*Read new chapters first on www.headmastersflame.com. Free, slick reading experience, tailored for mobile phones, where you can subscribe your email for a free Kindle book.*
It was dark inside the bike shed as Neill closed the door behind them. Natalia was a fluster of frowns and smiling, embarrassed excitement that he’d closed them into somewhere he shouldn’t - was showing her attention she knew he shouldn’t - and now her lunge for the door was more in self-denied excitement at that than the bullies.
‘I just want to get out of this fucking school!’ she edged restlessly, not able to look him in the eye as he blocked the door.
‘You don’t have to go anywhere.’
His hand anchored her shoulder, as her face distorted in disbelief that he was willing to stand with her in a sad shed, to watch her sadly shed, a flow of tears that now came unstoppably, and made her push forward again for the door. Or perhaps, what she really pushed for was the no-budging turnstile of his arm to re-emerge as it promptly did - this time curling both his arms fast around her frantic body - scooping her up and pulling her tight into him, so she was now encircled entirely, his voice at her ear as though in a dream:
‘Hey, what’s so wrong, hmm? What can be so bad as to make you run from me?’
She buried into his chest, sobbing and crying for a good thirty seconds before she realised his hand was on the back of her head, stroking, stopping then stroking a little again, and as she tuned into these cautiously bestowed rubs of affection, her sobs began to punctuate them, finding a rhythm together like morse-code. Her face somewhere in the button valley of Neill shirt, festered on one chosen cotton patch she would be happy to stay upon for a year, as though it would take her that time to muster the courage to look up into the face of this big, abstract thing comforting her, this rescue ship that rained a cologne-and-fag-scented spell of peace upon her like the sawdust they’d rucked up at the floor, falling in the light from the one small window.
Traipsing footsteps of people outside broke their sob-stroke tango.
‘Back, back a bit—’ he ushered in furtive Neill-whisper, a new voice that affirmed the clandestine quality to this union as beautiful as it was; it must now take one melancholy dance step back away from the shed’s small dying spotlight of daylight.
His head, craning for a second to check their concealment, brought its attention back to the top of her head, whispering into her hair follicles that stiffened to hear:
‘It’s ok, it’s ok. I’ve got you now.’
The words quivered inside her like an archery arrow, as sobs ebbed into sniffs and then into recuperative sighs and she quieted completely, signalling their bodies to part, not least from the inappropriateness of their closeness, the window of which was closing, formality restoring, but not before he cupped her chin with:
‘Now look at me,’ he reached a second time for her face, ‘Look at me, Natalia. I can’t bear to have you look away from me all the damn time—’
She raised her inflamed eyes in surprise. Every second was bringing back sentience and she swallowed hard to register now, that if there were sirens screaming all over her body like snakes on the head of Medusa for attention, Neill - her hero Neill - was wielding an axe to every one. Why oh why, oh my god, she wasn’t imagining it all then, he cares for her. For her? Do not smile; she kept her hand shielding her face.
‘Natalia, I saw you between those girls in Assembly… their… asses, literally assembled next to yours - I know something’s going on. Have they done something to you?’
She bit her lip.
‘They have? What? Tell me right now!’
She swallowed in momentary guilt now for keeping this matter secret - as his hand came up to her cheek, and a creeping thumb stroked it.
‘Sweetheart, you know I’m going to help you, don’t you? When have I ever not helped you?’
She nodded as though in a trance, with a surprising little burst of butterflies from him calling her sweetheart. She looked down at an old bike wheel.
‘They’ve been horrible to me for a while but it’s… worse now. They said they’re going to beat me up.’
She glanced up as Neill’s face fell.
‘Shit. When did they say this?’
‘In Assembly. Said they’re going to beat me up tonight.’
He inhaled sharply. ‘Jesus—’
‘I dunno if they’re serious, but…’
He scratched his temple, gazing up at the wall, muttering: ‘Ok. They’re both going to get dealt with.’
‘Wait, wait! I can’t have them knowing I’ve told you…’
‘That will swiftly become irrelevant. I just need a bit of time, just a bit of time, to figure something out…’
His voice trailed in thought as he frowned down at the floor.
‘I swore at them just now,’ she jogged his jacket sleeve in earnest. ‘I can’t go back into school with them around, Neill, I, I just can’t—’
‘Oh?’ His eyebrow raised, and his hand in the sleeve that she jogged, rose to stall hers. ‘What did you say?’
‘Er…’ her brain went like white noise to feel Neill’s thumb and forefinger now giving an affectionate squeeze at the delicate skin at her metacarpals, followed by a gentle back-forth stroke over the nodules of the bones there in her palm like he was measuring the gaps between them, and a smile started to spring so dangerously quickly she had better remember those swear words quick.
‘I told them to go fuck themselves, that they’re awful twats,’ she burst out a grin, ‘or something. I can’t remember what clumsy obscenities tumbled out of my mouth.’
‘Story of my life. Anyway, that’s you on detention, young lady.’
She laughed, and he laughed, and their eyes lingered till she cocked her face away demurely and he squeezed her hand once more - which flushed her face and brought back a certain look of despondency, not from bullies but from disbelief at how good he felt and smelt and dealt with everything for her - and thankfully he seemed to read her dozy looking gape right now as that of a victim.
‘Here’s the plan,’ as his hand fell away. ‘I’m going to fetch them right now— ’
‘No way!’
‘Hush. They’re already in the doghouse with me for breaking dress code. Missing Williams’ homework. And other things…’ His eyes narrowed as he shot a glance out of the window. ‘I’m keeping them both on detention at break and lunch today. So they’ll be well out of your w—’
‘Detention where?’
‘In my office.’
‘Pfft. Lucky them.’
‘Oh, they won’t be getting tea and biscuits if that’s what you mean!’
‘You really want to spend your break and lunchtime with them?’ A girlish giddiness lingered upon Natalia like a priest’s blessing, and in trying to play down her happiness she now leaked indignation like her nervous system was a restless puppy’s tail knocking glasses off a table.
‘Rather that than they make a meal out of breaking you. Are they in your lessons today?’
‘Pastoral right now, and RE next yes… Physics and Food Tech after lunch, no.’
‘Well after I thrash them at break they won’t have the mental capacity to plague you in lessons, so…’
‘Thrash them?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Like your printer?’
He frowned as he comprehended. ‘An apocalyptic thunderclap up Marcia’s backside wouldn’t get that wastrel working. Besides, corporal punishment was abolished in 1984, more’s the pity…’
‘Pity? Thought you were New Age Head!’
‘Lewd Rage. Misprint! Anyway, stop interrupting, and stop laughing, Miss Damsel, or it will be making a comeback on you. Right, next thing is, at hometime you have to get home safely. Can someone come and collect you?’
‘No, my mum can’t—’
‘A taxi then.’
‘I don’t have the money…’
‘Oh I’ll sort it. And I’ll get it to come before the end so get excused from your last lesson ten minutes early.’
‘Oh! Thank you so much.’
They exchanged polite smiles.
‘So this was what was bothering you all along?’
‘Umm…’ Hold my hand again and I’ll tell you…
‘You should have come to me about this before. You shouldn’t have to deal with things like this at school.’
‘Sticks and stones, etcetera,’ she sighed. ‘But I was half-tempted to skive again.’
‘You know I’d find you. All I’d need is the local DIY shops on Google maps.’
‘Shut up.’
‘Well it’s good to see you smile again.’
‘It’s not difficult, watching everything you get away with…’
‘Of course. Just like I’ll get away with what I’m going to do next.’
She bit her lip and sighed again. ‘Thanks a lot, sir. I mean, Neill.’
He nodded, leaned his ear to the door, then opened it cautiously.
‘You go first. Go hang out in the toilet for ten minutes or something whilst I summon them. …Coast is clear.’
She slipped away.
79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUn6bsskUea
*
Marcia and Stacey’s heads were bent like worshippers as the RE class worked in silence on a Christianity module. And the word became flesh. Just like what I’m going to do next, her magician had promised; transforming wastrels into waste, the water of her tears into a tipsy grin, her cup always overflowing after a time spent with him. More than that today, for after his healing touch in her hour of hysteria, he was thoroughly through her, with her, in her.
What had happened was leagues beyond the wrist-grab and the bottom jokes, the salted caramel and cold sores. It was cold hard - or rather, red hot - truth. He had revealed himself to have a rapport with her, that she was indeed special! - and yet - could it be possible that he might be doing the same with other pupils? She looked round at Sam, Laura, Alana, Gemma, Jenny… could he show that level of paternal concern as a ruse to multiple schoolgirls, playing them like a musical orchestra - grooming them, a voice in her head said - for his roaming hands of commanding restraint, the compelling warmth that shocked their victims into warm melting acquiescence… was it all a power trip?
It seemed improbable by logistics alone; she could be his one and only victim, but a victim nonetheless. Was she naïve? Being taken advantage of? Should she put him in his place, and tell him his touch is inappropriate? But then, his caring? His improvements on the school? His inviting of her opinion, his augmentation of her voice, fixing of her self esteem? Making her life happier? How could that be wrong?
79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP3X5IPJDqm
‘Oh, the fellow who organised your lift,’ the taxi driver produced a slip of paper, ‘your teacher. Asked you to text this number that you got home ok.’
Natalia took it with surprise, looking down at the digits with silent excitement and spending the rest of the ride planning what to write. The taxi had barely pulled away, before she was standing on the pavement typing:
‘Got the lift - home now - thanks very much. Natalia.’
By the time she had got up to her room, it beeped back:
‘You’re welcome:)’
She smiled and stared at it for a while, when another message flashed in:
‘Just thought - will you be ok on Monday morning journey?’
She pondered for a moment.
‘Yes... I don’t see them in the morning.’
She paused and continued the message with:
‘But may need another taxi end of Monday? ...sorry to ask ;)’
Three minutes later a reply came.
‘They’ll be sorted by then! ...but if not then yes!’
Wow, Neill.
‘Thanks :)’
- ‘Have a good weekend.’
She stared for a while at that last message, the most banal words from anyone else, but like an anointing from the gods to see on her own phone screen from Neill, her finger caressing the crack in the screen that his words shone through like sun through a parting of grey clouds… as she threw herself back on her bed with a huge smile of relief.
79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡROMyvhQeQ5
*
That night she tossed and turned, still reeling from the encounter, night thoughts creeping in to examine the new, outrageous milestone: Neill’s taboo touch had been upon her. His chest, his arms, his hot-stove hand were still crawling through every cell of her. As though her very innards had been caressed with a promise of protection, one that she knew would be actioned ‘like that!’ with a snap of Neill’s fingers; her school daddy, her big brother that tracked her down, pinpointed the problem and took a laser beam right to it.
She drew her arm across herself to emulate that unshifting turnstile Neill had pulled taut and protectively over her stomach of his ‘sweetheart,’ saved her from getting beaten up, rescued her better than anyone would have dared.
Laying, eyes closed, she scanned her body to viscerally remember: he had gripped her jumper here, squeezed her hip there, then he’d tracked her down and grabbed her neck here, and surreptitiously shoved her into the bike shed and squeezed her tight there, and her hand like this… each body part lit up, tingled, as she mentally called them out. The top half of her body had been literally loved by him, and oh that sweet voice of his, low and paternal that had vibrated through her skull and dripped down like marrow through her bones, as she drew her hand down at the hatch to catch and feel that drip from where that throb - that needle in her urethra - had been prickling for weeks.
Turns out it wasn’t her urethra, or rather, her urethra was twinging from the sprung leak of its downstairs neighbour. She took her paintbrush now, to the mixing tray that presided over them, to circulate the moist mound of her familiar friend she’d known and explored since she was nine, but which was now throbbing with a controversial new delight to stir and blend colours of a new inspiration.79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpZaxNBuwfc
It was ok to wank over a teacher surely. Because she’d even once wanked thinking about Mr Harrison. Not because she fancied him, but because she found him so repulsive. One bored night fingering she’d imagined his big clumsy body rutting against her and his grey mouth falling open as he came. Something that would be abhorrent in reality, that was pure fantasy fodder, a dirty little bloke-style jack off. Burping out sexual frustration, like cracking your knuckles; a clitoral Heimlich manoeuvre to get it out the fastest… slap my back with a big wet fish for all I care. Harden, stiffen, shoot.
But this? This was her body like a marshmallow in the campfire. Smooth, soft, sweet. Falling off the stick, as the fire burns right through the sticky soft stuff, like creative fuel pulsating through her. Fuel, fuel, she’d even called him that to his face, oh he was fuel now, alright!
To stir and make more, more strokes, till a painted butterfly came to life, roused itself, was breaking through bit by bit, and oh! …broke through so quickly, her body distorting as it ripped out from shimmering thighs, leaving her behind as a shuddering chrysalis, that gasps to watch it fly away. Release another? And another? Become a shuddering shell over and over again… before she rolled onto one side to fall asleep in smiling remembrance of how her entertainer, her hero, her verbal jouster - had today become her protector, and now he was lover - just in abstract thought, just for this moment - under her sheets, undetected by the world, so silent her mum creaking the floorboard on the way to the bathroom wouldn’t hear her.
79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7gIQZxNH95
*Read new chapters first on www.headmastersflame.com. Free, slick reading experience, tailored for mobile phones, where you can subscribe your email for a free Kindle book.*
Follow The Headmaster's Flame on Instagram at @headmastersflame
