My Ten-Year Crush by Olivia Spring

Chapter Two

Give me strength.

I was stood at the front of the classroom, trying to have a serious discussion about The Fault in Our Stars,the book we were reading together. And rather than focusing on the important issues raised in the novel, such as serious illness, the misfortune of fate, and the story of falling in love in the midst of tragic circumstances, what were a few of my troublesome pupils focusing on? The brief sex scene, which wasn’t even detailed. God help them when they were old enough to read Fifty Shades of Grey.

Loud chatter and giggles vibrated throughout the room.

Holding the attention of thirteen-year-olds was tricky at the best of times, but especially during the last lesson on a Friday afternoon, when I knew they’d already checked out mentally and were counting down the seconds until the weekend. Same here.

‘Settle down, please.’ I raised my voice.

Kieran, who I suspected was the ringleader of the commotion, was teasing Mandy, one of the quieter, more studious pupils.

‘Do you have something you’d like to share with the class, Kieran?’ I folded my arms. ‘What are your thoughts on the healing power of love explored in the novel?’

‘What, miss?’ Kieran turned to face me and frowned. I knew he wasn’t listening. Gradually the class quietened down.

‘I said, tell me what you think about the story of Hazel and Augustus and how love helps with their pain and suffering.’

‘What I think, miss, is that Augustus felt much better when he finally did it with Hazel!’ He smirked and the whole class erupted into laughter.

‘Is that your answer?’ I raised my eyebrow.

‘Do you have a man, miss?’

Here we go.

The asking personal questions stalling tactic routine. The more they got me to talk about myself, the less work they’d have to do.

I almost wanted to laugh at the lunacy of the question. Me having a boyfriend! Chance would be a fine thing.

Highlights, or I should say lowlights,of my last ten years of dating flashed into my head. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

For the first four years after uni, I’d gone for the handsome, fun guys, so Greg, Leroy and Heath. But none of those relationships had lasted for longer than a year. They’d all dumped me because they thought I was too sensible. A word I took to mean boring. That was when I’d decided to change my dating strategy. It was clear that if I continued choosing guys who loved partying and doing wild things, then of course sooner or later they’d realise they couldn’t stay with someone like me, who enjoyed quiet nights in, watching a good TV series or reading a book.

So then I’d decided to date less adventurous men like Howard. He was sweet and okay-looking, but boring as hell. We’d spent our Sundays trainspotting and only had sex twice a month (always on a Thursday evening, don’t ask me why) and always in the missionary position.

I remembered one Saturday lunchtime after two years of bedroom boredom, I’d suggested we try the sofa. He’d looked at me like I’d just asked if he wanted to go to a swingers club and have a threesome.

I couldn’t bring myself to dump him—after all, you can’t expect one man to satisfy all your needs (and at least having a rigid sex regime meant I knew what day to wear my best underwear), and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. So imagine my surprise when he broke up with me,because he wanted more from life. Pff!

I’d then had two failed relationships with Shawn and Ade that I’d stayed in way past their expiry date, just in case. Even though we hadn’t had great chemistry, or I hadn’t found them massively interesting and I’d known I should call it a day, I’d lived in hope that something might change.

They weren’t perfect, but neither was I. Everyone had their flaws. Better the devil you know, I’d reasoned. I knew things could always be worse, so I’d stuck it out. But sooner or later, they’d both ended up rejecting me.

Just like my last boyfriend, Lee, had done over a year ago, when our relationship had ended after just five months. Since then it had been one disastrous date after another. And as the Edwin encounter last week showed, the idea of me finding love anytime soon was about as likely as the entire class volunteering to come in for extra grammar lessons on a Saturday night.

‘Do you really want to know if I have a boyfriend, Kieran?’

‘Yeah!’ His eyes widened.

Kieran and the whole class were captivated. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. It was as if I’d cast a spell over them.

I walked towards him slowly.

‘Come on, miss! Tell us his name!’ He strummed his fingers on the desk.

‘Okay!’ I smiled. ‘His name is MYOB.’

‘MYOB?’ He frowned. ‘That’s a strange name, miss. Is it short for something?’

‘Yes, Kieran. It’s short for mind-your-own-business. Now, let’s get back to the book…’

I was about to move on to the next discussion point when there was a knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ I called out.

‘Hello, class.’ His deep voice vibrated around the room. Everyone immediately sat up straighter as the head teacher entered.

‘Hello, Mr Walker,’ they said in unison.

I hadn’t noticed when I’d seen him earlier that he’d had a haircut. His silver strands were much shorter at the sides than usual. The smart navy suit he was wearing fitted his tall frame perfectly, and those black shoes were so polished and immaculate, you could probably do your make-up in them.

‘Hello, sir,’ I said. He nodded in acknowledgement.

‘Good to see the commotion has settled down. When I walked past a moment ago, there was an awful lot of noise… anyhow, just confirming our meeting at 3.30 in my office.’

‘Yes, that’s fine.’ I smiled through gritted teeth. Trust him to walk by when the class was playing up.

‘Very well.’ He opened the door and left. The class let out a collective sigh of relief and I dug my nails into my palm, wishing that I was clutching a stress ball.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already after three, which meant in less than half an hour I’d know whether I was being promoted to second in department.

Even though the interview had only taken place earlier today, so it didn’t seem like a long time to find out the verdict, it felt like I’d waited ages for this opportunity. My heart thudded. I thought it had gone well and I’d worked my arse off all year, so I was confident, but it could go either way.

Before I knew it the bell rang. The class wasted no time in rushing out the door, and I admit, I did a happy dance inside my head too. Once this meeting was out of the way, I’d have two whole days away from this place. Then after that, there were only five more working days until we broke up for the summer holidays. Not that I was counting or anything…

Don’t get me wrong: I still enjoyed teaching. It was rewarding to help my pupils realise their potential. To take a teenager who thought they had no interest in reading at the start of term and see them transform into a bookworm by the end of the year, or help someone who struggled with grammar finally get to grips with it. I loved all of that. It was just that I’d been here for nine years, and aside from a few curriculum changes and a new intake of students each year, the classes were pretty much the same.

I knew I needed some kind of career advancement, but I didn’t really want a big change, because that would be too scary. If I got this promotion, I could keep my current job but just add some new responsibilities. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about looking for a position at a different school that might be worse than where I was now.

Yes, with the promotion, hopefully next term everything would be better.

I filed away my notes, tidied my desk and packed my bag so that as soon as I left the meeting, I could go home.

I looked up and saw Mandy hovering by the door.

‘Um, miss, can I chat to you for a minute, please?’

‘Of course.’ I glanced at the clock. I only had four minutes until my meeting and I didn’t want to be late, but it sounded important, so I couldn’t just turn her away. Maybe she was upset about something Kieran had said. It was so frustrating when pupils who didn’t want to learn made it difficult for those who did. ‘How can I help?’

She walked over cautiously, placed her rucksack on the desk in front of mine, pulled out a chair and sat down.

‘What do I do if I want to go to college when I leave school so I can get my A levels and then go to uni, but my parents want me to go out and get a job? They said it’s a waste of time and money and only stuck-up rich people go to university, but that’s not true, is it, miss?’

‘People from all backgrounds go to university these days,’ I said diplomatically. ‘What would you like to do?’

‘I really want to continue studying English. I’d love to become a journalist, miss, and travel the world. Maybe become a foreign correspondent for the BBC or something like that. But when I tell them that, they just laugh.’ She hung her head. It really annoyed me when I heard stories like this. Mandy was a bright student. Smart, hardworking and naturally talented at writing. She was always the first to hand in her homework and always hungry to learn. I could totally see her becoming everything that she dreamed of. Hearing that her parents wanted to trample over her dreams made my heart sink. ‘What should I do, miss?’

‘I can see how this is a difficult decision for you. What I’d suggest is that you—’

‘I’ve been waiting for you in my office!’ The head teacher burst into the room.

‘My apologies…’

‘Um, I better go.’ Mandy’s face reddened. She grabbed her rucksack and scuttled away.

I dug my nails into my palm again. At that point I wanted to forget about the meeting and run after her, but I knew he didn’t like being kept waiting. Thankfully Mandy wouldn’t have to start applying for colleges until her final year, so she still had time, but I’d make it a priority to speak to her on Monday. Would have been nice to reassure her today, though.

‘I’ll just get my things and I’ll be right there,’ I said as he stormed off.

After picking up my bag, I walked quickly down the corridor. I took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.

‘Come in,’ he called. I sat down on the seat opposite him. I looked up at the clock. It was 3.39 p.m.

‘Apologies for being late, Dad,’ I said quickly to break the ice. ‘But Mandy needed my help.’

‘I see,’ he said softly. That was a good sign. Seemed like he’d calmed down. Although he didn’t always have the best way of showing it, he cared about the pupils’ well-being just as much as I did.

‘Anyway, Isabella, I’ll cut to the chase.’ He leaned forward. Uh-oh. He’d used my full name. He only ever did that if I’d done something wrong or he was being extra formal. This didn’t look good. ‘I’m afraid you won’t be getting the promotion.’

Just like that, I felt like I’d been struck around the face with a hammer. I wanted to say I was shocked, but that wouldn’t be true. It wasn’t as if this was the first time this had happened.

‘Is this because I was late?’

‘Of course not! The decision was made earlier today after completing the interview process.’

That would have been done by late morning. I wondered if he’d known when I’d seen him in the corridor earlier this afternoon or in the staffroom at lunchtime, when he’d offered me some chocolate digestives because he knew they were my favourites.

This was one of the many reasons I hated teaching at the same school as my dad. The blurred lines between our professional and personal lives.

‘Why, then?’

‘It’s a big responsibility and you’re not ready.’

I wanted to scream. Not ready? I’d been here for almost a decade. I was good at my job. My pupils got solid grades, year after year. I was dedicated, committed, hardworking. What more did he want?

‘I don’t understand. That’s what you said before. But then last year, when I got offered that job, you said if I stayed, there would be opportunities for me here. You said something would come up soon. And now that it has, you’ve rejected me again.’

‘You’re far too sensitive Bella,’ he sighed. ‘You get too emotionally involved. This is a professional decision.’

‘But I’m a good teacher,’ I insisted.

‘I agree. You have the ability, when it comes to teaching, but you’re not strong enough to handle the pressure. A role like this would require a lot of additional responsibility. And you would come up against many challenges and additional scrutiny, particularly because you’re my daughter. I have to give the job to the strongest candidate. I’m sure you understand.’

Dad was still talking and I heard every word that flew from his mouth, but all I could think about was what an idiot I’d been passing up the role I was offered last year. I should have jumped ship whilst I’d had the chance.

‘You’re growing into a very fine English teacher, Bella. You’ve got a good, stable job, with a decent salary. That’s the best role for you right now. We all have our lanes and sometimes we need to just stick to them. Perhaps things will change again in a few years.’

My cheeks burned and beads of sweat trickled down my forehead. The thought of enduring goodness knows how many years of waiting and hoping that one day he’d believe in me enough to give me a chance to try something more challenging made me feel sick.

I wondered who’d got the job. Probably Julie. Even though I’d been here longer than her, the governor and head of department, who had also been in the interview, always sang her praises. I wanted to ask, but hearing who I’d been passed up for right now was too painful. I was sure I’d find out soon enough.

‘Right, okay, um, so that’s it, then?’ I stuttered. I needed to get to the toilet. Better still, get to my car and drive away from here.

‘Yes. I’ve said all I have to say on the matter. Will you be coming for lunch on Sunday?’

How was he able to switch so seamlessly from telling me I wasn’t good enough to be promoted to inviting me around to play happy families with him? Unbelievable.

Once again I wanted to scream at him, but there was no point. That was just Dad. He blew hot and cold like the British weather.

‘No, I have plans. I have to go.’ I grabbed my bag and walked out.

As I drove home, my dad’s words swirled around my head.

You’re too sensitive…

You’re not strong enough to handle the pressure…

I have to give the job to the strongest candidate…

We all have our lanes and sometimes we need to just stick to them…

A tear ran down my cheek. Oh God. Dad was right. I was too emotional. At least I hadn’t started crying in front of him.

I parked up, opened the building door, climbed the stairs to my flat, kicked off my shoes and collapsed on the sofa. I was so glad I’d be meeting my best friend, Sophia, for dinner in central London in a couple of hours. After the afternoon I’d had, I needed to let my hair down.

At least I didn’t have to worry about what to wear. I planned my outfits for the week ahead every Sunday afternoon before I did the ironing.

It wasn’t like I had day-of-the-week underwear or anything. I just found it was easier to wear certain clothes on particular days. For example, Mondays were all about being formal to get my head back in the professional zone after the weekend, so I’d wear my black trousers with one of two smart dark blazers (navy or charcoal), whereas Fridays were more relaxed, so wearing either my light blue or peach maxi dress with a cream blazer was more appropriate. I’d been in this outfit all day, though, so I’d picked out something different for tonight.

I walked in the bedroom and saw the long green dress laid out on the bed along with my gold sandals. All set.

I was about to start getting ready when the phone rang.

‘Hello?’ I frowned, looking down at the number to see if I recognised it.

‘Is that Isabella Walker?’

‘Speaking.’

‘This is Zainab from the JCH London Language School. We had your name on the waiting list for the PEFLITC course, which starts a week on Monday. One of our students has had to pull out due to illness, so a space has just become available and I wondered if you’d like to take it?’

My eyes widened and my knees wobbled. Of all the people I had been expecting to call me, they were the last on my mind. I remembered Sophia convincing me to apply last year when I’d turned thirty. Around about the same time, an old colleague of mine had put me forward for a role at a school she’d just moved to. I was going through a what am I doing with my life? crisis, and both of them were trying to help me out of it.

One of the ideas I’d explored was studying for a PEFLITC qualification, which was a professional English foreign language international teaching certificate, so that I’d be qualified to teach English abroad. Something I’d always been interested in trying.

I’d spent months researching the course and it all sounded really exciting, but Dad hadn’t thought it was a good idea. Plus, the more I thought about it, the more overwhelming the idea felt.

I’d plucked up the courage to look into it again a few months ago when I’d turned thirty-one. After more encouragement from Sophia, I’d applied and even gone along for an interview.

That was when the enormity of it all had dawned on me and I’d got cold feet again, so I’d been relieved when they’d emailed back to say although I’d been accepted, the one-month intensive course for this summer was full. When they’d said they’d put me on the waiting list, I’d thought they were just being polite. I hadn’t known they were actually serious.

Even though I was sure the course was something I wanted to do at some point, I didn’t know if I was ready to do it so quickly.

‘Thanks for calling me. That sounds very exciting, but it’s all very sudden. Can I think about it and let you know?’

‘Sure. I can’t guarantee that the place will still be there, though, because we do have other people on our waiting list.’

It was a difficult decision.

Dad’s comments flashed back into my head. He thought I couldn’t manage extra responsibility or pressure, and this course would be intense, so maybe now wasn’t the right time.

On the other hand, I’d said earlier that I wanted to develop my career, and this would definitely help me do that. Once I passed, I’d have the certificate for life. So if a promotion didn’t come up again at work in the next few years, I could look at teaching overseas then. I’d have options.

But what if I failed? Then there was the money to think about. It was a big investment, and…

‘Isabella? Are you still there? If you’re not ready, then perhaps you can sign up for the evening courses we offer or look at applying again next year.’

That seemed like a much more logical option. Big changes had to be planned with precision, not just done on a whim. If I did it next summer, that would give me time to think it through properly and do some more research. After all, maybe something had changed since I’d last looked into it.

Yes, I was still angry about being passed over for promotion, but that didn’t mean I should just make rash decisions.

Did I like having Dad as my boss? Not really, but no job was perfect, right? Things could be much worse. I knew colleagues who’d left to work at other schools and complained that the head was even worse than him or had feral pupils, so the grass wasn’t always greener.

‘Thanks very much for thinking of me, but I think doing the course next year sounds like it would be better.’

‘No problem. Have a good weekend.’

‘You too.’

I breathed a sigh of relief. Panic over. I’d carefully consider my options over the summer holidays and work out my next move.

Both my career and my romantic prospects might not look rosy right now, but I was sure things would improve at some point. If I kept working hard, I’d get promoted eventually.

As for my love life?

Something told me that would be a lot more challenging to sort out…