I couldn't run to save my life.
If I actually thought about it, that statement was pretty terrifying- scenes of a serial killer chasing me with a chainsaw filled my over analytical mind, imagining myself trying to run and instead choosing to die at the hand of the madman rather than from my lungs splitting half from exertion.
Having well truly spooked myself out, I turned to check that I wasn't being chased, instead it was just as terrifying.
An empty corridor.
I was late, again. I could see my tutor room now though, but to my horror the door opened, and my classmates started filing out, pissed that they had to go to classes.
I pushed through them as I felt strong arms wrap around my waist.
"You're fucked, Doe. Best get yourself to the office, pronto."
I scowled at Harley Owen, his dirty blonde hair slicked back to perfection and piercing blue eyes.
"Fuck off, Ken. Go find Barbie."
I wriggled out of his grasp hearing him roaring with laughter behind me.
"Miss! I'm sorry I'm late-" I gasped, hardly able to breathe. My tutor folded her arms, sighing as she looked at me with exasperation.
"Jain, darling you can't keep being late. You need to go to the office, I'm sorry. The registration marks go automatically at nine am, you know this."
She smiled at me kindly as I groaned out loud.
"Everything ok at home?" she asked with concern, as I rolled my eyes. Why did teachers automatically ask this question like I was a victim of safeguarding? I was late because I hated getting up for school.
"Everything is fine, I'm just tired."
"Maybe go to bed earlier rather than sitting on your phone all night?"
Just like that, the kind face was replaced with a disapproving one, and I was reminded that she was actually still a teacher, completely devoid of understanding what it was like to be seventeen.
I turned and walked away, muttering a "yes Miss," under my breath before pushing through the crowds towards the office.
"Hey, Jain! English is this way!"
I waved dismissively at Sarah who held her hands up in confusion.
"Office," I called back, before pushing open the door.
"Fifteenth late mark this term," declared the receptionist cheerfully, as I stopped still at the door. Surely she wasn't talking to me-
"What can I say, I like consistency," drawled the unfamiliar voice. I glanced down, noticing he wore the trainers that were sold out everywhere.
"That's a late mark every day," sighed the lady behind the desk, as her eyes fell on me. "Ah, Miss Martin. What a surprise, you're here too. You have a way to go to keep up with Mr Charter here, but A star for effort."
I saw the man before me turn around, his dark eyes narrowing upon seeing me.
"Doe," he muttered in acknowledgement, as I tried not to make eye contact with him.
"Hi. Can I go? I've got English and I really need to-"
"Get to class. Wake up early tomorrow please, people."
I turned and walked out of the door, unable to help glancing behind me to see Arden Charter lighting a cigarette outside the office, before walking back out of the exit.
I envied him. He really didn't seem to care about school, whereas I had made a deal with my mum a while ago.
I wouldn't ruin my life by getting pregnant at a young age, and I would focus on my studies before doing anything stupid.
After I apologised for 'ruining her life' to which she laughed heartily- 'don't be silly Jain,' I decided that actually I didn't want to be like her, a single mum struggling to make ends meet. I liked school, don't get me wrong. I had loads of friends, and I got invited to all the nights out and parties. I was always amongst those picked first in sports, not because I was good, but because I was popular.
I pushed the door open to my favourite class, English. Not because I was good at it; quite the opposite. But because I adored my teacher. I slid into my seat, pleased I'd made it there before Mrs Fern. I couldn't bare another bollocking for being late.
I dragged my books out, my stomach churning with the thought of discussing Dickens in detail. I had a presentation to give, and it involved reading an extract that I just knew I would trip over verbally.
After ten minutes, the class started to get unsettled, people chatting loudly and throwing papers and books at one another. I dragged my phone out, seeing a text from Kate, my best friend.
Suddenly the door opened, and my jaw dropped when I saw who walked through. He looked like he had walked from a photoshoot on how to look like the worlds hottest teacher, and I groaned inwardly when I realised he must be in the wrong class. His hair was dark and tousled, his thick black glasses framing his amazingly large green eyes. He wore a light blue shirt, rolled up at the arms and a dark navy waistcoat over cream trousers. He dropped a briefcase on the desk before us as the class began to pay attention, especially the girls.
"Good Morning. I'm your new English teacher, in case you haven't gathered. I'm Mr Silver, and I would like to start with your names."