The 8th: A Tale of Horror and Revenge

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Just like every other day I was the last one into the classroom. It wasn’t because I was late. Most days I was early as I opted to get the earlier bus to avoid the crowds and my fellow classmates. It was just easier that way — with regards to getting the earlier bus and being one of the last into the classroom.

With my heart pounding hard in my chest I stepped into the classroom just behind Mrs Price, the teacher, who paid me little attention as she briskly walked across to her desk, in her tight-fitting black pencil skirt and white blouse, in front of the pupils. I closed the door and pulled the window-blind down to stop people from being able to look in. This was something I didn’t usually do. Normally I was happy for other teachers to poke their noses in — to make sure we were behaving while our teacher had her back to us as she scribbled on the blackboard. Today, though, I don’t welcome their attention.

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