One Day || book two.

3 ~ That summer

Sarah’s POV

“Stef pick up your stupid phone.” I groaned as I hung up yet again when it went to her voicemail. “Since when don’t you answer?” I threw my phone onto the bench, then got out the cooking ingredients. As much as I hated cooking, I was a pretty decent cook. 

I ran my hand over my almost new wrist tattoo. A clock, a compass and a ship’s wheel all in a row. So far I was the only one who knew about them, but somehow I knew it wasn’t going to stay like that. I glanced up at the actual clock, on the wall, and saw that it was half past eleven. “Shit, I’m late.” I cursed, stuffing away the food, grabbing my bag and racing out the door.

“I’ve missed my train, and my bus. I know I won’t be fired, but I’ll be told off and that’s more than I need right now.” I told myself  as I ran across the road, narrowly missing being hit by a car. Normally, I would have said sorry, but in the state I was, I didn’t have the time.

So now, I’d have to catch the eleven forty seven bus and then probably the twelve ten train. My class starts at eleven forty five, so hopefully they’ll have enough patience for me to get to the class before they call in another teacher. And it’s my damn year ten English class. 

*

I climbed the last set of stairs, completely out of breath as I hauled myself (literally) into the classroom. Silence fell upon all the students who were happily chatting with each other when their uncoordinated teacher (me) happened to come in - more like crawl - into the classroom. “Fifteen minutes,” Deep breath, “Silent,” Deep breath. “Reading.” I fell into the chair behind the desk and dumped my bag next to the chair. I laid my head on the table and shut my eyes. Deep breath in, and out. And in, and out. My heart was hammering against my chest and I could hear it in my head.

“Miss.” One of the students called my name. I cringed at the title. I would have been more than happy for them to call me “Sarah”. 

“Yes?” I turned my head over lazily and stared at the student addressing me.

“Would it be alright if I did some of my maths homework now? I didn’t get it done last night because of-”

“It’s fine. Please do finish your work now. In fact if any of you have any work you need to be doing, you can do it now. I’ll set a task for those of you who don’t have anything to do, but the rest f you can do some of it for homework.” I suggested, mumbling slightly. 

I was a very lenient teacher and it was a bad habit of mine to let students do what they wanted. But I was just as unorganised as they were, so who was I to tell them off for not doing their work? I had to write thirty seven reports this semester, only a paragraph for each, most of them I could do in my sleep, and I try not to get attached to the students; no, the way they think. They themselves, as special as they are, I try not to let them become too significant, I’ve noticed it recently in my writing that some of them make appearances in my work as I try to write. But the way they all think: each has a different perspective, some twisted, others logical, most are influenced by the idea that the world is split into good and bad and that you can only be one or the other. But others are very reasonable, they see both sides and clearly explain all possibilities which could develop from the situation, and then choose the most logical.

Majority of these students are in my maths class, which gets more English done than in here, but that’s because in here nothing gets done, other than reading and the occasional grammar lesson.

Stef’s POV

I woke up just after we’d landed because Louis wouldn’t stop jabbing my side because I wouldn’t get out of my seat.