Authors: Erin Golding
‘Now, who can tell me a little something about
the story of
Wuthering Heights
?’
One of the girls raises her hand confidently.
Even seated I can see she is quite tall, with lanky legs and a pixie cut.
‘Yes,’ I say, nodding at her. ‘And you are?’
‘Melanie Paine, Miss.’
‘Oh, yes Melanie. OK. Tell us what you know.’
‘Well, it’s a book about this crazy girl
Catherine and she falls for her adopted brother Heathcliff, but he’s crazy too.
Actually, I think they all go mad in the end, right?’
‘Not exactly. But you are right about Catherine
falling in love with Heathcliff. This novel is, essentially, a love story
between the two.’
‘Bor-ring,’ says the red-head up the back.
‘Ahh yes. Reginald Little,’ I say, consulting
the roll.
There are a few snickers at the name.
‘Reggie, Miss. It’s Reggie.’
‘There are no nicknames between teacher and
pupil, Reginald. Now, did you have a comment to make on the novel?’
‘Well who wants to read a touchy-feely love
story, Miss? It’s boring. And we all know everything always works out in the
end, so what’s the point?’
‘Interesting comments, Reginald. I suggest you
read the book before making assumptions on its conclusion. You may be
pleasantly surprised.’
I watch as he rolls his eyes at Paul, who simply
shrugs in response.
‘And what about you, Paul? Anything to say on
the subject?’
He raises his eyes to look at me through his
eyebrows. The smouldering look. Or so he thinks.
‘I don’t know what’s so great about Heathcliff.
He seems like a bit of a loser.’
‘So you’ve read the book?’
He shrugs. ‘Started it in the holidays but I got
bored.’
‘OK. Well what makes you think of Heathcliff as
a loser?’
He smiles at me and shrugs. ‘I don’t know. It’s
just something I thought.’
‘But I don’t think he’s a loser,’ says Melanie,
turning in her chair to address Paul directly. ‘He’s in love with Catherine and
he doesn’t know what to do about it.’
‘Seems pretty obvious to me. Get her in the sack,’
says Reginald with a smirk. A few of the other boys start laughing along with
him.
‘That’s enough boys,’ I say before looking at
Melanie. ‘You are right, though, Melanie. Heathcliff is a bit lost when it
comes to his love for Catherine. He isn’t sure how to deal with such an
all-consuming passion.’
Reginald lets out a snort.
I walk over and stand in front of his desk. ‘Do
you have a problem, Reginald? Because you seem to be spending a lot of time
laughing, and
Wuthering Heights
is definitely not a comedy.’
‘Nah, I’m OK Miss. It just sounds a bit lame,
all that passion crap and everything.’
‘Lame huh? So you know nothing about passion,
Reginald?’
‘He thinks he knows it all,’ says Paul under his
breath.
Both Reginald and I turn to look at him. Paul
looks me in the eye, ignoring Reginald’s playful punch to his bicep, and
smiles. Up close, I notice a small, white scar, round like the tip of a
cigarette, just above his left eyebrow.
‘Sorry, Miss,’ he says without an inch of
remorse.
I head back to the whiteboard, biting my lip to
stop myself from snickering. There’s clearly more to these two than meets the
eye.
I smile at them both and clap my hands together.
‘There is a method I use to help in situations such as this, to help my
students relate to the text. Stand up Reginald and come here please. You’re
going to be player number one.’
***
‘Halfway through the lesson and she’s already
got Reggie making an absolute arse of himself. I think I’m going to really like
her,’ I whisper to Matt as we watch Reggie struggling to impersonate the
character of Catherine.
He is perched on the edge of her desk, with his
hand on his hip, looking more like some gay guy than a woman. His voice is
coming out all scratchy and high-pitched and he keeps fluffing his lines
because he is laughing so much.
‘“You and Edgar have broken my heart, Heathcliff!”’
he says in his mock female voice, pretending to throw his long hair over his
shoulder. ‘“And you both come to bewail the deed to me, as if you...”’ he
snorts and falls over himself with laughter.
‘OK, OK. That’ll do Reginald. Yes it’s very funny,
I know. Take a seat. That’ll do for now.’
She is being all teacher-like now but I could
see her snickering along with the rest of us. I notice that when she smiles she
gets these dimples in her left cheek and when she laughs her boobs almost jump
out of her shirt. After I saw that my eyes were stuck on her.
‘Thank you for that lovely performance, Reginald,’
she says with a giggle. ‘I don’t think Catherine has ever been so richly
depicted by a boy.’
Reggie does an exaggerated bow before falling
into his seat. He smiles at me and slaps me on the back. He’s looking pretty
impressed with himself.
‘Ok. So how about two volunteers? This is
serious this time. One of you boys to play Heathcliff and a girl for Catherine,
please.’
‘I’ll do it,’ says Melanie, leaping out of her
seat.
Mrs Fox smiles at her. ‘Thank you, Melanie. And
Heathcliff?’
Her eyes are straight on me, at least I imagine
they are, and before I can kerb it my hand reaches up to get her attention.
‘Paul? Are you interested in playing the loser?’
Everyone turns to look at me and a few are
smirking.
‘He’s had years of practice,’ says Reggie with
narrowed eyes, finally getting his own back on me.
‘Sure I’ll do it,’ I say, standing up.
‘Great,’ she says, picking up her copy and
thumbing through the pages. ‘Let me pick a passage for you.’
‘Can I read the bit where Catherine admits to
loving Heathcliff?’ asks Melanie.
‘Well that is a beautiful passage, and one of my
favourites, but Heathcliff doesn’t have any lines then...’
‘Just the last paragraph?’ pleads Melanie.
‘OK. Go ahead.’
I sit back down as Melanie pulls her dog-eared
book open to a highlighted passage. She takes a deep breath and clears her
throat. I look at Mrs Fox. She is leaning against her desk and the angle of her
legs shows the curve of her tanned calf. I keep my eyes on her as Melanie
begins her speech.
‘“I’ve no business to marry Edgar Linton than I
have to be in heaven; and if the wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff
so low, I shouldn’t have thought of it. It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff
now; so he shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he’s
handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are
made of, his and mine are the same.”’
Melanie slams her book closed and turns to Mrs
Fox. ‘Isn’t that so passionate? Those
words
, the
sadness
. I love
it.’
Mrs Fox nods slowly and smiles. ‘Yes, it is. And
you read it very well Melanie, thank you. Now, how about our bumbling loser
Heathcliff? Is he ready?’
Her green eyes are on me and her lips are
curling into a smile. I wipe my palms on my thighs as I stand up. I’m sweating
like I’ve just done two circuits round the oval. I walk to the front and stand
beside her. The honeycomb smell hits me again and I try not to look down her
shirt. She flicks through her book and hands it to me with her finger marking
where to begin.
‘OK, Paul,’ she says. ‘Let’s hear your loser
speak.’
I nod and keep my eyes on the page. I know
Reggie and Matt will be pulling faces at me, or doing something to try and make
me laugh.
‘“And I pray one prayer”’ I begin. ‘“I repeat it
till my tongue stiffens – Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am
living!...”’
‘With
emotion
, Paul. This is his anguish,’
she says over the top of me.
‘“You said I killed you – haunt me then!”’
‘Better,’ she says with a nod. ‘Keep going.’
‘“Be with me always – take any form – drive me
mad! Only
do
not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!...”’
I stop because I feel like an absolute tosser.
The boys are laughing up the back and even the girls are snickering. I open my
mouth to tell her I quit, but her eyes are on me and her hand is resting on her
stomach, just below her boobs. No words come out, instead I’m frozen to the
spot, trying not to gawk at her cleavage.
‘Finish,’ she says, pushing the book back
towards my face. I stumble over the paragraphs, looking for the words and at
the same time willing myself not to sprout a boner. It’s likely, with all the
blood rushing down there.
The words are out in a flash ‘“I
cannot
live
without my life!
I
cannot
live without my soul!”’ and I’m back
behind my desk straight away, picturing my grandma until my threatening bulge
lies down.
‘Well done Paul,’ she says, clapping. And then
she smiles at me.
‘Yeah nice job...
loser,
’ says Reggie
loudly so everyone can hear.
There are a few laughs and then the bell is
ringing.
‘Good work today everybody. Please read as much
as you can before tomorrow’s lesson. We’ll start talking about themes then.
Write down what you think are the central themes of the novel. Just in point
form, no essays just yet.’
Reggie is halfway out the door before she’s even
finished talking. Matt and I take our time but he’s waiting for us when we
finally get outside.
‘How lame was that?’ he moans. ‘What are we, like,
in kindergarten or something?’
Matt shrugs. ‘I thought it was good. It’s better
than just reading all the time.’
I nod. ‘Yeah, she definitely had our attention.
Even yours mate,’ I say, digging my elbow into Reggie’s ribs.
‘It wasn’t because of Wuthering
Shites.
Did you see the knockers on her? I’d like to bury my head in those.’
We laugh.
‘Yeah right,’ says Matt. ‘That’ll happen, Reg.’
‘You never know, man. You never know.’
I’m laughing along with them but something feels
strange in my gut. Like I’ve just eaten one of Mum’s awful lemon sponge cakes.
Something just isn’t sitting right.
Three
‘Hi. I’m Todd Bateman. Phys Ed.’
A tall man wearing a grey tracksuit stands
before me at the desk, with his hand outstretched. He has a pair of sunnies
resting on his head, among the buzz-cut of brown hair. Behind him the kids are
packing up their books and chattering as they leave the room.
I smile and shake his hand. ‘Abby Fox.’
‘Nice to meet you, Abby,’ he says, releasing my
hand. ‘Peter Stewart mentioned you have a free period now so I figured I’d take
it upon myself to show you around.’
‘Oh, great. You’re off now too?’
He smiles at me and winks.
‘Ahh, one of the perks of teaching P.E. You get
a lot of free periods.’
I laugh. ‘Yeah but you’re the one who gets stuck
coaching after-school sport.’
He is still smiling.
‘Oooh, then it looks like I have some bad news
for you Abby.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Let’s walk and talk,’ he says.
I pick up my bag and follow him out into the
hall. We turn right and head back the way I came with Peter Stewart.
‘So why’d you leave your last school, if you
don’t mind me asking,’ says Todd.
‘Not at all. It was a bit of a dead-end job. No
room to progress. I’d been there five years, and I was going nowhere, fast.’
‘Ahh, so you have your sights set on the English
department’s Head position, do you?’
I shrug. ‘You never know. At least it’s an
option here.’
‘Right,’ says Todd, nodding.
‘But that’s not what you came to talk to me
about,’ I say. ‘Something to do with after-school sport, right?’
‘You’re on the ball,’ he says with a smile. ‘Um,
yes. You’ll see once you meet everyone that we’re kind of starved for young
blood around this place. It has meant that the ones of us who are fit enough to
coach have had to double up on teams. For me, that’s my job, so no worries.’
We push open the door and walk out into the
quad. A few students mingle but as soon as they spot Todd they make themselves
look busy, and start moving off to class.
‘Now Mr Witton, however. He’s one of our bio
teachers and for the last year he’s taken over the senior girls’ hockey team
and the runners.’
‘And let me guess. He wants to dump one on me?’
Todd laughs and points up the path, beyond the
quad, to a set of large windows on the second floor of yet another red-brick
building.
‘That’s the staff room up there. How about we go
grab a coffee?’ he says.
‘OK.’
We walk in silence. I know which team they want
me to take. Seems it was a stupid move putting my running experience on my C.V.
I’ve done myself out of two free afternoons a week.
‘So Peter Stewart told you I used to run?’ I say
as we mount the stairs to the staff room.
‘Of course. Half-marathons, right?’
‘Yeah. But I haven’t run competitively for
years. I can hardly make it twice round the park.’
Todd laughs. ‘No matter. Anything’s better than
Witton, trust me.’
He opens the door to the staff room and I am hit
with the smell of coffee. One thing at school never changes; the teachers are
all doped up on caffeine. The room is full of a mix-match of chairs, some
cushioned, some wooden. Most circle a pair of black coffee tables, while others
seem to have been thrown here and there. In the far left corner is a small kitchenette.
‘Abigail. Lovely to see you again. How was your
first lesson?’
Beth Armstrong, the head of the English department,
is standing in the kitchenette pouring a mug of coffee. She is wearing her hair
pulled into a tight bun and her tortoise shell glasses hang on a chain around
her neck.
‘It was fine thanks,’ I say, nodding. ‘How are
you, Beth?’
‘I’m well, thank you. Eager to get this year off
to a good start.’
She wraps both hands around her mug and blows
into the coffee before taking a sip.
‘Speaking of which,’ she says. ‘We really do
need to sit down and discuss the curriculum for this year. It is an important
year for the seniors, and we want to make their transition from Mrs Lewis to
yourself as easy as possible.’
As Beth talks she fingers the dragonfly brooch
pinned to her lapel.
‘Yes. Of course.’
‘Milk? Sugar?’ asks Todd, holding up the milk
carton.
‘Just milk thanks,’ I say.
‘Hmm. Yes it wasn’t a good time for her to
retire at all. But with her husband sick, her priorities were obviously
elsewhere.’ Beth takes a long slurp of her coffee and looks at me. ‘Now, you
did get her notes that I posted? I think they will be incredibly valuable for
you at this early stage of the year. How about we sit down now and nut out all
these details?’
‘Yes, yes. One thing at a time, Beth,’ says
Todd, handing me my mug. ‘I was just telling Abby about the running team.’
I smile at Beth. ‘It seems I’ve gotten myself a
running squad.’
‘Well I wouldn’t refer to them as a ‘squad’.
That lot just want to bludge. And Trevor was happy to let them too. That’s why
Peter Stewart was quite impressed with your running history. You should be able
to motivate them.’
‘Beth’s right. They’re seniors, mostly boys, who
just want to have a bit of a laugh. But you do have a couple of good runners
there. Real potential.’
Todd smiles at me again. I know he is trying to
sugar-coat it.
‘Look, its fine. I’ll train with them. Get them
fit and active. Actually, you know, there is a ten kilometre race in May. Maybe
I could sign the best ones up? Give them something to aim for?’
No backing out now.
‘Very proactive, Abigail. Yes, well done. A
wonderful idea.’ Beth is nodding at me.
I look at Todd and shrug. He pats me on the
back, then winks.
‘The first session is tomorrow afternoon,’ he
says. ‘I’ll go with you. Make sure everything starts off smoothly. You’ll be
fine, though. The boys won’t know what hit ‘em.’
***
At lunch Matt and I stand at the edge of the
oval and munch on our meat pies. An excess glob of tomato sauce slides off mine
and lands on the toe of my left shoe. I wipe it on the back of my trouser leg
as I keep eating.
‘So what do you reckon about Mrs Fox?’ asks
Matt, as he takes an enormous bite of his pie.
‘She’s pretty hot, hey.’
‘I reckon. Reggie’s going to have a field day
with this one. We won’t be able to shut him up.’
‘Yeah I know.’ I jam the last of my pie into my
mouth. ‘Mun he cun be a weel pick sum times.’
‘Tell me about it. He’s always giving it to me
about Nicole. I mean, what’s his fucking problem?’
‘He’s horny, and he ain’t getting any.’
We both laugh. Bits of left over pastry fly from
my mouth and one hits Matt fair on the nose. We laugh harder.
‘Maybe…ha…we…should…just…find…him…a…woman…already’
Matt says through the laughter.
I stop laughing. ‘Nah. Let him sort himself out.
Anyway, name one chick who’d want him?’
As if on cue Reggie rounds the corner of the gym
and starts walking towards us. He’s got Rachel Stevenson with him. And he’s got
his hand on her arse. We watch as he whispers something in her ear, pats her on
the butt and sends her off away from us. He saunters up, rubbing his hands
together as though he has just mastered a difficult experiment. He doesn’t say
anything. He waits for us to ask. I look at Matt and he nods. We’re not falling
for that trick.
‘So The Chief reckons I have to help out on the
site after school,’ I begin.
‘Oh yeah,’ says Matt, feigning interest.
‘He’s an arsehole, you know. I told him it’s the
first day back and he’s like...’
‘Aww come on boys!’ Reggie interrupts me. ‘Ask
me what happened with that Rachel bird. Go on, ask me.’
‘We don’t care.’
‘Yeah, we don’t want to know.’
‘We totally got it on. She’s hot for it. Reckon
I’ll be sticking it to her by the end of the day.’
Matt rolls his eyes at me. ‘Whatever.’
‘About friggin’ time. And once it’s done, will
you lay off this filthy skirt chasing?’ I say.
‘No way. I’ll never lay off it, brother. I want
all the pussy I can get.’
He slaps me on the back and walks off towards
the canteen.
‘That’s guy’s a fucking dip shit,’ says Matt,
watching Reggie walk away.
‘Speaking of dipshits. I haven’t told you about
McFadden this morning.’
Matt turns back to look at me. ‘Ohh yeah? What
happened?’
‘I went by the skate park and Amanda was there
with all her skanks.’
‘Right...’
‘She had a go at me too, calling me stupid and
all that...’
‘Bitch.’
‘...then she’s like McFadden’s always up for a
rematch, blah blah blah.’
‘So what’d you say?’
‘Nothing. Just got the hell out of there.’
I pull my can of Coke from my left pocket, crack
it open and take a gulp. Matt stares at me impatiently.
‘Yeah so I’m walking to school and who should
come knocking towards me but the one and only...?’ I pause for effect and wink
at Matt.
‘McFatty,’ we say in unison.
Matt laughs. ‘So what’d you do?’
‘Nothing much I could do, mate. He was on me
straight up.’
Matt gives me the once over, looking for
bruises. ‘Punches?’ he asks with a frown.
‘Nah, not this time. He likes his fights with an
audience. But he was wailing on me all right. Called me a fuckwit. Told me
Amanda reckons I’ve got a baby dick and I don’t even know how to use it.’
‘That’s low, man. It’s not your fault she did
the dirty on you.’
I drain some more of my Coke. I know Matt’s
right. She is a real slapper. But I still can’t believe she went for someone
like McFadden. I thought we had a pretty sweet deal, Amanda and me.
‘Look, mate. I know you reckon you had a good
thing going with her but believe me, you’re better off without her. She’s not
worth it.’ Matt pats me on the back and nods at me. ‘You know?’
‘Yeah, of course I know.’ I try to play it cool
but it doesn’t matter anyhow. Matt and I are good mates, there’s no pulling the
wool over his eyes. He knows me back-to-front.
‘I suppose there’s no hiding from McFadden though.
You going to face him again, you reckon?’
‘Probably. I’m not done with him, and he sure as
hell isn’t done with me.’ I throw my can on the ground and crumple it with my
foot. ‘I’ve got to take him down sometime.’
Matt nods and gives me a smirk. He knows the
score. I can’t let McFadden get away with stealing my girl. It just isn’t
right.
‘Matt?’ a voice calls from behind us. We both
turn. It’s Nicole.
‘Hey babe. Where you been?’ says Matt, throwing his
arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head.
‘Catching up with Sarah. Did you know she was at
the beach for practically the whole summer? You should see her tan.’
‘Thrilling,’ I say.
Nicole stares at me. ‘Oh, hi
Paul
.’ She
says my name really slowly, like some retard. I give her the wassup nod.
‘Any-way,’ she says, leaning her head into
Matt’s chest and patting him on the stomach. ‘Baby, will you come with me to
see Mr Bateman? I’ve got P E next but I want to try and get out of it.’
‘Umm. Ok. What are you going to tell him?’ asks
Matt.
‘Dunno. On my rags or something.’
‘Righto.’ Matt punches me lightly on the arm.
‘Catch you later, dude.’
‘See ya.’
I watch as they walk away, arms clinging,
practically tripping over each other. As they pass by the canteen I spot Mrs
Fox coming out of the main office. She is cradling a thick stack of papers and
as she walks she flicks through them. Her hair has fallen onto her face and
after a few steps she lifts her head to flip it out of her eyes. With her head
raised she notices me so I smile and wave. Instead of smiling back she frowns,
and then looks away.
***
On the drive home I think about Paul Beckett
waving at me and the way he was smiling at me all through class. I’ve seen this
kind of behaviour before; the first day crush that always seems to fizzle out
by mid-week. They all warm to me initially but the longer I stand by that
whiteboard and talk about literature the more boring I become.
I turn right onto Madison and scan the radio
stations for something other than hip hop. Outside my former school I have to
pull up at the pedestrian crossing, as a bunch of kids amble by in their jeans
and sweat tops. Luckily I don’t recognise any from my old classes.