‘And you let it happen.’
‘You provoked that situation, Mr Woodrow, despite my asking you repeatedly to avoid confrontation. Now sit down.’
Presented with a direct instruction, Wilson said the only thing he could to regain face. ‘No.’
Rifkind tried not to smile. The teenage God of
No
. He knew the script from here and Wilson was too stupid to resist.
‘Wilson, I order you to sit down because there’s no way you’re leaving.’
Wilson looked back triumphantly, seeing his path to victory. ‘You wanna bet? Just watch me.’ He turned to leave, throwing an angry look at Kyle, whose eyes were now glued to the floor.
‘You can’t leave and you’d better attend next week or else,’ shouted Rifkind, at the retreating Wilson, laying down his final ace.
‘Or else what? You won’t see me for shit.’
Rifkind faked a look of annoyance but broke into a big grinas Wilson turned and snatched up his
Saw
DVD, storming towards the doors.
Wilson looked over at Kyle. ‘Oi, Faggot.’ He stuck his tongue out and pulled a finger across his throat.
Kyle looked up from the floor, gathering his courage. His look of terror gave way to a mocking smile and he blew Wilson a big kiss. The assembled students laughed and jeered as the fuming Wilson kicked open the double doors and stalked away, a couple of sympathetic friends trailing in his wake.
‘Respeck, Kylie,’ said Becky, holding her hand up for Kyle to high five. ‘That asshole butt-munch got well and truly parred and merked.’
Kyle basked in a couple of backslaps until the worry reinfected his face.
I shouldn’t have done that
. He looked gratefully up at his saviour but Jake looked away at once.
‘Why do those with the fewest brain cells always have the loudest voices?’ said Adele Watson to no one in particular.
Becky turned and poured her body back into her chair, looking over at Russell who had his camcorder in front of his face. ‘Look at Steven Spielberg here. I hope that’s going on YouTube, Geek Boy,’ she said, striking a pose for him.
‘Maybe.’ Thomson pointed his camcorder in her direction. He lowered the camera and smiled at her briefly but her stony expression killed his pleasure and he blushed.
‘Just start the film, Geek,’ ordered Becky.
Nearly two hours later, the credits rolled in the darkness. Rifkind and most of the other students had gone to lunch an hour ago but Adele, Becky, Fern, Kyle and Russell had continued watching through the bulk of the lunchbreak and evensat in silence as the cast of characters scrolled down the screen.
‘Wow,’ said Kyle, standing and stretching his slender frame in the gloom. ‘Sick film.’
‘Hard to believe a film about a girls’ school could be that good,’ agreed Becky.
When the inert screen ensured total blackness, Becky edged towards the large curtain and pulled it aside. Bright sunshine streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Media Suite and she and Fern immediately bent to check their phones. Adele remained seated, unable to move. She stared straight ahead. There were tears on her cheeks.
Back in his office at St Mary’s Wharf, Brook got his mouth around his second cup of tea and closed his eyes to savour its soothing heat while his computer loaded. He logged on then registered his dismay at the volume of internal emails in his inbox.
‘Thirty-six emails – in one day,’ he sighed. ‘The tyranny of faceless communication.’ Brook scrolled down the list checking for his personal buzzwords. Any email containing the words
Committee
,
Budget
,
Target
or
Liaison
in the subject line was deleted without being opened. Happily this was most of them and Brook was left with five relevant messages about open cases and upcoming trials.
After dealing with them, he rifled through the drawers of his desk for an
A–Z
he knew he had somewhere. He was both pleased and appalled to find his desk bereft of cigarettes. He remembered wistfully the pack in his locker given to Noble
‘You provoked that situation, Mr Woodrow, despite my asking you repeatedly to avoid confrontation. Now sit down.’
Presented with a direct instruction, Wilson said the only thing he could to regain face. ‘No.’
Rifkind tried not to smile. The teenage God of
No
. He knew the script from here and Wilson was too stupid to resist.
‘Wilson, I order you to sit down because there’s no way you’re leaving.’
Wilson looked back triumphantly, seeing his path to victory. ‘You wanna bet? Just watch me.’ He turned to leave, throwing an angry look at Kyle, whose eyes were now glued to the floor.
‘You can’t leave and you’d better attend next week or else,’ shouted Rifkind, at the retreating Wilson, laying down his final ace.
‘Or else what? You won’t see me for shit.’
Rifkind faked a look of annoyance but broke into a big grinas Wilson turned and snatched up his
Saw
DVD, storming towards the doors.
Wilson looked over at Kyle. ‘Oi, Faggot.’ He stuck his tongue out and pulled a finger across his throat.
Kyle looked up from the floor, gathering his courage. His look of terror gave way to a mocking smile and he blew Wilson a big kiss. The assembled students laughed and jeered as the fuming Wilson kicked open the double doors and stalked away, a couple of sympathetic friends trailing in his wake.
‘Respeck, Kylie,’ said Becky, holding her hand up for Kyle to high five. ‘That asshole butt-munch got well and truly parred and merked.’
Kyle basked in a couple of backslaps until the worry reinfected his face.
I shouldn’t have done that
. He looked gratefully up at his saviour but Jake looked away at once.
‘Why do those with the fewest brain cells always have the loudest voices?’ said Adele Watson to no one in particular.
Becky turned and poured her body back into her chair, looking over at Russell who had his camcorder in front of his face. ‘Look at Steven Spielberg here. I hope that’s going on YouTube, Geek Boy,’ she said, striking a pose for him.
‘Maybe.’ Thomson pointed his camcorder in her direction. He lowered the camera and smiled at her briefly but her stony expression killed his pleasure and he blushed.
‘Just start the film, Geek,’ ordered Becky.
Nearly two hours later, the credits rolled in the darkness. Rifkind and most of the other students had gone to lunch an hour ago but Adele, Becky, Fern, Kyle and Russell had continued watching through the bulk of the lunchbreak and evensat in silence as the cast of characters scrolled down the screen.
‘Wow,’ said Kyle, standing and stretching his slender frame in the gloom. ‘Sick film.’
‘Hard to believe a film about a girls’ school could be that good,’ agreed Becky.
When the inert screen ensured total blackness, Becky edged towards the large curtain and pulled it aside. Bright sunshine streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Media Suite and she and Fern immediately bent to check their phones. Adele remained seated, unable to move. She stared straight ahead. There were tears on her cheeks.
Back in his office at St Mary’s Wharf, Brook got his mouth around his second cup of tea and closed his eyes to savour its soothing heat while his computer loaded. He logged on then registered his dismay at the volume of internal emails in his inbox.
‘Thirty-six emails – in one day,’ he sighed. ‘The tyranny of faceless communication.’ Brook scrolled down the list checking for his personal buzzwords. Any email containing the words
Committee
,
Budget
,
Target
or
Liaison
in the subject line was deleted without being opened. Happily this was most of them and Brook was left with five relevant messages about open cases and upcoming trials.
After dealing with them, he rifled through the drawers of his desk for an
A–Z
he knew he had somewhere. He was both pleased and appalled to find his desk bereft of cigarettes. He remembered wistfully the pack in his locker given to Noble
Similar Books
