So she says, “The thing about me is I’ve always been someone people turn to in difficult times. You can tell me anything.” She smiles, pats my hand and looks at me, waiting.
Well, the thing about me is my mother is having an affair with the Geography teacher and they both think I don’t know. But I do.
The thing about me is I know he’s looking at me in lessons, trying to work out if I suspect anything. He never catches my eye, always looks away just at the right time.
The thing about me is I saw them together once, hurrying into the store cupboard in R block, checking there was nobody about to see them. They didn’t see me though and when they came out again 15 minutes later, Mum’s cardigan had the label on the outside.
The thing about me is nobody likes me much and this would give them another thing to tease me about. Why couldn’t she pick someone from a different school? Or even the Sports teacher. At least he’s tall and doesn’t have elbow patches.
The thing about me is my Dad left us when I was 9 and I like how it is at home, just me and Mum. What if one day I come home and Mr Gregory is sat on our sofa? Would I have to call him ‘sir’ in my own house?
The thing about me is I don’t want to share her with him. Or anyone. What if they have a baby and I have to share her with them both? Everyone in my class would know they’ve done it.
The thing about me is I want it to be how it used to be, when we lived in the house on Wimpole Street. Before Dad met the Trollop and I went to a new school.
The thing about me is my Mum is the Maths teacher. Nobody likes Maths teachers.
“No, I’m fine thanks,” I say.