Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Or perhaps I’m just paranoid.
Either way, the man just gives me a bad vibe. And let’s face it, if an emotional sadist is getting bad vibes off a person, then there must be something amiss.
This whole business with the essay started up because he wanted to “personally oversee” my work since I’m a “problem student” and seem to have trouble composing lengthy pieces of writing. In response I threw my book at him and said he and the essay could go fuck themselves.
As a result, I had to spend an afternoon sitting outside the principal’s office. The next day Mr. Brennan called my mum in and we made an agreement that they wouldn’t expel me for physically assaulting a teacher if I behaved from now on and completed the essay by the deadline.
Physically assaulting, my arse.
The book had sailed right past his head and thumped off the side of the blackboard.
Mum’s rubbing at the creases in her forehead now, looking the picture of a parent who’s at the end of her tether.
All of a sudden, Lana speaks up, her voice soft and inquisitive. “Who do you have for English?”
I’m so surprised she’s actually addressing me that I don’t know what to do for a second. Finally, I find my voice. “Arsehole Brennan.”
“Robert, language,” Mum scolds, lifting her fork back up.
“Oh, I have him, too,” says Lana, suppressing a smile at my nickname for him. “I’ve never liked him, either.”
“Thank you!” I exclaim, clapping my hands together. “Now do you see?” I ask Mum pointedly.
My head instinctively drifts toward Lana then, as I fight back the urge to kiss her like I did last Halloween.
“Don’t encourage him, love,” Mum interrupts, looking to Lana. “He doesn’t need any more excuses not to get along with the man.”
“Shush, Mother,” I say with glee, turning to face Lana properly. “Go on, tell us all why you don’t like him so that I can prove once and for all that I’m not being unreasonable.”
Mum shakes her head, exasperated.
“Well, my friend Ronan has a mild form of dyslexia, and Mr Brennan isn’t very understanding about it. Sometimes he shouts at him because he takes longer to do assignments than everyone else. Ronan gets very upset about it.”
Bloody Ronan. He better only be her friend like she said and not her boyfriend; otherwise, I feel I might have to interfere and scare him away. He’s not going to put his clammy little paws on Lana if I have anything to do with it. Still, I’m glad Lana brought him up so now Mum might believe me about Mr. Brennan.
“Well, Mum, what do you have to say about that, then?” I ask her smugly.
“Robert, you have three months left of school. The man might not be the best teacher, but can you please just tolerate him for the duration? It’s not like you’ve got years and years ahead of you.”
“True, but I’ve already suffered him for years and years, and quite frankly, I’ve had enough.”
“Don’t you start in with the ‘quite franklys’, Robert. You’re not your father,” Mum scolds.
“God, Mother, exactly what part of your psyche is so intent on making me suffer?”
“That’s enough now, Robert. I’m not getting into this with you.”
I smugly fold my arms across my chest. Sometimes I just can’t help myself but to rile Mum up. With a condescending tone, I say, “The rumours must be true about Freud saying that the Irish are the only race he knows who are impervious to psychoanalysis, because I really can’t understand you sometimes.”
“I’ll give you an impervious slap across the head in a minute if you don’t shut up.”
“Ah, there you go again, avoiding the issue.”
Wanting to have the last word, I stand from the table, leaving my food half eaten, and walk straight out of the house. I don’t come home until late when I know Mum will be asleep.
The next day at school it’s sunny out, so everybody’s sitting on the grass at lunch instead of staying in the canteen. As I’m making my way outside, I spy Lana and Ronan shading themselves under a tree. They’ve got several textbooks spread out around them. Now might be a good time to find out what the deal is with the two of them, and since I’m technically speaking to Lana again, it won’t seem too weird that I’m approaching her.
“Hello, neighbour,” I announce cheerfully, plopping down beside her on the grass. “How are you this fine afternoon?”
Her shoulders go tense, and Ronan eyes me curiously. He obviously knows who I am, because my reputation often precedes me at this school, but he’s probably wondering what I’m doing sitting with them instead of my usual group.
“Hi,” says Lana warily, giving Ronan a look that says, I have no idea why he’s here but I really wish he’d leave.
There’s a silence, and I grab one of her sandwiches from her lunchbox.
“That’s mine,” she protests as I take a bite. It’s some sort of healthy chicken salad number, but it still tastes pretty good.
“I know,” I tell her with a wink. “Don’t you get the canteen lunches?”
“No, um, my mum prefers me to eat food from home. It’s healthier.”
“It also doesn’t taste like crap. Your mum makes good sandwiches. You’ll have to offer to share with me more often.”
“I never offered.”
“You should give that back,” says Ronan, finally summoning up the balls to speak to me.
I take my time putting the sandwich back down before leaning across Lana so I can look him straight in the eye.
“What was that, fucker?”
Ronan’s cheeks go bright red, and his eyes shy away from me. “Nothing,” he mumbles.
“Thought so,” I say, giving him a hard smile.
Lana pushes me back into my place. “Leave him alone. Leave us both alone. You’re not wanted here, Robert.”
“I like it here. It’s cosy,” I say with a big grin, showing her my teeth. I’ve fallen right back into my old ways. All those months of abstaining, and I break this easily.
“Fine, we’ll leave then. Come on, Ronan,” she says, gathering her books.