Teacher's Pet

Chapter One

PART 1 - THE BEGINNING



I will tell this story how it was, from the beginning to the end. No sugar-coating, no skimming the surface. Everything that happened the summer I was sixteen will stay permanently ingrained in my mind. I'm warning you, there may be some parts too dark for you to comprehend, especially because of how young I was. I keep telling myself that isn't me anymore, that isn't me. But it was. It was. And that fact haunts me at night the most. Not what happened, but how I was capable of it all.

If you're still reading then I assure you, what lies ahead is far from pretty; far from innocent and sweet. That's what sixteen year-old romances should be like, shouldn't they? Sweet. But no. Not this one. So if you're looking for that you should probably just turn away right now. And if you're going to read all of this, please remember that this was five years ago. I'm not the same person anymore.

Alright, on with the story. I guess I should start at the beginning. May 1992, London. The worst summer of my life...

May 1992

The summer shower was pouring down, a dark cloud engulfing the London sky. It was humid outside and so the rain felt more lukewarm on my skin than chilling. Though the cars were beeping and inching slowly down the road in the city traffic, everyone walking outside were under umbrellas or running somewhere for temporary cover. Not me though. People must've thought I looked strange, wandering down the high street with nothing but my cardigan and summer dress and plimsolls on. I'd forgotten my raincoat, and anyhow, the weather in London can change like the flick of a switch, especially in the summer. One minute it's bright and sunny, and then you pack up a picnic and a shower begins.

I was alone, like I had been almost all summer. Not even Kitty could cheer me up, or my big brother Lucas, and they were my three favourite people in the world... I'm sorry - I mean two.

"You alright, love?" A middle-aged bald guy asks me. He has a Cockney accent and he's sheltering under a massive umbrella to have a cigarette. "Are you lost?"

It takes me a moment to reply, or I guess, to realise that someone's speaking to me. I was sort of caught up in a daydream you see.

"No, I - no... I live around here. Don't worry, I'm fine thanks."

"Are you sure?" he asks again, some smoke flying out of his mouth.

"Yeah. Bye."

No one knows that I'm out in the rain because I want to be. It's welcoming on my skin, dampening my summer clothes and hair. If it only it could just wash everything away, all the sadness and regret and loneliness I've felt over the past year. But at least it's therapeutic somewhat, even peaceful - despite the occasional beeps and revving engines of the busy roads.

The shower was quite a long one, and by the time I'm at the Bird & Butterfly cafe it's starting to get dark outside. I order a cappuccino with the remnants of pocket money in my purse, and stare out the droplet-covered window of my favourite cafe. To be honest, it's the only cafe I really go to in my neighbourhood, because it's so familiar. And a plus side is the smell - that fresh tea and old wood smell I love. I always used to come here with Harry at the weekend, after school. We'd chatter about meaningless, fun things and giggle over our coffees. Harry talked more and I listened, but it was very reciprocal and interesting. I loved listening to him, so did Kitty. Even when nothing much happens, Harry always has something to talk about - always did.

Harry was the best friend anyone could ever ask for. He was funny, chatty, loyal, honest and kind. I really did love him. He brought out the best in me, and I him. When he knew he was gay, I was the first person he told, before his parents. He was afraid of his parents and hated them, and I did too. They were orthodox Jews who were against homosexuality but generally treated Harry like garbage anyway. Kitty and I were the only ones he could really confide in and feel comfortable with, which made me sad for him. But I'm not sad for him anymore, just going through the biggest wave of regret and guilt anyone could ever experience. Because he was my favourite person ever. And he got run over by a car six months ago.

As I sip the last drops of my coffee, I rest my chin on the palm of my hand and my eyes flicker across the cafe. Looking around at the people, having their cups of tea and chatting just like we Harry and I used to. So blissfully, beautifully free of grief and sorrows - at least that's what it looks like. Everyone has shit they go through, but can hide it well behind bright smiles and reassuring words. I was never really one who could mask their feelings well though.

Then my eyes flicker over to the phone booth outside. I'd forgotten my mobile phone at home. The thought was only just dawning on me that I should probably call Mum to tell her I was okay. It was six o'clock on a school night and it was dark and rainy. I left my lonely table and the cosy cafe. It was only drizzling now but luckily I'd got warm and dry for a while under shelter. I hurried into the phone booth and shut the door behind me, dialling the landline and holding the speaker to my ear. Suddenly, as I waited listening to the repetitive calling beats, a wave of tiredness washed over me. My warm bed to snuggle into and my bedroom all to myself was a comforting thought. I tried not to touch anything other than the phone in there. Chewing gum, stubbed cigarettes and all sorts of rubbish was stuck on the floor and surfaces.

"Hello?" Mum's voice came on through my ear.

"Hi Mum, it's me - Serena. I'm in the phone booth outside that cafe."
"Oh my God, dear! Are you alright? I've been worried sick! You do realise what time it is, don't you?"

"No..." I mumbled back but the receiver was close enough to my mouth for her to hear.

"It's seven, Serena! You're usually back home from school around four. I figured maybe you'd be out with your friends but even then you usually are back around six! What on earth have you been doing?"
"I'm not with Marie, Mum," I said, already feeling drained by her anxious exclamations. "But I was just wondering if you could please come and get me?"

"Have you been wandering around in the rain again?"

"Mum..."

"Because it isn't good to-"

"Mum! Please!" I moaned, "Could you just come and get me. I'm outside the Bird & Butterfly."

"Of course I'll come get you, darling." Her voice became soft and warm again. "I'll be there in five minutes, okay? Love you."

"Love you too."

Then there was the sound of the dead line. For a second I held it to my ear, frozen in time as I lent against the glass of the grotty phone booth and the amber street lights started turning on. A couple flickered and cast shadows over the street. Then I slung the phone back on the hook, wrapped my cardigan around myself and trudged out on to the street to wait.