Did You Get What You Deserve?

I decided I had to get over James. So when Keith, a sporty-but-not- jock-type in the year above me, asked me out, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.

One morning, as Keith left me outside my classroom, I turned to see James leaning on the doorway.

“Hi, James.”

He smiled, a painful smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“What’s his name?” he asked.

“Good Morning to you too! His name is Keith, although I don’t see why it’s any of your business.”

He pushed his chin out thoughtfully and nodded, but he didn’t answer me.

“Anyway,” I continued, “didn’t the bell go two minutes ago?”

He nodded, smiling again. This time, there was real, if rather dry, amusement in the smile.

“Alec’s late.”

I frowned as we stepped inside the classroom.

“But... he left home on time... what’s happened?”

The door burst open behind me.

“Sorry, sorry! Sorry I’m late.”

“Alec! Not like you to be late.”

“Yes, sorry. Everyone, take your seats.”

As everyone sat down, Alec opened his bag and pulled out a file.

“Now, we’ve got a lot to do toda- what?”

Half the class was giggling. Alec looked around, puzzled. Finally I shook my head, laughing.

“Alec,” I said, “the moment has come. You must either open up your soul to a class of fourteen-year-olds, or forever lose your reputation as a cool teacher.”

He stared at me, bewildered. I tapped my chin.

“Who left the lipstick?”

His expression turned to horror. In an instant, he was beside my desk, rummaging through my bag.

“What the-”

He pulled out my compact mirror and stared into it. Then he groaned, dropping the mirror onto my desk with a clatter.

“Fine,” he said. “I guess this is what I get for... anyway.”

He seated himself on the edge of his desk, rubbing the lipstick off his chin.

“Her name is Melanie. She’s blonde-haired, green-eyed and twenty-three years old. She’s an art student. I met her at the café...”

He smiled dreamily at us, then turned around and picked up a pen.

“Okay, we’re doing parts of speech.”

He wrote up on the board “A lone cowboy galloped over the hill on his faithful horse.”

“Right,” he said, turning back to us, “who can identify the three nouns?”

We all rolled our eyes.

“Alec,” I said, “we’ve done this for the past three years. I think we get it.”

He grinned.

“Just checking.”

He picked up an eraser and swiped it over the whiteboard. The words remained there, in red marker. Alec rubbed them again. Still they remained. Horrified, Alec turned over the marker in his hand.

“Permanent.”

I stood up, laughing.

“Let me help you there, Alec. Here’s something I learned from my days as an unintentional trouble-maker. When,” I pulled open the top drawer of his desk, “on days like today, there are no whiteboard markers to be found, a highlighter will suffice.”

I handed him the marker.

“Start drawing.”

He sighed and started going over the large red words. In the meantime, we all took the opportunity to talk. However, as Cariad walked over and sat down on the edge of my desk, Alana followed her.

“Okay,” she spat, “what’s the deal?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, surprised.

“Alec, Alec,” she mocked, “I can call you Alec, even though you’re a teacher! Alec, Alec, play favourites!”

I smirked at her. If she was a bitch, so could I be.

“Yeah, well, I figure why bother altering my behaviour for nine hours a day and keep it all bottled up to say on the way home? It’s easier to just talk to him like I normally do at home.”

“Look, I wish you’d stop the ‘He lives with me’ shit. Why would he live with you?”

“Fuck, why wouldn’t he? I mean, I am only the daughter of the closest thing he has to a father.”

She sneered at me.

“I’ll check that.”

She flounced over to Alec where he stood furiously rubbing at the whiteboard.

“Alec,” she said, but he interrupted her.

“Mr Marshall,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” she simpered, “I forgot myself for a moment. Anyway, Alecsandra is claiming you live with her.”

“No comment,” he said.

“I thought so. You see, she’s saying you’re something of a brother.”

He turned around, looking at me with amusement in his eyes.

“A brother? Really, Alec, that’s ridiculous.”

“Yes,” chimed in Alana, “it is. That’s what I thought. I mean, the very idea-”

“Ridiculous,” he repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her. “I mean, Frank is only twelve years older than I am. And anyway, I told him that first day, when he first brought me home, no-one could replace my real father. Oh, and can you tell him I’ll be home late? I’m meeting Mel after work.”

It may have just been my imagination, but I could have sworn I almost saw a smirk on his face as he turned back to the board.