Us Against The World

"And that, children, is why I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in telling you how the sine, cosine and tan functions work." As Cyrus, or Dr Quince as he was officially supposed to be know as, contentedly sat down at his desk, I reckoned that at least ninety per cent of the class, myself included, were in some form of comatose state. And it was only twenty minutes into a double lesson. Only he would love to bore someone to tears using a tan graph, all whilst being terribly excited about it all. The cleaners were going to have a hard time cleaning dry drool off the desks later, let me tell you that.

"So Sir," Angelina Perry began - she was one of those really annoying I-Must-Excel-At-Everything girls- as Cyrus propped his feet upon his desk and happily pulled a nintendo ds handheld games console out from his desk draw. "All we need to know is that it gets really big, really fast?"

Seemingly in a different world that the actual classroom he was in, he gave himself a little smile and muttered "That's what she said."

"... What?"

Looking up from his game, his expression turned to one of pure horror at what he had just accidentally said. "Oh, er, yes. Basically, that's what you should learn. But you've also got to know the shape of the other two graphs and be able to draw them accurately." As a low snort of laughter rippled through the class, he could only widen his eyes slightly, glare at me and say "That was all your fault. You're influencing me in a vile and negative way." before ignoring us all once more and turning back to the item of much interest in his hands.

Prim and proper as always, probably not understanding the joke, Angelina swept his hair over her shoulder and raised her voice slightly, for no reason that I could understand. "Shouldn't you be actually teaching us, sir? That is what you're being paid to do, not play a video game, after all."

Slightly bemused, he closed the lid on his console and placed it down on his desk top before slowly standing up and striding over to her desk. "Excuse me?"

As Angelina shrunk back in her seat, Ceri leant over to me and whispered "Oh man, Perry's gonna get it in the neck now." The two of them had never really gotten on well - especially not since Angelina called Ceri a dyke on the year eight french trip, and Ceri had somehow got hold of some green hair dye and emptied it into Angelina's shampoo bottle in retaliation.

Placing his long hands upon the edge of her desk, he looked down to where she was fidgeting, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not quite sure if I heard you correctly, Miss Perry. Perhaps you'd like to repeat yourself for me?" A long silence. "No? Alright." Standing upright once more, he took slowly walked back to his seat. "As I previously stated, and have written upon the board, you are to be working through exercise eighty-two on page one hundred and forty-seven. During such time, I don't particularly feel that whatever I do will affect your leaning in any way - I will still answer any relevant query or help if you don't understand a particular question." Sitting once more, he picked back up the machine and crookedly smiled. "Besides, this isn't just any game... This is the new Pokémon game."

Emerson, the Geek King of Video Games seeming only second to Cyrus, excitably banged his fist down on the table. "But that doesn't come out for another six months!"

"Mhm. But I have a little acquaintance in a little Japanese company which makes this little game, who got me onto the testing list. I'm one of the final-stage beta testers - I generally receive the game by airmail several months in advance to its release."

"That is so cool."

Whatever you say, nerds.

"Yes. I get paid to play Pokémon - how great is that? But silence - get on with your work! This Murkrow is a pain to defeat and I need quiet to concentrate."

I could only shake my head in disdain at Ceri. "A combined PhD in mathematics from both Oxbridge universities, and he spends his time playing Pokémon? What has the world come to?"

She simply shrugged, chewing on the end of her pen as she looked down at the ridiculously difficult exercise we were supposed to be doing. "It could be worse - he could be playing dungeons and dragons."

There was a half-distracted, half-excited call from the front. "Oh, I love that game!"

Only Cyrus could be such a child.

Anyhow, one very long hour later, I’d lost the will to live and Cyrus had very happily defeated the Pokémon league, less than twenty-four hours after he’d received the game. Emerson had covered an entire page in ink doodles of Charizard, all whilst Ceri had resorted to texting Darrell, who, for the record, I still hadn’t warmed up to over the rest of the festival weekend. After our fairly strange heart-to-heart, Cyrus and I had sat there in a somewhat companionable silence, until rather indiscreet moans started up from the next tent along and we’d both made a hasty exit. There was nothing like drunk, unabashed people for ruining a nice moment.

After disappearing on Sunday evening, once Stephen had picked us all up from the festival, Cyrus had disappeared the rest of the week, including not turning up to lessons, until the Thursday of the following week, and his Pokémon-spent-playing lesson. It was actually somewhat of a relief - I was beginning to think that he had died somehow. I was only reassured by Stephen’s insistence that it actually fairly common for him to disappear for weeks at a time, with no trace nor contact. Even so, I was still relieved when I walked into that classroom that lesson and found him at his desk, casually playing with an ping-pong ball, attached to the bat with a piece of elastic. Which then led to the question as to why I was so worried in the first place. I was simply concerned for his welfare, I told myself - that was all.

Soon after he’d completed his game, and most of the class had given up on continuing with the work and were instead discretely having a mass game of poker, there was a knock upon the door, and Miss Denby, one of the other maths teachers, stuck her head around the door. “Ah, Dr Quince - can I have a word?”

Looking relieved that she hadn’t entered five minutes earlier and caught him gaming, rather than doing nothing as most teachers actually did, he brusquely stood up, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Oh, don’t worry about moving, I’ll be quick.” She swanned over to his desk, perching on the edge of it. (Did I mention she was wearing a short skirt and very low cut top? She didn’t pull it off very well - it was truly obscene, as Cyrus would have said.) “I was wondering if you were all okay with your presentation for later?”

He gave her a completely blank look - something rare for him. “Presentation?”

“For the year eleven A-Level options evening - you’re covering the mathematics department due to being the most qualified, remember?” He continued with his empty stare. “... Maybe not. But you’ll get it together and perform marvelously I’m sure.” Leaning forwards towards him, she placed a hand on his arm. “You wouldn’t achieve anything less, I’m sure.”

Exchanging an amused look with Ceri, she shifted over towards me, whispering “Is she flirting?”

“I think so.” I replied, raising an eyebrow over to where she was laughing at something, showing a lot of teeth whilst he just looked worried. “But I reckon he’s completely oblivious to it.”

“I don’t reckon he even knows what alone what it is, let alone how to recognise it.”

With a small laugh, I looked back to where he was hurriedly standing and shifting away. “Renée, I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t mind...” He awkwardly gestured towards the door. “Would you? It’s nothing personal, I just really need to get on with this talk preparation - I completely forgot about it... Distractions and all.”

“Of course.” With a slightly frown, she stood up and moved towards the door. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yes, yes. When I’m enduring my impending doom at the front of the lecture hall, of course.” Before she had even left, he grabbed a sheaf of paper, and rapidly began to scribble something down upon it, frustratedly banging his biro on the desktop when it proved not to work. With a low growl, he glared up at us all watching him and muttered “You can all go now.”

“But the lesson doesn’t end for another ten minutes, sir.” Emerson spoke up, gaining a glare from Ceri and half the rest of the class.

“Ah, um... You’ve all worked hard today. I’ll let you go early.” There was a low, happy cheer at his sudden change of attitude as everyone stood up, shovelling books into bags and making their escape before he could change his mind.

Giving Emerson and Ceri a short “I’ll catch up with you in a couple of minutes.”, I waited until everyone had filed out before making my way over to stand in from of his desk. “What time am I supposed to meet you later?”

Without bothering to look up from his hazardous scrawling, he simply said “Pardon?”

“Later - after the options evening. You said last week that you’d give me a lift home, because Stephen and Mel are away for the night.”

Finally raising his head, he looked vaguely surprised as he scratched the back of his neck with a new pen. “Did I really say that?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, I take it back. I can’t do it tonight.”

“Cy, it’ll take you ten minutes. Please - you aren’t supposed to go back on your word.”

“No, I can’t do it. I’m meeting someone at seven thirty for dinner.” And as if that was the end of the conversation, he turned back to his work.

“Who?”

“Who what?”

“Who are you meeting, what else would I mean?”

“Oh...” He coughed slightly, deliberating not looking at me, the tops of his ears beginning to turn a faint pink as he continued to write. “Jennifer.”

“Jennifer, as in bitch Jennifer?”

“She’s not a bitch.” He corrected, shifted a half the pile of paper over to his left.

“Right... So is this a date?”

Running an agitated hand through his hair, he thumped his pen down on the desk and sat back. “Don’t be so childish.”

“It was a valid question.” However, at the rare and extremely pissed off look on his face, I wasn’t going to push it. “So, how am I supposed to get home?”

“Get a train. It’s really not that difficult.”

“It’s a twenty minutes walk from the station to home.”

“Yes.”

“In the dark.”

“Yes.”

“I’m so glad to know that you care.” No reply; how lovely of him. “So where have you been all this week?”

“Evangeline, please can you leave? I’ve got a fifteen minute speech and presentation to prepare for this evening, and currently, I barely have an introduction.”

“Sheesh, someone’s on their man period today. I was simply being caring enough to wonder where you’d completely disappeared to, after I spent the past few days wondering if you’d been jumped by some mafia dude.”

Sighing, he gave me his I - can’t - believe - that - you’re - guilt - tripping - me look, which had recently become far more common. “I was in Moscow. Business problems arose which I had to take care of.”

Somewhat surprised, I said “As in the business which you wanted nothing to do with?”

“I wanted nothing to do with when it was an weaponry company. Now, it’s turned its sights into protection and self-defence. I own partial ownership shares with my father’s cousin - only he’s too much of an idiot to sort out most of the problems which he creates in the first place.”

Well, if that wasn’t bitter, I don’t know what is.

“Right. I guess I’ll be going now, if you’re not going to change your mind about the lift.”

“Shut the door on your way out.”

I don’t know why I even bothered.

Anyhow, several hours later that evening, Cyrus had somehow managed to write and learn a entire speech about the ‘truly fantastic results and enthusiasm of staff from the mathematics department’’ and was wrapping the entire evening with a smooth “Thank you all for attending, I hope you have a greater insight into what the school has to offer, and good night.”

With those as his departing words, he stepped off his podium to a half-hearted applause and hurried off and out of the room as quickly as possible. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I was half amused and, for some reason I didn’t know, annoyed that it was showing quarter past seven. He only had fifteen minutes to get to his ‘dinner’ in time. There was no hope whatsoever for a lift anymore, so I resigned myself to the train journey and walk home... In the rain... and cold... and dark. Annoying man.

It was tolerable for the train journey, I eventually decided. It was just my luck for Stephen and Mel to decide that they needed some ‘personal’ time together and swan off to a fancy hotel for a few nights. I didn’t even want to think about what that entailed. As I stretched my feet out and propped them up on the opposite seat, I reasoned something; the train journey in the empty carriage, other than the slightly strange guy lurking in a far corner, was far better than enduring an awkward car journey with the King of Prissyness. And I could use the circumstances as major blackmail.

... That reasoning, however, didn’t last very long. When I reached the train station nearest (but not actually near) to home, I was hit with a sudden, icy early-November rain. Lovely. Wrapping my coat tightly around me, and shoving my hands deep into the pockets, I set off up the rarely used track beside the railway line. Whilst it cut the journey in half if I’d taken the main streets, the footpath was overhung with trees, unlit and to be honest, scary as hell. I was never one to be scared - Ceri’s hairy toes were about the worse that that got, but there was something about darkness and unfamiliarity which creeped me out something chronic - exactly as it had on the night of the festival when I had found myself completely alone.

Even so, I simply told myself not to be so stupid - the rustling of leaves from behind was the wind. The footsteps were echoes of my own. The laboured breathing was only a figment of my imagination.

If only.