Sophie grips my shoulder harder and pulls me away. “What have you done, Tess?”
Oh God.
What have I done?
I go straight to Karen, my head of department, trying for damage limitation before the whole of the eleventh grade gets here with their own exaggerated versions, but I’m made to wait outside while Rebecca and Sophie are brought in before me.
“I’m so sorry…I didn’t sleep well last night,” I say as soon as I’m called in. “I had a call from my dad about my stepmother. She’s…she’s dying.”
Karen stands behind the desk, her hands gripping the edge. The way she looks at me makes me aware of the shadows under my eyes I can’t cover with makeup, my unwashed hair.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
Why did it have to be Rebecca Martin? She sits at the front of the class, all hostile eyes, challenging everything I say, criticizing me with a look every time I fumble over a lesson or forget where we are in a book. The sick feeling is back, rising higher until it’s difficult to breathe. Rebecca Martin, whose parents come storming in here every time their precious daughter gets into trouble, always blaming someone else, insisting on an investigation into whoever was unfortunate enough to give her a detention this time.
Karen looks nearly as upset as I know I should be. “Tess, this goes beyond an apology. This is not you sleeping through your alarm or missing the bus or losing coursework. You assaulted a pupil in full view of the class. Jesus Christ—Sophie told me she heard you threatening to throw Rebecca through the window.”
“That was just words. I never would have done it. She wasn’t hurt. I—”
“And thank God she wasn’t injured or the police would be here right now. As it is, I can’t guarantee that her parents won’t want to press charges. We’ve had to call them. They’re on their way in. Jesus, Tess—why did it have to be Rebecca Martin?”
“You know she’s had it in for me since…”
“Since what? Since you stole her phone last term?”
“I didn’t steal it. She had it out in class—I saw the pictures she was flashing around. I was trying to help her.”
“You took her phone out of her bag and called the damned police.” Karen shakes her head. “You should have come to me. We could have had a word with her, spoken to her parents.”
“She’s a kid—a child.”
“She’s over sixteen; so is her boyfriend. What they get up to, what messages they send, has nothing to do with us. If you’d told us, we could have disciplined her for showing the photos in school, but you took the phone without her permission. You called the police.”
“But—”
“But nothing.”
“I thought—”
“You thought wrong. We talked her parents down that time. But this? You can hardly claim you were trying to help her this time, can you?”
Oh, why did I have to be so stupid? When I saw the texts she was showing her friend, that damned porno close-up of someone’s penis, I thought…
I really did think I was helping her.
“I’ll do my best when Rebecca’s parents come in—she was provoking you, you’re under strain, there are mitigating circumstances. But I can’t let you remain at the school. You’re suspended as of now. And Tess…I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s any way the board will let you back.”
My eyes threaten to fill. What the hell have I done?
Karen steps back. “Go home, Tess. Get yourself sorted out. We’ll be in touch soon.”
Go home? I shiver. My flat isn’t what I think of when she says go home. I think of Bella waiting for me in the woods.
Sophie calls as I’m leaving the school.
“What happened?”
“Suspended.”
“Shit, Tess…”
“Karen was really good, but what else could she do?”
“Did you tell her about your stepmother?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Oh, why didn’t you call in sick?”
I shake my head even though she can’t see it. “It’s not just a momentary meltdown, though. I mean, today was, but Soph—I don’t think I want to do this anymore. I don’t think I want to be a teacher.”
“One hell of a way to tender your resignation, babe.”
I let out a laugh that’s half a sob. “I had this dream last night. It was…it was awful. I don’t think I slept at all afterward.”
“What was it about?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. Can you come round?”
“Of course. Sure you don’t want to go out? We could come up with a new and improved life plan over some cheap cocktails and a late-night kebab.”
I stop on the corner, waiting for a break in the traffic so I can cross the road. “I’m not sure going out and getting drunk would be a good idea. Come to my place, help me drown my sorrows in strong tea.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Are you sure you’ll still want to associate with me now? The disgraced ex-teacher up for assaulting her students?”
“You daft cow.”
There’s so much affection in her voice it makes my eyes fill with tears.
“You know everyone working here will back you up, don’t you? We’ve all wanted to have a screaming fit at some of the kids we teach.”
“But wanting to and actually doing it are two different things, aren’t they?”
“At least you didn’t go full-on Miss Trunchbull on her.”
There is that. But what if Sophie hadn’t come into the classroom? What if Rebecca had fought back? How far would I have gone?
THEN
Chapter 5
August 2006: Two Years Before the Wedding
“Come on, Tess!”
Bella’s calling me from the other side of the stream. She jumped it in one flying leap, clearing the fast-flowing water by a foot. I’m dithering. I always do—never quite finding the guts to make the jump, my stupid brain imagining me fudging it and falling face-first in the dirty water. Wouldn’t be so bad if we hadn’t had such a wet summer. If it had been dry the last few weeks, the stream would be nothing but a dank, stinking trickle I could step across.
I could walk farther upstream—there’s a fallen tree that acts as a bridge. But it’s a five-minute walk away and I can see the impatience on Bella’s face.
Just bloody do it, Tess. I take a few steps back, hold my breath, and go for it—a run and then a huge jump. My feet plant in the mud on the other side, water soaking into my sandals, and I can feel myself falling back. My arms fly out for balance but I know I’m going to fall—Tessie the Elephant splashing down—but then Bella’s hand grabs mine and she hauls me up the bank.
“I got you,” she says, laughing as I fall to my knees, muddying my jeans. She keeps hold of my hand as I clamber upright.
I’m sweating—that moment where I thought I was falling translated into great damp patches under my arms and down my back. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand.