Page 98 of Five Gold Rings
‘Which is why I love you.’
‘Now you’re taking the piss. Eat your sandwich.’
‘Umm… hello? Hello.’ Our conversation is interrupted by a shrill voice from the middle of the room and a slow clap which can only mean it’s our headteacher, Alicia. She likes the slow clap to control a room like we’re all eight years old in a singalong music session. Everyone comes to a standstill, people put down their mugs and devices, a bird stops chirping outside, even the kettle stops boiling. Only Henry, newest recruit to the Geography department, who still doesn’t know what it means, starts clapping, trying to join in.
‘So, some of you will have heard that Monica in Maths fell down the A-Block stairs the other day. She wants to thank you for all the cards and hampers and the person who sent her the soaps. Anyway, we are very lucky that as a temporary replacement, St Quentin’s have sent us Caitlin Bell to help. I am sure you will all make her feel very welcome.’
I visually sift through the crowd of people by the door until Caitlin comes into view. Please be nice, please be normal, please be a pub-at-lunchtime kind of girl. Well, she looks like she’s about our age, light brown hair, pinafore dress, Alice band. Very straight down the line, which is fitting given she teaches Maths. She will not like my swearing, will she? Is it strange that when I meet other women for the first time, I always check out the footwear? Are we the same size? May I potentially be able to borrow shoes from her? I peer at her feet. Patent leather moccasins. Maybe not. She clutches a satchel and lunchbox close to her as the Maths department regulars come over to introduce themselves. Naturally, my eyes fall to Tommy and Steve, already talking in whispers. Fresh meat. Bastards.
‘You can already tell they’re plotting. It’s so unbelievably predictable. Poor girl. Maybe we should go over and warn her,’ I mumble, finishing the last of my sandwich and looking over at Ed. ‘Eddie? You alright?’
But his eyes are fixed in one direction. It’s a perfect time to steal a couple more crisps.
ED
I made Mia a sandwich because a month ago she got stomach flu after eating a bad kebab and she’s not looked right since. She looks gaunt and in certain lights, when her eyes shine a certain blue and her messy brown bob falls right, she can look a bit vampiric. Her self-care regimen is the worst I know. She washes her face with shampoo, sleeps on a mattress she found on the street (I know, I helped her carry it and made her steam clean it first), she’ll call me at eleven at night when I’m listening to my happy sleep podcast and she’s frantically marking, fuelled by energy drinks and bad pizza. She tells me all pizza is good pizza but I’m not sure that’s the case if you have to smell it three times before you put it in your mouth to check it’s still good.
Mia and I bonded in this place because even though she’s one of the cool kids, she’s a nice cool kid who took me under her wing and has never dropped me. She has a wonderful sense of inclusivity, knowing how to make everyone laugh and feel part of the conversation. Do I wish she’d order her life, make better choices and not steal all my pens? Yes. Is she one of my best friends? Also, yes. But don’t tell her that. She’ll call me sad and do something weird like kiss me and announce that she loves me to a whole busload of people who don’t need to know that information.
She also has the worst taste in men. If I take my Psychology A-Level and analyse why, it’s because beneath the loud and confident exterior is a girl who just wants to be loved and validated. You see it in how she dates. She finds a man on Tinder, she has and enjoys sex with him, and she revels in telling me about the sex (in far too much detail). But then she’ll get drunk after school on Fridays, I’ll walk her home from the pub, and she will cry over her cheesy chips and philosophise about why this sex she’s having never blossoms into relationships, how maybe she’ll be alone forever. I tell her she’ll always have me, but she usually laughs in response to that.
It was obvious she was going to shag Tommy from P.E. because he’s that sort of man. He has what the young people call rizz. I don’t know if he walks like that because his appendage is bigger than average or because of the amount of sex he is having. I hear the stories because I used to go along to the ‘lads’ sessions in the pub where the men mainly talk about football and women. Neither are my strong suit, but I can tell you now that I’ve learnt a lot about Pep Guardiola’s management style, and to stay away from Sandy the lab technician who apparently is quite the wild one in bed and had a short-lived affair with Andrew from Business Studies who had to have a tetanus shot because she bit him. But the last time I went, they talked about Mia like she was some sort of currency and that upset me, so I stopped going. I’ve never repeated to Mia what they said because she’s my friend but also because I fear what she would do in response. English teachers come with a certain level of passion. It’s all that literature; it gives her a way with words which often involves inventive swearing and talking about the painful ways in which she’d end people.
‘Eddie! Earth to Ed? What’s up?’ Mia asks me again.
‘I’m good,’ I tell Mia as she steals a few more of my crisps, like I’m not physically there. I mean, I am but a woman has just entered the room. Caitlin. Teaches Maths. Crikey. She’s pretty. She looks like a young Cate Blanchett. That is some awesome bone structure. I watch as she stands behind Alicia, scanning the room with those piercing green eyes. I take a long deep breath.
‘Oh me, oh my, Eddie, are you crushing on the new girl?’ Mia asks me, cheekily observing my gaze.
‘No. Stop that…’
‘You’re blushing…’
‘My face is red from anger at you stealing my food,’ I tell her. It’s warm in here. Too warm. I thought we were supposed to be cutting costs in this school; they should turn down the heating. I put a finger underneath my collar, watching her with one eye as she moves around the staffroom meeting people. Not that meeting me will mean anything once she sees the P.E. guys, but maybe we could have a chat and I could introduce myself.Hi, I’m Ed. I teach Biology and I have a cat. She looks like she’d be an ally, someone with pens.
‘Do you know her?’ Mia asks, still intrigued. ‘She’s not an ex-girlfriend, is she?’
‘No… never seen her before,’ I reply, trying to act relaxed.
Mia smiles back at me. ‘Oh, she has a lunchbox.’
‘She looks like the sort of person who understands the need for good nutrition.’
‘You’re so funny… You’re staring at her.’
‘I am not…’ Is it obvious? If she’s going to sit at Monica’s desk, then that’s perpendicular to mine. That would be nice. Not in a strange stalker, ‘I’m-going-to-stare-at-you-a-lot’ kind of way, but I’m currently next to Lyle from History who loves mackerel for lunch and Heidi from Art who makes things with her own hair.
‘Ed, Mia…’ our head’s voice booms over us. We stand to attention. ‘This is Caitlin.’
‘Biology and English,’ Mia intervenes. ‘Nice to meet you. Welcome to the madhouse.’
Alicia’s eyebrows are raised at this comment. She’s not half wrong though. Caitlin laughs and something inside me sighs.
‘Interesting choice of footwear, Miss Johnson,’ Alicia says, scanning Mia’s leopard print Converse. I keep telling Mia there is a dress code in our contracts, but she still comes into school daring to subvert the rules and upset the higher school management. If it’s not the shoes, it’s the many bracelets stacked up her forearm, the literary T-shirts with questionable quotes. I’m not Mia so my pulse quickens on her behalf to hear her being reproached.
‘I’m sorry. I was in a rush. I keep forgetting about the rules.’ She pauses, unfazed and I will her silently to stop there. But then she bites her lip, a cheeky glint in her eye and I know she’s going to challenge the status quo. ‘We do let the P.E. department wear trainers though?’ And there it is.
‘Because they teach P.E.,’ she says plainly. ‘It’s hard enough getting these kids to part with their Air Forces.’