Bad Education

Chapter II

Doe eyed. Of course she had to be f*****g doe eyed. Like some f*****g Bolshevist Disney Princess.

Alec pushed through the crowd, trying to get to the cars at the gate while cursing himself for letting the colossal rocket sized dildo of a f**k up happen under his watch. Linda Rogers was very quickly moving from a thorn in his side to a jagged rusty axe lodged in his f*****g shoulder. He had to silence her now, lest she manage to single handedly derail the whole f*****g campaign.

And speak of the devil; there she was – scurrying off with Sam, trying to hop into a car before Alec caught them. Not f*****g happening.

Alec lurched into a speedy waddle, ducking past the small children and stray reporters when he finally passed through the school gates and managed to grab the handle of the black car door just before it shut.

“Oh Jesus!” He heard a voice sigh from the car.

Alec wrenched open the door and shoved himself in, forcing the red faced Sam and Linda over along the small seat then slammed the door, locking them all in.

“You can talk, f*****g Judas in a tart’s dress.” Alec spat as he leaned over Sam to point accusingly at her. “Why the f**k are you handing opposition propaganda on a silver titted f*****g platter at our own f*****g press conference?”

“Well I didn’t know she was going to be against the policy now did I, Alec?” Linda rubbed her brow in frustration. “I mean she was standing behind us the whole bloody time I just assumed she supported us.”

“Assumed? You assumed? Let you play a game of Russian roulette you’d probably assume the whole chamber is full of f*****g rose petals.” He huffed. “You assume it makes and ass out of you and you, because I’m not getting f*****g dragged in to your little coal-covered cluster f**k: I’m the one f*****g holding the match above it. And I’m getting really f*****g close to dropping it.”

“It’s not my fault I needed a diversion.” Linda grumbled weakly.

“Are you f*****g kidding me?” Alec let out a cold laugh of utter disbelief. “It’s so much your own f*****g fault, I think the fault casts such a big f*****g shadow past this c**k-up it covers all the other giant shits of history, so much so I’m pretty sure I can blame you for the Hindenburg and f*****g Justin Bieber.”

“I wasn’t expecting on giving a speech to the entire British press!” She tried to defend herself. “Until yesterday this whole thing was meant to be me just saying a quick few words about a policy no-one sodding cares about, take a picture with the principle for the little local newspaper no one sodding reads, smile, smile, have a sandwich, then bugger off. Then you lot swoop in and it’s a bloody James Cameron production complete with explosions provided by f*****g me.

He just glowered at her as Sam started to shrink in the seat between them. “You’re a professional politician, right? You’re getting paid? You’re being paid by the coin purses of 60 million British citizens to sit on the f*****g Cabinet, are you not?” Alec threw his hands out at her in interrogation.

Linda’s face twitched. “Y…yes.” She murmured.

“Well then f*****g act like it.” He shouted back. “In fact, don’t f*****g act like it, because s**t like you couldn't act your way out of a diarrhetic child. f*****g be it. Learn to f*****g think on your feet rather than need over 24 hours to gather your piss-weak excuse of a consciousness enough to change one f*****g line of a pre-written statement. Or have you just given up on the whole ‘professional politician’ thing to begin with?”

“No.” She quickly responded.

“Then shove a cork up your arsehole and stop this f*****g shit.” He let out with a wave off his hand.

“I um…. I will.” She managed to murmur in submission, slinking back in the seat.

“Well f*****g good.” Alec sighed in frustration.

“Good.” Linda echoed from the other side of the car.

“Good.” Sam’s weak voice joined from the middle.

“Who the f**k asked for your opinion you f*****g bad imitation of an afterbirth?” Alec barked with a glare that promptly sent Sam back sinking into the seat.

The car filled with a stifling silence as it edged through the London traffic.

“Look…” Alec finally let out a grated sigh, his hands folded tight around his lean frame. “…on the plus side at least the lass was just shouting about education. No one gives two shakes of a piss-covered c**k about education. They f*****g pretend to, but they really don’t.” He could sense the two cautiously lowering down their guard as he begrudgingly continued to draw them back to his side. “They’ll be some annoying questions but then the whole thing will fade away quicker than the Queen’s fart in the breeze.”

Linda edged her head around to look at Alec. “You’re sure?”

His eyebrows dropped to a firm line. “What the f**k did I tell you about holding back your brain vomit f*****g demon child from the Exorcist – of course I’m f*****g sure! Now sit the f**k back in the corner and think about what you’ve done.”

She swiftly returned back to the seat, leaving Alec to turn his gaze to the outside world crawling past the tinted window.

It would fade away. She would fade away. He knew she would.

But for some unknown reason, as hard as he tried, he still couldn’t get them out of his head.

Those big f*****g doe eyes.

Fuck.

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Claire hitched her bag up her shoulder and strolled quickly through the hallway, hoping she could move fast enough to avoid any of the school children’s off-hand comments about her unexpected outburst the day before.

“Oi Miss whatya protesting today?” A young cocky voice shouted down the hall.

Too late.

She looked at the boy giggling with his mates and gave him a tight smile then quickly turned to escape to the teacher’s room, when she almost ran into the headmaster.

“Mr Turner!” She forced a smile as she cursed her luck. She’d successfully avoided him all day yesterday after the conference, knowing she would be getting quite the berating for putting their school under the critical spot light.

“Miss Archer.” He replied sharply. “Could I have a word with you in my office?”

“Of course!” She tried to reply brightly but he had already turned around and moved down the hall, leaving her to follow, the slow creep of doom rising inside her.

When they made it to his office, she slowly closed the door on them as she tried to gather the words of her apology. “I…”

“Yesterday was interesting.” Mr Turner beat her to it.

“Yeah.” Claire nodded weakly. “I guess it was.”

He leaned on his desk and folded his arms. “Do you know they put you on YouTube? It’s already gotten quite a few hits.”

Her stomach sank. “Has it?”

“The press are no doubt going to try and get a hold of you.” He continued.

“Yeah.” She agreed gravely, waiting for his blow to hit.

“Well, I just wanted to say then, whatever happens – you have our full support.”

Claire whipped her eyes up at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Giving the government a good bullock. We and the teachers are behind you 100% of the way.” Mr Turner replied cheerfully.

She started to get worried. Did he think she was trying to be some sort of martyr? “Listen I-”

“Any statements or protest, we’ll be there for you.” He interrupted.

“Protests?”

“Yes.”

“Um…ok then.” Claire shifted uncomfortably, feeling like she had just been thrown head first into a pool she only wished to dip her feet into. “That’s… um… good to know sir. Thanks.” The headmaster smiled at her with pride as she began to back slowly away to the door. “So… I’ve got to pop off and teach some 13 year olds how to spell, but um… thanks. For your… um… support. I’ll be sure to keep it in mind.”

She gave a polite smile then opened the door and escaped as quickly as she could.

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Alec stabbed his thumb into the centre of a tangerine and tore the orange flesh in two as he loomed over the pages of polling data spread out over his cluttered desk, when the door opened and his second in command stepped in.

“How go things Fortress of Doom?” Craig crooned with his Scottish brogue.

“f*****g dandy.” Alec replied shortly, looking back down at the spreadsheets of data.

“What do the new numbers look like?” He moved up to the desk.

“Like we’re hanging onto the shrivelled up little foreskin with our teeth.” Alec growled.

“Well we better watch out because I think there’s a potential f*****g Bris headed our way.”

Alec shot his eyes up to him. “The f**k happened now?”

“That hot little teacher and her crazy f*****g rant got posted to YouTube, and now the hits are rising quicker than the prick of a horny lad watching that feisty train wreck.”

“How many hits?” He glowered.

“Over 450,000 in 8 hours. And growing.” Craig answered. “The press are no doubt scratching at her door like starved f*****g zombies, so it’s only a matter of time before she jumps on the popularity band wagon and starts throwing her unwanted opinions at everything like some s**t hurling monkey.”

“Find her dirt.” Alec ordered.

“Right you are.” Craig gave a smile. “You want me to give her a call too? Sneak a proverbial dead f*****g horse’s head in her bed?”

“No.” He sunk down into his chair and ran a finger along his jawline in thought. “I’ll talk to her.”

Craig’s eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t you think slaughtering civilians is a little below your pay grade?”

“I’m f*****g sick of letting people screw up all my f*****g masterwork.” Alec glared. “I want her silenced, so I’ll do it my f*****g self.”

“So not a chance to stare down her top then.” Craig quipped.

“f**k you.”

“Change the pronoun in that sentence and you’ve got a quick pick up line.” Craig gave a twisted smile.

“Get the f**k out of my office you f*****g pervert.” Alec huffed as Craig skipped out the door with a knowing grin.

The little s**t didn’t know a thing. He was simply going to stamp the little fucker of a fire out, obliterate all the surrounding oxygen and let it die out before it had any further chance of spreading.

He was just going to do his f*****g job.

Nothing more.

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Claire scribbled a note in the margin of the student’s essay then flicked it onto the small pile of paper beside her with a tired sigh. Eight done, eighteen more to go.

The empty classroom echoed with the squeals and shouts of the children outside, running around in their lunch break, when her own stomach joined in the noise, crying out for the soup waiting for her in the staff fridge.

But she couldn't go into the staff room. The teachers were determined to spend every spare moment that day huddled around laptops, watching the view counter increase on her little ranting video like rowdy football fans. They’d cheered when she opened the door but then she quickly made up some lame excuse about forgetting her bag she was actually wearing, and escaped to her classroom to hide like some friendless kid without a lunch mate.

She had let her mouth go before her mind could stop it. Again. It was always the same. But this time people thought she was acting like a hero, like she had planned to embarrass the PM and incite some revolution.

She didn’t want a revolution.

She just wanted her soup.

Claire slapped another essay in front of her and checked her phone for the time when she remembered she had turned it off since she got a call the night before from a very slimy sounding reporter. No phone and no email. Not until this mess died down. That would teach her to think before she bloody speaks.

“As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods, they kill us for their sport.” Claire jumped in her chair when the schoolyard noise was cut by a Scottish voice. A voice she recognised.

She whipped her head around to see the same thin grey haired man from the day before, the one who had given her a look that chilled her to the bone, leaning hands in pocket against her classroom door frame, his stern eyes squinting at the quote written on the white board behind her.

“Bit nihilistic for young minds, don’t you think?” The man continued before she could speak as his gaze darted to her. “What ever happened to the old carpe dium?”

“It’s not part of the government curriculum.” The replied coldly, finally finding her voice.

“Touché!” He gave a crooked smile but never took his eyes of her, keeping her in a state of unexplainable unease, when all of a sudden he pushed himself off the frame and stepped into the room. “Is it alright if I have a quick word with you?” He asked while closing the door on them anyway.

“Sure.” Claire responded sceptically, watching as he walked up to her desk.

“We haven’t been formally introduced. Name’s Alec Ferguson.” He put out his long, wiry hand with a stretched smile.

“Claire Archer.” She shook his hand with a matched firmness. She noticed his blue-green eyes flick her up and down in quick inspection, then he turned and swaggered around to the front of the classroom.

“I used to love studying Shakespeare when I was a lad.” Alec casually grabbed on of the children’s plastic chairs and placed it before her desk. “Not that I understood one f*****g line of it, mind – I was only interested in hunting down all the naughty words I could.”

“Can’t say boys have changed much over the years.” She deadpanned while he sat down comfortably on his chair, swinging one long sharply dressed leg over the other.

“Aye. But then again kids these days aren’t exactly starved of resources. What with Google… and YouTube.” He threw out the last word casually, but there was something behind his charm, some raw nerve of energy just behind the eyes, that made her cautious.

“That’s why you’re here then.” Claire stated bluntly. “The video. So – do you mean to threaten me?”

“Threat-? No!” His bushy eyebrows stretched up in astonishment. “I’m here to help you, Miss Archer. Your little speech is getting quite the exposure, and the blood suckers and sadist hacks I like to call the British Press won’t take long until they pick up your scent. But then again...” His gaze finally relented from hers to flick to her desk. “…considering you’ve turned off your mobile, I’d say they’re already on the hunt.”

“Of course. Because I’m the one who embarrassed the Prime Minister in front of the country, you only just to help.” She said in mock agreement. “Do you think I’m so naïve that I would hide from the foxes in a lion’s den, when there’s a viral video out there of me saying Lions are pricks?”

“I think you’re naïve about how much trouble you could get yourself in.” His eyes darkened for a moment but then cleared up quickly as he edged forward in the plastic chair. “You were at our press conference, answering a question put forward by our minister – I do feel partially responsible for the s**t storm heading your way and I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least offer my assistance.”

“And what assistance is that?”

“How to handle the press. You’ve done well already turning off your phone but you can’t do that forever. I can assist you in getting out of the spot-light and back to doing your actual job, uninterrupted by political junkies like me.”

Claire looked him up and down. He was a rather an attractive man, now that she thought about it, in a sort of striking, hawkish way. “So what would you advise I do first?” She carefully relented.

“Let out a brief statement. Dilute the blood in the shark tank.”

“A statement?” Claire instantly became wary

“Yes.”

“Saying what, exactly?”

“That what you said was just a personal opinion that you never intended to express under such publicity, or have it construed as some sort of political protest.”

“But it was a protest.” Claire stated simply. His gaze sharpened. “It is my personal opinion that the Prime Minister’s education policy is bullocks, so I said that to him. I protested to him. Isn’t that how this whole democracy thing works?”

Alec bristled. “You may have expressed your personal opinion to him, but the problem is sweetheart, you expressed it in front of ten f*****g TV cameras.”

“So?”

“So not every f*****g citizen has that amount of broadcast range.” His voice turned cold.

“But no one has to listen to me. No one’s forced to agree with my personal opinions. But people have. Quite a few people have, now that I think about I think about it. I’m not about to go back on my views just when they’re starting to gain supporters.”

“Well aren’t you becoming a regular f*****g Pol Pot.” Alec’s brow dropped to a dark glare.

“I’m just trying to make a difference.”

“You want to make a difference? You want to affect national policy? Then get f*****g elected to f*****g Parliament.” He suddenly shot up from the chair and loomed over her desk. “Or do you think f*****g page views and retweets are our government’s future? f*****g meme based budgets and a Secretary of State for f*****g grumpy cats? You can have your viral f*****g video along with all the sneezing babies and f*****g fat cunts with lightsabers, but leave the f*****g governing to the f*****g professionals, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” Claire stood up defiantly to match him. “And I would leave the governing to your guys if they actually did a proper job at it.”

“Oh! My sincerest f*****g apologies Your Highness! I am sorry the entire cabinet and all the public servants haven’t performed exactly to your f*****g whim. But there are other f*****g people in this country we’re trying to serve too.”

“Really? I thought you only meant to serve yourself. Because you’re much more focused on keeping the keys to Downing St than you are about the future of the kids that sit in this classroom everyday.”

“These kids of yours are far better off with us having the keys than the f*****g caviar swilling, self entitled pigs of the Opposition.” Alec spat.

“Really? Maybe I’ll just have to meet them and judge myself.” Claire smirked, enjoying the way his face instantly reddened.

“Do you think this is f*****g amateur hour? Do you think you can actually take on this government yourself like some f*****g Top Shop Mr f*****g Smith? I’m sorry to say this sweet-f*****g-heart but you’re getting way out of your depth. In fact you’re f*****g sinking and you don’t even know it yet. I had the lifesaver, I was going to throw it in, but now I’m just going to sit back with a f*****g Pina Colada complete with a f*****g miniature umbrella and watch you sink to the f*****g bottom.”

“If you’re feeling threatened by one small English teacher expressing her opinion, then your party must be really buggered.”

“You’re not a threat. You’re a pest. You’re one of those f*****g flies from Shakespeare, and I’m the God who will kill you for sport.”

“Then I have no choice but to bite you.”

“Not if I crush you first.”

“Go on then.” She leaned in closer and stared straight into his eyes when a defiant smile rose on her lips. He studied her for a second in perplexity but then his own thin mouth twisted into a Cheshire grin.

“Your f*****g funeral.” They locked eyes, an unexpected chill running up Claire’s spine when all of a sudden he sprang back from the desk.

“See you on the f*****g battlefield, Joan of A Levels!” He strolled to the door, leaving the chair in front of her desk. “Try not to fall on your own f*****g sword before I get to deliver the final f*****g slice, ok?” He said with a point of his long finger, then he swiftly opened the door and disappeared.

Claire’s heart was thrumming at a million beats per second, the adrenaline searing through her veins, when she picked up her mobile and held down the power button as it turned on with a melodic flourish.

So much for keeping her mouth shut.