Until We Burn | Dr Who

Chapter Nineteen: School Reunion

Our latest adventure is far from what I had expected. One article Mickey read about mysteriously goings on in a secondary school and suddenly we're going undercover. I'm not certain how exactly I can get through this without lying. Missing details can only get me so far.

So here I am, a substitute teacher. I can bet Minerva is laughing at me now. Even as a worshipper of the Goddess of Education, this is a little beyond my capabilities.

Looking out across the room of chattering teenagers, I stumble towards the whiteboard. I prepare to write my name. A loud squeak pierces my ears. Startled, I lose my grip and the pen clatters to the floor. Some of the kids behind me laugh, muttering amongst themselves. Hurriedly snatching it up, I try again. "Right, um... my name is Miss Luscinia," I announce, barely able to hear myself.

They continue to talk amongst themselves.

"Year Nine? Hi? Hello, could you all look this way, please?"

Still, nothing. A few kids sit quietly, glancing around at their peers, but don't offer any help.

Sighing, I drop my books onto the desk. The loud bang commands immediate silence.

"Thanks. Now that I've got your attention, my name is Miss Luscinia and I'll be your new English teacher. If you're not a complete nightmare today, I'll let you call me Inara and we can head to lunch a bit early. Sound good? Okay. Let's get started."

—

The screeching of a chair being pulled out prompts me to sit up straight, acting as if I hadn't just sat alone for Gods know how long with my head in my hands. "Fancy meeting you here," the Doctor cheerily greets me, taking a seat on the other side of the cafeteria table. Its top is faux wood veneer set in a metal frame. A sheen covers it, as if it hasn't faced a proper wash in weeks.

My bare elbows seem to stick to the surface and I lift them away after yet another attempt to support my own aching head. "Yep."

He hesitates, watching me closely. When he speaks again, his voice carries an edge of concern, "You all right?"

Sighing heavily, I nudge a battered spiral — strongly resembling something I would certainly not consider food — around my plate before finally gaining the courage to take a bite. It tastes like it should be meat, only I have never tasted any kind of meat quite as vile before. It's bitter, oily and chewy when I'm fairly sure it shouldn't be.

The fork falls from my hand. My shoulders tense as I lean forwards again. "Is this my punishment for leaving before I could make High Priestess? Miss out on teaching the next generation so I'm given a bunch of teenagers to make me regret everything? Is this some kind of divine consequence or a test or something?"

He only smiles, watching as I try another chip. The gravy doesn't make it taste much better.

"And how in Tartarus is this thing considered a delicacy? Can't believe I'm saying it, but this was better in the forties. At least the chips were edible."

"They are a bit odd. Then again, school meals. What else do you expect?" he jokes.

"Don't you dare. You don't get to make jokes," I snap, taking a little pleasure in the way he looks at me all of a sudden, startled and a little sheepish.

His attempts to catch my attention fail. After what must be a few attempts to form an excuse, he gingerly points vaguely at my face. "You've got... um... just a spot of gravy. J-just there."

Frowning, I rub my cheek and impatiently say, "Happy?"

"It's still..." Another apparent fail. "Hang on." Before I can try again, he leans over the table and dabs at the corner of my mouth with his thumb. Then, shy all over again, he wipes it off on the edge of his tray.