37. Megan
Chapter 37
Megan
The ‘fresh meat’ Hattie matched me with last week suggested meeting for a drink tonight, and though I felt confident when I said yes on Tuesday, my stomach has been in knots about it ever since.
He has potential. We’re the same age, he looks good in his photos, and there were no red flags on his profile. In theory, he’s everything I like in a man; tall, nice smile, decent clothes. We seemed to get on well in our first few messages, and though I was surprised he suggested drinks so quickly, I took Ollie’s advice about putting myself out there and agreed. Our conversations have dwindled a little since then, but I’m hoping that will mean we have plenty to talk about tonight.
Still, it's my first date in years and I can't think straight. I need help.
Making sure the door to my classroom is firmly closed, I put my headphones on before ringing Kara’s number. The last thing I need is one of my students walking in and hearing this conversation.
“Hi, babe,” she answers brightly. “I’m with Hattie. Can I switch to video?”
“Sure.” I wait for the call to connect and there they are, my two best friends, hanging out together in Kara and Luke’s kitchen. I stifle a pang of jealousy. Since Hattie left her job in London and started working for herself, the two of them have regular co-working days. I’d love nothing more than to join them for a proper catch up, but lunch breaks are a distant memory when you're a teacher.
I’m meant to be writing school reports, but I can’t concentrate at all. Hattie and Kara have bombarded me with texts about my date since I dropped the news this morning, and it’s done nothing to calm my nerves.
“Are you excited?” Kara asks.
“I’m panicking about what to wear. We’re just going for drinks. What do people wear to bars these days?”
“The black dress with the scoop neck. It makes your tits look amazing,” Hattie says without looking up from her laptop.
Kara shifts the screen back in her direction. “Honestly, you’ll look amazing in whatever you wear. Don’t overthink it. You didn’t answer me, how are you feeling?”
“Nervous, mostly.” Nervous is an understatement. My stomach is twisted so tight I can’t face eating. “He seems nice in his messages, but I don’t know much about him.”
“That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Getting to know each other in a low pressure way.”
Kara does her best to be reassuring, but nothing about dating feels low pressure to me. For all I know, I could be walking into that bar to meet the love of my life, my future husband, the father of our three cute, chubby-cheeked babies. I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m an all-or-nothing kind of girl, even more so after being messed around by Max for so long. I know what I deserve, and it’s not a drunken one night fumble with some guy who’ll forget my name before we’ve even said goodbye.
“Wait… he’s not that dentist, is he?” Hattie says, collapsing into a fit of giggles. Kara’s brief dabble in dating apps a couple of years ago ended up with her meeting a guy whose conversation was mostly innuendo about ‘filling her cavities’ . Hopefully, my date will be able to at least carry a good conversation.
“Not the dentist, trust me, I’ve been on alert.”
A loud knock on my classroom door interrupts me. “I need to go. Talk soon.”
“OK love, send us a photo of your outfit before you go.”
“Will do.” I hang up to a chorus of ‘love you’ and ‘good luck’ , just as Mr Jenkins throws open the door to my classroom.
“There you are, Miss Porter.”
Yes, here I am, in my classroom, where I work. Considering he’s the headteacher, Jenkins can be pretty dense sometimes.
“Hi, Mr Jenkins. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve had a complaint from a parent regarding homework you set. The parent in question would like to know why their child is writing obscenities in their school books. Care to explain what on earth is going on here?”
He drops a printed photograph of an exercise book onto my desk and I recognise the handwriting immediately. Joshua Pendleton’s essay about WAP by Megan Thee Stallion . I suppress a smirk. I knew when I set this homework that most of the kids in this class would push the boundaries and test me, but it worked. Our class on song lyrics was the most interested they’ve been all year.
“I can explain.”
“I think you’d better,” he huffs, resting his hands on his hips.
“This class has been really struggling to engage with the curriculum material this year. In particular, they find it difficult to interpret texts and to draw conclusions about meaning within the writing, so I decided to take a different approach. At first we watched a video, and I asked them to consider how it made them feel, then I asked them to write out lyrics to a song with an accompanying essay about what the song was about and how it made them feel. We’ll be working on poetry next, I promise we haven’t veered too far off track.”
“I don’t need to tell you how important English is for university applications, and how important those acceptance rates are to this school. Nobody’s getting into Cambridge for writing about how music makes them feel.”
This probably isn’t the time to tell him several people have gotten First Class results for dissertations on music and songwriting.
“And the language in this piece is outrageous. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
My cheeks flush pink at such a vocal reprimanding. I hate confrontation at the best of times, but when I’ve been trying to make a good impression, it’s even worse. Tears prick at my lashes.
“I'm sorry. I should have told them to choose pieces without profanity.”
“Yes, you should have, but you teach English, Miss Porter, not music. You’d do well to remember that. Stick with the set texts from now on.”
“Absolutely, Sir. It won’t happen again.”
My heart is heavy as he leaves without closing the door behind him. I pick up the abandoned print out and read the lyrics again. They are pretty outrageous, and far worse than Shakespeare's ‘I fart at thee’ . Still, I can’t regret it when I know how much this turned the energy of the class around.
A text from Hattie flashes up on my phone.
Hattie: Remember, you don’t owe a date anything, and if it’s not going anywhere you can always go home and climb that hot roommate of yours. Or call us and we'll come save you. We love you!
The bell rings, and I stash the paper in my desk drawer, knowing the urge to climb Ollie is exactly why I need to go on this date.