Teach Me Dirty

“Feels weird.” I smiled. “Good weird. Great weird. Still weird, though.” I pulled my blazer tighter. “I’m so nervous.”

“Nervous?! You fucked the guy, bled on his sheets, then took his spunk in your eye, and let him wash your privates in the shower, and you’re nervous about sitting in a classroom with him?”

“Something like that.”

“Gotta love your brain, Hels.”

“It’s just… different. He’s my teacher here.”

“See how much of a teacher he seems at lunchtime.” She smirked. “When do I get my status update?”

“This evening.”

“Walking home?”

I shrugged. “Maybe, I dunno.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Well, let me know when I get some teacher-time castoffs.”

“It’s not like that!”

“If you say so.”

We arrived at the gates and I pulled her back by her elbow. “You’re not a castoff.”

“Chill, Hels, I was messing around. It’s all new and shit, I get it. It’s no big deal.”

I fixed her in a stare. “But it is a big deal. You’re my bestest forever.”

“Glad to hear it.” She fumbled around in her bag. “I’ve got so much shit to do today, it’s probably for the best you’re not around.”

“Shit like what?”

“Homework.”

I laughed. “Slacked off at the weekend? Scottie’s got a lot to answer for.”

Her face turned dark. “Not Scottie, that asshole Ray.”

“Ray? Was your mum away again?”

She nodded, and her eyes were dark. “She’s always fucking away at the moment.”

“Nan’s sick though, right?”

She shrugged. “So they say.”

“They wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Maybe she just wants out from us both.”

I squeezed her arm but she shrugged me off. “That’s not how it is, Lizzie. That’s crazy.”

“Is it?” There was a flash of upset in her eyes, but she buried it. “Doesn’t matter anyway, I’ve got Scottie, and I’ve got you.”

“Yeah, but she’s your mum…”

“Doesn’t act like it.”

“But you’re close.”

“Used to be.”

“You still are, Lizzie, she’s just… got stuff on.”

“Yeah, well, she can piss the fuck off.”

“You don’t mean that…”

“How do you know what I fucking mean? Were you there this weekend?” Her eyes were angry, and they took me aback. “No, you fucking weren’t, so don’t tell me what I do and don’t mean. I know what I fucking mean, Helen.”

I held my hands up, but she was walking away. I caught her up. “Lizzie, just stop a minute.” I had to grab hold of her satchel, pulling her back as the bell was ringing for beginning of class. “Stop, Lizzie!”

She spun around, and her anger had gone, there was just calm, cool Lizzie again, with a smile on her face. “Shit, Hels, I’m sorry. I was goofing around. Must be my time of the month.”

An uneasiness stirred in my tummy. “It was more than that, Lizzie…”

She shook her head. “No way! Seriously, I’m good. I always get this hormonal crap.”

But she didn’t, not in the whole time I’d known her.

“Just forget about it, Hels, seriously. ”

I didn’t smile. “I don’t want to forget about it. I want you to be ok.”

“I am ok.” She groaned. “Don’t be such a drama llama.”

I folded my arms. “Is there something going on with Ray?”

She sighed. “Yeah, he’s a useless prick, same as always.”

“I don’t mean that…”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean. It’s all cool.”

I was aware of our lateness, alone in the schoolyard, but I couldn’t move a muscle. “Lizzie, does Ray… does he do anything?”

She laughed. “Do anything?”

“I’m being serious.”

Her face dropped. “I’m totally fine, I’m just…” She kissed my cheek. “I’m good.”

But I knew she wasn’t. “Promise?”

She held up two fingers. “Bestie’s honour.” I’d have asked her to say the words, but she was already off, her battered old satchel bouncing off her ass as she went. She turned just before she was out of sight. “I want an update this evening, Helen Palmer, walking home buddies or not, understand?”

I gave her the Bestie’s salute as I walked away. “Sure thing, Lizzie.”

“All the juicy gossip.”

I grinned. “All the juicy gossip.”

I just hoped there was some juicy gossip to give her.

I made my way into English, and my heart was already thumping.

***

Mark

Helen was a different girl when she arrived in my art room in third period. It wasn’t a case of makeup, or different clothes, or hair, or even a different school bag. It was so much more fundamental than that.

There are only a few instances in my teaching career that I’ve genuinely been put off my stride, and this was one of them. I lost my train of thought, and my words with it, and through doing so I lost the year sevens, and some thirty pairs of eyes turned to look at her.

She smiled, and her eyes met mine for just a moment before looking away.

“Morning, Mr Roberts.”

“Good morning, Helen.”

I cleared my throat and tapped the bike frame I’d suspended from the ceiling, and it moved on its fastenings and clattered into the other hanging assortment: shiny pans and old tyres and a pretty little display of antique cutlery. At least it got their attention back.