Fucking My Teachers Part 1

This was not good.

It had barely been four hours into the first school day of the new academic year and I had already got myself involved in a fight. The most pointless fight. The bell for the end of lunch had just gone and we were playing the standard golden goal rule…other year groups were playing on other parts of the field and a kid in the year below walking by had unnecessarily smashed our ball away, guffawing to his mates as he did so. I confronted him and demanded he goes and gets the ball for us. In school uniform we weren’t too different in stature, both pretty tall and not amazingly muscular, but who is when they’re 15…he refused and I pushed him. In retaliation, he lashed out, punching me in the face. My glasses had fallen off and I had stumbled backwards groggily. Getting hit in reality is very different to what people expect. The fantasy of being able to take punches and give back is far from the truth for the average person. Rather than fighting back, the pain had taken over and I was trying to recover. He had instantly apologised, obviously sincerely, and came to see if I was okay. We were acquaintances before hand and this had all happened very suddenly in the heat of the moment, I was apologetic too for my reaction. My vision was a bit hazy and blurred and my nose was bleeding a bit but otherwise I was not too badly damaged.

I had no intentions of reporting this. We would both end up in heaps of trouble, me for starting the physical violence and him for retaliating, it would be fruitless.

“You okay buddy?” I heard my friend Adam say.

“That was bang out of order from him” said another.

“Should we rough him up for you?” a third said jokingly but with an edge of seriousness.

“Nah it’s okay, I’ll just go wash my face, can you tell Mrs Hutchinson where I am? I’ll skip registration and just go straight to history.”

“Sure thing Rick, you sure you don’t want one of us to go with you?”

“It’s cool” I replied, and walked away.

I was annoyed. ‘Beaten up by a year 10’ is not the reputation I needed for the start of this year. I had high hopes (/unrealistic dreams) for my chances with girls this year. My year group was turning 16, the legal age in England for sex. Of course, I didn’t expect everyone to suddenly start having a massive orgy, but I felt certain things would start changing this year and I would have the opportunity. I had about 7 or 8 female friends I was reasonably close to and felt I had realistic potential with, but I had always been pretty timid around girls. I wasn’t one to flirt massively or make my intentions very obvious, or even make a genuine move. I knew I was hindering myself but could never bring myself to do anything. All fantasties I had about potential scenarios with any one of these girls hinged on my confidence, which was disappointing lacklustre, and deep down I knew this could prevent anything and everything from happening.

I reached the bathrooms and looked at my face. My right eye itself was pretty red and looked like I had been crying…it was surrounding by a sea of purple, slowly turning a darker shade. Blood was smattered across my cheeks and mouth. With my gelled up hair and ruggish attire, I looked strangely attractive. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all I thought to myself, and half smiled at the stupidity of that thought. I proceeded to wash my face for a few minutes and tried to sort out my shirt, a little blood had dripped onto it, which was pretty difficult to wash out. I just left it and looked at myself again in the mirror. The bruise was incredibly visible. I sighed, knowing the inevitable questioning that was going to come from almost everyone I would see.

I walked out of the toilets and started walking towards my history class, the bell for the end of registration and beginning of classes had already gone a few minutes ago. I was glad for my lateness as I wouldn’t have to walk through corridors full of kids staring at me and gaping as they noticed my face, but then realised I’d have to walk into my class, full of people who would see my straight away. I wouldn’t be able to hide as I entered.

“Fuck’s sake,” I whispered.

“Rick?” I heard a voice say.

“Oh hey Alan,” I glumly said as I turned the corner of the corridor and my friend (who hates football) came into view.

“Shit man what happened to you?” he asked, as he gazed upon the damage. I recounted the story as briefly as I could.

“Ah unlucky…that’s not gonna do wonders for your reputation…and you’re going to have to walk into history with that showing, loud and proud to the whole room.”

“I know, not looking forward to everyone begging for the gossip.”

“I’ll try and shield you as we go in” he offered.

We had arrived at the room, and Alan walked in first. I followed trying to stick behind him. I had hoped the class may not have properly started yet and people were still talking, but it seemed as though the lesson had literally just started and the teacher, Mr Smith, was introducing the day’s topic, so all eyes were on the front of the classroom; unfortunately, this was where the door was situated.

“Sorry we’re late sir” Alan said, trying to distract the attention away from me.

“That’s ok” he said understandingly, “Try not to be late again though please.”

He was one of the more lenient teachers, I was not surprised by this reaction. However, Alan was not an invisibility cloak and couldn’t block off the gazes of the entire room of 25 students. There were gasps from people dotted around the room as my face came into view, despite me doing my best to shuffle hastily to my seat. Mr Smith heard the gasps and noticed my face.

“Jesus, Rick, what happened? Your eye’s black and there’s blood all over your face and shirt!”

“Oh um” I stuttered, not wanting to get myself into trouble or inform more people of the embarrassment I had suffered. “I walked into a locker” I said, very unconvincingly.

I looked down at my shirt and saw that more blood had dripped onto it. My attempts to clean it up in the bathroom had been successful but it appeared the bleeding had not stopped during the last five minutes.

“Now come on Rick, there’s no need to hide from the culprit. I know snitching is not a good thing, but physical violence is intolerable in the school and the person must pay the penalty. You must say who it was.”

I hesitated, unsure what to do. Before I had made up my mind, someone called out from across the room.

“It was Ashley wasn’t it? That year 10 kid”

Others in the room had been playing football with me. It was one of those big ‘half the year group playing’ style games of football and I had been naive enough to not realise how many others had seen

“Haaaa Rick got taken by a 14 year old” someone else shouted.

A few boys started laughing across the room. My face flushed red.

“Well, I will be reporting this to your housemistress, Rick, don’t you worry, Ashley deserves to be in trouble for this. Now, why don’t you go to matron and get her to sort your nose out properly?” Mr Smith said.