Rebecca’s stern shout carries across the room. “Get out, Daniel! Right now! My office! James, your classroom, now! I’ll come talk to you there.”
Yes, Miss
I follow James out of the staff room as Rebecca puts her hand on my arm and says softly, “Isabelle. You need to stay here. I’m afraid I need to speak to you both separately. I’ll catch you at break time in your classroom.”
I sink down into the nearest seat as my eyes well up, a sense of helplessness washing over me. Jen sits down next to me, her arm settling over my shoulders.
“Hey now, it’ll all be okay,” she shushes, rubbing my arm with her hand.
“What the fuck, Jen? How did this go so wrong?”
“Daniel’s a nasty, jealous prick, that’s why. He can’t stomach the idea you knocked him back or that James is happy. They’ve never liked each other because James is a good guy, and Daniel knows he’ll never match up.”
Nail. Head.
My first class of the day drags on, and I try desperately to focus on teaching instead of what’s happening with James and Daniel.
After a disastrous lesson with my year elevens, not that they seemed to notice or care, chattering away while I fumbled through my lesson plan, the bell finally rings. As the noisy teens file out of the classroom, Rebecca strides in and perches on the edge of my desk.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
Our eyes meet. Hers are warm and reassuring. Mine are filling with the tears that I’ve been struggling to hold back all morning.
We haven’t done anything wrong. Rebecca knows about our relationship. It was reported to HR properly. And yet I still feel like we’re somehow in the shadows, like this is something dirty.
“Sit, please, Isabelle. We need to talk.” She gestures to a nearby chair as she sinks into the one beside mine. Her hand settles on my knee, her voice dropping low. “Isabelle, please don’t get upset. I’m on your side. James’ too. But… I’ve had to suspend him. Temporarily.”
My breath hitches. Tears spill over. My heartbeat thrums in my ears, a deafening rhythm that nearly drowns out her next words.
“A complaint was filed. An allegation that your relationship with James started while you were still a student here. That he groomed you. Abused his position.” Rebecca exhales. “James gave me permission to discuss it with you.”
"Fucking Daniel," I seethe, fists clenching. "That bastard won’t let this go, will he? I’ll fucking kill him—”
“It wasn’t Daniel,” Rebecca says quietly. “And I can’t share any more details until the investigation wraps up.
Yes, Miss
But listen to me, Isabelle. We don’t believe it. And we’re here to support you both.”
“Where is James now? Is he okay? Who the hell would accuse him of this?”
“He had to leave the premises immediately. We arranged cover for his classes. He said he was heading home and asked me to tell you he’s all right.” She hesitates. “If you want, I can cover your last two periods. You can leave after lunch.”
Numbness spreads through me. I nod, standing mechanically, smoothing my skirt. I must look wrecked, but I still have a job to do. A year eight music class to teach. Five more minutes of break time to pull myself together.
“Rebecca… I just need to freshen up first. Year eights next.” She nods, squeezing my arm as she leaves.
“You have my number, Isabelle. Anything you need.”
In the bathroom, I fix my smudged mascara, then head to the music room. My chest tightens when I see the piano in the corner, the memory flashing back; James’ hands on my hips, both of us taking that leap into our relationship. I can’t let this ruin him. He’s an incredible teacher. Beloved by students, respected by staff—well, most of them. I won’t let him lose everything because of me.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
I take a deep breath, steeling myself to face the upcoming cacophony for the next fifty minutes, and then I can head home. As I glance out the window, I spot Daniel in the courtyard, laughing with a sixth-form student. If he had anything to do with this, I’ll tear him down, bit by bit. And fucking relish every second of it.
Turning back, I catch him waving at me, complete with a shit-eating grin.
It was game on, fucker. His days are numbered.
