Chapter Text
It is her first day at a new school. One of the teachers has fallen ill and is no longer able to teach, so Alex has been hired to take her place. The term has already begun. In fact Alex had responded to the advert and interviewed over the Christmas holidays, in time to start in the New Year. She is to teach art; a subject she is very keen on, painting at home in her spare time.
She fights her way through the foreboding corridors as rebellious students crash into her, the walls, the lockers, each other; calling names and starting fights. A morning ritual she will soon become used to. One of the lads who is shoved into her, apologises; which makes a nice change, then causes her to blush as he pauses unexpectedly, his eyes studying her before he is pushed again and refocuses his attention on his attacker.
Eventually she makes it to the staff room and flops into a seat as the Head teacher, Mr Bates, offers her a coffee; which she gratefully accepts.
She is introduced to her first class; a rowdy, eclectic mix of teenagers. The noise they produce is nearly unbearable until Mr Bates bellows over the top of them and then the silence is almost deafening. Alex thanks Mr Bates as he leaves her to it, and writes her name on the board in neat, curly handwriting – ‘Miss Kingston’. Then she waits for the questions to start, promising herself not to feel intimidated.
“Miss?” a boy of about sixteen raises his hand. He is tall and skinny, all angles; in his face as well as his limbs, his hair is mousy brown and his fringe falls across his face, hazel eyes almost hidden. She’s seen him before; recognises him immediately, and for some strange reason she cannot wait to discover his name.
“Yes...sorry, what’s your...?”
“Matt, Miss,” he replies with a smile. It’s a different smile than the one he wore this morning, when he bumped into her and raked his eyes over her.
“Yes Matt,” she gives him the go ahead.
“Are you married Miss?”
“I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” she begins, a little taken aback by the question.
“But you wrote ‘Miss’, not ‘Mrs’,” he points out, “so you’re not married then?”
“No,” she sighs, resigned to the boy’s insistence, “I’m not.”
“Have you ever been married, Miss?”
“Yes,” she nods and opens her mouth to accept another student’s question, when he continues.
“What happened?”
“It didn’t work out,” she shakes her head, eager to get off the topic.
“Why not?”
“It...It just didn’t,” she stares at him, annoyed by his impertinence, “it doesn’t matter Matthew.” He hangs his head and says nothing more, so she takes a deep breath and nods at the girl in the corner, preparing herself for the next question.
Matt’s hand shoots up again before the girl speaks. “Miss?”
“What is it Matthew?” she huffs and rolls her eyes.
“I’m very sorry, Miss.”
She frowns. “About what?”
“About your marriage, Miss.”
Her eyes soften at that. It may irritate her, the number of times he calls her ‘Miss’, and the ridiculous subject of his questions. But there’s something about the way he apologises, for something he has absolutely no control over, but knows it would have hurt her; he is so sincere, she smiles. “Thank you.” She nods courteously to him before continuing with the lesson.
Matt, she discovers, is quite a bright child; full of promise and quite able to achieve highly if he puts his mind to it. And his mind; he has a vivid imagination – great for art. He learns techniques quickly and reels out projects almost as swiftly as she gives them the assignments. She wonders fleetingly whether he is really this taken and driven by art or if he is trying to impress her. If it is the former, she is pleased and fascinated. If it is the latter, she is flattered and it is working. She secretly hopes it is both.