aware that the first rule of teaching is to NEVER leave a troublesome Year 11 class unattended, subsequently revealing the wildlife that really lives inside the hearts of those who have truly mastered the art of Pretending To Listen To The Scary Teachers And Not Bothering With The Rest.

Mia was busy cooing and fussing over him.

“Gosh, it looks really painful,” she tutted, obviously gloating that her boyfriend had been in a fight. Aware that it was nothing to be proud of, Jake tried to shrug her off.

“Oh, it's nothing,” he said. He should have stopped there. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone had nosily interrogated him with an army of questions about his beaten face. Beaten, but still handsome.

He should have stopped there. Should have, but didn't. Story of his life. Without being able to stop himself, he added: “Don't worry about me; the other guys look much worse,” he lied with a confident laugh. The implication that he had won the fight hung in the air, gaining him acceptance into the popular crowd.

He knew he shouldn't have said it. But, who could blame him? He couldn't really have been expected to own up to having been left on the dirt, defeated and crying like a tired child?

Could he?

He noticed how his posture had changed since his date with Mia. It was still just Monday, and yet he no longer sat hunched over his desk trying to hide away. He now sat with his arm flung loosely across the back of his chair, his body facing outward despite how it hurt, to get himself involved in conversation.

It was a PSHE class. To the teacher, anyway. To the students, it was almost a free period; getting to sit around, doing nothing, messing about, chatting, making jokes, not caring about the work because in their eyes, it wasn't important. Who needs PSHE anyway?

Much to the dismay of the newly qualified teacher, it seemed she wouldn't have much luck with this class.

The previous teacher seemed to have agreed to give the class needless tasks such as posters to draw in the bargain that they didn't disturb her and pretended to be working hard should any higher level of staff happen to walk in.

Now on maternity leave, that teacher had left Miss Bunty in a rather difficult position. Her first opportunity to be a serious teacher. She'd not been given many classes as part of her role in her first school, but she hadn't minded that. She had fully intended to ensure the classes she did have were obedient and well-behaved in her lessons.

Then she had met 11H.

It was first thing on a Monday morning �" her first day on the job. This class had already decided she wasn't one they had to listen to, and the second bell hadn't even rung.

It was a disaster.

She could hear the shouts and yelps of joy all the way from down the corridor. She peered nervously over to the photocopy machine. It must be nearly done by now. Only a few more sheets to go.

She was very conscious of the fact that if she didn't return to the class soon, provide them with work and shut them up, eventually one of the other teachers would come in and shout at them for disturbing their lessons. She couldn't face that. She couldn't face the shame of being helped. No, she would have to deal with this herself.

In the words of Joey from her favourite TV show �" F.R.I.E.N.D.S �" 'if you're scared of bugs, get a bug.'

The same rule applied. If she was scared of being ridiculed by a misbehaving classroom full of teenagers, her only choice was to face being ridiculed by a misbehaving classroom full of teenagers.

Picking up a cluster of sheets the photocopier had spat out, she ran back to her class, noting to herself that kitten heels were not an appropriate choice of footwear for this job.

When she returned, paper planes were swooping past her. One obese kid was eating crisps under his desk. Another kid was standing on his desk.

She cleared her throat and wailed 'excuse me' at the top of her voice. She'd seen teachers gain authority by doing that before.

To her surprise, the class looked up from their conversations. The obese boy �" she glanced at her seating plan to discover his name was Robert (though Rob had been pencilled in) �" froze, a barbecue flavoured crisp still wedged between his fat fingers. The kid on the table hopped down. The majority of the class hid their foldaway aeroplanes underneath various work books.

“Good morning class, I'm Miss Bunty,” she continued hesitantly. They can sense my fear, she thought, her brow knotted in concentration. Act superior, like you were trained to do.

She peered around the class, looking in detail at the students that made up 11H. She'd been informed that PHSE classes weren't arranged in forms or sets or even forms that usually stream together, simply a jumble of kids who happened to have a free at that particular time.

Well, lucky them, she sneered.

She'd already seen Rob. Her eyes darting back and forth from the seating plan in front of her; her bible for the day, she studied each pupil.

There was Jake in the leather jacket. She would tell him to take that off in a minute. Then there was Mia, clinging to his arms like his personal handbag. There were a few other boys and girls mixed around those two, but they certainly appeared to be the centre of attention.

Then there was a talkative girl at the front, chatting to another talkative girl. Franki and Jess, they were called.

The kid on the table had been someone called Oliver. She would have to watch out for him.

And finally, there was a quiet girl at the very back. It seemed as if the rest of the class had forgotten to notice she'd arrived. She was called... April.

He spotted her. He did a double-take. Yes, she was definitely there.

April.

The girl he'd forgotten all about this week. She must be in his PSHE class. He watched her sat at the back on her own. He watched her face away from everyone else and complete the work on the photocopied sheets that were being handed out.

She looked up at him, most likely having been able to feel the harsh gaze of his line of sight, targeting her.

She smiled at him shyly, then looked back down at her work. He continued to watch her, fascinated.

He'd finally found her. It had been puzzling him all week as to how she'd managed to disappear like that. It wasn't that much of a big school.

And now he had a full hour every fortnight to try and work her out. To try to understand her.

Something told him he'd need a lot longer at that.

Mia noticed how his eyes were averted. He was staring at the freak. She wanted him to be staring at her. He was her boyfriend. She would have to do something to get his attention. To make a point. She couldn't be seen with someone who liked that misfit. Emulation swelled like an angry blister inside her. She had to distract him. She had to do it now.

She leaned in.

Jake felt something.

He looked down to see Mia. She was kissing him. Not just a quick kiss on the cheek, a full on kiss.

He stopped staring at April, horrified that she'd see this. He didn't know why he was so horrified, but he knew that he was. He tried to pull away, but he wasn't mean enough to completely push her off in front of everyone. That would be humiliating for both of them.

To his surprise, he found himself kissing her back. Her arms wrapped possessively around his neck. He felt claustrophobic. He felt trapped. Yet he continued to kiss her back.

He felt his cheeks flame as he heard numerous wolf-whistles and whoops from his classmates. Not that he should be listening.

At last, he pulled away. He took a last glance at April, who was busy pretending either that she hadn't noticed or that she didn't care.

He hoped it was the first.