The Depth Of Safety - Chapter Two

I should be afraid of him. I knew the many terrible (and in my world unimaginable) things he's done. And yet I felt safe with him. Completely, utterly, irrevocably safe.

The vision of something new usually brings excitement, happiness and feelings that this is amazing and something will change in person’s life. It was like this for me before I arrived in Viereck and truly nothing groundbreaking happened so far. Nevertheless I could find myself being taken over by this excitement again as I was preparing myself for my first day of teaching at school. How carefully I picked out my outfit as if it really could mask my insecurities and inexperience in teaching but as they always say making a good first impression is essential and that’s all I could hope for.

I didn’t have the honour to teach a class all alone, let alone in a foreign country. This June I got my bachelor’s degree in teaching English and French and all my study program asked for was teach two month under the watchful eye of an older professor. Now I was going to be the professor, all alone under the scrutiny of thirty eyes. To top it all, Saint-Louis is one of the most prestigious schools in Viereck preparing for eight years the most talented (and the most loaded) students for further studies at a university.

As for now, my daily program was quite bearable but I was fearing how it would turn out when college will start in two weeks from now. Masters degree was something different than bachelor’s degree and learning everything in a different language would be interesting too. My main focus will have to be on acing college and staying on scholarship. Keeping the job is an important aspect too though. Coming here to Viereck, live on my own in my very own apartement miles away from home, was an act of independence, a proof that I was able to be my own bread winner.

The school was an old building situated behind massive gates. Funny how everything you were not a part of looked amazing and magical. Now I was excited to be able to be a part of this but after some time the excitedness will wear of and it will be a simple building where I would have to go to  work.

I met just one colleague that morning. The headmistress’s assistant. It was a lady of sixty, high, very thin and stern. Her welcome was very warm though. She gave me a rough overview of the school and where I should be headed for my very first class. Eight’s grade, thirteen year olds - should I be afraid of them or were they more afraid of me? As I learned later the answer isn’t unambiguous. There would be some that will be afraid of me, there would be some who I will be afraid of and there would be some that I will get along with.

I finally made it to my first class, put my stack on the table, put a smile on my face, looked around and started.

"Good morning everyone my name is Miss. Prochazkova and..."

The door burst open in the middle of my speech and I automatically prepared a smile and a "that’s okay, have a seat." That was not to be used thought. Two boys of thirteen barged in the door without less than an “I am sorry” and a glance at me and directed themselves to the last rows throwing a glance at a girl in the second row on the way.

"Serral, shaved legs this year?" One of them quipped.

"Or expecting a cold winter so keeping the fur on." They high fived each other and crashed loudly into their seats.

Should I use a sarcastic comment often used in movies "Thank you for joining us” or should I ignore them? I settled for the second. The air caught in my throat though for a nano second as I realized who one of the boys was, I knew him from my encounter week ago I offered him food on the street. he seemed to come to the same conclusion as he lowered his head. And I continued on with my lesson.

"So we are having an English lesson and I’d like you to tell me two things about yourself. Will you start please I asked a girl sitting in the first row. I was registering at the back of my mind what everyone was saying correcting occasionally when someone made a mistake the whole time I was paying more attention to the boy in the last row. What was he doing here in a prestigious school preparing for a higher education, clothed in baggy torn up jeans and a worn old jacket. What was he doing here when the rest of his free time he spent begging and stealing down on the streets?

"I like playing football and I like to piss people off." My back brain registered and my head snapped up to the person saying it. He didn’t say it in English.

"Excuse me?"

“I �" like �" playing �"“ He repeated slowly, putting stress on every letter what he said, again in his mother tongue with the goal to embarrass me �" that I don’t understand him, that I can’t his mother tongue.

"We're having an English lesson which means you should speak English."

"You didn't say we should speak English you said we tell two things about us."

"Maybe but the rest understood. Well?"

"I like to play football and I like to �" make people angry." This time he spoke in English and hesitated after the world to, he didn’t know this one expression but otherwise he had a very good English.

"And what is your name?"

"Daniel Auster." Okayish, Daniel and I are going to have a problem.

"Jacques Mann, I like English and playing video games." I stared at the boy sitting next to Daniel. He didn’t have the menacing aura his friend seemed to have towards me. Maybe he still felt dindepted for that one afternoon at Centre Georges Pompidou. Daniel though had one more comment.

"Dude no need to crawl up her a*s. English is yuck."

I tried to ignore his comment and carry on. Hearing the others snicker wasn’t helping very much.

When the bell rang majority of the kids disappeared through the door. I caught sight of a girl putting her things in her backpack. I didn’t have time to study her earlier but now as she was standing I noticed everything about her. She was dressed in casual manchester trousers and an old sweater with blue and white stripes. Her hair was in a pony tail and she wore absolutely no makeup. Her backpack was worn and so were her white sneakers. When she was passing my desk I stopped her. "Clara, right? If you need anything, or if you wanna talk you know where to find me, okay?" She gave me a lopsided smile. "Thanks, and don't mind them they act like exactly what they are, bratty rich idiots. Ignore them, like I do, it's worked for me two years and I hope it will last a couple more."

"Clara, I could help you even if I didn’t gain much respect from them. You can trust me."

"And thank you I appreciate it. I don't need anything right now. But I would stop by if I needed to."

As I gather my things to leave the classroom too I pondered about how appearances can be misleading. She looks like a poor victim who can’t defend himself but really she's bright and smiley and not letting "some bratty idiots" (her own words) ruin her good mood.

At the end of the day at school I got yet another blow. The headmistresses assistant had me called into her office and .... explained me some things.

"Miss Prochazkova, I understand that this is your first day teaching at a school with a different mother tongue than yours but there are some barriers you shouldn't cross. I’ve been reported you didn't act nicely towards a student of ours. And you should understand that it is not money that is important it is the thing you have got in your brain. Most of our students are from prestigious families but there are some that are not. And you will treat them all equal."

"Yeas miss, but..."

"No buts. Once you are our employee and you will follow our rules. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

I stepped out of her office and closed the door. Once in a while you get an open blow utterly confused from where it came. I had no idea what I did wrong today. I had no idea what she talked about.

Was it about Jacques? He was different from the other kids I noticed that well but I didn’t treat him differently. Or did I?

Was it about Clara? Did someone see me talking with her and assume something, but why? Or did Clara tell on. But there was nothing to tell. Or was there? I didn’t know. Life seemed to be something different when watching it from behind the shadows of my parents. I wanted to step from behind them, I wanted to be self dependent. And now what. I was twenty three, I finished my first three years of college, I was on a school exchange, I was renting out an apartment in a foreign country and I was working and actually earning my own money. And there were still things I didn’t understand. Why I was accused of something I had no knowledge of doing and why was receiving charity more shameful than picking up pockets.

###

A week has passed since my first arrival in the school. Daniel Auster tried to frustrate me on every occasion. I tried not to be affected but how could I not be. There was someone that didn’t like me, there was someone that doubted my qualifications to be teaching me, there was someone who tried to make me feel like s**t. What made me concerned and unhappy though was discussing his behaviour with fellow colleagues. According to every single one of them Daniel never disturbed in their lesson, he was a good and quiet student. And to top it all he was a poor baby, I got enlightened, because his mother died in a car accident when he was three and all his life he was taken care of by babysitters. By listening to them one would actually say Daniel Auster was a saint.

 Nobody said it directly to me but I could feel it in their mocking voices, penetrating gazes and pitying smiles. I was jealous of him, I was jealous of the money he had and for that I was hating him. I thought something too, about them, maybe they were afraid of him, because of his money, or maybe they worshipped him for his money. But I didn't say that out loud either. Some things aren't meant to be formed into words.

###

I grabbed my prepared stack of tests from table headed for my class. How will the children react to my first test? Will they find it too easy, will it be too hard for them I was curious.

"So I hope everyone took my advice to his heart and no one thought -“

"Mann."

"What?"

"Mann actually thought of missing." Well who other than Jacque's Mann’s buddy would have the audacity to tell on his friend. Daniel Auster the bane of my existence in the world of teaching.

"Really, well I already told, who isn’t here is writing the test at the end of the semester. All chapters included."

"Yeah, right. Like Mann is afraid of your test." And here starts one of Daniels rants on the account of my sanity.

“He's probably just walking the streets." My eyes shot up to another boy sitting across the line to Daniel.

"Good one man." Daniel leaned in to bump the boy’s hand.

Walking the streets, his friends (or if they could be called friends, better expression would be mere acquaintances) knew what he was doing in his free time. The sentence played for a long time in my head, over and over. There was something malicious about the way it was said. Such as laughter at something rather than someone. A secret shared between two people not the whole class. Anyone who lived in Viereck could pass Jacques on a street if I met him only after spending three days here.

Only later did I understand what they meant by their private joke. Now I understood one thing only, a fact that seemed fitting and important, the blonde boy wanted Daniels attention as everyone I have met here so far.

After the lesson Clara waited for everyone to leave and then she went up to me.

"Miss Prochazkova, the boys were right, Jacques wouldn't be missing school just because of one test. He actually barely misses school and when he does he turns up during the day," The girl lowered her head and continued more quietly "with bruises on his face." She looked up again. "He hasn’t showed up today at all what if something bad has happened to him? Can you try to contact him? You should know all the addresses of all the students right?"

 I was watching the girl intently. Everyday Jacques and the other students made fun of her and yet she swallowed her pride and asked for help for him. Unlike any other of her classmates, didn't they see or didn't they care?

"I will inform myself about his whereabouts today. Go to your next class, it's starting shortly."

After I was finished with lessons I dialled the number from school system, Jacque’s mother's. "The person you are calling is temporarily unavailable.”

No number for Jacques mobile phone.

A house number, no one picking up.

Sighting and cursing Clara I took a piece of paper and wrote down his address. I would have to pay his family a visit then.

Honestly I don't know what I've been expecting but this blew my breath away. The closer I was getting to my destination the creepier it got. Abandoned streets with no cars, occasionally passing another person, how could streets be so desolated? Seeing a graffited gate and a wall I realized it wasn’t that abandoned at night. Behind the closed door was probably a cheap renting place for discos and street artists.

And here I was at the end of the world, at the very outskirts of the city. A five storey panel house with three entrances. Doing quick math it probably was thirty flats altogether. By the looks of it even the owner who had this build about fifty years ago here at the very end of everything didn't have that much money.

By the look of it the house was about to collapse. Somewhere further on the end of the end of houses like this were probably abandoned. It was a sad view and what surprised me was a railway passing this house. A train was just going by. Did the passengers look outside? Did they see the broken windows, clothes drying on cords in the incredibly small balcony, plaster falling down.

I studied the bells looking for Manns. There. The doorway was open so I slid in. In the third ground - I took a deep breath and rang the bell with sign Mann.

Reviews

[Tavionna]

awesome, do you have any other romance stories. if you do can you let me know.