A New Term By Jonah
We're once more at the Norwich City Technology College with Simon. Not that there is any such place. None of the people in any of my stories are real. Many of the places are, though the people attached to them aren't, but none of the schools are real either. There are some things you don't want to inflict on real people or institutions by writing stories about them. Although I invented most of the people in this story, one of them - Garret - is the invention of another author - of Jacob Lion in the United States - as are some other characters that only get a mention. I want to thank Jacob for his kind permission to use his characters in my story. If you've enjoyed my previous stories from 'A Letter from America', to 'On Sea and Sand', I hope you'll enjoy this one. if you do enjoy it, please spare a thought for the kind man who published it for you. Nifty doesn't charge you to read these stories, and he doesn't charge us authors either, but it does cost money to publish them. He bears this cost from his own pocket and from donations via https://donate.nifty.org/ . Please consider donating.
Chapter 9
Monday morning and another sunny day. September was well under way so we ought to be making the best of sunny days, but it was a schoolday.
I dropped Barry in the car-park, having given up on dropping him round the corner. He had made it plain that he wouldn't go along with that.
I missed assembly as I had some preparation to do before registration. 3SI eventually turned up and filed into their places. They were usually a well-behaved bunch but, with Trent and Peters both missing, there seemed to be a nervousness in the air. It was almost like,
"He's got rid of those two - who's going to be next?"
I wasn't complaining about the silence, but I didn't want the fear.
"Can I just say something 3SI?"
That was a rhetorical question. I didn't expect an answer.
"I just want to thank you. You're generally well behaved, and I appreciate that, but we've all been through a difficult time with Peters and I am impressed by how you all handled yourselves. I know pride is described as a sin but, on this occasion, I think you have reason to be proud of yourselves. I'm certainly proud of you. Now - answer your names, Alford..."
I had no idea whether that would do the trick or not, but it was worth a try.
When the bell went for the first lesson 3SI filed out to go and plague Dave Sutcliffe. They were replaced at their desks by 1KJC. I sat them down and then sat at my own desk.
"Sit up straight and face the front 1KJC", I told them. "I'm going to want you to talk in a minute, but you'll have to shut up for now to find out what you're going to talk about".
I carried on without waiting to see whether they were complying with that.
"Now, you all did a comprehension exercise last week, so at least one of you should be able to tell me what the word 'comprehension' means. Who's going to volunteer?"
Rickie Nottingham didn't even put up his hand as he said,
"It's a big word".
"Yes, it's a big word Richard, but do you comprehend what it means?"
"My name's Rickie",
"Not in your form's register it isn't, but it doesn't matter, we know who you are".
"And I know who you are. You're the one banging Close".
I turned to Barry.
"Is that true Barry?"
"No Sir".
"It seems that you didn't know as much as you thought you did Richard. Do you want to spread any more slander before we go and talk to the principal?"
"Yes, you were banging Jordan as well on Saturday".
I chose not to address that but I noticed that Paul had gone crimson. It was imperative to get Nottingham out of there as quickly as possible.
"Enough," I said briskly. "Come along Richard".
"Stop calling me that".
"It's your name Richard. You're almost twelve years old. You should be used to it by now. Come on".
"I'm not going anywhere with you. You'll probably try to rape me as well".
"Then sit down and shut up", I snapped. "Barry, run along and tell Mr. Kennedy we need his help here".
Barry fled, leaving me with a completely silent class. Paul Jordan looked close to tears.
"Are you alright Paul", I asked quietly.
He shook his head, probably not trusting himself to speak.
"Go and catch Barry up. Wait with him in the principal's office".
He departed and I sat back in my chair. Nobody else dared to speak and I couldn't blame them. Even Ricky Nottingham had subsided and almost looked likely to cry himself.
"Nottingham, come here please".
He stood and slowly approached my desk.
"What was all that about?" I asked quietly.
"Don't know Sir", he muttered.
"But you're upset and you were upset before you came in here".
It wasn't a question but he nodded, noticeably closer to tears.
"Richard, we need to know what's upsetting you, and we need to find out how to make it better. Do you want us to call you Richard or Rickie?"
"My friends call me Rickie", he sniffed.
"Which friends are they?"
That did it. The waterworks were turned on full power as he bawled his eyes out.
"It's all right Rickie", I said soothingly as I patted his arm. I knew I shouldn't have touched him but he needed the human contact. "It's OK. We're going to find a way to make it better".
"You don't know what it's like to have no friends", he sobbed.
"But you had a friend - a good one - and you just tried to destroy him. That isn't the way to treat your friends. Fortunately I think he's better natured than you are. Let's hope so eh?"
He nodded with another sniff.
"I think you owe him an apology though", I added.
At that moment the door opened and in came the boy in question followed by Barry, Grev Kennedy and Charles Wright. That looked as if I was about to be summoned to the office if Grev had brought his deputy to look after my class.
Rickie turned to his erstwhile friend and muttered something which might have been an apology. Paul pushed roughly past him and walked to his seat. Rickie made to follow but Barry took hold of his arm.
"Give him time Rickie", he said quietly. "He'll come round".
In despair, Rickie grasped Barry but Grev took his shoulder.
"Come on Rickie", he said.
I followed the two of them to the office.
"Do I want you in my school?" demanded Grev as soon as we were seated either side of his desk. "Or are you too much of a liability to have around? In less than an hour this morning you have upset two other students and made a serious allegation against a teacher that, if pursued, could destroy him. Is there any truth in the allegation by the way? I can have the police here in a flash if that's what you want".
The waterworks had been replaced by stark terror.
"No Sir", he breathed before burying his face in both hands.
"It's not much of a life, is it Rickie," I said, " when you're all alone and have no friends to share it with?"
The heaving of his shoulders suggested that he had started sobbing again.
"He was despised", I said, making the last word two syllables rather than three. "Despised and rejected; A man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief".
Grev caught on.
"Rickie", he said. "Listen to me. Mr Ito is wrong - totally wrong. It is a good life - a wonderful life - you just have to start living it. You don't get on with other people and that's spoiling it for you. You need to learn to get on with other people and I know the very people to help you to do it. What I want to know, Rickie, is do you want us to help you?"
The boy nodded but Grev wasn't standing for that.
"I'm sorry Rickie, I didn't hear you".
"Yes Sir", whispered the boy.
"Then you'll need some help and you have some friends. I suspect that, once people realise you've made changes in your life, you'll have even more friends. For the moment I'm putting Mr. Ito on the job. Barry will help and I think, once he has got over the shock, so will Paul Jordan. You do realise that I've just named three people who don't owe you anything. This morning you tried to destroy each of them. You don't deserve their goodwill but, if I know them, you'll have it. Well Nottingham?"
I didn't know what Grev expected with that last question but he got,
"Thank you Sir."
"Good. Go back to your class with Mr. Ito".
That was us dismissed. Rickie uttered not a word as we walked side-by-side back to N3, but at the door he whispered,
"Thank you Sir", before we went in.
The rest of Monday was relatively uneventful. Class followed class and then I drove Barry back to Newton St. Faith. Dinner was quickly consumed and then I was back in my car to drive to North Earlham police station.
PC Colin Drew met me at the front desk.
" He's down this way Mr. Ito", he said to me as he tapped a code into the security door. I followed Colin to the cell we had met Shawn in before, with the briefest of nods to the custody sergeant as we passed. As soon as we entered I sat at the table. Shawn rose and took the other chair so Colin sat himself on the bench below the window.
"Now Shawn", I began. "We're going to be very rude and completely ignore PC Drew. It's just you and me. What's your best subject at school?"
"Art Sir", he replied with no hesitation.
"Nice", I observed. "My stepfather was a professional artist".
"What was your real father?"
"A policeman", I answered without even enough hesitation to wonder whether I should answer questions from him.
"Hmm!"
I don't know what I expected him to say.
"What was your next best subject?"
"History Sir".
"Not one for maths or science then?"
"No Sir".
"Pity, because we're going to have to do some, but tomorrow night I think you get an art project".
"Thank you Sir".
"Don't thank me yet Shawn. We've got tonight to get through first, which is Science. What do you know about heat?"
"Heat Sir?"
"Heat Shawn", I repeated, spreading a sheet of paper on the table. "We're going to do some brainstorming. We want as many facts as we can think of about heat. I'll start. It's a form of energy".
"You measure it with a thermometer", said the boy.
"No you don't. You measure the temperature with a thermometer, but that's affected by heat so we'll include it".
I was talking to give myself time to write it down.
"It causes things to expand", I said, writing as I spoke.
"It can be a colloquialism for pressure or trouble", said Colin Drew from across the room. "The heat is on".
"I told you we were ignoring PC Drew", I told the boy. "He's only trying to see if I can spell 'colloquialism' anyway".
I glanced up and was just in time to catch a smile on the face of the boy - something I had not seen before. A sideways glance told me that Colin had seen it too. Banter between myself and the policeman could be a good thing.
"It's one side of the fire triangle", said Shawn.
"It is indeed one side of the fire triangle", I observed as I wrote. "How, in the name of all that's wonderful did you happen to know that?"
"My dad's a fireman", he replied. "We don't see each other very often but we speak when we do".
"You get on alright with your dad?" I asked.
"Yeah".
"But you live with your mum?"
"Yeah", less enthusiastic this time.
I nodded then said, as I wrote,
"There are three ways it can travel".
"Travel?"
"Yes, heat has to travel. That radiator by the door is hot - PC Drew goes to sleep over there. You put a hot flame under a saucepan and the stuff in the saucepan gets hot. Heat has to travel from the radiator to PC Drew, and from outside the saucepan to inside it. And the Sun can keep you warm even though it's ninety-three million miles away. That's some travelling."
"Three ways?"
Yes, conduction, convection and radiation. I'll tell you about them in as bit, though I bet your dad knows more about them than I do".
If that didn't keep him interested, nothing would.
"How long's your dad been a fireman Shawn?" said the officer across the room.
"Ignore him", I said.
"You don't want me to tell him he was in the brigade before I was born?"
"Certainly not", I replied.
"Then I won't", he said with a conspiratorial grin.
"Dick Peters," said Colin. "I should have realized. You look like him".
""He's getting harder to ignore", the boy remarked.
"I think that's enough science for tonight anyway. He's not going to leave us in peace. Your homework is to find out what you can about the three ways that heat travels. If you ask PC Drew to let your dad know where you are, you might even be able to get some help with it."
The boy turned to Colin.
"I'll see what I can do", promised the policeman.
I was plagued with conflicting thoughts as I drove home. I didn't like this boy. He could be quite inventive with hurting people, but the boy I was teaching now was nothing like the surly boy I knew at school. Was I making progress? I knew better than to count on it.