Page 76 of The Teacher

She’s blocked me.

Damn.

I have to explain to her what happened. I have to prove to her that I’m not the cheating, lying man she thinks I am.

I need to make this right, and I need to do it fast.

28

SANDY

I get the email exactly when I step into the school, like as soon as I step through the front gate into the grounds from the staff parking lot there’s a ping announcing an email notification.

What is it?

My phone’s deep in my bag somewhere. I pull it out and check the email. I have to read it twice to fully comprehend what it’s saying. It takes a moment for the contents of the email to sink in, but when it does, I’m gobsmacked.

The exam results.

They’re in from the independent adjudicator. The email’s saying they’ve marked all subjects and have averaged all the scores already. Wow, they’ve been quick.

I can’t see the individual results of any particular student, but I scroll through until I find English.

No, it can’t be.

But it’s written there in black and white. Clear as day.

My eyes scan over the text once, then twice, then three times before it sinks it properly.

No way.

My class has received the highest average mark out of all the subjects, including mathematics. Miss Tweed’s subject. I’m the teacher with the highest average marks of all the classes, beating everyone. Even beating Miss Tweed.

No freaking way.

This is incredible. My teaching has pulled through. Romeo and Juliet has pulled through.

I lean against the doorway of the school and scroll through the email, just double checking that I’m reading this right. And I am. I have the highest average scores of any subject, even more than Miss Tweed. That must be a first.

But then I realize something.

It’s too late.

It no longer matters what marks my students got from my teaching, there’s a reason I’m at the school this early in the morning.

The meeting with Mr. Brown.

That’s why I’m here.

I’m going to get fired, email or no email. Good scores or not.

I couldn’t sleep at all last night after what happened at Miss Tweed’s house. I stayed, reflecting, at the beach until it was early morning, then I went home and sat in bed awake until it was time to shower and come here. It was a stupid move, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep even if I tried. The night’s events plagued me like a waking nightmare I couldn’t escape from. I realize I haven’t shut my eye once in the past twenty-four hours. My mind has endlessly been replaying the scene at Miss Tweed’s house over and over in my head like a film. Repeating it until it’s seared into my vision. An echo in my head telling me over and over how much of an idiot I’d been trusting Skipper Deep again.

Him, sitting at that desk, with Becky’s big fake boobs rubbing into his face. They were moments away from his cock entering her.

How could I have let this happen to me?

I was so deeply and utterly embarrassed last night. I don’t think I can ever recover from it.