Being Erika

Hi, I'm Erika.
Just a normal teenage girl.
But my parents don't agree.
They wan't to send me to a posh boarding school.
You wanna find out why?

Then read on.


5. Sir

"Oh thank fuck they're gone!" Mr Peters says, throwing his hands up in the air.
"Urrr.. Um," I stutter, shocked.
Mr Peters smiles at me; he knows I wasn't expecting that.
"Sorry," he starts, "I just really don't like them! They're so clingy to each other. Some even say they're lesbians!"
Okay now I'm really confused! I thought this was a posh school, made to train little brats. But here is some 30 something teacher swearing and calling his workmates lesbians?
Mr Peters is a bald, not skinny but not really muscly, man wearing a white shirt and blue tie with light brown what I think are chino's.
As we walk past the baby blue and yellow walls, a bunch of teenagers (an emo pack) shout some really racist things at sir.
I gasp as he just carry's on walking and ignores them.
"Aren't you gonna do something?" I ask, "Not even give them a detention?"
"What? No," he let's out a little laugh, "I know, that was really very racist. But those twats! Are always making fun of my colour. You see, there aren't many black people in this school but about a thousand racist ones," He shouted the word twat. I'm guessing so the emo's can hear.
"Oh, um.. Okay," I say.

We then talk the whole time he's showing me round the school. We talk about The Big Bang Theory in the science labs - which by the way is like the size of my whole house! Its painted white and a really disgusting green, with vandalised desks in rows next to taps and gas things.
Then when we get to the drama studio we talk about Friends and Two And A Half Men (which are programmes like The Big Bang Theory). The drama studio is, yeah you guessed it, ma-hoo-sive! All painted black with lights and props scattered everywhere!
Then Mr Peters shows me what he teaches. 3 rooms just FULL of musical instruments and recording devices.
"Oh. My. God!" I say slowly. I spot a small guitar at the back of the room and run over to it.
"Is this.. Is this..."
"A Martin backpacker guitar? Of course it is!" Mr Peters finishes for me.
"Wow," I whisper, "I could never afford one of these,"
"Wanna go?" Sir asks me.
"Really?!" I say quietly, eyes wide.
"Sure! You do know how to play don't you?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course!"
I slowly lift the guitar out of its case and slip the strap onto my shoulder.
Then I start to play.
"Ah, Ed Sheeran eh? Great choice, he's a very talented musician!" Mr Peters informs me.
"Yeah, well - I kina love him..." I admit.
"Haha, c'mon I better show you to your dorm now," he looks down at a piece of paper in his hand and frowns.
"What's wrong?" I ask, lifting the guitar over my head and putting it in its case.
"Oh.. You'll see." He replies, rolling his eyes. "Come on,"

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