Front Line

Front Line - Chapter 6 - Year 4

Front Line

Chapter Six – Year 4

  Not much had changed for this year; I was still in the same unit setup as I was the previous year. The only things that had changed was that I was now in the year above, not the year below, and that I had a whole new classroom and classmates to interact with. I was much disappointed when I had heard that my best friend didn’t get into my class again, I still had the other Kieran but not the one that I wanted to have a good time with.

  This year’s teacher, Mrs Evans, was WAY stricter than the last one, and I thought they could come no stricter than her. We were each assigned a seat rather than choosing who we would like to sit to, eliminating therefore the chances of messing around for those who actually did; I was far too shy to even try anything of the sort. The turnout for the class this year was more in-line with what I was used to, everyone was in my year and all of them I knew, be it for them picking on me, bullying me or merely been in the same class as me before.

  One thing that struck me about Mrs Evans was how odd her methods were. In this class we were told this time not to bring a pen and pencil, but only a pencil, we had to earn the right to use a pen as she did this with all her previous classes. Apparently there had been an issue with a pen one year, no one knows what that issue was, and ever since she had told every class they had to earn the right to use a pen. Most of us got them pretty quickly after the beginning of the year started; personally I must have been around the middle of the class to get one, which made me feel pretty happy.

  Running along with the writing theme, once I had gotten the ‘pen licence’, which I am not ashamed to say that I was proud of, I was obsessed with fountain pens. I had this clear one with a blue insert which I adored, it wasn’t long until I had broken it and when on getting a new one of the same make, it had gone out of supply. Which to me back then was a pretty big deal seen as when you’re young you’re often obsessed with things that now would be normal, mundane and boring.

  Around halfway through the year, we had two new students join our class not far apart. The first I think was a boy, his name was Thomas. Of course back then none of us knew what the feeling of love was, so what I felt for him back then was more of a childhood crush, he was the cutest boy I had ever seen. Then not long after him came this girl with the most delicate of mocha skin, her name was Latisha and she was beautiful. It made me shrink back into my seat at just how beautiful she was compared to me; it didn’t exactly make me feel any better about myself.

 

  One day, around early spring time, we were allowed out onto the field which was the next one around from the infant field. This one had changing rooms when in times of P.E lessons, we were allowed to change in as it was really meant for use when other kids would come and play football and other things, despite it being our changing rooms at our school it would be for the use of others. We weren’t allowed to go on it when it was break and lunch time as the dinner ladies couldn’t keep an eye on us from that far away, but we used to go on it anyway. On this same day, my friends had just run back onto the field to play but it was too hot for me so I was staying under the shade of the girl’s side. This was when two or possibly three girls in the year above approached me.

    “Hey, whatcha doing over here, all alone?” one of the girls said, approaching me and backing me up against the brick wall.

    “N-nothing, just resting.”

    “Well this is our spot, get out.” Another girl next to the one in front of me piped up.

    “No, you don’t own this spot.”

    “Oh yeah?” the girl in front of me raised her hand and put it at my throat, lifting me from the ground.

    “Let me go!” I cried out, barely able to speak.

    “This will teach you a lesson, you don’t ever tell anyone about this or we’ll come back for you, got it?” the same girl spoke, the other one looked around making sure no one was looking.

  I nodded.

    “Yes”.

  The girl let me go; I stood back on the ground with my hands touching my neck, crying as they walked away from such a thing happening with no one noticing. Being the coward that I was, I headed their warning and I told no one of the incident, not even my parents. Somehow I believed that they would find out no matter how careful I was, so when lunch ended, I ambled back to the classroom and spoke no more of this.

  Forgetting the previous incident, around the same time it was also Easter. Once a week on a Wednesday, Mrs Evans would always read us a story, and seen as it was Easter she this day would read us the story of Christ. I didn’t like this idea, for some reason ever since my grandad had passed away, I had the thought stuck in my head that because Jesus was killed and able to resurrect, why couldn’t my grandad? I made the excuse that I was feeling sick and was eventually able to go sit in reception. They asked me what was wrong and I was able to pull off faking feeling sick, I even think my mother came to get me from school and I explained to her the whole situation. She understood and wasn’t mad, she wished I had stuck it out but when she knew it was about my grandad, she just told me not to do it again with a  firm voice.

  The highlight of this year had to be Golden Time, it would run for the whole time you were at this school, this year I had chosen to do ‘French Knitting’ every single week. The process is complicated for some but I managed to pull off a French knit about five feet long, I was so proud and I even have it till this day. Summer however couldn’t come soon enough as I was getting around the age where I visited the houses of the friends I never used to see in summer, it was a whole new lease of life for me back then, and I wanted to see as much of my best friend as possible.