Young Adult Fiction: Untitled. Chapter 2

Chapter two: The staffroom

Jeremy sat in the foyer of the staffroom as Mrs. Frahmien went to put her tub of books away.
The foyer was known to the students as ‘The holding area’. It was a stark area; the walls were hospital white, with the same blue speckly linoleum on the floor which stopped abruptly short as the plush pile of dark green flecked carpet of the staffroom began.

Emma Fellows of year 7 and Terry Deardry of year 8 were lined up along the wall, also awaiting the firing squad. Emma was absentmidedly drawing stars all over her hand in black biro and Terry slumped back in the blue plastic chair, eyes half closed with the white cords of an MP3 player growing out of his ears. Jeremy could hear the distant thudding of the bass beat as he took the seat next to him.

It looks like they’ve been here for a while...great. I’ll never get out of here. I’m so frickin hungry!

Other staff members filed past, into the staffroom; some ignoring him, some giving him raised eyebrows and a look which said,
‘Hmm…in trouble again? I’m not surprised’.

Jeremy was getting angrier by the moment and began shooting them looks filthier than his footy socks on a Saturday afternoon.

Here I am again, the loser of year 9… Dad’s gunna kill me. How do I get myself into these things? Stupid exploding pen.

Mrs. Frahmien appeared, her large, apple shape taking up the doorframe. She motioned to Jeremy to follow her to a small room next the photocopier, known as the Interrogation room.

The lecture began.

“Mr. Batton. I’d like you to explain to me what just happened in my science class between you and Stephen Burbury. I’ve just spoken to the nurse in sick bay and she tells me that he’s been taken to hospital. He’s in a very serious way!”

Shit.

“ I paired you two up because I know how good you are at science- even if you don’t want to admit it- and poor Stephen hasn’t got a clue! I thought you would be able to help him. If he fails this class, he will loose his football scholarship, Jeremy, and his parents have no way to pay for him to remain here!”

Double shit.

Jeremy’s guilt returned with a vengeance; a soccer-punch to the gut.
Suddenly that sausage roll waiting for him in the canteen didn’t seem that appetising.

“Well…” Jeremy began, grasping for an explanation.
“It was just a joke! I never meant to hurt him…He was laughing too- at first!” He trailed off.

Excuses never go down well with very strict, very concerned teachers. This, Jeremy should have realised by now. He was beginning to get too familiar with the Interrogation room: its chipboard and veneer topped table covered with graffiti and gouged out channels; the stained, vomit-coloured carpet; and the silver wall vent, to which his eyes usually fell, while he contemplated escape.

“I don’t have time for your excuses- just tell me exactly what happened!

Ummm…how am I gunna cover my ass?

Well!?”

Jeremy gave up trying to think of a way to save himself and blurted it all out in a surge of babble.
“Stephen cranked the Bunsen burner and then turned to start chattin’ up Janey. I saw his pen and pulled out the ink tube-I was just gunna melt the outside of his pen, you know, make it all wavy and cool and stuff, but I thought it’d be funnier to heat up the ink tube, so that’s what I did when you weren’t looking- whacked it over the Bunsen burner- and it exploded! I didn’t know it was gunna do that, seriously! Stephen turned around as it happened and…”
He began to run out of breath.
“ And, yeah…got ink in his eyes…It was meant to be funny…a joke.” He trailed off again.

Mrs. Framien pursed her plump lips into a thin line and furrowed her brow as she absorbed Jeremy’s explanation.

“Well I doubt very much that Stephen is laughing now. What made you think of such an idiotic stunt? What is your dad going to say about this? Do you realize that Stephen could loose his scholarship, never to play football agin, not to mention his SIGHT!?” Mrs. Frahmien’s voice became higher and more shrill, with each question.

Whoah! Question overload!

Jeremy physically recoiled in his chair at the onslaught. He didn’t know which question to answer first, or if they were rhetorical.
“It was just a joke! Jeez!” He pleaded, defensive.

Mrs. Frahmien simply shook her head in disbelief and frowned, her lips now white and invisibly sewn together.

“Mr. O’Neil will see you at the end of the day. I’m just so appalled Jeremy, that you can take this so-called-joke lightly…go to lunch now and think about what your little joke could cost this boy.”

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“Man, anyone would think I exploded ink into her face, the way she carried on!” Jeremy complained. Sam was waiting for Jeremy outside of the staffroom. They walked toward the canteen across the green.

Sam chuckled and added, “It was sooo funny though- to see your face, mate! Ol’ Mrs. Military woulda roasted you! Haha! Poor Steve though. He’s gunna be so pissed at you when he gets back to school.”

“Yeah, well, he should learn to take a joke.” Jeremy grumped. The more he called it ‘a joke’ the less funny it seemed, but he couldn’t turn back now. That was his story and he’d stick to it. You had to save face, or you were a wuss.

“What are you gunna do if he’s like, blind and stuff?” Sam asked thickly through a mouthful of salad roll.

“blind and stuff”…What the hell will I do?