Page 6 of Sex Ed

It was obvious she was going to shag Tommy from P.E. because he’s that sort of man. He has what the young people call rizz. I don’t know if he walks like that because his appendage is bigger than average or because of the amount of sex he is having. I hear the stories because I used to go along to the ‘lads’ sessions in the pub where the men mainly talk about football and women. Neither are my strong suit, but I can tell you now that I’ve learnt a lot about Pep Guardiola’s management style, and to stay away from Sandy the lab technician who apparently is quite the wild one in bed and had a short-lived affair with Andrew from Business Studies who had to have a tetanus shot because she bit him. But the last time I went, they talked about Mia like she was some sort of currency and that upset me, so I stopped going. I’ve never repeated to Mia what they said because she’s my friend but also because I fear what she would do in response. English teachers come with a certain level of passion. It’s all that literature; it gives her a way with words which often involves inventive swearing and talking about the painful ways in which she’d end people.

‘Eddie! Earth to Ed? What’s up?’ Mia asks me again.

‘I’m good,’ I tell Mia as she steals a few more of my crisps, like I’m not physically there. I mean, I am but a woman has just entered the room. Caitlin. Teaches Maths. Crikey. She’s pretty. She looks like a young Cate Blanchett. That is some awesome bone structure. I watch as she stands behind Alicia, scanning the room with those piercing green eyes. I take a long deep breath.

‘Oh me, oh my, Eddie, are you crushing on the new girl?’ Mia asks me, cheekily observing my gaze.

‘No. Stop that…’

‘You’re blushing…’

‘My face is red from anger at you stealing my food,’ I tell her. It’s warm in here. Too warm. I thought we were supposed to be cutting costs in this school; they should turn down the heating. I put a finger underneath my collar, watching her with one eye as she moves around the staffroom meeting people. Not that meeting me will mean anything once she sees the P.E. guys, but maybe we could have a chat and I could introduce myself.Hi, I’m Ed. I teach Biology and I have a cat. She looks like she’d be an ally, someone with pens.

‘Do you know her?’ Mia asks, still intrigued. ‘She’s not an ex-girlfriend, is she?’

‘No… never seen her before,’ I reply, trying to act relaxed.

Mia smiles back at me. ‘Oh, she has a lunchbox.’

‘She looks like the sort of person who understands the need for good nutrition.’

‘You’re so funny… You’re staring at her.’

‘I am not…’ Is it obvious? If she’s going to sit at Monica’s desk, then that’s perpendicular to mine. That would be nice. Not in a strange stalker, ‘I’m-going-to-stare-at-you-a-lot’ kind of way, but I’m currently next to Lyle from History who loves mackerel for lunch and Heidi from Art who makes things with her own hair.

‘Ed, Mia…’ our head’s voice booms over us. We stand to attention. ‘This is Caitlin.’

‘Biology and English,’ Mia intervenes. ‘Nice to meet you. Welcome to the madhouse.’

Alicia’s eyebrows are raised at this comment. She’s not half wrong though. Caitlin laughs and something inside me sighs.

‘Interesting choice of footwear, Miss Johnson,’ Alicia says, scanning Mia’s leopard print Converse. I keep telling Mia there is a dress code in our contracts, but she still comes into school daring to subvert the rules and upset the higher school management. If it’s not the shoes, it’s the many bracelets stacked up her forearm, the literary T-shirts with questionable quotes. I’m not Mia so my pulse quickens on her behalf to hear her being reproached.

‘I’m sorry. I was in a rush. I keep forgetting about the rules.’ She pauses, unfazed and I will her silently to stop there. But then she bites her lip, a cheeky glint in her eye and I know she’s going to challenge the status quo. ‘We do let the P.E. department wear trainers though?’ And there it is.

‘Because they teach P.E.,’ she says plainly. ‘It’s hard enough getting these kids to part with their Air Forces.’

Mia nods, none of it going in though. All she owns is trainers. She has a wall of them in her flat piled like shoe Jenga. The conversation goes painfully quiet for a moment. This is where I need to say something and not sound like a complete and utter idiot.

‘You teach Maths,’ I say to Caitlin, failing miserably in my goal.

‘I do,’ she replies. ‘For my sins. I like numbers.’

‘So do I,’ I say, smiling broadly, knowing I look too happy about this fact and need to play it cool. If I knew how to do that.

‘Well, who doesn’t like numbers? They essentially make the world go round.’

‘That and gravity…’ I add. God, I’m smooth with my science talk. So smooth. Mia knows this and puts an arm around me, almost in condolence.

‘I also like your lunchbox,’ I fumble.

Mia turns her head to me, her eyebrows raised, trying to stop herself from giggling through this bin fire of a first meet.

Caitlin smirks. ‘Why, thank you. I’m hoping I get a minute to eat before my first lessons.’

‘Anything nice in there?’ Shoot me, someone. Just physically stop me.

‘Umm… pesto chicken salad.’

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