Page 68 of Textbook Romance

‘Gabe? Morning, how are you today?’ Am I flushed? Am I flustered? Have I got lip gloss smeared all over my face? Did he hear the kissing? I hope not because that’s not really a sound that anyone should want to hear.

‘I’m good, Miss. Sorry, is someone in there? I heard talking…’

‘Oh god, no,’ I say, hoping Jack heard that. He really has to stay in that cupboard now. ‘I was just talking to myself, running through my day.’ Because that is a better option than saying I was in a cupboard with another member of staff, the fact that I just stand in cupboards and talk to myself. Gabe gives me a look and smiles. He’s a good kid. I have a number like this – they’re a bit older and have floated through school but suddenly have got to Year Eleven and realise they need to leave here with something, anything. I wish they’d got to such realisations earlier in their school career, but at least I now have something to work with.

‘How are you? How was your match last week? Did you win?’ I ask him.

Gabe looks shocked that I remembered. ‘Yeah, we won. Two-nil. I got an assist. How about your lad?’

I like how Gabe remembers small details of our conversations. ‘He didn’t play this weekend.’

He nods. ‘Actually, Mr Damon was at my match. You know him?’

I let out a small squeak at the mention of his name and try to style it out with a very forced cough. ‘Oh yeah, the new sub. He was there?’

‘He was taking training for some other kids.’

I smile. Of course he was. He’s a young, good-looking man who’s terrific in bed, saves kittens from skips, and volunteers his time for grassroots football. I really need to start hearing bad things about this man to make me think he’s human.

‘Is he a proper teacher?’ he asks me.

‘Define proper,’ I say, trying not to laugh, praying Jack can hear this.

‘Like you.’

‘I don’t know. He’s just doing some cover work. He may stick around, may not. Whereas I’ve been here so long, I sometimes sleep in the school gym.’

‘Do you, Miss?’ he asks, shocked.

‘That would be a no, Gabe.’

As he didn’t get the joke, I get the feeling that he is preoccupied. In fact, that cool confidence that often just oozes from him is absent, so I revert back to his language of football.

‘Well, I’m glad to hear it was a win. Local derby, right?

Again, he seems shocked that I remembered. ‘Yeah. It’s just… Do you have a minute to chat through something?’

I stand there with my multipack of glue sticks, staring at the cupboard door. Jack will be alright, it’ll only be for a moment. He won’t starve and you can get phone reception in there.

‘Of course, take a seat.’ I urge him to close the door first and pull up a seat for him next to my desk.

‘Is everything OK?’ I ask him. He puts his bags down and starts fidgeting, picking at his nails that are bitten down to the skin.

‘There was a scout at that game. A good one. Someone from Fulham wants me to come along to training and see if I like it there…’

‘GABE, that’s fantastic news!’ I tell him enthusiastically, slightly confused at how despondent he appears.

‘It is, it isn’t. I don’t know…’ he mumbles. ‘It’s a big step. I don’t know if I’m ready for it. Plus, they, like, train three times a week and I’ve got exams coming up. It’s a lot of work.’

‘Are you just worried about the balance?’ I enquire.

‘Yeah. I’ll have to get a bus to Fulham training because my mum and dad work. I want to leave here with some GSCEs in case the football don’t work out. And Fulham might not even like me…’

I shake my head at him. ‘Well, you can shush that sort of talk for a start,’ I say. ‘A lot of what these places look for won’t be skills, a lot of kids they take on want hard work, commitment and from what you’re telling me now, I see that in mountains.’ He takes a big sigh and tries to summon up a smile. ‘Let’s change that language about. Let’s say Fulham love you, let’s say the football will work out, you will leave here with GCSEs. I am manifesting that shit for you.’

‘You swore, Miss,’ he reminds me.

‘I know, it was for impact. Don’t tell anyone,’ I say, putting a finger to my lips.

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