Broken

Supportive

The three months since my father had killed himself were suppose to have been the best Summer of my life, I'd made countless plans with my friends on how we were going to spend the long, hot days. Obviously none of that mattered now, days and nights had started to blend into one, I had no idea what day it was, never mind what hour of that day it was. Half the time I was unaware if I was awake or asleep, either way I couldn't escape the nightmare which had become my life.

I could hardly believe it when I woke that morning to my gran cheerfully chirping an old Beatles song about getting up and getting dressed, she was even more annoying than the alarm clock, but worse still was the realisation I couldn't smack her on the head like I do the alarm and there was no way I'd get away with throwing her across the room in the way I do the irritating clock. I had completely forgotten I was starting back at school this morning, actually if I was being honest I'd completely forgotten it was September, so forgetting the school thing was no big deal - well not in the grand scheme of my recent life.

This year was supposed to be my 'grand finale', my final year, I was top of the school. My friends and I had talked about how amazing this year would be, for as long as I could recall we'd planned how we were going to make it a year to remember. It was our 'swan song' before we were scattered across the country to different universities. With this encouraging thought in my head I dragged myself reluctantly to school. I quickly showered and found suitably boring clothes for school; jeans and a navy shirt, considering there had been threats of mutiny when the school governors had proposed a sixth form uniform we all conformed to this casual dress code. For me I knew I would blend into the crowd with my wardrobe choices and that was my top priority for today. I applied a little discrete make up and tucked my shoulder length blonde hair into an untidy bun, I looked at myself in the mirror, the grey lifeless eyes staring back at me gave me a cursory once over, 'hmmm that'll do' I thought to myself.

I had spent the last three months wallowing in the misery that was my life, I hadn't seen, nor spoken to any of my friends. So although getting back into the swing of ordinariness was going to be hard, I knew I had a strong nucleus of friends who would help me through whatever was coming.

The first morning was always the same, we met in the sixth form common room and then we spent the first hour in assembly before being sent to our home rooms and given our weekly class schedules. As I approached the sixth form building I could see Mrs Foster, the deputy head, pacing back and forth in front of the doors. Her usual twitchy nervous disposition was this morning replaced by awkward irritation, as I approached I could see her looking again and again at her watch. Like a contagious yawn I found myself checking the time getting the growing sense I was late for something.

"Ah Miss Thomas, good you're here and nice and early, I need you to come with me." She said ushering me away from the sixth form and my friends. She proceeded to escort me to the head teacher's office. Since our initial interaction she had walked a couple of steps in front of me so alleviating the need to further converse. She motioned towards an empty chair and I sat quietly waiting to be seen. I knew they'd want to see me to discuss what had happened but I had thought they'd at least let me say hello to my friends first.

"We will see you now Miss Thomas" Mrs Foster said as she held the door open for me. I had never been inside the principal's office before, but it was nothing like I had expected, I did wonder if they had kept me waiting whilst they rearranged the room to ensure I felt as uncomfortable as possible. As I entered the room I noticed it was dominated by a large dark wood oval table, suggesting its main use was meetings. On the far side of the table sat the head teacher Mr Croft, the school councillor Elizabeth Furlong, or 'Dizzy Lizzy' as we referred to her, a couple of other men in suits, who I had seen at various prize giving's and charity nights, and there was of course a spare seat for Mrs Foster. They had placed a chair in the centre of the room, on which I was required to sit. All five looked intently at me from behind the table as I sat there nervously fidgeting with my fingers.

"Now Miss Thomas" the principal began, "We know you have had a difficult couple of months, what with your father's unfortunate 'accident', so I have called you here this morning to let you know we are aware of the situation and are here to support you." He said smiling and nodding, very sympathetically, to me.

"Now the gentlemen to my right are Mr Greaves - the chair of governors and" pointing to the man at the far end of the table "Mr Stokes - the school's solicitor." Confusion whirled around my mind; I didn't understand what was going on, why did I need a solicitor? More to the point why did the school need a solicitor?

"Now as I am sure you know your fathers 'accident'," there was that word again, "Is still an ongoing investigation so you are advised not to divulge any details of your father's death with anyone, understand Miss Thomas," his tone definite.

"The other students have been told you are not at liberty to discuss the matter with them. Do you have any questions?" But he cut in before giving me chance to reply.

"No? Good. Well you can wait outside and Mrs Foster and will escort you to the assembly." With that he made a short shooing motion with his hand for me to leave.

As I sat waiting for my guide I considered what had just happened. Although his use of the word 'accident' had confused me, my overwhelming sense from that 'supportive' meeting was threatened, he had tried to disguise it but he was warning me to toe the line, be a good girl. Now I was even more bewildered, what else did he think I was going to do all I wanted was to slip back into my niche at school and try to regain some sort of normal semblance to my life.

Perhaps school was going to be more of an ordeal than I had expected, at least I knew I could count on my friends when the support mechanisms in place at school got too much.