Chapter 4
Dear readers: sorry for the delayed post. I've finished with exams for the meantime so should have more time to write. As you're probably aware of by now, nifty relies on contributions by people such as yourselves to ensure the site remains free to use. Please donate as much as you can!
Note: in the last chapter I made an error- Mr Robson (registration teacher) isn't James' dad, he's Conor's! No one picked up on this but I did when writing this section. But if you did notice then apologies!
By the time I got home on Wesnesday, it was about half 3, and as I reached my room I realised I had two essay assignments due in for the next day. I sighed as I realised these would take me most of the night, but I quickly headed to my room to get started, wanting to get them out of the way as quickly as I could.
I found my folders and stuff I'd need to help me to work, and made a cup of coffee to keep me awake and with enough concentration. I usually don't tend to drink coffee; the caffeine is virtually a catalyst for anxiety, and always tended to make me edgy and paranoid. I thus tended to avoid it during the day when I'd be most under pressure, but occasionally I drink it when it's really needed.
It took me a few hours before I finished my work and not long after I did so, my parents arrived home along with Robert. They'd been to his parents evening and judging by the smug grin on Roberts face, the teachers obviously had decent things to say about him. We ate dinner together and talked about various comments he received and how he was doing better than I was at his age. I had to agree.. In year 8, I had no interest in school and didn't turn up to the lessons half the time. I was pleased Robert wasn't like that though, and I couldn't help but think he learned from my mistakes and eventually my guidance.
I offered to wash up and by the time I'd finished it was about half 9, so I headed upstairs to read and went to sleep about an hour later.
The next morning I carried out my usual routine and left for school at 8:00. I was one of the first people in school and the only others there were the teachers and 'nerds' of the lower years in the school library. I passed through the humanities department and found Mr Richards marking work in his history classroom. I passed through (I had to walk through his classroom to get to my registration classroom) and greeted him with a good morning. He stopped marking and looked up, stopping me by saying
"uhm Daniel?"
"Yeah?"
"It was nice of you to help Jack yesterday.. uhh the year 8. Do you know him?"
"Yeah, well, kind of. I volunteer for his PE lessons."
"You take PE lessons?" He exclaimed, probably amazed at how someone he'd mentored for anxiety now had the courage and confidence to manage an entire class.
"Yeah, for volunteering hours."
I see.. So what actually happened with Jack?" He asked with a concerned expression.
"They were just messing around in the hallway. He tripped and hit his head off the lockers. Why?"
"I see. So it was just an accident? No one was picking on him or anything?"
"Not that I could tell."
"That's fine then. Thanks Daniel."
"No problem Sir." I said as I began to walk to the door. He interrupted again as he continued the conversation,
"Oh and Daniel?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you notice anything about Jack?"
"What do you mean?"
He sighed, and paused for a moment before saying, "Sit down for a minute"
I did as he asked and headed to a chair close to his desk. He picked up a pen and twirled it around his finger while staring at the ceiling in concentration.
"Jack.. Is very similar to you, when you were in year 9, when we talked." He said, almost stuttering every word. "Let me tell you something that happened recently. About two weeks ago, about lunchtime, I went to the staff toilets, and I heard someone in one of the cubicles, breathing really heavily and crying. I knocked on the door to see who it was, since it obviously wasn't a teacher. After a few minutes Jack came out, and he was shaking, crying and he just looked panicked. He was having a panic attack, similar to the ones you used to have. I asked why he was in the staff toilets and he explained he had this attack in the hallway outside and hid in there so that other people wouldn't see. After he calmed down I told him to come back to my classroom so we could talk about it, and when he came back I tried to talk to him and explain that I could help."
"Anxiety?" I interrupted.
"Seems like it. The problem is, he won't speak to me. Every time I asked him about it he just shrugs his shoulders and pretends nothing happened. But he needs help, and I think you could be the one to give him it."
"What do you mean?.." I asked, tentatively.
"would you be prepared to speak with him? Just one or two hours a week, just to guide him through it. You know exactly what he's going through, and he's clearly more comfortable talking to you than he is to me."
I mulled it over for a few seconds, before he added, "You're the perfect person to help."
I slowly started to nod my head, and then said, "yeah sure. When?"
"Just whenever you're free. I'll speak to Jack today, I've got him period 2. You know the kinds of things we talked about, so just mention the same things. Try to be relaxed with him, just make it like a conversation, not an interrogation, okay?"
"Yeah that's fine. I'll stop by at lunch to sort out a time if he agrees to it."
"Thanks Daniel. Seriously!"
"No problem." I concluded, and eventually stood up and left the room for registration.
It was Mr Roberts who was taking registration this morning, and as soon as he saw me he smiled and we talked for a few minutes before the room started to fill with other students. Ben took his time, and left me there until the last minute before he showed up, apologising to Mr Roberts for being late.
We walked to Politics together as he filled me in on this new girl he'd been talking to called Amber. It had taken him less than a week to get over Georgia and he was now telling me how perfect this new girl was. I had to laugh and told him he was ridiculous.
Politics was boring as per usual and I had a free period second so me and Ben headed to James' house to play pool; James had a lesson but his dad would be home and he thought nothing of us coming over to use his house, even without his son there.
After a few games, I told Ben I had volunteering third period. He began complaining that he didn't have any way to get volunteering hours since I'd taken up all available slots for PE. The only alternative was to offer to help in other lessons, which I imagine would include doing petty jobs like printing worksheets or going around helping students, since it was unlikely that a sixth former would be allowed to actually teach the lesson.
"Why don't you take some of my slots then? You can do the year 9s and 10s and I'll have the year 8s?"
"That means you're getting less.. I don't want to take yours away."
"It's fine, I've still got the year 8 one, plus Mr Richards wants me to do something else.."
This resulted in an unintended conversation with Ben, as I had to explain to him about this year 8 boy who's going through the same as I did a few years earlier. Ben was well aware of what I went through, and understood completely at the time.
"So this kid asked for you to help him?"
"No, Mr Richards suggested. But basically I'll have at least an hours volunteering by helping him and then another hour in the year 8 PE lesson. That way I can keep an eye on him too."
"Fine by me. But how old are year 9s and 10s? And what do I do?"
"Year 9s are 13 or 14 and year 10s are 14 or 15. And just ask Hutchins before the lesson and he'll tell you."
"Right, I'd better get going then, I'm teaching next lesson." He laughed, as he stood up and we left James' house, shouting goodbye to James' dad on the way out.
I was slightly disappointed during third period. I'd been looking forward to getting changed with the year 10s and checking them out again, but now Ben got to do that, although I know for certain that he wouldn't be checking them out. On the plus side, my timetable now looked more manageable and I managed to finish off some work during my free period. I finished school at 12 and decided to go to the gym, thinking it wouldn't be too busy in the middle of a weekday. I stayed there for a few hours before I decided to head home.
I realised on my way back that I'd forgotten to see Mr Richards at lunch to sort out a time for the counselling I'd been asked to do, so I stopped off at school since it was just about the end of the school day. I was still in my gym clothes; black football shorts and a breathable top, with a grey Nike hoodie over the top. I felt a little out of place walking through school as the crowds poured out, all dressed in their uniforms (English schools have compulsory uniforms, even public schools.) I peered into Mr Richards' classroom and he appeared to be talking to someone, although I couldn't see who it was since the gap in the door prevented my view. I waited outside until the door flung open and Sam from my year 8 PE class walked out. His face carried an annoyed expression, probably for being kept back, but as soon as he looked up and saw me, he grinned and stared into my eyes. As always with Sam, his eyes were the most noticeable. They were so large and enticing, and combined with his mischievous smile, I was left staring right back at him. He looked up and down at me, and asked,
"Why you wearing shorts?"
I blinked to bring myself back, and said, "I've been to the gym, just need to sort something out with Sir."
"Like what?" He relented.
"None of your business." I smiled, raising my eyebrows.
He studied me momentarily, as if trying to figure out what I was thinking purely based on my facial expressions. He then slowly stepped past me, and to my complete shock, he slapped my right butt cheek and said quietly with his shit-eating grin still evident on his face, "Looks like Sir's got sharp teeth, make sure he doesn't bite down on it."
I looked at him in disbelief as he walked away from me, and as he looked back and took in my startled reaction, he laughed and carried on walking.
I tried to quickly compose myself before I headed into Mr Richards' room, who by now had sat back at his desk and looked just as stressed as I felt at that moment, his head resting in his arms as he stared blankly at his desk.
"What's up?" I asked, as I walked in, dropping my bag on the table in front of him.
"Oh, Hi Daniel. Sorry, I've just had one of my year 8 classes and they're just so hard to control."
"Yeah I've had experience with them, remember?"
"Oh yes. Of course you have. How do you normally manage with them?"
"I've only had them once, but they seemed fine. I thought you had them period 2?"
"I have two year 8 classes. This was the lower set. So they're all pretty much out to cause trouble."
"How'd you manage with Sam?" I asked, mainly to find out why he was held behind, so I could find out a little bit more about the kid who'd just felt me up outside.
He looked up at me with a knowing expression, and said, "I'm guessing the fact that you remembered his name means you've had trouble with him? "
I didn't quite feel like it was a good idea to explain what just happened outside of his classroom, so I simply said, "nothing too bad, but he's not exactly shy.."
"Yeah, there's always one like him. He's always trying to get attention, always shouting out and messing around with the other kids. I held him back for drawing things on his book. He's a smart kid, just doesn't care about school."
We both paused to think, I was still thinking about what he'd just done outside, but I guessed that Mr Richards was just contemplating about how to control Sam and his class. He ended the silence by saying
"Anyways, I guess you're here to sort out a time. I spoke to Jack after the lesson and he seemed a little hesitant at first when I mentioned the idea, but I said it was with you and he agreed. You must have made a good impression on him."
I smiled at this, and I was glad he was persuaded by the fact I'd be helping him. We hadn't spoken for long but he seemed comfortable enough when we did speak.
"So when's he free?" I asked.
"You can take him out of any lesson once a week. Just find him tomorrow and tell him when to meet you. You'll be able to use D22." (Rooms in school were given a letter and a number to help students find them.)
"Right that's fine. I've got him for PE tomorrow so I'll tell him then. Thanks Sir."
"No problem. See you tomorrow."
And with that, I headed home. During the walk back to my house, I began to think seriously about Jack, and found it extremely strange that the kid I'd singled out straight away was now somehow going to be mentored by me. I thought it was a miracle the other day that I had the opportunity to talk to him when he fell in the hallway; now I was going to be talking to him and see his perfect face every week. I then began thinking about how he agreed to it on the basis that it would be me talking to him, and the fact that he trusted me enough already to talk about himself made me strangely proud. I now couldn't wait until period 5 the next day.