Patrick Bateman, My Teacher

Week 1, Day 4: Thursday

"So, what did Mr Bateman have to say to you yesterday?" Alison asked as she applied a baby pink layer of lip gloss in the mirror.

I chose my words carefully, remembering what he had warned me about keeping our tutoring sessions a secret.

"He just wanted to go over a mistake on my student portfolio", I lied, "It's all sorted now".

"Okay", Alison responded chirpily, her hair in a towel wrap after her morning shower, "I wonder what we will be doing in our very first technology lesson".

"I hope it's not woodwork", I remarked.

"If it is, I'm refusing to take part", Alison muttered scornfully, presenting to me her new acrylic nails, "I've just had these done for mine and Jason's date on Saturday and I'm not ruining them already".

I laughed fondly at her. I know it had only been less than a week, but I really did see Alison as an already close friend of mine.

Allowing her to get ready, I plugged my earphones in and left the room, deciding to go on a morning walk throughout the campus. There was a water fountain right outside the front doors of the school and I perched down on there to listen to Amy Winehouse for a while.

I had plaited my hair today, which was a task that typically took twenty minutes as my hair was so drastically long. The end of the plait fell down to the small of my back.

As I listened to Wake Up Alone, my thoughts wandered onto Mr Bateman and our conversation yesterday. The thought of being tutored by him this evening sent a dizzy wave of nerves and excitement down my body. I began to wonder whether he would enclose his arms around me from behind like he did last time he played piano for me. I wasn't sure if the thought pleased me or worried me.

The thought of this spurred on the hazy memory of a dream I had had about him last night. The details were foggy, but something I could remember for sure was that I was cornered in a dark room and he had me trapped. The strange part was that I had no desire to escape.

About half an hour passed and I took my earphones out, then walked peacefully towards the technology room it stated on my timetable. Mutters around the hallways gossiped about the disappearance of one of the college's much loved teachers- Paul Allen. I vaguely recalled the name.

Alison was waiting for me at the door. When she saw me approaching, she groaned and pointed through the window.

"It's food technology", she complained, and I looked into the room full of ovens, fridges and counter tops.

I thought to myself, could've been worse, and together we walked into class. Mr Bateman peered at me when I walked in, and his eyes drifted downwards.

"You're hair looks pretty today", he complimented me in a hushed tone once Alison was off to grab an apron.

"Thank you", I simply responded and put on an apron.

I looked down at the ingredients on each table and shared an inquisitive look with Alison.

"As you can all see, we have been given food technology", Mr Bateman clasped his hands together, standing in front of the class, "Today I have chosen a delightful dish for you to make which is the peanut butter soup with smoked duck and mashed squash. New York Matinee called it 'a playful but mysterious little dish'. You'll love it".

He said this with an almost giddiness which forced my lips to twitch into an amused grin.

"I'll let your imaginations run wild and do you the mercy of not giving you any instructions", Mr Bateman continued, "Just use the ingredients in front of you to make the flavours you want to express. You see, what many people fail to realise is that food is a form of art in terms of taste and presentation. So be really creative, but also don't give me food poisoning".