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To Be Honest(50)

By:Polly Young


It’s over. The girls pant and sweat. Miss Mint spins round. She’s laughing and Rach takes a great, heaving, wet gulp of her water, wipes mouth with sleeve, puts it away and takes out a big, big bar of Galaxy and breaks it; shoves some in her mouth and the other two take some as well. Then it’s offered to me. Rach looks pained.

“Do you want some?” And her voice is all strained and I realise she’s noticed Miss Mint’s weird food moods just like she had: must have noticed stashed chocolate as well and the calorie counts.

And I think, Oh Em Gee all these teachers: they’re not just old founts of knowledge; they’re also the ones that we copy; admire. And I take out fruit scones Kai had made for my tutor time, that I’d forgotten. I bite one and say, “thanks, Rach; I’ve got these lovelies: nothing like making teeth rotten,” and Miss Mint and I look at each other then. A cloud passes swiftly.

It’s five to ten, time to go. Courtney’s quite pongy. The bell rings.

“Oh no — my spray’s in my locker.”

She goes of with Rach, which leaves Miss Mint and me.

“Five hours to go.” And she nods, looking stressed. “Kai’s coming to see it,” I say, “he’ll be well impressed.”

“You do know he was really into it, don’t you? The idea, I mean? Back when he thought I was you, not Miss Mint? He said that you needed to learn how to dance.”

I think back to the party. To Courtney’s. The last thing I’d done was to run off to Josh. And fast. So Kai was left standing. But that’s in the past.

“He went off with Courtney, which was quite a nasty thing to do.”

“But didn’t he say? He tried to convince you to dance but you wanted to fly away, off to find Josh. Also you looked too grown-up in that skirt. He said you were wearing a dress to flirt in, not get to know him.”

She shrugs. But another thing tugs ‘cos although I hear, there’s so much more to discuss. I say,

“Listen. I need your help as a teacher.”

She looks at me sideways.

“You’ve gone for that TLR, haven’t you?”

“No, no, no, no ,” I say. “It’s Alicia.” And I tell her everything. “What do I do?”

She’s in thought; could say lost. She looks off to one side.

“So you say that the cost of you not proving true QTS, after all of this effort we’ve gone through, could mean that I stay as Lisi and you as Miss Mint ... forever? And what about KaiTaff?”

It’s my turn to shrug, “I don’t know what to do. If I show your papers then that’s lying too, ‘cos I’ve taught as you for almost a fortnight now. When in fact, I’m me.”

I think about time. How it’s running like sand away from us both, and how Dad’s in a land that’s hundreds and thousands of miles from here. And I want to see him. I blink. Miss Mint stares, refocuses; sucks in her cheeks, then says, “seems a bit doomed but there’s one thing to try.” And she packs up without looking me in the eye.

“Where you going?” I ask, as she heads through the door.

“Need your keys.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to ring the exam board.”

* * *

But there’s no time at break to do that. Miss Mint’s foiled as Rachel, all jumpy, kidnaps her. A coiled up spring of excitement, she carries her off and away to tighten the infamous Beyonce sway.

I head back to form where we wait ‘til we’re called to the hall for a pre-lunch run-down of thrills, spills and triumphs of term. The high and the low. Mr Underwood, Anderson, Morlis, Debono are there, all lined up tight with the thought of three weeks off at Christmas in sight.

While Underwood’s giving his annual showcase and proving he’s with it by dropping in ‘mate’ to the new PE teacher, Mr Buck, who’s only been here a week. But I hope he stays at Fairmere ‘cos he’s good: much, much better than Anderson is. Taff’s talked to him. He’s into rowing and shizz and kite-surfing; baseball too. I think he’ll find that surfing this lot’s a whole new ball game, mind.

“Miss Mint!”

A loud whisper beside me. It’s Mum.

“ Mum?!”

She looks at me like I’ve lost it.

“I mean ... Mrs Reynolds. Come this way, please.”

I hadn’t heard the door to the hall open. Why’s she here? Miss Mint’s eyes are on me as we both disappear. Out in the atrium, all is revealed.

“I’m sorry; I’m lost. It’s rather left field but I wanted to visit my daughter. See how well she dances. She’s never quite made it somehow, in the way of performance or drama or anything, really.”