#10 – Ominous news

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After a few polite knocks, I open the door and pop my head into the classroom.

“Sorry for the interruption Mr Cleary”

But I’m not sorry, and his not impressed, and I don’t give a fuck.

I continue, “I just need to speak to Zachariah regarding a rather urgent matter”

I wanted some weed. It was urgent enough. Especially after the meeting I just had. Those two shits, O’Donnell and Tovsky, sucked the fucking life out of me. Sweet Mary J. however will kindly return it. Besides, in a previous staff meeting earlier in the year, Mr Cleary had informed all teachers that unless it was an ‘urgent matter’, his classes are not to be interrupted. Interestingly, he didn’t say all classes should not be interrupted, only that his class should not be interrupted. I suppose that’s because no class is as important as his. That’s a sidebar though. My immediate gripe is despite my claim of urgency, Mr Cleary still managed to purse his lips, roll his eyes, and drop his arms, and in a manner reminiscent of a really shitty actor in a really shitty B-grade movie.

You disrespectful cunt, acting like a drama queen in front of the students like that, in front of me, your colleague, and that’s even after my kind, respectful, apologetic tone! How sweet it would be to just bitch slap you right now, in front of all your students.  

Begrudgingly, Mr Cleary nods to Zachariah, giving him permission to leave the class. As Zachariah is making his way towards me. I can’t help but notice how meticulously neat Mr Cleary’s whiteboard notes were. Those x and y axis, were so straight, those step-by-step algebraic calculations, so orderly, with each step having an equation symbol directly parallel to the one above. More impressive though was that Mr Cleary’s whiteboard notes consisted of four different colours. Hold on. Five. Five colours! Fuck me. There is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, just Mr Cleary’s whiteboard, and his multi coloured notes on Quadratics.

***

Zachariah and I stand in the corridor, leaning against the lockers, almost whispering.

“Mr G, great fucking timing I need to talk to you.”

Zachariah was excited, as he moved from side to side, seemingly uncontrollably. He wanted to continue, but I found myself mimicking Tovsky’s mannerisms, raising my hands, with open palms, a plea for peace, for calm, for patience. I was rather disturbed I did that. I quickly brush it off for more pressing matters.

“Wait, wait, wait.” I demanded. “Business first. Is Ms J. available for tutoring today?”

“No, she won’t be available for at least another week, but listen …”

“Fuck!” I hiss, rudely cutting Zachariah off, fearing that I will be compelled to take matters in my own hands, matters involving the pharmaceutical variety.

“Listen!” Zachariah was forced to raise his voice.

I immediately notice his eyes were vibrantly popping, a sight I’ve never seen before. Usually his pupils resembled the evening sun, sinking into the horizon.

“We have a fucking Breaking Bad Heisenberg situation.”

If my attention had a neck, Zachariah was squeezing it, with both hands. O’Donnell and Tovsky would have been envious.

“Donnatella, she’s been back at school for the passed few days right…”

My heart begins to sink.

“… well, ever since she got back, she’s been selling her Dad’s shit, here at school”

Oh.

Oh fuck!

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