She’s waving her hand over some pink cellophaned monstrosity of a basket from something called ‘Lovesurprises.se’. Lukas does not love surprises. And whatever it is. Fuck. He knows exactly what this is.
“Thank you so much, Anita, it won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.” She huffs and stomps off and Lukas just wants to die. Seriously. And now he has to carry this, whatever it is, up to his classroom, because there is just not enough time to drop by the teachers’ lounge. This is how gossip starts. It was bad enough with the bloody flowers yesterday. Which, by the way, he took home and awkwardly placed in a bucket on his balcony.
Because he doesn’t own a proper vase anymore. He did. But Rickard smashed it into the sink during some heated discussion about something Lukas doesn’t even want to remember.
It hadn’t been a good relationship. It had been full of anger and jealousy and accusations and childish behaviour from both parts, and for the first time, Lukas is kind of grateful that it’s not his problem anymore. That he can look back and see that it wasn’t healthy. Not right. And now, he has moved on from the drama. He is never going to let himself into a situation like that again. Never.
He manages to get upstairs into the quiet safety of the Biology classroom without anyone paying any attention to the pink, crinkly, horrendous thing in his arms. Thank God. He needs to stop this ridiculousness. Right now. But those thoughts still don’t stop his childish curiosity of peeking inside. And anyway, this pink sparkly cellophane needs to disappear before any of the students come in.
He almost panics with the frenzy of tearing it all apart. Bloody ridiculous plastic and packaging and the bow is seriously over the top, and the damn stubborn shit just won’t stay down in the pathetic wastebasket that he stomps his foot inside to try to keep the cellophane from expanding into a pink sparkly mess under his desk. It’s ridiculous and so are the contents. A square basket with row after row of colourful red and yellow neatly stacked bars of crisp wafer covered by a thin layer of delicious milk chocolate. Rows and rows of bars neatly stacked with a Lovesurprises.se card fastened with yet another ridiculous bow.
He takes a deep breath before ripping the card off and falls back in the chair with a sigh. Damn. Damn, Damn, Damn.
‘I hope I made you smile. Tom.’
No, you didn’t, you fucker, he thinks. You big arse. Twat-face. Imbecilic wanker of the century.
He says neither out loud. Instead, he places the basket neatly at the back of the desk as the Grade 2 students mill in amongst chatter and scrapes of chairs and the usual banter.
He’s not supposed to use his mobile in class. Neither are the students, but Lukas just can’t help himself.
LUKAS: Please stop.
He doesn’t expect a reply, yet there it is. Clearly on his screen in black and white.
TOM: Did I make you smile?
He throws the phone onto his bag on the floor. He will deal with Tom later.
“Okay you little shits, pop quiz!”
Lukas is not supposed to call his students ‘little shits’. Not that they care, because they are all groaning and sighing and a few of them are talking back to him. Hurling childish insults at him as he flicks on the first diagram on the laptop, which displays perfectly on the screen behind him.
“What term best describes the state of the cells labelled E on the diagram behind me?” The class falls silent. As expected. None of them are remotely interested in Turgid cells in the Osmosis cycle. Tough.
“Turgid?” some girl at the back shouts and Lukas fist pumps and grabs a chocolate bar, throwing it in a perfect volley to the girl who catches it one-handed as the class cheers.
This is fun. He can do this.
“Which of the following features of a leaf is NOT related to its role in gas exchange?” He has another bar of chocolate twirling between his fingers, as he turns around and points at the four options displayed on the screen behind him. And suddenly the class is all ears. A few students tapping furiously on their phones. Googling no doubt.
“Vascular Bundles?” the boy in row two shouts, standing up and taking a bow after catching his chocolate.
The class is cheering. And everyone’s laptops are now open. He doesn’t give a fuck. They might learn something.
“Normal concentration of Carbon dioxide in the air?” Lukas shouts as at least three students shout back at him with 0.04% which releases three more bars flying in perfect arcs to their outstretched hands.
He keeps going. Throwing out some ridiculously hard questions. And a few easy ones to the guys he knows will struggle. Well, whatever.
Forty minutes later, he is twenty-seven bars of chocolate poorer and has laughed more than he has in a long time.
By the time the students disappear out of the door, leaving a trail of wrappers behind, Lukas is actually smiling as he walks around picking up the damn things. He’s almost forgotten about Tom for a while despite the damn evidence being everywhere in the room.
He doesn’t look at his phone. He doesn’t want to know what else Tom has texted him, because no doubt he will have sent something. Always getting the last word in.
Lukas doesn’t take his phone out of his bag until he is going to bed and needs to set his alarm, and the thought of having another text actually fills him with fear. He doesn’t want to deal with this.
He has a good life, in his small two-bedroom flat. A living room that he tends to do everything in, eat and sleep using the small alcove as his bedroom. Well, apart from watching TV since the damn thing is broken and Lukas can’t bear to start researching which TV to get that will suit his gaming needs (he hasn’t gamed for years, but he may take it up again) and be high spec enough to deal with big showy movies (Lukas can’t remember the last time he watched a movie). He should just buy one off the shelf. But that goes against everything Lukas is. He is a born researcher. He compares and studies and reads up on things to make an educated decision. Well, apart from his disastrous choices in boyfriends. Obviously.
The second room overlooking the courtyard is his office, full of his books and work folders. A little oasis of calm where he works. And then, there’s the kitchen with its spotless hob that never gets any use, and the microwave that looks like something has exploded inside it. He really should buy a new one. He should think of renovating. He should buy himself a new sofa and a TV. Seriously.
His stomach feels uneasy as he unlocks the phone, and he can’t help the sigh escaping his mouth as the screen lights up with another message.
He should block that number. Or add it to his contacts so he can report it for harassment. Print out the texts and send an email to the police.
Not that he ever will. It’s Tom. Fucking Tom.
TOM: I hope you have had a good day, and that the chocolate made you smile. I just wanted to do something nice for you. Tom.
He doesn’t know what to reply to that. I mean, what do you reply to that?
LUKAS: Tom. It didn’t make me smile. I got a warning from my place of work, the school that I really enjoy teaching at and where I would like to continue to work for many years ahead. I don’t want to risk getting into any more trouble. You and I communicating is not appropriate since I am your son’s Mentor Teacher. Please understand how awkward, wrong and ridiculous this is.
Lukas presses send and breathes out. He hadn’t realised he was holding his breath.