Chemistry

Lauren is an orphan who knows how to take care of herself. Never did she expect to find support in Mr Hull her science teacher.

Watch as their relationship develops into something both wonderful and rocky.

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2. A predictable routine

Monday morning and the same old routine. Wake up; wash; get dressed; receive grief; skip breakfast; Maths; English; first break spent in the library; Drama; PE; lunchtime (some kind of canteen sandwich that should be on some kind of watch list because of health risks; and so should the dinner ladies); special subject coaching; Business; home (well back to Rickshaw); writing; Dinner and finally bedtime. What a routine! Everyday is the same except the lessons change.

 

“Oi Miss Piggy! Where’s Kermit?” Shelly Fisher taunted, it was clear that she considered that a good insult, she was the worst out of the home, she had already had more houses than me probably because she was only 17 and had already been charged with GBH for assaulting her foster mother last year; she had been held back a year, meaning she was in my school year, but she, for most lessons, was in a lower set. O course I knew what she was referring to – my weight. Society has deemed Shellie’s Hourglass figure to be ‘the perfect body’; therefore delivering her the idea that she is allowed to treat people this way. I would have ignored it and left for the door, but she threw a paper ball at me – so I’ll play the game.

“Was that a personal reference or merely metaphorical?”

“What?” She said, her voice grating on me just with that, never the less I carried on.

“Well I was just curious as to whether you were comparing me to Miss piggy or whether…” 

“Yeah, I was!” She interrupted, luckily as I had no idea of where I was going with my argument, confrontation has never been my forte.

“A Stuffed Puppet?” She looked confused and somewhat angry that I was questioning her, it was working, though people had started to look round now. “Pardon my questioning but how do I have any likeness to a Stuffed puppet?”

“Miss Piggy!” She made sure that I herd that word “Is a pig.” She was giving me that look which said ‘do you get It now?’ I started to nod and act as though previously I had no idea of what she meant.

“Oh I get it, good one.” I smiled and walked of the fury burning inside me, I didn't know whether to cry or punch the window I was soon approaching – I did neither, just what I usually do I swallowed the emotion, all the emotions and kept them there.

 

Running for the school bus now I was checking through my school bag in my head making sure that I had everything, I did or so I was hoping, as it wasn’t unknown for the a small number of those at Rickshaw to take something at the last minute. I had given up running and decided that I wasn’t going to hurry, after all the school was just in the next street, the only reason that there is a school bus was because Rickshaw Grammar school isn’t a privet school just for Rickshaw occupants, It is for children who live locally so basically it’s a public school with a posh name. To add to my failing punctuality I sat on a bench just around the corner of the school, staring at nothing, thinking too much.

 

Eventually I walked into the class room doors thirty minutes late for Maths. Everybody’s eyes seemed to be the same, they knew what was coming. I took out my stationary after sitting in my seat in the back right coroner of the room where I had asked to sit at the beginning of the term.

“Lauren why are you late?” Ms Bramble said with out even looking up, she had her glasses on the edge of her nose, Ms Bramble was a tal,l skinny, squeaky, Scottish woman with a big nose and huge round glasses, a personal reference would be Miss Battleaxe from Horrid Henry.

“I missed the bus Ms Bramble.” I said writing down the date and the learning aim; come on, I was telling the truth by telling a lie.

“That is no excuse! Most children in this classroom were on time!”

“Yes well that is most probably because most children in this classroom get the bus.” This clearly upset her; perhaps I was using the wrong tone – of course I knew I was.

“But you only live in the next street you shouldn’t need to catch the bus.” She said trying to be clever; it was as though she was almost mimicking me.

“Well this is where it links to what I had previously explained to you, I was late because I missed the bus, if I had caught the bus I would not have been late, so what you are expecting me to do is not get the bus and be unpunctual. Is that what you were suggesting?” That shut her up, but I could almost see what she was thinking in her eyes, her mind was like clockwork and she was a cuckoo clock and any minute now the doors would fly open and she would screech the annoying ‘cookoo’ sound which I related to her voice. But she didn't, she just turned to the board.

“Right, Pythagoras. Does anyone know what Pythagoras is?” I raised my hand cautiously “Anyone?” She asked looking right through me, this was so childish but fine I lowered my hand and instantly she said “Right Lauren, your going on the board for talking.” Oh I see what she was playing at, honestly how many games must I play today?

“I know Miss, I’m sorry.” I said with a Sharpe tongue “But you must take into account the amount of skill gone into talking to myself, since there is no body beside me that I am likely to speak to, and since you seemed to be keeping such detailed visual contact on me you must have seen that I was not talking to anyone in front of me either. Do you not agree?” The class clearly liked this one. She stared for a minute. She started talking about Pythagoras and drew a triangle with boxes around it on the chalk board. Somebody threw a paper ball at her and she slowly turned around, I knew who she was going to blame.

“Lauren? Excuse yourself immediately take your self to Miss Brown!”

 “Certainly.” I said with a sweet smile and tone. The class was amazed by what they were witnessing it was pure entertainment, though I have never been one for entertaining the class or adopting the role of class clown on purpose at least.

 

 Miss Brown gave me a lecture about how to behave in class and I explained that she should be giving her teachers a lecture about how to teach, instead of letting them damage their student’s education, by being childish.

“Lauren I don’t know what I can do for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well all of the teachers here are trying to make your education work and all that you seem to be doing is throwing it in our faces.” I breathed through my teeth.

“So correct me if I am wrong, but I don’t exactly see how sending a student out of the classroom to prove a point; just because that student was defending why she was late to that teacher’s lesson in response to a question put forward to her. Now tell me that, that kind of behavior is helping a student or stunting their education.” She sat there speechless; though it was as if she expected this from me – I don’t blame her, I was expecting this from me. She stepped down from her chair, which clearly needed to be adjusted as it was too high for her podgy little legs and sat on the side of the desk closest to me.

“Lauren please?” She begged in her childlike voice, “I can understand your anger and I will be questioning Ms Bramble when she writes the report for having to send out a student.” I slumped back into my chair, but keeping my posture, while she leaned over to me.

“Lauren I will not be giving you a detention just now, because your side of the story seems reliable but until I hear Ms Bramble’s side I cannot make a decision.”

“So in that case you may as well hand me a detention slip now, as Ms Bramble will claim that I am a destructive influence; the story of my life.” She ignored my invitation and suggested that I go to Subject coaching.

 

The rest of the day dragged along, the teachers seemed more patronizing than ever. Miss Brown found me in the Library at lunch eating my sandwich in the dining area and she explained that I didn't have a detention and that she had believed me from the start, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had also said that to Ms Bramble.

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