Page 105 of Sex Ed

She purses her lips, trying to hold in a smile. ‘I am. And I don’t mind you taking some of the credit for that. I hope that investigation works out with the slap and stuff.’

I shrug my shoulders. I’ve filled in countless written testimonials, appeared in front of a hearing board and got my union involved but I’m still waiting to hear whether I can go back to school, so for now I remain in limbo, drifting back to my house so I can be an adult in my own space, hopefully not drifting towards a life of day-wanking and Deliveroo.

‘I bought you a gift,’ Rachel tells me, putting both hands to her knees.

‘You never buy me gifts…’

‘I buy you shit at Christmas.’

‘You buy me gift cards.’

‘And you give me dusty wine that you’ve either just taken out of a cupboard or bought from corner shops.’

We both look at each other, guilty as charged, and laugh. She goes over to a sideboard and obtains a large coffin shaped box wrapped in brown paper with a bow and I smile.

‘That’s a big gift. Is it a Mr Frosty?’

‘No, it’s not a fucking Mr Frosty.’

I slide my fingers under the paper and rip it off to reveal a ukulele, a red one. Not even one of those cheap ones with the plastic strings that they sell in toy shops, it’s a proper ukulele.

‘It’s a good brand. I’m not duetting at Christmas with you playing those crusty ones Donna keeps.’

I run my fingers over the strings and smile broadly. ‘You got one for yourself too!’ I squeal.

‘Yes, mine is green. I look forward to still seeing you once a week at the community centre,’ she tells me. I smile because she had fun, and she wants to continue having the fun. With me. Despite the very sad circumstances that led to this point, it feels nice to have her by my side, as a sister.

‘You know, we could get Alison involved and we could be a trio,’ I suggest.

‘In time. For now, well done for smashing her birthday cake,’ she tells me, matter-of-factly.

I raise my eyebrows, trying to look innocent. ‘That wasn’t me. It was a disgruntled member of staff…’

‘More a disgruntled sister,’ she laughs, her arms reaching out to hug me. I take that hug and rest my head on her shoulder. ‘Mia May Johnson. The littlest sister, her heart full of chaos, the one I thought I didn’t need.’

‘I’m glad you found the space,’ I joke.

The doorbell suddenly rings, and I hear the sound of little footsteps scamper to the hallway to go and answer it. ‘Were you expecting anyone?’ I ask Rachel and she shakes her head. I arch my head over the sofa and smile at the people standing there.

‘Beth?’ I say, rising to my feet.

‘Thank God you’re in. Come, boys, in you go,’ she says, carrying a few bags with her, sippy cups and snacks. ‘Boys, this is Aunty Mia and Florence and Rachel – these are my boys, Joe and Jude.’

They all amble into the house and I smile to see Beth in mum mode to these two chocolate-haired cuties in matching hoodies and Converse.

‘I’m so sorry for invading your house on a Saturday like this. We’re off to the park, but I had to swing by first…’

‘No apology needed,’ Rachel says, ‘Come on through, boys, and we can get you some juice. You two go through to the living room. I also have biscuits.’

I pull a face knowing I didn’t get those biscuits but follow Beth through as she straightens herself out and re-ties her mum bun. ‘We came on the bus which always feels like a good idea until they keep pressing the bell and decide to take off their shoes,’ she tells me, an early summer sheen of sweat covering her face.

‘Drink?’ I ask her.

‘In a minute. I come with news.’ I try to read her facial expressions as she wipes her face down with one of her son’s muslin blankets. ‘It’s good news. Very good news. Basically, you’re off the hook, you’re coming back on Monday. Alicia went to St Quentin’s to see why Caitlin was passed on to us and it was as we thought, a complete shitshow. Actually, one of the teachers there wanted to pass on their congratulations for you slapping her. You can also be thankful for a Year 8 child who saw that whole fight and told us about it.’ She pulls out some papers from her rucksack, ‘And I quote, “You were acting in self-defence cos Miss Bell went for your hair too and threw a dictionary at you.”’

‘Seriously?’ I gasp, exhaling deeply.

‘Seriously. You’re in the clear. Please come back. My department doesn’t work without you. I have a sub who just keeps showing YouTube in her lessons.’

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