Tea Girl and the Tea Bags
Mr. Fitzgerald was a six-foot-tall Texan man who had moved to New York a year ago. He had been a college lecturer but had downgraded to high school, as this moronic country call it because he found out he had a daughter and wanted to be closer to her. I don't know if it's beautiful or stupid, sacrificing a job with adults who want to learn for a job with asshole teenagers who don't care whether you teach or not. Then again, my dad left when I was two so I don't think I know what I am talking about.
The lesson was on the British Empire, which was awkward enough as is, but half way through, turned into a conversation on why England sucks, which was exceedingly awkward as the only brit with an extreme accent in the room. I tried my best to remain hidden the entire time but eventually, I was called on and asked my opinion on why the British lost the war with America.
Fuck! This teacher's an asshole and he knows it.
As someone with little to no history knowledge, my only thoughts went to Hamilton so naturally, that was my response, 'Alexander Hamilton'. I had said it with such confidence that for a moment, I truly believed it was the case, until the class burst into laughter and the teacher turned to me with an incredulous look.
"What did you say?" He asked as if tempting me to say something stupid once again. When I didn't respond, he smiled, knowing very well that I was out of my depth. I had hoped to leave sadistic teachers in England but I guess not.
"I said Alexander Hamilton, sir" When I did finally manage to spit out a few words at the man, they came out more violent than I intended. This caused the teacher's face to come alight with rage, clearly no one spoke back to him.
"Detention, Miss. Maybe that will give you time to brush up on your history." I wasn't really bothered about the detention but more the humiliation. However, the next thing to happen made me forget all the embarrassment. As had been protocol between me and Mark, one would not go somewhere without the other which meant naturally, I had put Mark in the position of needing to be in detention.
I couldn't wait to see how he got himself in trouble.
"Hey, Mr F," He shouted from the chair behind me, "Maybe if you weren't such an asshole, your daughter would want you around and not just for your money, you bald prick..." The entire class exploded with 'OOOOs' as the teacher fixed his eyes on Mark. The rage in his eyes at that moment was a hundred times worse than what had been focused at me. It almost felt as though he was about to explode with steam like in the cartoons.
"Ah, Mr Lewis. For that, you can join your girlfriend in detention. That is the price of love people. Let this be a warning!" He declared, turning to the rest of the class, "Now, everyone turn to page 3 of the textbook."
The rest of the day was boring, almost too boring to stay awake most of the time. Lunch was awkward and I was lucky to have Mark there to keep my mind off our precarious and out in the open spot. Luckily, apart from the few stares we received when my phone went off, blaring possibly the most British song to the entire school, It wasn't too bad and we were able to eat in relative peace.
I hope they were not famous last words.
When the bell rang for the day's end, a collective groan was held amongst the students who had detention, of which, me and Mark were two. The detention room was a small, dark room in the old part of the school building. It had minimal windows and what lights had been fitted in the ceiling were flickering and almost out. The room contained twelve old style desk chair combos with almost five times the amount of shelves and boxes behind them.
This was not a room that felt safe but a trap that could very easily turn deadly.
Most of the detention went peacefully. It was easy to maintain the desired head in a book study that the teacher required, despite the internalised fear that I was trapped in the room. It wasn't until an hour into the two hour detention that issues arose. The quiet had been broken by a clearly drunk boy who had decided to attend the detention despite his issue. He had wandered in, shouting about his hatred for detention but once inside, had locked me with a stare I had grown way too accustomed to. It was the stare of Jasper, my step dad.
This was bad, very, very bad.
A quick nod towards Mark was all it took to push him into action and as quickly as the guy had entered the room, we had made a run for the door. We had made it halfway down the hallway when we heard the sound of the guy behind us.
"You can run, Zel, but you can't hide. Jasper knows where you are." Even though, it was clear the man wasn't following us, me and Mark continued running until we were safely inside the car, only then did I pause and catch my breath.
"Fuck," I screamed, "Double fucking shit! Fuck!" I couldn't stop screaming as we exited the school car park and made our escape. Even as the trees blurred past and we exited onto the motorway, it still felt like he was right there and it sucked. This was the worst possible situation.
I thought we'd have longer before we had to move again.
I couldn't do this if we had to run every other day; I would rather die.
Are you enjoying my ongoing story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks, Jasmine Hasler-GeorgallidesWrite a Review