Chapter 15
Theo
“Absolutely not!” She squeals as I emerge.
I didn’t realise that dressing as a teacher was such a big deal. I mean, she’d had nothing to say over the last couple of days as I threw on the first of her t-shirts and jeans that I could find.
“Theo, I’m supposed to be having a formal lesson observation, not nipping round the corner shop.” She shakes her head, grimacing at me. “And the makeup and hair? Have you even bothered?”
I gulp, knowing that she wouldn’t like the answer. “Well, no. But Astrid, come on. What would I know about hair and makeup?”
She tuts, heading back into the wardrobe and re-emerging with a Baby blue, floral dress, tights, a shit ton of makeup and some sort of hair device that looked more like a little friend that Astrid would keep in her bedside drawer.
“Sit.” she demands, pointing to the chair at her desk. I knew there was no point in fighting it. I was getting an Astrid makeover whether I liked it or not .
“Eww.” She whines through gritted teeth as she stares at my face, armed with makeup tools.
“What?” I ask, looking up at her face in disgust.
“Just never quite realised how fucking grim I looked without makeup.” She lets out a faint laugh, but I can tell she’s being serious. That was the thing that most people often didn’t realise about Astrid. She was fiery, and took no shit from anyone. But underneath the mask, she had her insecurities. Unwarranted ones in my opinion. She was always gorgeous; a blind man could see that. To be honest, I actually preferred her without makeup, and I wasn’t just saying that. Her constellation of Golden freckles, her naturally rosy cheeks, her soft lips. I never understood how she couldn’t fathom her natural beauty. I remember the first time she took her makeup off in front of me, she cried. I couldn’t believe how she could let something so small damage her so much. She kept hiding her face with her hands or underneath a blanket, and it was only when we were watching a funny scene in a film, where her guard was completely down and she was fully distracted, that I saw her. Her mouth was so wide with laughter that I could see her whole set of teeth, her Caramel eyes squinted adorably as she chuckled, and she just looked so real . So Astrid. I never stopped telling her how perfect she was. She never believed me, but I didn’t care. I’d continue to remind her forever, and although things were different now, I still wanted to keep that promise.
“You’re perfect.”
I see something flicker across her face, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. A ghost of a smile brushes her lips, and only if just for a moment, that was still more than enough for me.
“I don’t know why I’m bothering doing this for you.” She says, clearly changing the subject, “If you’re going to be me for a while, you’re going to have to learn how to do it at some point.”
“Oh god, please no.” I argue, as she hands me a black tube that looks like a felt tip pen.
“Just draw a black line over your eyes. Even if you can only do that, that’s somewhat good enough.” she demands, waving the tube in my face.
I exhale a breath before turning towards the mirror and attempting my masterpiece. It was abundantly clear that I’d drank way too much coffee this morning, my hand was shaking all over the place. Eventually, when I managed to steady it somewhat, I closed my eyes and drew a line.
“What even is that?” Astrid snorts.
“You told me to draw a line over my eyes?” I ask, confused.
Sighing, she replies, “I didn’t mean literally draw a line directly on your eyelid! When have you ever seen girls with that?”
“Maybe you should stick to it.” I say, shoving the makeup firmly back into her grasp.
“Maybe it’s for the best, sausage fingers.” She winks, before rubbing my eyes with a wet wipe and hiding the evidence.
◆◆◆
After what felt like an eternity, I was officially Astrid-fied. I wouldn’t ever understand how women had the energy to do all of this in the morning. It was commendable. I was usually a roll out of bed, throw some clothes on, have a piss, brush your teeth and be out the door with 5 minutes to spare kind of guy.
Astrid stared at me intently, like she thought something was missing. Her eyes scan to my feet. “Aha, that was it!” she bellows, scrambling about on the shoe rack before unveiling a pair of black heeled boots.
Oh fuck no.
“Astrid, I’m going to break my neck if I try and walk in those.” I plead .
Looking at me with desperate eyes she replies, “They’re my good luck heels, I’ve always done well whenever I’ve worn them.”
Deciding not to argue and accepting my fate, I take the heels from her and put them on, stumbling about in the process.
“Well if I accidentally trip and fall over one of the kids, I’m not taking any responsibility.”
She shakes her head before passing me her holy bible, AKA, her binder. “Remember everything we talked about. If you find that you forget something or get nervous, just be super adorable with the kids, and encourage them to choose a song to sing, or story to read, and the cute factor will let you off and buy you some time whilst you have a think. Good Luck.”
Balancing a binder whilst wearing heels should be considered a sport. As I pull up at the school gates, (yes, I know that technically I shouldn’t be driving because I’m Astrid and obviously she doesn’t have a license. But I figured I passed my test years ago, so I had no reason to worry about getting pulled over), I notice the sea of children and feel the nausea rise through my stomach. How the fuck was I going to pull this off and remain unscathed. I knew absolutely nothing about being a teacher and Astrid’s reputation was riding on this. She’d be going to my work tomorrow, but that would be like a walk in the park for her compared to the role I had to play today. Following the map, (read: the childlike cartoon blueprint that Astrid drew for me of the school), I enter through reception using her keycard and follow my way to a room called Willow Class.
When I open the door, I’m immediately greeted with a beaming woman, with jet black hair scraped into a bun, a crimson jumpsuit, white pumps, (so heels are clearly not as much of a prerequisite as Astrid made out then), and a name on her keycard that said, ‘Miss Singh.’ This was obviously the famous Yaz I’d heard about, but never met. I didn’t know if Astrid actively went out of her way to keep her friends from meeting me, but the fact they’d been colleagues and best friends for the past 3 years since Astrid began teaching here, I’d say that it sure felt like it.
It was safe to say, I felt like a tiny fish in a massive pond as I gazed around the vast classroom. There wasn’t a single wall that wasn’t lathered with colourful displays of the children’s work, there was a makeshift Grocery shop in the corner of the room, that was full of plastic fruit and veg, a ‘What makes me special?’ area that housed a giant mirror surrounded by words of affirmation, a giant turquoise display with fishing nets, pirate ships, and various creatures hand-painted down the front, and the best part, there was an alcove covered by a huge carboard painting that resembled the Wardrobe from Narnia with the words, ‘Step Inside’ splayed across the top. I went to open the flap, fully expecting to find nothing but a wall behind it, only to be welcomed by a secret room, full to the brim with children’s books, an illuminated lamp, made to look like the iconic streetlight, and endless amounts of cotton wool for snow. Had this been what she’d been doing when she stayed late all those nights after work? It was phenomenal, and more than I could ever imagine doing in my spare time.
“Doing some last minute checks?” a voice sounded from behind the other side of the wardrobe.
Be Astrid.
“Uh yeah.” I respond, wishing to all that is holy that I could just stay inside Narnia forever, (or at least for the remainder of this observation anyway.)
“Bit nervous to be honest.” That was true, and likely something Astrid would say.
Yaz nudges me on the shoulder, “Hey, you’ll be fine! You always smash it, and I’m sure you will again. I’m pretty sure you could do it with your eyes closed.”
Yeah but could she do it with someone else’s mind inside her body?
“Huh?” Yaz asks.
Shit said that out loud. So much for keeping it low-key.
“Sounds like someone needs their caffeine hit.” She grins, already thrusting a massive cup of coffee in my hands.
Taking a much-needed sip, I reply, “You’re a star.”
“Yeah, yeah. The best TA ever, I already know that.” She winks.
I liked her. She seemed cool. I guess I was always under the impression that teaching staff were always on edge and always had something to complain about. I mean, Astrid literally did nothing but complain about her job, so it was a welcome sensation to meet someone who didn’t seem like they wanted to curse the world.
Heading over to Astrid’s desk, I’m not at all surprised with what I find. Everything is laid out alphabetically and is colour-coded, any subject you wanted to find was accessible within about 2 seconds of looking. I always moaned about her being a clean freak, but in this scenario, I’m so glad she was. My chest started to soften as I realised that if there was any teacher I had to be for the day, I’m glad it was someone like her who planned to the nines. My moment of Zen is instantly shattered by the blaring sound of a school bell that transported me back to my own school days, man I hated that bell. It meant we were about to enter the depths of hell.
“Are you going or shall I?” Yaz says, her forehead etched in confusion as she watches me freeze in my tracks due to the sound.
There’s no way I’m going out there with practically the whole school outside. The opportunities for socialising were far too great. I might as well be thrown to the lions at the zoo.
“Uh, if you could go Yaz that would be fab, thanks.” I mutter, hoping this wouldn’t be an out of the norm request.
“Sure.” She salutes as she heads out the door.
The next 5 minutes are painstaking as I wait for the mass of minions to arrive. I’m tapping frantically on the side of my mug, wishing that the ground would swallow me hole. I hadn’t felt nerves like this in years. With the last two times being when I was still a teenager. One, when I was doing my A levels, and the next, when I did my driving test. How did Astrid cope with the nerves of standing up in front of people every day? I knew they were kids, but I’d still have around thirty eyes boring onto me for a full 6 hours.
It's in that moment that I’m drawn to the sound of tiny giggles and trampling footsteps of the stampede. “Walking please!” I hear an already-exhausted sounding Yaz shout from the corridor. “Remember that we put our coats and bags on our pegs.”
Yaz quickly pops her head around the corner of the room, “Aren’t you doing your morning welcome today?”
My morning what?
I tiptoe over to the door to meet her, trying my best to contain my anxiety as the noises of the children grow louder, the closer I get.
She raises an eyebrow, “You know, the high five, hug, dance, or handshake?,” flicking her eyes to the poster on the front of the door with symbols of all of those greetings.
“Miss Cwawtwight!,” a small voice squeaks from below. I couldn’t ignore the stab in my heart as they mispronounced her name. Okay, I’ll admit, it was kind of cute. I look down to find a tiny girl, with strawberry blonde pigtails, red plaid school dress, and a pair of thick-rimmed pink glasses, craning her neck to look back up at me, with her hand raised in a high five.
She was looking up at me like I was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen. I had to be that for her, today I was going to be Miss Cartwright, and I was going to do a bloody good job too. Bending down to her level and returning her high five, I say, “Hi!”, quickly realising I have no idea what her name is. Why didn’t children come with name tags too?
“Go and find your seat on the carpet Matilda.” Yaz said kindly, ushering the girl towards the whiteboard. Matilda. One child down, another twenty-nine to go...