Second Bite of the Apple

Chapter 12: Consequential Conviction

Chapter 12: Consequential Conviction

I welcomed the cool morning air against my hot flushed cheeks, hoping that nothing in my face would give the game away. Head held high, I strode past the rows of lower school students, all of whom were clearly very easily excitable. Despite the fact that for most of them this was not their first drill, they were all still shrieking like banshees.

"Sian! There you are!" Mrs Stanford was heading in my direction and she did not look pleased.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, already knowing that I was about to be reprimanded. "I thought I would have been notified if their was a drill planned."

"Drill?" Mrs Stanford questioned.

"What?" Shock coated my voice. "This isn't a drill?"

"No, no, of course it isn't! Do you really think the staff would be so stupid as to schedule a fire drill for this time of the morning before registration had even been taken?"

I remained silent. Whatever I said was bound to be the wrong answer. My eyes swept over to the main building, searching for any sign of smoke.

"It was one of the Year 7 boys," Stanford ploughed on, "Apparently it was a dare."

"Huh? Oh, the alarm. Well, I'll just, urrmm..." I left the sentence hanging and ducked around Mrs Stanford towards the rest of the sixth form.

Once I'd quickly collected the registers in from all of the tutors, I scanned the scene for Laura. Trying to spot her mousy hair against the sea of people seemed futile, especially given how neither of us were exactly very tall. My eyes fell on Darby, who, thanks to her rather lurid taste in jackets, would stand out in any crowd. Following the mustard clad figure as she wove through the crowd, I realised she had led me right to Laura.

She stood there with a register in hand, and a militant line of Year Nines queued up before her. How had she managed that? Most new teachers usually have the students running rings around them. She really was something special. I couldn't help but recall that clumsy, shy woman who I'd met in the corridor on her first day though.

I watched in awe as Laura marched down the line, inspecting each student as she passed. Now and then she paused, and without a word, the child before her fell about straightening their tie or tucking in their shirt. Finally satisfied, she turned on her heel and returned to her position at the head of the line. The sunlight caught the silk of her shirt magnificently and a gentle morning breeze was playing with her tresses.

Reluctantly uprooting my gaze, I turned back to my subjects (sorry, I mean fellow sixth formers). That's when I noticed a rather stern looking pair of dark hazel eyes watching me intently. Ethan. The quizzical look he shot me was unnerving. In an attempt to avoid eye contact, I moved away towards Mr Kennedy.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Checking the coast was clear, I snuck a quick glance at the screen.

Ethan: Who's the newbie?

"Sian Bailey!" a voice ring out. "Put that away this instant!"

"Mrs Stanford, I'm so sorry!" I quickly stuffed the phone into my bag, praying she wouldn't confiscate it. "I just -"

"Save your breath child, I have no wish to hear your petty excuses."

Fucking hell, talk about patronising.

"You," she carried on, "are you supposed to be setting an example to the younger students."

She waved her arm flamboyantly in the direction of the lower school, almost taking out a little Year 8 boy who was sprinting towards his year group, having clearly arrived late to school. I chanced a look over and saw thankfully that Laura was engaged in conversation with Darby.