Star Pupil

Chapter four

9:00AM right on da dot! Sitting in my chair, pencilcase on my desk, phone and iPod switched off and hidden in my bag, big bottle of water to drink in hand – I'm ready for a new class, even though I'm in detention, which is a bummer but got to accept it for what I did.

Here comes Mr Harris, with a bunch of schoolwork for me to do today. "Good morning, Jacob." He said to me. "Did you manage to sign yourself in upon arrival?" Like he knows that, of course I did. "Yes, sir." I replied, taking a sip of my water.

"Good, then this is what I want you to do for me." Right, let's see what's in store for me (!) As I was given out the paperwork – which primarily consists of Mrs. Hopkins' ICT paperwork, Ms. Heron's science worksheet and Mr Fry's maths worksheet.

Let's get those thinking caps on, Jake, time to do some work. I took out my black pen out of my pencilcase, got out my maths worksheet in front of me because maths is a bit easier for me to do.

"Jake, would you come over here, please?" Mr Harris asked me. I got off my chair and walked over to him as he just finished marking my comprehensive worksheet from yesterday. Why would he do it today if he was supposed to do it yesterday?

"Why did you not fill in those questions like I asked you to?"Mr Harris asked, pointing out to the difficult questions on the sheet. "Because I could not think of a suitable answer, sir." I replied, awk cammon, you gotta have a better answer than that!

Harris then said to me "Because I could not think of a suitable answer, sir (!) Jake, are you that stupid to ask for help?" What? Is he being rude to me, is he mocking my difficulties or what? "What, sir?" I asked without thinking. "Are you that fucking stupid to ask for help?" "No." "Good, then go over these yourself, retard."

"Retard?" I'm a retard? No, this is not right. That's poor treatment right there! No wonder my Mum signed me up to this school in the first place. I took the English worksheet off him, rolled my eyes in disgust and walked back over to my desk.

Here I am, about to get on started on maths, next thing you know, a bitch of a teacher forces me to make some corrections without proper support, I mean is Boothwood School dysfunctional?

OK, let's see...

WHACK!!!

What was that, I asked myself? It sounded like meat getting beaten up or something. I looked up—Oh my God, is that blood on the chalkboard? Who's is that guy? Where's Mr Harris?!

"OW!!!" he screamed in agony, is he in trouble? What's that man doing to him?! Is he like raising his hammer up high? Wait, hammer?! I know what's happening now; Mr Harris is getting knocked to a pulp with a giant hammer by that giant freak-o.

"OH, GOD!!! NO PLEASE! NO!!! NO!!!! NOOO!!!!!" he screams as the madman whacks him up with the hammer. Gotta hide otherwise I'll be dead too. I hid below the desk, keeping my head down and covered so that I can't get myself spotted by him, never mind watching this whole thing with my eyes.

With my ears wide open, the story goes like this: ARRRGH!!! Goes the helpless caretaker, WHACK! Goes the hammer and SPLAT goes the caretaker's brains.

I am literally sweating and shitting myself right now, I have never seen anybody getting killed in front of me before. OK, need to take a good look at this guy. I'm slowly creeping up the desk, being quiet..

There he is, Mr Harris dead. Now he's being picked up by the stranger like some dummy and being carried out. Into a public school, where everybody'll be scared shitless when they see a deranged madman carrying a dead body in the corridors!

Wait! Is that a school blazer? A Boothwood Special School badge...Is he wearing a Boothwood School uniform? Who the hell does he think he is? A man-child?! Please, don't tell me I'm dreaming! I'll just grab this pen over by my worksheets and try to rip my hand open with it (!)